Moving On
Ace Spectrum
Atlantic
1974
It has, here in Wales, for the past three weeks, rained. A steady plop-plop on the ash tree outside my window. The stream is up. The birds are suffering; it’s been the wettest summer on record. The berries and grains that make up their diet haven’t had sufficient sun to come good. The trees and hedgerows are bare.
I fill my feeders daily. Sometimes twice.
My friend calls from Missouri and tells me: the drought here is relentless. Never seen anything like it. No rain for months, nothing, not a drop. No relief in sight.
I tell him what my neighbour told me: they’ve buggered the jet stream.
They, being, according to my neighbour, in descending order of responsibility:
1. The English.
2. Bankers.
3. The youth.
4. Immigrants.
5. That lot in Westminster.
I have, so far, escaped his wrath.
I also ask him this: do you remember that thrift store that used to be in the basement of the First Calvary Blood Of Christ Tabernacle?
Sure, he says. Everything you could fit into a bag for two dollars. Open Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons.
That’s the place, I say.
Ten years ago I bought three records there. Life Lines by Wayne Carson, Home by Delaney and Bonnie, and this single by Ace Spectrum. I loved their track Don’t Send Nobody Else and hoped that this would be a similar up-tempo dancer.
I was, not for the first time, wrong.
This was something different. This was a meditation of grace and patience, a song that seemed to inhabit the same space as medieval plainsong or Gregorian chant. A song that said life is to be admired for it’s fragility and brittleness rather than it’s strength and power. That mobility is preferable to solidity.
I once asked a 75 year old musician how he managed to keep himself sane and healthy. He thought for a minute and said: every morning I just keep getting up.
I waited for more and he said, that’s it. That’s all there is. Just keep on getting up.
This song seems to say the same thing. I remember listening to it for the first time that afternoon. I put it on, listened, and played it again.
I played it all afternoon.
I still, when I need reminding, play it.
There are time when the world seems low
And there’s no where else you can go..
Moving on, moving on…
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Jeb will be bringing his guitar and his songbook to our stage at Festival Number 6 on 15 September. You can also catch him at the next Caught by the River Social Club event, which is taking place in London on 8 October. Tickets for that one are on sale now.