Sunday, 5 January 2020

Peter And The Wolf.

             Heres a little bit of Bowie and a whole lot of Prokofiev. I used to drive my mates mad humming the main theme from this orchestral piece. They never suspected they had it good, off course, you ought to hear my strangulated version of Holidays in The Sun by The Sex Pistols. Then again, maybe not..
           "Are you bloody singing Christmas songs in the middle of July?" one of them once asked me. It is because Prokofiev' music touches people on that level, well I believe so anyway. Something other, something magical, something better. I was a big Bowie enthusiast growing up and it took me forver to find this album. I found it hanging on a peg on a stall in a hilltop market in Armagh, which was basically a table covered in illegal bootleg movies (Dreadful, they all looked like they were recorded on cellotape by a cameraman experiencing the horrors of drink.) and batteries. I was astonished to see it swaying gently in the hilltop breeze. Staring at it I felt like William Blake seeing angels dancing in the branches of summer tree leaves.
           I still treasure it.
           Much like the occasional Blakean vision.