Wedding Day.

I wrote a song called Wedding Day four years ago now.

It’s hardly a celebratory wedding song but I have decided to write about it today as I am readying myself for a wedding this afternoon.

Weddings are not generally my cup of tea. I doubt I’ll ever have one. Or feel compelled to be involved in another one– outside the capacity of singing– of course.

But this is not a song about a wedding. This is a song about a phone call.

When I first read Cohen’s Millennium I wondered if perhaps we’d actually shared an identical experience here.

I performed Wedding Day at a club in Shibuya about a year ago now. After the fact a good friend of mine took me aside and said ‘Flex… what the fuck you on about mate?’

We walked back to Yoyogi together as I explained it to him. And in hind sight if I’d know of this poem then I’d have just recited him that instead.


A poem from ‘Flowers for Hitler.’

This could be my little
book about love
if I wrote it–
but my good demon said:
‘Lay off documents!’
Everybody was watching me
burn my books–

I swung my liberty torch
happy as a gestapo brute;

the only thing I wanted to save
was a scar

a burn or two–

but my good demon said:

‘Lay off documents!

The fire’s not important!’

The pile was safely blazing.

I went home to take a bath.

I phoned my grandmother.

She is suffering from arthritis.

‘Keep well,’ I said, ‘don’t mind the pain.’

‘You neither,’ she said.

Hours later I wondered
did she mean
don’t mind my pain

or don’t mind her pain?

Whereupon my good demon said:
‘Is that all you can do?’

Well was it?

Was it all I could do?

There was the old lady
eating alone,

thinking about
Prince Albert, Flanders Field, Kishenev,

her fingers too sore
for TV knobs;

but how could I get there?
The books were gone

my address lists–

My good demon said again:
‘Lay off documents!
You know how to get there!’

And suddenly I did!
I remembered it from memory!

I found her
pouring over the royal family tree,


I almost said,

‘you’ve got it upside down–‘

‘Take a look,’ she said,

‘it only goes to George V.’

‘That’s far enough
you sweet old blood!’

‘You’re right!’ she sang
and burned the
London Illustrated Souvenir

I did not understand
the day it was
till I looked outside
and saw a fire in every
window on the street

and crowds of humans
crazy to talk
and cats and dogs and birds
smiling at each other.


So like… wanna see what I’m wearing to the wedding?



Ta dar!


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