Old Gold Magic

I think we’ve all had enough now haven’t we? This Lockdown bollocks, not going out, not talking to people…if we do talk to people it’s all angsty and shitty. I’ve noticed that driving habits are becoming violent too. I’ve never seen so many errant tactics on the road, people getting out and shouting. Have you noticed those odd times in shops too? Arsey bollocks everywhere. We are losing the plot for sure. As we are all ragged and mentally unstable it’s good sometimes to reach out and offer some support to people myself included that are feeling the pressure. Problems that we have in ‘Normal’ world are amplified in this one. Depression, anxiety, stress, tick any box you want to and add new ones if you want. I wish I had some tactics I could share with you on how to deal with this craziness that really, at the end of the day, isn’t us is it? We are normally dysfunctional yeah, a bit mad too. That’s part and parcel of life. We lost it, we grab it back.

That’s why football is so important to us. It’s where we let it all out for just a few hours a week. Catharsis really. Being verbally violent at least gives us a chance to unload all that family and work bollocks. We are with friends too. Thirty odd thousand friends when we are at a match watching Wolves. Gesticulating, singing, having a few beers sometimes getting a slap or giving one or two out. Fucking hell I do miss it and I know you are too.

Did you read my Leeds V Wolves report? That’s me having a meltdown and shouting and people who to be honest are happy in their little bubbles. But I needed an outlet to rage and the Flakies were me target. Tough tit really for them but I felt a lot better to be honest. But I want to sing for my team, I want to tell Coady how much I love him, I want to show the new signings how fucking mad we are for Wolves, I want to see dejected opposition teams stumbling off into the tunnel after our dudes have smashed them. Instead we are stood in front of the living room window watching ‘him’ over the road do boring man shit in his garden when I should be dying of heat stroke in the Royal London and then coming out and freezing in that cold wind that always blows around town. So I had two very stark choices. Either go outside and aggravate Mr Jetwash or sit down and write a fucking song about it. Which I did. ‘Forever Still Waters’ if you click on the link above you can hear it if you want. I can’t sing and I don’t really know what I’m doing with a guitar. I just tickle it in ways that seem pleasing and tuneful and then wail my plaintive warblings over the top. I sat down and tried to record it on the lap top but it didn’t sound right. Not my tuneless voice but the ambient colour of it. You can’t sing about something you aren’t close too. Not me anyway. I needed some Wolf spirit. Some ghosts to help me out and I thought the only way to get that is to fuck off up the Molineux and sit myself down in the subway for half an hour and play and record the fucking thing. That meant grabbing a pull along trolley from the Poundstretcher down the road. I put the lap top in, grabbed my mic and stand, my Midi recording thing. Picked a few presets that made everything jangly, grabbed a folding stool and a camping table. I loaded it all up with the guitar (which i forgot to tune) and I fucked off up the Mol.

It was nice to be back. It was deserted and the only people around were the odd student. I sat down, cold breeze. You know the subway. I settled down by Stan Cullis and played the bloody song. There are a few parts where people walked past and bunged a few coins in me basket. Mad busking vibes to be sure. But I wanted that ambience. The crowds filing through there before a game are mad but now? Just ghosts. But I needed them to do this and by God they did help. For a few seconds at least I felt attached to my club again but not only with the club, with the people I haven’t seen for God knows how long. I felt a little more complete at least. There is a part in the song when I’m looking at a Roadman who took a great interest in my gear. But not today brother. You can hear him walking past if you listen close. But anyway it was done in three takes and I haven’t farted around with mixing it or polishing it. It’s just raw…like the wind blowing through the subway really. Enjoy.

If you like it and download it bung a few quid to Steve Plant for his Charity work with Birmingham Childrens Hospital. If he makes a fiver out of this then at least it’s a fiver ay it. Enjoy my friends and I’ll see you all soon. Oh and ‘Old Gold Magic’ is when the suns setting and we see it in all it’s glory from the Southbank.

Old Gold Magic

There is a break in the clouds ahead
Like a parting in Angels hair I say
They softly float and then drift away
In the Old Gold Magic at the end of the day

There is a breeze and I turn to say
Look at this beautiul day but hey
There's no one there but a whisper of grey
In the Old Gold Magic at the end of the day

So I smile and I'm there again
and we sing side by side
Don't look back at forever still waters 
and cast your eyes to the sunrise ahead

Careful not to stumble and fall
There's only the cold roads to care at all
Brush away the whispering Ghosts that call
In the Old Gold Magic at the end of the day

I wish you were standing here by me
My Brothers and Sisters, you and me
My body is broken but here I'm free
In the Old Gold Magic at the end of the day

So I smile and I'm there again
and we sing side by side
Don't look back at forever still waters
and cast your eyes to the sunrise ahead

At sunrise we'll lie upon the grass
I suppose in time all things come to pass
The sadness and grief are taken to task
In the old Gold Magic at the end of the day


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