Sometimes, music affects me in an indecent way.
Hip hop that can’t decide. Ghost jazz that walks through walls.
A bit of echo, a bit of crackle, a bit of music that refuses to stand still.
Not. Not. Yes.
Not For In The Car – but where then?
Maybe under the bed. Maybe in an old teapot.
Maybe right between two thoughts.
The beats stumble, giggle, sit down for a moment before hopping on.