The creative leap at the charity continues. Fripp's recent journal entry is astounding in the clarity of its thinking. I quite agree with the guestbook entry that suggested that my English is far more lax than Fripp's. My apologies to my readers.
A visit by Sean Fitzgerald served to remind me of the ongoing madness within the major labels - a world of the blind in which the most blind rather than the partially sighted are inheriting the kingdom. Wonderful stories, which I regret I have promised not to reveal. Another time perhaps. How badly the world needs a new music driven artist friendly label.
And yet
And yet
DGM strived to be such a label at a huge price for Fripp and Singleton. Perhaps the sharks are a necessary part of the survival of the fittest - to ensure that the music has a sufficiently strong internal necessity.
But enough of this philosophizing. The world is mad. It is also madder than that. This we know already. It also has wonderful traditions, which can offer points of stability. I have seen none of the ceremonials surrounding the Queen Mother's funeral. And I have not queued for twelve hours to see her lying in state. And yet it has touched me. Even in my typically brusque encounters with those around me, I sense the communal reaction to her death has somehow helped to restore a sense of nation (even if 20% of our schools apparently decided not to allow children to watch the funeral, as it might alienate those from immigrant backgrounds - a hobby horse I shall not be mounting). How wonderful to know where you belong. Buried next to your husband, in a chapel, near ten other monarchs, dating back to 1461.
It reminds me of a man buried in Strata Florida Abbey in Wales, who was born in a cottage, less than 100 yards from the church, went to school in the hall beside the church, and is buried in the churchyard surrounded by generations of his family.
The more I travel, the more I am jealous of those that stay still.
