Secret Album 5



Chime, chime, chime. A swirl of harmonies, maximum compression – I am stoned in this slow whirlpool of crunching gravel. Electric guitar cream. Wah, Aah, Ba-pa-pah…


Non-stop pop. Chugging: dum dum dum – drang drang drang. Lovers’ songs, leavers’ longing, pain and needing – she’s back again, your heart is bleeding.


Strumming and picking, the ocean’s lapping and the stars’ blinking. Electric guitars built in a bank of colour. Words sewn into streaming tunes flutter like ribbons. This truck is tuned and humming, growling, gunning.


Riffs write themselves on the air like titanium ticker-tape, chords plunge and swoop. The rhythm section lays a lazy line under all this sunshine. I stagger from song to song sticky with nectar. I am happy.


Can I hear a doubt in these sweet intimations of love, or feel a discouraging breeze? In all this pretty chiming can I hear a sour bell call from the darkness?

Is your love for real, can it stay summer for all time? If the ringing is both for a wedding and for a warning, what am I to feel?


These three boys’ voices are very close. It is as if they came from the cathedral to sing into my ear. And if it is something so secret then I must be discreet. But, let me tell you, I can hear something sad in the solos. I can scent a sordid tale of lager, torn skin and deep, deep tears.


They end on a simple juxtaposition: prettiness and pain. Does that chime with you?