Burn Your Name

I was stumbling right by
Like a wreck I came to you

Rolling slowly along the lane that enters the van park, back from a short but bumpy and dusty ride, passed the small community hall, glancing in notice a bunch of oldies playing what look like ukuleles, gently singing a tune that feels familiar. I recognise that song. Loop around to hear more of it, just to be sure.

So I staggered through the night
Seeking out your rescue blues

The multi-layered juxtaposition of a tiny hall in a coastal hamlet containing a small group of old people playing ukuleles and singing in soft harmony a song released by a band known for hard rock; yes, it caught my attention, and once caught, held me captive. I won’t pretend that I wasn’t surprised.

So tomorrow will arrive
In a burst o' broken light

In a world of identity politics there is one category that no one wants to be placed, and yet regardless of the minority you identify with, it is the one we will all occupy – old, aged, elderly.

And a spell will hold us back
Shattering like glass

The crux of identify politics is to set yourself apart from others by highlighting points of difference; I see it as a game played by the young, to create for themselves a totem; keen to brush aside the old ways, in doing so they also brush aside the old.

I want every single soul to know
That I love you for what you are

The incredible increase in the wealth of western societies over the last 50yrs, combined with the continual improvements in life expectancy, mean that each successive generation has had to create their own approach to living when older. Rolling away from the hall of harmonising oldies I felt elated by those who feel unbounded by a label.

Gonna burn your name right across the sky
So I never forget what the feelings like