July 2009

[Sweder]

Thursday 2nd: Twilight

Just after 9pm I strapped on my portable DAB radio and scurried into the half-light for a possibly injudicious twilight fling across the hills. A brace of freshly-downed post-golf pints of Harvey’s – there is no finer summer ale – nestled heavily in my belly as the Rorschach sweat-puzzle blossomed on my chest. The hounds rejoiced in the cooling air, chasing shadows, their dark, sleek shapes scything across the fading path ahead.

So to the tracks du jour (se soir?).
Motorhead's wonderful Bomber (it’s Obama, it’s Obama) carried me up the slopes towards the racing stables. I let slip a loon’s grin at the familiar, grinding refrain over the rampant, thundering bass, the wild nonsense of the lyrics delivered at furious pace by the ultimate speed-freak. Thin Lizzy’s original studio cut of the Rocker – deliciously raw, deliberately jagged – bounced me up Blackcap, Lynott’s demonic scream delivering lines bursting with studded leather machismo:

Down at the juke joint me and the boys were stompin'
Bippin' an a boppin', telling a dirty joke or two
In walked this chick and I knew she was up to something
I kissed her right there out of the blue

The two tracks fought for my affections but it was 'Sweder's Choice', impossible to pick a winner. I'd laze on worn sofas with my long-haired denim-clad mates, quaffing ale and passing the duchy to a succession of fabulous anthems. Like those fellow headbangers of yore both tunes are warm, familiar friends, trusted guardians of my dark, degenerate rock 'n' roll soul.

Despite a heart-stopping near-miss – I half-turned an ankle on the homeward slopes, a double rifle-crack signalling impending disaster before I leapt like a wounded buffalo, run-hobbling until I was sure my foot wasn’t flopping about like a dead fish – I enjoyed the outing. There’s a deep pleasure to be taken from running at the very end of a day, watching the plains snuggle down under dusks’ blanket as the pink clouds follow their blazing master over the rose-pink horizon. The cool air smelt of impending rain, this balmy weather finally on the turn. I grinned again, looking forward to nice cool, damp Bewl Sunday.