June 2014

[Sweder]

She's back, ladies and gentlemen, She's back.
Like a lover from the past she's taken a hold of my heart with the grip of a Scotsman on a Five Pound note. (That's the only Val Doonican song referenced here today, I assure you).

What a weekend. Saturday's stonking run set up a wondrous day, culminating in as eclectic a gig as you could wish for. First we saw Scott Free, a band of local youths who paid skilful homage to Led Zep and Joe Bonamassa to name but two. Sadly that is all I can name as their turn was cut short to make way for a spine-tingling set from operatic duo Letitia Keys and a frankly bonkers performance from Instill, an outfit best described as Death Metal meets New Romantics. From The Ashes, a charity event to raise funds for the Phoenix Centre, recently damaged by fire, was always going to be plagued by over-runs and stage-management capers. In Lewes no-one complains about this sort of thing. Speaking of Fire, a concert set around local development and environmental issues would not be complete without Arthur Brown, he of the Amazing World, a man who fashions words to express his feelings about shameless Greedheads live on stage, a farrier of the people. His rendition of Lewes Development Blues was played on a fabulous slide guitar fashioned from a petrol can and a broom handle.

These tasty morsels were but an amuse buche to the main event. Chris Difford, the man who wrote The Sweeney's doin' ninety 'cos they've got the word to go, They get a gang of villains in a shed up at 'Eaffrow, gave us Cool For Cats, Up The Junction and Take Me I'm Yours, latterly accompanied by the the band I had most wanted to see. The Strypes are the real deal, the new Fab Four, the hottest thing to leave Ireland since Leonardo Dicaprio chased his Rose aboard that doomed ocean liner. They blew us away in a whirlwind of pub blues-rock, like Dr Feelgood back in the day. Replete with mic'd up harmonica and frantic moves they cooked up a sweaty storm in the old Harveys depot. I couldn't help but dance. Rubbing elbows we happy, shiny people beamed as one, bathed in the glow of exuberant youth. I've seen the future of popular music, and it is Strypey.

   

I replayed it all in my head as I ran through the low-lying mist this morning. Invisible droplets kissed my skin like pennies from heaven as my feet flew over flint and mud. And then it dawned on me. She's back! My head filled with thoughts and plans as the hills rose to meet me. By George, she's back and she means to consume me once more. Just one glance across a crowded room and my heart is melting. How long will she stay? Who can say? The point is, she's found me, and I her, and whilst we're together I must feed on and store this fabulous feeling. When you get older in years you wonder if your time is past, if all you'll have are memories. And then, back she comes, as if she's never been away, and your heart soars and your feet fly.

I'll need to shift some timber. Running is a mistress who offers wobbly lopers short shrift.

Take me, I'm yours
Because dreams are made of this
Forever there'll be
A heaven in your kiss