ikeaboy said:
ooo nice, like to hear that, missed his gig here recently, almost went
didnt even notice he was playing
the amount of gigs i miss like that is criminal. Listening to this now its all a bit all over the shop but in a nice relaxing way, i cant stop playing A 13, its like john betejman buzzing :Spin:
A13:
The Ancestral Trek Eastwards
The Spiritual path from the crumbling shop facades of
Commercial Road
Many Flyovers to marshland of Essex:
Land reclaimed;
My soul reclaimed.
A13
Ceases to be an arterial road
Becomes a guideline,
Pathway of the astral plane:
A way of life; a way of death;
A giant metaphor for nowhere.
Oh land of my fathers, ancient Celtic warrior race,
How are your tomatoes doing?
A13, forever 3am
Around and around the Rainham roundabout
In gentle rain
Absence of hope; absence of pain
A13: cars race thrusting back-to-back
Like a ritualistic symbol of the sexual act.
These brave men: sales reps,
Overseers of the Ford production line,
Frontiersmen.
Their wives were blue eye-makeup and drive a smaller car To see Mum in poplar, when they have Thursday off from their job in Asda's.
Ohh, A13.
I don't want to move to higher spiritual planes.
I want to forget Destiny.
I want to travel the A13 for Eternity.
I love your oil refineries, motor factors, motor works,
Sewage plants, factory farming, theme pubs, launderettes,
Transport caffs, haulage firms, betting shops,
People who look so dour.
Swaggering, aggressive young men who hate themselves,
A carbon-copy of dad, who really passed it on.
And their sisters, bleached-blonde, already typecast in the role of
Victim.
And it's perfect, Oh so perfect:
It makes me feel so cold inside,
And that's familiar territory.
Oh barren, hopeless highway of Essex
I love you.