There is a Line Between Love and Luck

On LUCKY MAN by Bruce Lister (Bandcamp, 2024)


From Hawkwind to the breeze that’s blown between soft beach
Settings, one man soothes his acoustic, with fingers and voice
From calm air,  as Bruce Lister Welch plucks the luck from peace
And love and reflection to show through the shimmer

Of his crafted songs cure and care. Once There Was A Guitar
Magics in as the mind makes its journey, through naked trees,

Sinking sunsets and the beauty we birth through heartbeats
As Bruce sings for his Mum and his beloved, creating sound

Pictures which his paintbrush strings soon complete.
Listers’ decency, (as soon as you meet this man, you feel it)
Brothers you through each moment and can be heard and held
In each verse. The songs sway. The ear swoons as collaboration

Connects you to his observations as each sung and played
Phrase convinces while freeing you from fate’s curse. Noa Morris
On cello provides a sibling care, underlining as magic is written
Underneath Merry clouds and love is met and made by the tree,

Which catches time and tide and the flying of bird and hope
Over a somewhat broken world, grown too loud. Ride reminds,
As soundwaves bolster the beach that Bruce conjures, of Hardin
And Harper, both Buckleys too, Simon, Nash. As Lister troubadors

To your heart, with guitar gush blowing sweetly and his low, slow
Voice whispers to her and to you too, love’s soft crash.
Chris Barnett’s violin mixes with Morris, strings reaching out
For each other, as this song seducer sashays through sand

Seeking sheets in which love lays entwined. And so the sung mind
Becomes solid, as we all search for shadows with which to combine
And compete. The Sea contains its own tale in its twist and tanglike
Guitar figure as ‘we are all sailors on the sea/We ride the waves,  

eternally’ gifts small legends. And one can see Lister learning
From light on those waves, as he sits and composes these songs,
Either on beach, or in bedroom, for he allows that crucial act,
Transport, from the heart’s place to one lit by desire and dream
And by the stories told to each other. Each guitar pattern sparkles
Through sea, joining star, concealed by day, or at night,
As each tale becomes timeless and we too, turn into mirrors
Reflecting Lister’s repose as we listen and thereby understand

Who we are.  The sea is our teacher always. The land is our classroom.
But with its magic and danger and majesty, we are subject to its rule.
Even its absence defines us. Eventually it will cover, just as it did before
What feels free. And so Bruce prophets on, mixing played potions,

As he does with Merry, and also here, on his own. As each song
Compels and nudges novels spilt within song, for each motion
Of larynx and line sees hope thrown from his hand and on,
To all of those standing ready. Music is magic. It isn’t only girls.

Merlin’s flown. The Girl on Seventh Avenue is as ‘pretty
..As New York City,’ and where the ‘rain washes pain’
And the yellow cabs firefly. An immaculate tale is so told

Which the guitar watercolours, as tears and time and truth

Glisten in remembrance and a sigh. ‘Demons dance
In his eyes.’ Tibet calls and in Union Square all are circled,

Phil Du Mull’s sax blowing under this worldly walk,
This smooth stride. Description of Your Life near McTell’s

As lives become legends, and while this isn’t London,
Or not solely its streets its us, too. As the best songs allow
This subtle transference, truly and so, we are now playing
Everything Bruce provides. He is an expert musician

Who knows how to serve song and sentence.
On stage he is graceful, almost affronted at times
By stray noise, because it is purity he preserves
And which he has played and perfected for decades,

As both presence and player Lister’s attuned
To the joys that we often neglect, which this song
Tries to tell us. Are you living a description or honouring
Hidden truths? It is there in the lines. It is there in rhyme

And rasp. And love’s ruling: as the river runs dry
There’s no fooling; instead there’s the cooling of the fires
We raised in our youth. I am a Rock is not Paul’s,
As Lister calls to the ocean and its seven daughters
To dispense with death for the joining of stone

To the sand despite flesh. Eternity’s what we seek
And what we find within spirit. The body’s our vessel,
Captured and caught like net mesh. And so this song
Summons all to achieve transformation and helps

Make this album a freedom and form all can breach.
For as he Canutes there is also connection, between luck
And legend, Fairy realm, Town and beach. It is where
A hippyish happiness, much misunderstood achieves wisdom,

And we, singing with him, in seeking stars, start to reach.
Unrequited Love ends this suite but remains ambiguous,
Open ended. Its raven haired woman is Morgana Le Fay,
And Shallott, or the Lake’s Lady of course, offering sword up

As emblem, just as this album is a badge of belief
And sand cot, where you can at last lay your head and listen
To Lister, learning through legends both ancient and new
The first secrets in which love and luck and the ocean

In forming for us all found fresh gods.




                                                                          David Erdos 18/5/24









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