Well Wasted

Somewhere in the world, in a hidden valley, far from the eyes of humans there exists the mythical Graveyard of the X1/9s.  The prevailing hue there – of course – is a dusty red-brown.  Scraping beneath that, winding back the hands of time perhaps, it would be possible to see (predominantly) silver.  A forensic eye would detect, beneath a sizeable share of those silvers, a metallic bronzy-green shade.  If cars could vomit, heavily, then this would be the colour of their bile. It was never popular, though sufficiently so to establish the base-coat for a limitless number of DIY re-sprays.

Somewhere, deep within that desolate valley, poking out – perhaps – in the Boot Hill style of old black and white Westerns from beneath one of the endless landscape of iron oxide ant-hills, there rises a toe.  Not the wasted, skeletal toe of a human but (skilled eyes would discern) the toe of a boot crafted in what was once the softest, most supple light tan leather.  The now withered boot stands, proud still, like a last salute to a lop-eared but noble friend.

1988.  The Soviet Union, under Gorbachev, commences perestroika;  George Bush (snr) is elected to the White House; Benazir Bhutto is sworn in as Prime Minister of Pakistan.  And in the then Socialist Republic of South Yorkshire, information comes through that repairs to the once bilious, now silver, never fully operational and seldom loved Fiat would exceed its value.  This despite the fact that the estimate is relatively low.  The vehicle is abandoned for scrap … along with a pair of much-loved, yet much re-soled and much more re-heeled Cuban heeled cowboy boots which had been retired behind the passenger seat of the tiny cockpit.

The point, dear reader, is that having read about the guy’s outstanding guitar playing, and despite an avid dislike of all that rhinestone, shit-kicking, yee-hawing, Grand Ole Opry, Dolly Parton, my man done left me with 27 kids and another on the way after the cows done been rustled country music, I have been listening to Brad Paisley’s album, Time Well Wasted … and it’s fantastic.  

The overall vibe struck me as similar to Robert Plant and Alison Krauss’ Raising Sand (which is a truly sublime album).  However, on closer dissection, it is a full-blown Country album.  Yee-haw. 

So, now there’s a fire-sale on all my Strats and a bulk order in for some twangy old Telecasters; the only geee-tar for country-pickin’.

Oh, and I want my boots back.