CHRIS SEARLE recommends a work of love and deep admiration for a great musician
Away With the Fairies
Iona Lee
He has a way with the fairies.
I find him hiding at the bottom of the garden,
that's where they reside, he says.
By the dried leaves of last Autumn
and fruit stones turned to cyanide
when Summer starts to harden.
I find him pining by the tree stem,
by the stilt roots of screw pines
as thick as arms, as thick as brittle fingers.
They're as thick as thieves, he says,
I never see them.
When we met,
me wandering white,
plucking double roses
in the milk moon light,
my man he was a magic thing.
My Tam Lin, my changeling,
with a face that filled the sky,
a body stretched across the sea.
He was the twirling world back then
and the world belonged to me.
TOM STONE sings the praises of one of the oldest open-air festivals in Britain
Fiery words from the Bard in Blackpool and Edinburgh, and Evidence Based Punk Rock from The Protest Family
by Widad Nabi
RON JACOBS welcomes a survey of US punk in the era of Reagan, and sees the necessity for some of the same today


