“I have no idea where I am, or what time it is. It’s dark, for sure, but there are many lights on. I mean, I’ve been doing this for years, you know? You have to believe me. Well, you don’t have to do anything but - a little faith always helps. Yes, I am a journeyman lizard, wending my way back to forgotten times: people and things were animated then, sprawling across the floor as if they were in a song. What’s that you say? They still are? Woah, the heavenly brides smashing into the ankles of unmarked graves, trip-trotting around the floor like god wasn’t clumsy; what’s that? Of course god was clumsy, or he wouldn’t have left his boy out in the rain to become a water-demon. But they do make the best dancers - liquid, agile, a trail of poses unfrozen into one continuous motion. Yes, like handwriting - is that what you said? The cavorting hieroglyphics on the horizon; nothing between here and the stars except more stars…”
This session comprised a flickering cast of musicians including Bill Rieflin on drums, Charlie Francis on piano, Scott McCaughey on bass and myself on harmonica and guitar. Wang Dang Doodle is descended from a song by Willie Dixon, via Howlin’ Wolf and Captain Beefheart. Recorded somewhere in the past.
“…and there were candles - candles like they were going out of style. Smoke everywhere that froze and fell out of the air in clunking chunks. A big rabbit, maybe two metres wide, sat in the corner selling oxygen. And everybody knew best, you know? That’s what I remember about those times: everybody was right, and nobody was wrong. You could buy fresh air from that rabbit and step right outside to smoke it. Man, that’s a lovely swimming pool you’ve got, right there. Hey, is that a wheel or are you just pleased to see me?”