The Cockpit

I was in Leeds today for a strategy meeting with our principal client. It was actually a lot more productive and positive than I had expected. The sun was blazing out of a very crisp clear day when I entered the building where the meeting was being held. Five hours later I left in a mini-blizzard! The wonderfully dramatic weather continues. I was kind of glad not to have had to make a choice over whether to cycle in to the office or not this morning. It would have been a wild ride back.

I think I'd forgotten how vibrant and photogenic Leeds is as a city. I was spoiled for choice as to what to blip from just a short walk around the train station this morning, but chose this in the end because I was reminded of the memory of hearing Sparklehorse play at the Cockpit many years ago. Sparklehorse was effectively Mark Linkous and friends. Housed under the railway arches next to the station, this is perhaps not the greatest venue in the world, but that gig must rank as my favourite ever. All the microphones had flowers taped to them so it was if he was singing into the blooms! His music is as fragile as the man was himself, a very troubled genius. He took his own life three years ago, not long after finishing a brilliant collaborative project, Dark Night of the Soul, with an array of other brilliant singers and songwriters. It was a terribly sad loss.

This is possibly music for introverts, for late nights on your own, when you are not in the mood to be upbeat, when you want affirmation that the world isn't always a jolly place and that you're not the only one who feels that melancholy is sometimes the most appropriate response to the human condition. That might not be the best recommendation in the world but if you understand what I mean then you will be captivated by the music of Sparklehorse. Here is Sunshine ...

I opened my eyes
and watched the sunshine
it had been out all night
to relax and unwind

there will come a time gigantic
waves will crush the junk that I have saved
when the moon explodes or floats away
I'll lose the souvenirs I made
la la la

I lay down on the grass
and let the insects do their thing
she covered me with wings and
held my head and said 'poor thing'

there will come a time gigantic
waves will crush the junk that I have saved
when the moon explodes or floats away
I'll lose the souvenirs I saved
la la la