Manic Street Preachers – Motorcycle Emptiness.
Now I know how William Wordsworth felt when he came across that host of golden daffodils and was surprised by joy.
The radio presenter had been talking about great guitar rifts in her mid Atlantic tone, an accent which has become increasingly common in Ireland. I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying, I was most probably thinking about work or some other first worldly concerns as I drove on that rain swept evening journey home.
Then she played it. She even said it herself. Haven’t heard this in an age. How could we forget?
I never considered myself much of a music connoisseur, but I know what I like, and right then I liked this song, a lot.
I presume it’s the same experience when a person stumbles across a Picasso image in a book or a museum and they just stand there transfixed by the sheer power of the image.
Divinity manifest. A lighting rod harnessed for all time for all to enjoy. If only we have the eyes to see or in the case of the Manic Street preachers – the ears to hear.
Then we have the shakings of stardust that falls where it may, perhaps some of it lingers here.
Stick on an appropriate backing tracking and check it out. Perhaps.