Not you. Me, maybe.
The stand-up poetry gig went well, but the reason I’ll remember it will be a combination of things. None of them really connected to what I was doing but somehow all of them connected too.
I drove down to Aldeburgh, which is about nine miles from where I live. The moon was up and although it’s been rainy the sky was clear and the road was empty.
Robert Plant was singing on the CD, an old Led Zeppelin number, Since I’ve Been Loving You.
I wasn’t playing it about anyone or anything, even if most of my stand-up act is a thinly-disguised catalogue of the emotional train-wrecks which seemed to comprise my relationships. It’s just a nice song.
Actually, it’s more than a nice song. I know it’s probably just my age, but some songs, they’ve just got everything. And that’s one that has.
Proving that parents always know less than nothing at all, that song, like a lot of the songs of that time, had the lot.
Guitar. Slow bits. Pomp. Screaming. Moodiness.
What else do you want in music for teenagers? What else just is there for those years?
Well? I’m waiting. It’s your own time you’re wasting. I get paid to stand here (cont.)
A brilliant night. Like the moon that evening with the road stretching away in front of me, bright and round, with almost no cloud at all.
