Notes from the (mystery) train: Sept 03. Kinda bustling, kinda eerie. Love Victorian Stations at dusk. Crewe's midafternoon lateness surrounds you. Reading Guralnick on The King, blurring through the Stella 4 pack. Kill time. Cling to the shite belief that all my best ideas emanate from the booze. Fatigued and recalling Nico... "please don't confront me with my failures, I have not forgotten them..." Every last one of us in the railway bar stares up at "I want that house." Disconnection. Just gotta get home... Had connections in the early hours at The Music Room. Dialogue/ inspiration/ new friendships shaping: Andy and John O. obsessing on the swirling intro to Tim Buckley's "Buzzin Fly," Miss Sweet Jaynes' fabulous Lou Reed tat. 1:35 am.
And now: the sci-fi gleaming chemical plant works above Warrington Quay Station is a work of mad f**king art. Guralnick is a genius. Of the Mystery Train session (July '55): "...a floating sense of inner harmony mixed with a ferocious hunger, a desperate striving linked to a pure outpouring of joy, that seemed to just tumble out of the music..." Peace: Julian.