Damo Suzuki is a much admired human being around these parts. His network of musicians (or "sound carriers") stretches across the world and their talents are many, whether it be the fried psychedelic genius of Acid Mothers Temple guitarist Makoto Kawabata in Japan or the flaming saxedelics of Ray Dickaty in Liverpool's Zukanican or maybe the collective genius of Cul De Sac in NYC; there are literally hundreds of musicians whose passion for their music has led them to the master of instant composition, Damo Suzuki. I am honoured to join this list once again for two more performances (Brighton and London) of Damo's Never Ending Tour.
April finds Damo in fine fettle and after my day's work at the care home Brighton's Pressure Point is heaving with krautrockers, jazz freaks, experimentalists, music-lovers one and all. The whiff of herbal enlightenment pervades the hall and there follows a 2 hour show of instant music with Damo's muse guiding the sonic free dervishes through an adventure of sound. There are spiritual horn bursts and skronking, dual drum motorik polyrhythms with hypnotizingly locked-on bass, the scorched blast of electric guitars, the summoning of otherworldly voices from the man and the sound, sound, sound of lives being lived, existing in the moment. I get home at 3 a.m. and dream of flying through tunnels of yet more sound, waking up with tears of liberation in my eyes.

I get up early to go to a family wedding in Peckham with wife and child but after the ceremony my 18 month-old falls, hitting the back of his head on the concrete garden path of the Registery Office.The sound it makes goes straight to our stomachs so we head to King's College Hospital's A & E department where we meet another young head banger of the same age. Two hours later we're out again with a checklist of things to watch out for like vomitting which could indicate the possibility of more serious injury. We make it to the reception for the main course but things are not quite right so we head off as soon as the speeches are finished, back to Brighton.
The next morning it's Sunday, the day of Damo's London gig at The Spitz. I work at the care home from 8am - 2pm then drive up to London for soundcheck. A brisk walk along the rainy gauntlet of Indian Restaurants that is Brick Lane confirms my hunger and I succumb to a tasty haloumi and cous-cous number back in the venue with drummer Iain. Nearly as good as the Matar Paneer I shared with E-da in Brighton's Goa restaurant (whilst Damo tucked into a fish) before the previous show.
Steeple Remove play first; a band who I totally loved whose sound recalled Can, Air (no I'm not saying that because they're French) with vintage Stereolab. Dirty Korgs, excellent Karoli-style guitar wigging and some well-placed sweeter noises which all but satiated my krauting thirst with their controlled urgency. If Steeple Remove were this evening's Faust then Brighton's Fujiya & Miyagi were tonight's Kraftwerk with some wafer thin slices of Harmonia. A more electronic feel and more subtle than the previous band, their music was moving with dual-voiced, whispered incantations over pulsating kraut-throbs. A stunningly fine groop, they have an album due out next month which surely has to be worth investing in.
Damo Suzuki network finished up the evening with a slightly different line-up to Brighton - one less drummer, Terry Bickers' blissed streams of guitar and some sweet blues from the end of time which gave the music space to breathe, once again with Damo's invisible guiding hand we were irrevocably lost in the moment. Afterwards I was asked many questions by audience members - "How long do you rehearse?", "How do you remember what to play?", "Who is leading?", "How do you know when to stop?" and I explain that the idea of instant composition is that it succeeds if the audience believe it to be pre-ordained and this is how it differs from "improvisation."
What Damo is doing with his Network is, as far as I know, unprecedented. It is a generous gift in my opinion and built on trust in much the same way as the music itself. Trust and belief being two primary building blocks at the psychological core of instant composition.
I drive back to Brighton with Alistair, the cornet player, through a full-scale blizzard, reaching home at 3 am again. Baby is being sick which is a worry after the head bang of the previous day. My parents arrive for a visit in the morning, we get a call from an Estate Agent telling us our offer on a flat has been accepted and by the afternoon we're back in the children's hospital where our son's kept under observation incase there's any internal bleeding. We're let out at 8.30 pm, he's okay - they think it's just a bug after all. I reluctantly bail out of a Celebricide rehearsal, go home, get a take-away and eventually crash out. Up at 6.30 am, work at 9 am, challenging behaviour until 3 pm. Get home and my poor wife's ill now; and what the hell am I doing? Sitting here typing this! How much can happen to a person in 36 hours? Sorry, I just had to write it down.