Someone said there ought to be a moratorium or exclusion period for mowing lawns, or cutting hedges, or making other, similarly loud garden machinery noises. Today should be such time, or actually anytime when I wish to use my new (lightweight) sound studio.
I am in the process of recording Thirty-Nine Significant Songs; they aren’t though covers, but rather my own poems inspired by songs, often from my youth, though this one came along a little later; but who was to know that this real flamboyant rock and roller would keep going, then again he is a football supporter.
Back to the low drones; how did TheBeatless cope in Abbey Road, with all that passing traffic; were they really just John, Paul, George and Ringo’s lookalikes, crossing on the zebra crossing, to give the sound boys a bit of peace and quiet.
Ship Of Fools (Robert Plant)
No one is here now
No one at all to disarm
The seas they are clear now
And soon, soon there will be calm
But first a raucous adventure
Some way beyond the gales
A theatre for rolling and rocking
And for ably going off the rails
No one was there though
No one to hold, nor to charm
The tide turned ever so slow
As lips without the curing balm
But yes, there was a naughtiness
In so deep; it was a new way to fail
The novelty of such intense haughtiness
For a time it matured, but then too went stale