Sometimes you have to be honest, more honest than you care to be for fear of giving things away. There are people who keep things inside, not wanting to expose a weakness or a secret. I am one of those people, a melancholy soul at times, a beaming, looning goon at others. Sometimes my tendency to gloominess or a sad, thoughtful state of mind (thanks dictionary) comes a – rising up sometimes and then I see a darkness.

I first heard this song, not in its original form by Will Oldham, but covered by Johnny Cash. My friend Anna sent me a tape from New York, as she did sometimes, wonderful collections of diamond sharp gems buried under a homemade collage cover with some strange title or poem stuck on, and in amongst the mix was this song. As soon as the first line opened out, Johnny’s drawl rolling along the dusty highway – “Well you’re my friend” I was completed sucked in.

As with all the best songs that hit you hard, he was singing my song, the song I hadn’t written, but wanted to or should have written and in the space of about three minutes or so, I had travelled the road from despair to hope to a real chance of salvation. I imagined my own friend, (for now it wasn’t Will Oldham or Johnny Cash – it was me singing this song), not an imaginary friend, but a real friend of mine who was the guy that had been drinking and sharing thoughts with me. I wanted him to have spotted “the kind of thoughts I got”, although I had never been that explicit – you see I told you – fear of giving things away, not wanting to expose a secret or a weakness – I never told anyone the kind of thoughts I got. Then when the words tell of love, an incredible, gigantic love, greater it seems than anything else, the hope that came through was also gigantic.

This song meant something, because in amongst this sadness and darkness that can begin to overpower a person, comes this idea of a love that is too big to give up under any circumstances, a love that made everything else worth enduring. It was a love of life, of everything so damn good in life and that is the key, despite everything else that happens. Johnny sang of “peace in our lives”, of “pull(ing) the smiles inside” and “never go(ing) to sleep / my best unbeaten brother” and it made everything so clear. Even now, when I hear this song, and I play it a lot, I get the same feeling, and it is, no disrespect to Will Oldham or Johnny Cash, now my song and even though it would sound far too dramatic to say that it saved my life, it damn well helped me to see things a little more clearly and to not always see a darkness.

Adrian Manning was born in 1967 and lives in Leicester, England.His poems, articles and reviews have appeared in magazines in the UK, the USA, Canada, New Zealand, Belgium, Finland and Lithuania as well as on the internet. His first chapbook, WRETCHED SONGS FOR OUT OF TUNE MUSICIANS, was published by Bottle of Smoke Press (www.bospress.net) in 2003. His poems were also included in the anthology AGGRESSIVE BEHAVIOUR, also published by Bottle of Smoke Press. A second chapbook, AS UNAVOIDABLE AS HISTORY was published by Hemispherical Press in 2005. His most recent publications include a joint chapbook with Henry Denander, BRING DOWN THE SUN, published by Art Bureau Press and A TOURIST, A PILGRIM, A TRUTH, a mini chapbook published by Bottle of Smoke Press as part of their Chapbook of the Quarter series. A further chapbook is due to be published by Bottle of Smoke Press in the near future. To read a selection of Adrian’s poems on the showcase section of this site, click here

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.