Page 32 - the NOISE June 2014

RobeRT WyaTT: UNdeTeRRed
spending half a year completely immobile gives a man per- spective. Robert suddenly found himself with lots of time to think. He lay there day after day, week after week, trying to stave off the horrible depression he felt creeping up.
Up to this point, wyatt’s life had always been in motion. now, unable to move his body at all, it took a while for his brain to adapt. He would awaken and get the word from in- side: “Up, up! Things to do! Music, drugs, sex! Let’s go!” and then reality would sink in and he would just lay there, mind racing. He crossed the line between sanity and madness but always returned. Once he saw there was nothing to fear, his brain slowed down and he was able to take in his situation semi-rationally.
His sex life was basically over. was this karmic retribution for all those years of rampant fornicating? If that was the case, it was one hell of a penance. He could never again make love to his beautiful Alfie. This saddened him the most. But there were other ways to pleasure a woman and Alfreda told Rob- ert she loved him and would never leave. Robert had heard those words from former girlfriends but this time it sounded like the truth. Luckily for him, it was.
Robert remembered when he and his school friends had made fun of cripples. now he was one and he felt ashamed. He swore he would not give in to self-pity or allow others to feel sorry for him. He was, after all, British: carry on, stiff up- per lip and all that. He swore not to give in to despair, either. As an atheist, he had no vengeful God to blame; the accident was his fault. never mind why it happened, it simply hap- pened, and time only ran in one direction. All that was left was for him to deal with were the consequences.
Ordinarily when writing songs, Robert was impatient to get the music out of his head and onto tape. now he did not have that luxury. It took weeks to even move his hands and arms. The half-dozen tunes he had been working on before the accident swirled round and round his brain in hundreds of permutations and arrangements. They accumulated countless layers and then he would strip them to the bone and start over.
One day it dawned on him that his accident was really a gift. He had found the key.
In recent years, Robert had begun to feel a sort of musi- cal schizophrenia. Inside of him there were two wyatts. One was Drummer wyatt, who only knew how to play music one way: like a maniac. This wyatt was heaving, sweaty and physi- cal, pounding and kicking relentlessly at his kit. The drums are a loud instrument and this fed his ego, his exhibitionism. Drummer wyatt constantly struggled to be as good as his idols, jazzmen like Tony williams and elvin Jones. sometimes
behind the drums for soft Machine, circa 1967 GeMs/RedFeRNs aRChives
a little voice told him he would never be that good, so he kept pushing and pushing himself. This was the wyatt his fellow musicians loved. who wouldn’t want that guy in their band?
Then there was singer wyatt. This wyatt was more person- al, introspective, the place where his songwriting was rooted. Unlike Drummer wyatt, singer wyatt had no idols, no level of perfection to strive for. There were no rules, no boundar- ies. Robert had recently listened to old tapes of soft Machine live and it woke him up like a slap in the face. He finally un- derstood why Ratledge and Hopper had wanted him to stick to instrumental music. whenever Drummer wyatt allowed singer wyatt to intrude, they both suffered. If the two wyatts had to share the stage, they ultimately diminished each other.
when performing live, Robert longed to let his voice fly free. He heard lovely melodies in his head that needed to be let out, but the physical demands of drumming stifled this. He couldn’t sing clearly while huffing and puffing from the exertion of playing like a madman.
eventually he decided that singer wyatt was his inner self and Drummer wyatt his exterior. He knew his drumming was very good but it was imitative, not creative. It was a closed circuit, it was taking him nowhere. It wasn’t Wyatt. Yet he would be a fool to quit since he had invested so much time and energy in drumming and it made so many people happy. His voice was a more unique instrument but it was often win- dow dressing for his flashy playing. How could he resolve this dilemma?
well, the accident had resolved it forever. Drummer wyatt was dead. There was always hand percussion, but he would never be able to play his kit again. Robert was a bit stunned to realize he would barely miss it at all. Besides, there were hundreds of other instruments out there that didn’t require the use of his legs.
when the dust settled, singer wyatt stood victorious. A three story fall onto concrete wasn’t enough to kill that stub- born bastard. Despite his reckless life, Robert always knew he wouldn’t die young. He looked into the future and saw him- self as an old man with white hair and beard, rolling around in his wheelchair. Alfie was there with him. He dreamt of all the great music he was going to make. The possibilities were limitless. His accident was a gift and he was finally, truly free.
Robert wyatt lay in his hospital bed, overtaken by an al- most hallucinogenic euphoria. He felt a distinct need to get better so he could start recording. He had the whole album locked in, he knew where every piece went. There was so much to do. He thought about his dead friend Jimi Hendrix and all the places Jimi could have gone, had he made it. That
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