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As you rush around like headless chickens from one store to the next with
lists of soon forgotten people for whom you have to find some trinket or
bauble that can somehow be passed off as a thoughtful gift in this season of
giving, take a moment and spare a thought for what is really happening.
I'll tell you what is happening. The world is speeding up. Really, it is.
No one notices it, of course, because it is happening to all of us and there
is no scientific method to measure it. The planet is simply spinning faster.
The only proof I have is based on a feeling; an intuition; a hunch. And
therefore not proof, but I know I'm right. The producer is always right -
them's the rules (even when he's wrong, he's right). I thought I was wrong
once, but it turned out I was only mistaken.
Anyway, and do not under any circumstances jump to the conclusion that I
am making a vague musical reference here, because I'm not, I know that a 1969
minute was worth far more than a 1999 minute, just as a pound or a dollar, or
a schnitkin, buys a lot less than it did 10, 20, even 5 years ago. (Imagine
how long a 1432 minute was!) I know that from 1956 to 1959, listening to
Little Richard, Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, Lonnie Donegan, Buddy Holly et
al, three minutes lasted forever. At least all summer. Well, all
afternoon at the very least.
Sometimes I think that we're all floating in a giant bathtub whose dirty
water is rotating increasingly faster as it approaches the drain hole. We're
all going down the drain! By the way, I don't think like this all the time.
Don't assume for a minute (or what we assume IS a minute) that I'm a
pessimist. Far from it. I think that there is a good chance that there is a
better life waiting down the drain.
Anyway, as I have heard said many times - "Sorry sir, you can't bring
that in here," and so I choose to cling to the belief that our next album
will come a little bit quicker if time is speeding up - I just hope the
drummer doesn't use that as an excuse (not serious, Ian, you did good with
that other guy). I for one cannot wait to be in the studio laying down
vibes, man. Or maracas, or a souzaphone....or a bloody wobbleboard.
The year sped by (see the previous paragraph) and I find my self poised
on the edge of yet another twelve month period of frenetic activity, some of
the results of which may end up in your ears, hopefully stimulating your
parched joy sectors. RAH was, as I've previously
typed, a complete gas (come to think of it I have never typed those words
before, so ignore the second stanza of this sentence), and who knows, we may
have the chance of repeating it in a village hall or two around the globe?
Who knows indeed? You don't!
Please be kind to the poor souls who, through no fault of their own, run
the award winning DP website. Any left over fish fingers should not be
discarded, they surely would be appreciated. The same goes for all those
dedicated fan club maintenance operators. Unsung heroes, every one.
Nice to know you all, have yourselves a merry thingy.
RG - December 1999