I ring up my bro
touch base, say gidday
Yeah, he knows not a lot
He's just lying there listening to the blow flies buzz
his voice smooth gravel

I ask about work, his latest film score, and CD
Yeah, it's happening, not bad
You know, Elizabeth, Sliding Doors, Broken Hearted
All names I've heard and movies I've not seen

His voice stretches out a yawn
when I ask if he's defending his fiddle title
Tamworth - nah
Won it twice, rather play jazz and compose
got a CD to burn, yeah

His voice catches an updraft

Did you listen to my CD - Djangoligist?
sent a copy to Mum
He'll send me the next one
I'll like it - it's not bad

The updraft stalls

Neither speak
I can hear the blow flies, down the phone, across the Tasman

Aw yeah,
got a gig to play at the Aus Film Awards, sis
His voice swirls lazy like dust
Good exposure eh?
Played on the tele, on the ABC


Aw yeah, had I heard?
The dust crackles with static
Before I get to ask, he's off
electric, articulate
and at speed

I'm left doing the monosyllabic
yeah, cool, gee
as he tells me how he played for Bob Dylan in his dressing room
A private performance at the great muso's request

the blow flies buzz on



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