“This song is inspired by those stinking days that cock like a pistol to your temple, always burning hot.”
Most of my year was spent listening to music being made by housemates Rohin Jones and Chris Neehause, as they worked the late nights in the downstairs studio. I would lie in bed just above, and my room would become the echo chamber of a record player and I would fall asleep to whatever lovely sound filled the air.
One of the songs created was a throwback of Rohin’s, titled ‘Bayou‘. I was fortunate enough to have some fun writing a bio that was as unconventional and heavily felt as the man himself.
This song is inspired by those stinking days that cock like a pistol to your temple, always burning hot.
Sitting at a creek side shelter, sweltering in the heat, sweat drips into memories of Africa and visions of its people over river banks new. The lines on their faces store the past left back at home, now flipping coins with the broken shadows down by the stirring shores. They heard the noise.
They felt the energy of the great delta-blue waters, converging where encouragement lay in the reflection of their own lessons. They translated the free form wailing of the pressure of their lives into the hardness of the slavery blues.
That melody that comes from a place which will always know the sensation of the aftermath. Which sings in the quiet moments, of the feeling that nature is fucking with you.
So, where are you now?
Image credit: Sunny River
© Jonathan Boonzaaier 2016