Episode 2: Bus Stop Boogie
In this episode of the Whatever Tomorrow podcast I’ve got a new song ‘Shine’ as well as spoken word in ‘Bus Stop Boogie’ and ‘Let It All Be’
*IN THIS EPISODE:* —
00:00 – Intro Music & Welcome
00:54 – Creative Update: New recordings
03:15 – SPOKEN WORD: “Bus Stop Boogie”
05:05– MUSICAL PERFORMANCE: “Shine” (Original Song)
08:13– A thought on art and interpretation
09:00 – SPOKEN WORD: “Let It All Be”
10:05 – Sign-off & Outro
Bus Stop Boogie
Bus stop in the gentle rain,
Waiting,
Waiting.
Old couple arguing about something, nipping at each other.
Dressed like they are on a hill-walking expedition in monsoon season for the trip down to the bingo.
Sharing a packet of Wotsits.
The wet grass.
Cars rolling by in the street,
Turn up the volume,
Ian Dury and the Blockheads
Burst through my headphones.
And I’m traveling,
Borneo,
Bordeaux,
Fantastique.
Feet tapping,
Moving,
Near ready to fly.
Suddenly, shoulders start going,
And the arms,
Like a dad dancing special at a wedding,
I’m moving.
The Missus is over the road walking a dog,
Chuckles and gives me a wave.
Saxophone solo hits,
I give her a wave back.
And I’m moving like Jagger,
Moving smooth like an old soul band,
Busting some moves like Sam and Dave,
Found the 46-year-old version of the splits,
I’m channelling James Brown.
The lights are on at the bus stop,
Like a late-night club.
Me and her are dancing together,
She always was a great dancer,
Natural rhythm,
Her perfume.
The dog’s the DJ,
Spinning the songs,
Looking at us like,
“You got this.”
The old couple are boogying together,
They used to do salsa,
They announce,
“You young ones are missing out,”
They laugh.
As me and my lady dance closer,
Slower,
As the beat hits,
And we are dancing down
The Champs-Élysées,
Santa Fe,
Troon Bay,
Roses and fireworks.
We hear the bus,
but it can wait.
At least a beat.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Let It All Be
I see an advert at the bus stop.
The open road of the USA,
highway stretching through Monument Valley.
Nah, I’d rather be here.
On the bus,
headphones alive,
listening to something real —
like Traquair and the Tranquilizers,
or Steve Adams singing,
“Have you washed your hands?”
Heading to Irvine beach
in the peelywally Scottish sun.
The kind of day
you need sunscreen and a hoody,
just in case.
The old town is alive with
sun seekers,
joggers,
families
and old ones.
Down those old roads,
along the harbour.
Smiles at the Hac.
I get the feeling
that might be my kind of place.
Past the ghost of The Big Idea,
drawbridge up.
I’m going to walk from Irvine to Barassie
along the beach.
The water slowly rippling in,
the sound of seagulls,
and the further along you get,
the people fade away,
and it almost feels like you are alone.
Arran in the distance,
keeping a watchful eye.
Jumping over the streams and sandbanks,
the occasional dog sprinting past,
chasing his ball.
I run my hands through the water.
Take a breath.
I turn off the music.
Take a seat in the sand.
Just sit back,
and let it all be.
Life is life.
(c) Paul Andrew Sneddon
Paul Andrew Sneddon 