Love Me, Love Me, Love Me
you don't love me
When you're lucky, sometimes you get to share time and space with a person who isn't quite of this world. Somebody who radiates beauty and draws people to them everywhere they go; universally loved by everyone you know and like1, known to every passerby in the street of the town where they live - including the woman who holds the keys to the cathedral and the tourists who want to be spiritually clean.
The first time I saw him was by the escalators at the cinema, when I was just together with Jim. We’d all been to see the Nick Cave film, the second one I think. He spoke to us and gave us his approval with his eyes, hands and then also via text message - because he may be an angel but he lives in modern times, just like the rest of us.
No.
The first time I saw him was in black and white on the cover of a 7" record I'd been given by a secondary school teacher. In the photo he was stood under a streetlight, maybe, skinny and dressed in black like the singer of a band.
The first time I saw him was at The Cube. Just him and a guitar, some loops, lots of stories. The atmosphere was fun and there was laughter but also many moments of pin drop hush... Sat in the back row next to the projectionist's booth that night, I had one of the strangest experiences of my life. As he sat centre stage weaving us in his magic spell, I saw something that at once terrified and awed me and I sat there wide eyed and shaking for the rest of his set, my fingers gripping the velvet arm rests with tears running down my face. I decided against telling him what I saw but I knew something special and unusual had taken place even if it was just the result of some serious room-mastery. I guess I'll never know. But I don’t think they teach that at BIMM.
Last summer perhaps, Jim and I drove out to Glastonbury to a very different sort of event; he had a keyboard set up and there were about twenty chairs placed around him in a circle as he created sound in front of a huge window looking out onto a stunning sunset view of Avalon. The woman next to us had driven down from up North, she goes to see him every time she can. It was lush and immersive.
Last Thursday's gig took place at The Mount Without, a stunning church in the centre of Bristol with a huge metal infinity symbol hanging from the ceiling. I think it was the launch for his latest album, “Another Word For Rose”.
Patrick was singing and playing acoustic guitar with a young man called Woody Taylor on electric. Woody is absolutely exceptional, one of the finest guitar players I've ever seen; his sounds are wild and raw but extremely controlled and perfectly balanced. More mastery.
I sat between Jim and Guy who both played on the new album. It was my first time hearing these songs since the mix stage - we did receive the cassette in the post just before Christmas but being currently without a tape player I had to wait.
The gig was totally different to the recordings anyway, which I like - when artists adapt to the space and time, bending to it and creating something unique.
It sounded phenomenal, wrapped around me. Candlelit and warm, I felt every word. God - there's so much power in his voice even at a whisper. I dare anyone who was in that room to say they were not swept away in love. He went home with a car full of candles that he'd placed himself, because that is an entire vision perfectly realised.
Except for that one person who is so very like them that they just repel each other.