It's late and I'm sleeping on my friend's settee, cloaked in a blanket borrowed from my childhood bedroom as morning creeps through the crack in the curtain to kiss my toes. Glenn Campbell is gone.
My phone bathes the contours of my face in a pale glow, the world around me is still, sleeping, serene and the voice leaking from my laptop speakers will never sound sweeter again. When I think of Glen Campbell I think of home. Waking up on rainy Sunday mornings, condensation on the kitchen window, kettle boiling, Staffordshire Oatcakes and cheese, my dad singing along with a tea towel on his shoulder whilst he washes the dishes.
I think of milky orange skylines, pink pastel hues, smudged on the horizon of the M6 toll, Witchita Lineman and a warm fuzz, eating toast out of tin foil, my little sisters head lolling against the window, lips slightly parted as she sleeps softly through another journey up north.
There were mornings I spent sitting crossed legs on the carpet, eyes fixed on the television, captivated by one man sitting on a stool with his guitar. The soulful way in which he sang had a way of touching your heart, your mind. There was a truthfulness to him, his vulnerabilities, sadly beautiful, drawing you in, a home comfort like no other.There are few artists whose music holds you like that, who's voice triggers such a strong emotional response as to leave you stranded in some distant memory every time you close your eyes and tune in. Glen Campbell however, will always be one of those artists.
When he sung he was soulful, there was a kindness, a warmth laced within the melodies he sang, a tenderness pooling in his eyes as he picked the strings of his guitars and looked out into the audience, just a backyard cowboy killing time. Glen Campbell was a man with musicianship like no other, who's work with artists such as The Velvet Underground, Elvis Presley and countless others has helped shape not only the American, but perhaps the global music scene.
Meet Glen Campbell takes me back to traffic jams in Lyndhurst, stuck outside the Mad Hatter's Tea Room, a tourist in my new home town. I drew planets and stars in my breath on the window, singing along softly to These Days and Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). Dreams Of The Everyday Housewife leaves a lingering sensation of nostalgia in the hairs on the back of my neck, suddenly I'm standing with my toes barely brushing the radiator under my parents' bedroom window.
It's the 5th of November and with my dad holding me steady Catherine Wheels over the tower blocks in Hanley don't seem so scary.We may have lost one of the greats, but through songs and performances which have touched generation after generation, the American Beatle will always remain ever gentle on our minds.Even in his later years, when his own memory was slipping away, slowly corrupting, his voice touched the hearts of millions, his songs sound tracking home movies, first dances, evenings spent lying back on the patio with your eyes on a meteor shower as you pretend to know about constellations.