OLD GUITARS

This Saturday 22nd April we get to play this song at the Caravan Club in Oakleigh in a very special situation – David Briggs (LRB) who mixed several tracks on WHEN and mastered the album will be joining us to play the song live that he also played on the album.  The song was written in the late 80s and it is a lament really.  I was becoming increasingly depressed about the nature of the music I was hearing on the radio. It seemed to have ground to a halt, seemed indulgent pap by millionaires in tee-shirts going through some ritual that once had a meaning that had long since fled the scene of the crime.   I could still remember the thrill of hearing a band live for the first few times in my life, the smell of amplifiers warming dust in little used church halls and the excitement of wading through a myriad of 45s each with a different feel.   In contrast the contemporary music of the late 80s seemed so boring and safe and re-used.  The idea began to grow into a song. I had a couple of verses down but wasn’t sure where the chorus should go. Greg Macainsh suggested that it should follow the verse line of “old guitar” and together we finished the song. Later the very talented @Martin Cilia produced a demo in his house featuring some wonderful guitar lines and the song was finally born. But it remained in its crib, occasionally brought out at one of the few live shows I would manage each year. Now it is finally fully grown.

The artwork is by the talented Victor Rubin. Each CD of WHEN is equipped with a lyric sheet and copy of the specific artwork done to reflect the artist’s connection to a particular track.

OLD GUITARS

No-one cares any more, any more

We’re just a bunch of ageing whores

Ply our trade across the boards

With chords and words you’ve heard scores of time before

We’re the t-shirt nouveau riche

Searching for our pride and niche

We’re an old guitar

 

Was a time I recall in local halls

When young men touched some magic space

Small amp and a cheap guitar made us tingle

Mingling in the atmosphere

We’re the smile on Maggie Mae

The chalk marks where John Lennon lay

We’re an old guitar.

 

Old guitars never lose their heart

They lose their way they fall apart

But nothing else reaches the stars

Like the sound of old guitars.

 

No ideas any more, any more

Just scissors snipping out before

Pasting history into platinum, numbing pastry, so tasty for the plebeian.

 

Background for the video

Playground for old Romeos

Time somebody let you know

To stop believing in me

Now we’re the t-shirt nouveau riche

Searching for our pride and niche

We’re an old guitar.

 

Old guitars never lose their heart

They lose their way they fall apart

But nothing else reaches the stars

Like the sound of old guitars.

 

We’re no vibrant youthful force

Marriage over sweet divorce

From our old guitars.

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