one thing that saddens me about all this internet stuff is that in 100 years time, nuclear energy policy and asian dictators notwithstanding, the likelihood of finding a bundle of letters tied in pink ribbon and smelling faintly of violets detailing the fond yearnings of a man for a maid (or any of the variations we are compelled to honour nowadays - a cardinal for a canary* for example) turning up in a musty attic bearing testament to the love of those gone before is not so much slim as anorexic. not neon i know but for me those little historical accidents constitute the precious details of living. which in turn confirm we are more than machines of consumption busting our butts in the scrabble to afford the latest ....... whatever it is that can foretell our future and compress the whole of our lives into a sixty second sound bite.


* and i don't mean a fresh young thing wi a voice like an angel.

Share your music

Share your music with the dust in the street
Give your songs to the sky and her stars
Feel the air on the wings of your heels
When the ears of the wind hear your playing