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All the wild horses
All the wild horses
Tethered with tears in their eyes
May no man’s touch ever tame
May no man’s reigns ever chain you
And may no man’s weight ever defrayed your soul
And as for the clouds
Just let them roll
I listen to Tim Buckley’s Song to the Siren about ten times every day. I have no idea why; I’m not a Buckley fan otherwise. Sometimes This Mortal Coil’s cover will do as well, but never, ever Robert Plant or Brian Ferry (although Ferry’s live performance on Jools Holland was quite acceptable). And for the rest of my waking hours, it plays inside my head, over and over again.
It haunts me to say the least (thought I’d better get it out of my system).
Which, of course, leads me to present these various Ondines / Victorian pin-ups…
‘When?’ said the moon to the stars in the sky
‘Soon’ said the wind that followed them all
‘Who?’ said the cloud that started to cry
‘Me’ said the rider as dry as a bone
‘How?’ said the sun that melted the ground
and ‘Why?’ said the river that refused to run
and ‘Where?’ said the thunder without a sound
‘Here’ said the rider and took up his gun
‘No’ said the stars to the moon in the sky
‘No’ said the trees that started to moan
‘No’ said the dust that blunted its eyes
‘Yes’ said the rider as white as a bone
‘No’ said the moon that rose from his sleep
‘No’ said the cry of the dying sun
‘No’ said the planet as it started to weep
‘Yes’ said the rider and laid down his gun
Jonna Lee has lifted the veil and the image certainly satisfies. Latest from iamamiwhoami…
Oh dear, I have been awfully absent here lately haven’t I? I can’t even come up with an excuse. School is finished, I am yet to find work, I have no money so the level of activity is pathetically low. Actually, this is starting to sound like a damn good excuse. My life is boring-bordering-on-tragic. I go to the gym, am sensible with alcohol, I haven’t been shopping in ages and I’m home baking cakes instead of going to shows. I’ve turned into some sort of adult. Or worse still, an old lady. I’ve slowed down so much I’ve entered some sort of coma. But things are about to change. Oh yes my friend, stay tuned.
Southbank is such a lovely place to spend warm summer nights at. The pitchers of watermelon caipirinha and passion fruit mojito are all over the place and practically impossible to resist. I was there last night to see Moby play at the Royal Festival Hall and it was pure magic. The man is a complete and utter genius. He played an awful lot of songs, both proper old school and from his latest album, but it was all over much too soon (compared to the support act whose three songs went on for what felt like an eternity. Exploring vibrations and acoustics with a tuba is apparently not my cup of tea). I was expecting a rather relaxed a chilled out concert as we were at a concert hall but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Half of the time everyone was standing up and rocking it out. When I say everyone, I mean everyone except Mr. Stoneface next to me who, at the very most, showed enthusiasm by tapping his index finger against his elbow. His loss really, I had the time of my life.
He played his first single and when he said it was from -91 I first thought well how very nice. I easily find comforting nostalgic value in all things nineties; doc martens, fanny packs, super mario and walkmans… Then I quickly added up the years and OMFG, it was almost twenty years ago. I’m seriously not OK with this, the years are moving way too fast. So while I’m off now to have some sort of nervous breakdown, here is Moby and GO from nineteen-ninety-freaking-one.