This is recorded by an ant floating by on an oak leaf. The ant is sober, he's a new ant, an ant who understands that to get by in life he must stay sober, and work hard... and film. The ant films the two pumpkins, and then he uploads it into Robyn Hitchcock, who sings it.
That's where I get my ideas. It's not just any ant, I don't want you to start going around thinking of me as "the ant man". We'll call this ant "Ray".
A wholly inadequate and much condensed rendition, from my memory, of one of Robyn Hitchcock's inter-song ramblings last night. If you ever wondered where he gets his ideas, now you know.
Robyn Hitchcock is a loon, more than even his songs let on. A soft spoken, sweet, lyrical, poetic loon, like Neil Gaiman unfettered by rationality.
I got to thinking, in a discussion last night with someone at the show, that the word "post-punk" is really inadequate. I want something to describe those musics which fall all over the edges of punk but don't actually sound like punk. Some of them come from before the punk explosion, but "pre-punk" doesn't work either. In a flash, I got it: peripunk.
Tomorrow night, Anne Heaton is playing at Passim, and Faith Soloway's Miss Folk America is at the Somerville Theatre, starring Catie Curtis, Mary Gauthier, Jennifer Kimball, Faith Soloway, Meghan Toohey, and Kris Delmhorst. But I'm going to NH.