AGE-LESS

🎶 Yeh, yeh, yeh… Golden Years… wha, wha, wha! 🎶
Were they then or are they now?
Stiff Little Fingers is actually a state of being nowadays… not just a politically driven group of Irish lads, but rather, an indicator of the evolving state of my joints.

Years of moving… football breaks… jumping out of trees… dancing… acrobatics… Capoeira… all nighters… jazz fusion… physical theatre… Trafford Tanzi: where I had a crazy Olympic wrestling coach teaching me how to be thrown out of the ring! A three-month tour… lifting ‘Jet the Gladiator’… swinging her around every night. No wonder my back's fucked! No wonder my knees, click! They render a musicality of their own nowadays. I think if movement has been a daily life time thing, you must register its lapses in a nuanced and daily way…. as it fades to grey.

There seems to be more things you are told that you can't do than those you can… the tipping scale of age - less. Still, the psyche is a hard bastard. Mine is anyway. I'm an obstinate and contradictory space of resistance. Not always supportive of exiting the fray!

I saw the word ‘Thundercunt’ yesterday and that would be a great pet name for my psyche. When I say pet, I mean a kind of non fluffy, yappy snappy little fucker who loves to argue with its owner. An internal dialogue if you like, or perhaps it's a monologue… a soliloquy delivered to an empty theatre… where the seats are eternally banging in remembrance of the hastily departed audience. They all went to get a refund during the first act…