Slightly Askew

Why is it that if you play an acoustic guitar and a harmonica, like Bob Dylan or Neil Young, people think that you’re a musical genius?

Strap a pair of cymbals to your knees, though, and people cross the street to get away from you.

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Now, maybe it’s just me (and it usually is), but does anyone else love being a passenger in the back of a car at night?

There’s something about just sitting there, staring out of the window, seeing the glow from distant buildings light up the landscape.  The experience works all the better if there’s a good tune on the stereo.  Actually, it needn’t be particularly good; the naffest of song can enhance a moment.  Digressing slightly: I was once in a helicopter, flying over the Grand Canyon, and our pilot piped that nauseating Celine Dion song from Titanic into our headsets.  And it was quite beautiful.  No, honestly.

I’ve always preferred night to day.  Not in a gothic, take-your-shoes-off-and-garble-Led-Zep-songs-backwards manner; it’s just I’ve always liked the peace and quiet, and a little me time.  And me time isn’t a euphemism for a five-knuckle shuffle (which, in turn, is a euphemism for wanking - if you’re a little on the slow side).

And if you don’t agree with me, you’re wrong - cos Bruce is on my side:

Show a little faith; there’s magic in the night

And that’s from Thunder Road, if your music taste beggars belief.

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