The story behind: Red Bridge

As an office junior at the age of 17 I used to go for longs walks on my lunch breaks. To get into the city centre I would have cross a bridge. There were two bridges to choose from, one being a pedestrian bridge. I don't know the name of it, but it was red.

I noticed one day that there was a mattress under that bridge, on the banks of the Clyde. It had messy sheets, and a pile of clothing and belongings. I just stared at the mess as I walked over the bridge. I felt an overwhelming sadness. How could someone live like that? Under a bridge. Next to a cold river. What happened to them? Why are they there? It was so horrible to think that is someone's existence in life. That at night, they would lay their head down on the cold damp mattress, see the ripples of the Clyde, and hear the marching footsteps and drunken laughter over head. I mean, that is someone's son or daughter; someone's friend or partner, fighting to stay alive.

So about 7 years later I am writing songs about the city, and how shite and horrible and sleazy it is at night. How the city becomes this hodpodge of sluts and sleazy men; of drunkards and druggys. I had a song I I had written called 'Be Lucky' which I liked and was very happy with. However, I chose to reinvent that riff. It turned out to be such a good recording that I thought the Be Lucky lyrics just wouldn't fit. So I wrote some new ones. I wanted a kind repeated rap-style melody, and wanted subject matter. Something emotional, sad but quite dark. I listened to the music and it made me think of the bridge, and the mattress. Of who may have lived there. And so the song began to write itself.

Track 5 - Red Bridge (AFTER. THE. RUSH. HOUR'S. GONE):

Sleeping, sleeping in sleeping bags
Under bridges under bridges, near the job I had
On the banks, banks, banks of the river bed

Under the Red Bridge

Across from across from the flash cars
Flash, flash, flash, flash, flash cars and prosperity,
Raiding the bins along the alleyways,
Feeding their habit that ruins their days,
That ruins their live,

Under the Red Bridge,
Where they made, their home

Along from, along from, along from the powerful courts,
Lawyers and judges, pass over head,
The mattress lay dormant and bare, mattress lay dormant bare,
Where are they now?
Where are they now?

Under the Red Bridge,
Where they made, their home

Written 2007-08

Watch this space for more behind my songs,
Wullae

www.myspace.com/aftertherushhoursgone