24th of April (after Galaxie 500)

It came to me in a vision
        (never trust a vision)
I would write 50 poems
on 50 dog biscuits, not real
dog biscuits, but er....
background images made to look like
dog biscuits, whatever dog biscuits look
        like, I don't have a dog

That's one poem per biscuit
per state of the US of A, you see
    a series of miniature verses,
      ecstatic yawps in a minor key
      enigmatic koans each and every one
            I gasp in wonder at the
            mere thought of them

And then I would, out of duty
      show them to the world,
          or 50 dogs, who would promptly
            refuse to look at them

Instead I got drunk and
looked at what was new on Netflix
            (I don't have Netflix)

Charlotte K, one Christmas

She seemed an unlikely aficionado of
psychedelic slash garage rock
the composed, power suit wearing Essex girl
eager to hobnob with the bigwigs
and fasttrack her way to senior management

She knew I was a record nut and didn't like
'secrets and bullshit' so when she picked
my name out of the Secret Santa hat said:

'I got you. So how about instead of some cheap crap
you get a couple of records from my
old collection? I got no use
for them any more'

At the Christmas team lunch, she
handed over two unwrapped vinyl originals
by the Stooges and the 13th Floor Elevators
both in Excellent (EX/VG++) condition

'I used to hang around with these bikers,
friends of my brothers, sweet
guys really'

I had no carrier bag so clutched them to the
inside of my winter coat as I made my steaming
way home through the slushy rain
in time-honoured greatcoat 70s music fan style
but with shorter hair, and shinier shoes

In our lunch hour it was commonplace to enjoy the lake

Some swam, some floated on lilos, some lazed in rowboats,
some took off with kayaks and paddle boards. 

I liked to gaze down at the fish, bobbing
in my wetsuit and wearing my fancy goggles.

As I dragged my carcass out of the lake at 12.55
I heard someone hiss my name 'Hey Lee!'

It was Feddie Paycock, from The Big Music TV show, very much not my area.

'You know your music yeah, well see those guys on the bench.'

I followed his outstretched finger.
'They're from Javelin Spring, you remember them.'

Of course I did, massive album in 2007, disappointing follow-up,
personal problems, and now a reunion.

'I'm going to film and interview them later but I've got
lake rash and I need some time to source the ointment.'

Everyone knew about the dangers of lake rash.

'Can you charm them, you know, entertain them, for a few mins.
Thanks buddy' and off he waddled.

I had my own tasks to attend to, in Accounts Legible, but
I dripped over to the lead singer who I recognised as
Morgan Gabbard and introduced myself. He shook my hand and

I turned to the other guy, he must be a newcomer.
I sputtered out my name which is Lee Holloway Towers
and he grabbed my hand, stared into my face and said

'It's me Paul Turner Highbury.
We went to school together remember.'

'Sure. You played the piano.'

'Keyboards now, I guess. Joined the Javs last year,
been working on the new album.'

'That's great.'

'Do you work on The Big Music TV show?'

'Kind of.'

'You look very wet. And cold.'

'Do you like my goggles. They magnify the fish.
Would you like to try them. THEY MAKE THE FISH BIGGER.'

Ten Years Gone

He lost all track of time, I expect
he was thinking of her once again
tuned into his tunes the only time
he felt in touch, up there
roaming the platform mounds
of Monte Albán, so far from home

    The Castle, Druganaut, Run Thru,
    Stone Flower, Atlas, Ten Years Gone
    the list goes on (and on)

He never lost track of time
but here he wandered lonely as he was
allowed, afloat on the ruins until
sharp, distance, thrust back
into the moment he ran to the meeting point-
but the bus had left without him

His guide stood stoicly by the sign
doing his best to appear diplomatic
    'I hope you don't mind paying
    for a taxi back to town'

He couldn't complain, he'd lost
track of time, adrift in the past
gliding through the mounds the temples
bursting with the music and
the myths of all their ancient histories

Oldies only, in your humble opinion best ever instrumental track is?

Theme from a summer place
  A Summer Place
    theme from a Summer Place
      Theme from the summer place
        A Summer Place 

Sleep Walk Classical Gas
Stranger on the shore
  Tequila Harlem Nocturn
  Peter Gunn theme
  Sleep Walk Pipeline
    Last Date Frankenstein
    Stranger on the Shore
      the Last Date Love's theme
      Cast Your Fate to the Wind
    Theme to Van de Valk Theme from The Quite Man
    Green Onions Wonderland by Night
Classical Gas!

Wipe out Wipe Out. Take five
Apache Rebel Rouser Honky Tonk
    Green Onions Ronchy Walk don't run
    Exodus Bolero
    Midnight In Moscow
    Theme from Hawaii 50
Yaketty Sax Sleepwalk
Apache Tubular bells 

Albatross Albatross
      Albert Ross

Dopamine fix for the post-adolescent

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┃┃┃┏━┛┃┃┃┃ ┃┏┏┛┃┏━┃┃  ━━┃

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New songs require pattern recognition,
expectation-building, and repeated
exposure before the reward circuit kicks in. 

One passive listen
on a playlist will never get there.

d     p     d             d   w   n
 t   e                  w  l

Your brain needs repetition
to find the pattern, and it
needs the pattern to release dopamine.

Dr p d         D w        Th    W ll

D  ped       own    T e     W l

Three listens minimum before
your auditory cortex
builds enough predictive models
to generate a reward response. 

_____ _ | __ \ | | | | | |_ __ ___ _ __ _ __ ___ __| | | | | | '__/ _ \| '_ \| '_ \ / _ \/ _` | | |__| | | | (_) | |_) | |_) | __/ (_| | |_____/|_| \___/| .__/| .__/ \___|\__,_| | __ \ | | | | | | | | _____ |_|___|_| | | | |/ _ \ \ /\ / / '_ \ | |__| | (_) \ V V /| | | | |_____/_\___/ \_/\_/ |_| |_| |__ __| | | | | |__ ___ | | | '_ \ / _ \ | | | | | | __/ __ |_| |_| |_|\___| \ \ / / | | | \ \ /\ / /__| | | \ \/ \/ / _ \ | | \ /\ / __/ | | \/ \/ \___|_|_|

The last time he went clubbing (also 2004) does he never stop don't worry it can't be long now

You wore your powder blue jumper as Kirsten called it, not sure if she liked it or she was taking the piss (aside: she was taking the piss although she really did like you, remember that time she clasped your hand to her substantial bust) but she wasn't even there the last time you went clubbing which was 2004, look Luca has a new gf which stands for girlfriend maybe even back then a Spanish girl called Isabella who you liked although she was very formal perhaps because she was very formal certainly too formal for Luca as it turned out but hey we're going clubbing now or at least the indie disco which even at your age

Earlier we're at the pub across the road and I go into the cubicle to pee because I like my privacy it's not a crime shut your face but after a while the door is bashed in and the doorman accuses me of taking drugs in there and some lad's laughing like he set me up what the fuck is this place I mean if I was doing drugs which I wasn't why not kick me out of the pub I didn't even tell my friends about this incident and it still enrages me on my so-called deathbed were those lads having a laugh because even then 40 years ago I was too old and wore a powder blue jumper which actually broadcast a certain continental glamour

A few pints do me in and are not ideal preparation for the indie disco as we shake around to some oldies and when A-ha comes on I'm half-heartedly jigging next to Isabella who beckons me closer hello and asks in all seriousness 'What is the meaning of these words Take On Me?' she's trying to improve her English, and I can only reply that it's a poorly expressed semi-meaningless phrase from a Norwegian pretty boy plus I never liked this song none of which satisfies her in fact makes it worse she loves the song I've lost the dressing room I won't make it to the end of the season, and anyway Luca will soon tire of her and turn gay but that's another story