sing a song of the saints of god (in france they kiss on main street)

horsemouth is listening to joni mitchell’s the hissing of the summer lawns which is great, almost pet sounds in its genius,

‘a helicopter lands on the pan am roof, 
like a dragon fly on a tomb, 
and businessmen in button-downs, 
press in the conference room...’ 

curiously joni thinks it is a line that has dated badly - true she sings much better than it reads (imagine it read by bob dylan).

in france they kiss on main street it sounds like paradise. (a strange jazz-rock paradise reflecting on rock n’ roll (or is it france) granted). horsemouth knows all these tunes from various live albums (shadows and light for example). horsemouth would tell you who plays on it (but he’d need a magnifying glass).

the sun is low in the sky its rays reaching the back of horsemouth’s room due to its low angle, just emerging from behind the houses opposite (until they do their loft extensions - so a couple of years maybe). then horsemouth will only get the sun in summer and it will never reach the back wall again. the winter sun is gone in the back garden. the tomato plants have expired (thank you plants for your bounty). the decking has become slippery.

hissing has interrupted horsemouth’s usual listening (musicians of bremen volume four: the demos) - of course as these tracks get mixed they are changing, things get added, things get taken away, the goalposts move, songs that had sounded sorted already when opened up again reveal themselves as inchoate messes (by some strange digital kipplisation process).