in the living room, just-about tuned desirably, train-walking thumb pattern blues through the lemon squeezer filter paper, catching in the upside-down funnel. chugging away like the guitar’s flipped too, and having that be the perfect end-result baker’s dozen-bar (13 bars into infinity) of turn-aroundless hanging fly swat/spatterly acoustic glunk-a-glunk.
totally loving when the outlined overly/overtly rememberly blues gives a wave/wink then facecloths the clean back into the mess. no point fahey’ing, let it escape and run for the hills in an awake for three days straight and been down for so long play my way out of this dozing frenzy in half-speed spiral of madness and it’s time for bed but i’ll keep picking away at this one note that now covers for the other five phrases i started and it’s all magnificently free prose taped-up scroll scrap.
this is hammered. and sober.
did i mention i really like the walking themes that emerge and self-destruct? and the choice reverb haunting the stand-tall notes that almost slap out into bewildered existence?
i’m going to keep an ear out for this guy and when he does the inevitable living room tour he’s more than welcome to roll up his sleeves and let fly over here.
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