Keep The Change Modulate

Yes! Yoho. And so on. Try it out in the bright blusterous outside, turn out the billowing insides of cardigans, don’t look down the roads, look parallel and run run run with shoes in hands, sunglasses above the eyes and lashes of glamour and glint; pearls of perspiration behind the ears. There’s this big circle in the community that turns and turns; when you hold it, you hold yourself, you platform an array of plush faces parting their ways, you let loose their grip on the all-changing chariots of eye-contact. Indeed, you find the ones who kept their change: the clean-cut noising haircutters, the winking bus drivers, the waiters who served an unbeatable Lebensfreude, the idols they paid in full, the evening trees where their eyes spent overtime, the passer-by, the pal, the punter to whom time was donated of own pockets, a currency of unwarranted comfort that can’t be simply coined in phrase or physical. Rest assured this change is kept safe, where the wind and the world can’t touch.

And with this particular type of platform, this phrase, uncoined of change, you transcend the chains of our conventional and correctness; our cut-out-paper humans who have no hands to give. These things get replaced with something less static, less stationary, we become rhythm, we become right, find our origins within each other as haircutters, waiters, pals, bus drivers, punters, passers-by, community (!!), the  oh so original, yeah, that’s love, and it’s heading forth at ineffable speeds.

This record, Modulate, We Have Band, it records my elevation, above, and nears upon my knees knocking against the undergrowth of a table upon which I work. That undergrowth is golden and it has a grip on me, and of that I can be sure for every time I’ll listen to this song. Maybe there are more songs by We Have Band, maybe they’ll have the same effect, wow yes they do (yay internet), I will go now, do that. Here, have my change, keep it, spend wisely. Yes!

One Comment

  1. […] and so was that tittle tattle clattering noise that shook a shudder of a trifle trepidation in all post; that ‘ah no, actually, maybe we don’t have band’, the last post posted. Moments aren’t waited for, nor are they measurable, rememberable, they pass and all they […]

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