Under years of dust, at the back of the garage,
next to the old wardrobe that now holds garden tools,
on top of cardboard boxes packed full of things that are
no longer useful but too good to throw away,
rests the old record player.
I pull it from the mess of bits of bicycles & old picnic baskets,
peel a record from its musty sleeve
& it crackles back to life sending out forgotten analogue signals,
cutting through time at 33 RPM.
Now I’m talking ‘bout my generation[i],
Carnabetian[ii] dreams & satanic sympathies.
Poet punk psychedelic stereophonic shamen
carry me back to days of innocence & ignorant abandon.
The songs have remained the same[iii], but the years have moved on,
the doors may not be cleansed but the possibilities are still infinite.
So the scientifically precise mp3 player bloated with all its bits of data
can wait until I’m back in my car driving to work.
For now, I sit in the back of the garage,
in the chair we had in the living room before the one we have now,
I sneak a cigarette so the kids don’t catch me,
drop the needle, spin the black circle[iv]
& float back to a life that has been stored,
no longer useful but too good to throw away.
[i] Towshend, Peter. I’m talking ‘bout my generation. “My Generation”. My Generation. Record. Brunswick 05944. 1965.
[ii] Davies, Ray. Carnabetian. “Dedicated Follower of Fashion”. Single. Record. Pye 7N 17064. 1966.
[iii] Page, Jimmy & Plant, Robert. The songs have remained the same. “The Song Remains the Same”. Houses of the Holy. Record. Atlantic. 1973.
[iv] Vedder, Eddie. Spin the black circle. “Spin the Black Circle”, Vitalogy, Record, CD, Epic, 1994
Published in The Interpreter’s House Issue 63 (October, 2016)