Poem for Record Store Day 2019


 ( for all the beautiful record shops now then an forever )

Flip, flip, pause, wait, flip, hold

With each flick of plastic

I transcend time

Find myself

Transported to Martin Luther’s

Blackwood high Street circa 1981


He was the king of vinyl


Just to walk through town

With a plastic bag  with the shop’s logo

Was a badge of coolness

An insignia of hipdom


 If it did contain

Duran Duran’s ‘Hungry like the wolf’!


Flip, flip, pause, wait, flip, hold


My arthritic fingers

Suddenly nimble as I

Flip through the albums

As Sepia memories flicker 

Time travelling in close grooves

I taste the titles

Finger the little squares of heaven

Like a naïve archaeologist I carefully dig

Discard the surrounding soil

To unearth the turntabled treasure

Black Sabbath ‘Live at Last’

In   the    bargain         bin!

who needs the  Dead Sea Scrolls

 when you find this?

I like the order of the records

A-F Heavy Metal

Prog, Punk, Indie Ska

Layered lives

The neatness of band names

Half man half biscuit

The Slits

The The

Even splodgenessabounds ( though they should be stored in comedy not punk)

The immediacy of then

Comforting the now

Compartmentalized moments

 Held to the light

Smiles  in amber


Flip, flip, pause, wait, flip, hold


A road map to solace

When all else fails

It is that one song

We remember

Sending echoes through neural pathways

Lighting lost roads

With that soaring chord sequence

Framing that tragic love story

As Spandau  listened to Marvin

The weeping

The being

Anthems of a blue,marooned ( not 5)


Suddenly finding their way home

In the museum of the  misplaced


Tiny black grooves


Epic rainbowed veins

Arteries to resonance

Paths to glory

Highways to hell

Like a

Ragged 10 commandments

You create yours

To walk the line

Begin your day with the friendly voice

See kidney machines replaced by rockets and guns

Fallen leaves in the night

 I had no way of knowing

fallen leaves in the night

Isolation desolation incantation

I will  still follow

it’s just a spring clean of the may queen

Even if there’s no future in england’s dreaming

So stuff your fucking army

Killing  isn’t my idea of fun

We shall overcome

In the tunnel of love

With our bullshit detectors

and stay in our garage all night


Flip, flip, pause, wait, flip, hold