Low-hanging fruit

Now every gig I go to takes me back

to every band I’ve ever seen. Tonight,

I’m seeing Bowie on the Ziggy tour in 73,

and REM at Glastonbury,

oh yes, and 10CC.

 

The lighting brings back Bruce at Wembley (82?).

And something in the way the singer holds the mike

reminds me of the Rainbow, Finsbury Park, The Who.

 

Now Genesis at Drury Lane are merging with

. . . yes, Crowded House last year at Hammersmith.

And Cockney Rebel, Jimmy Page,

the Average Whites, Neil Young and Man

are jostling in my mind’s eye on the stage,

a super-jam.

 

It’s late, your head is heavy on my shoulder,

I find myself recalling Caravan,

the Civic Hall, in April 76:

how, as we left with ringing ears,

I put my arm around you,

felt your weight lean into me,

and knew I’d found my love, my rock, my music for the years.