Crackpot Chronicles

Beck's Bolero, the fuzztone sweeps my skull clean of clutter and infuses it with energy, inspiration and wah wha pedal pushing daydreams. An urban song, full of traffic, soot, sinister turns and shady alleys of the soul.

Turn the corner and get on New Ways Train Train, the tracks thrumming, the cars shuddering, the rattle of the rails chattering and a lonely horn blows through the tunnel of rocky love, echoing against the stones. In the station, a solo fiddler plays, wheedle, wheedle whee... and it's one afternoon, one song but that last note, it lasts forever, plies itself into the fiery center of the tornado and melts it down. It never ends, that note. Once you've heard it the second time it lives in your very marrow. You can never get over it and you never want to.

And there, from the molten lava, rises Over the Rainbow. A brave move, that. Dreams slide over the Rainbow and liquify into pools of color, they fill the room they fill my thought, they lift and linger and leave me ready to get back to my day, now filled and sweet, reaching, reaching.

Beck. Jeff Beck.

Labels: Bolero, Jeff Beck, Over the Rainbow