Wednesday, 26 September 2018


I've got nothing to say today. So I'm going to say it.

Words are nothing, really. But what is music? Maybe music is where it's at, man. Do the lyrics of Like a Rolling Stone mean more than Sugar, Sugar - ? That's something to think about. I don't know. It's just sound that comes out of your mouth, isn't it?

Listen, dear reader(s), to the first three minutes of the second movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. What is he saying to us?

Uh. I'm proud, though ... of the third verse of my song Nothing. Fifteen lines. A great section of eight lines, then seven lines that die down a bit. Because you can't have everything on the same level. The first and second verses are good, too. / But what does it all mean?

Tell me!


We've got to do the best we can. That's it. / I was reading, some time ago, that Bacon knew, like Picasso, that the great painters were the ones who painted the great single pictures. You dig? It's not about having a great mass of work.

Out of Beethoven, I take that fragment of the Seventh Symphony, the entire Ninth Symphony [Karajan, 1977], the first movement of the Fifth Symphony, and the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. That's all I need.

With words, as an example, out of T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land and The Hollow Men.


I want more songs like Nothing. Big, exciting tunes with lengthy poetic lyrics. Polished, and refined, and concentrated. Grand. Untouchable. Unbeatable. / Psychologically, I need it, you dig?