Sweetman Podcast 72622s

I haven’t made a bit of music for a while. Some would say I never have — including after hearing any of the pieces. Fair enough. With that in mind, here’s my most recent. A wee piece I call New Coat. I guess I tried to address the question no one was asking — what would happen if Moby and Robert Miles collaborated after they’d both been hit in the head a bit? My (“musical”) answer is above. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I always knew when my grandfather had come home too boozed, or sometimes it was even on a night when he’d just drift in his chair. The whiskey had done a number on him again. There’d be some noise and then my grandmother would shout out, “Boil the combs!” Grandad was a good sort otherwise. He made me a go-kart out of old boxes, but when the other kids could go much faster, he took the engine from his leaf-blower and hid it under the hood. He said, “put your foot on this button and just ease off if you’re going around a corner because there are no breaks”. He also said, “the other kids are stupid anyway”. And we laughed together for a long time after he said things like that. Grandma and Granddad liked to say that they ‘took me in’ and I never knew what that meant, at least not for ages. My dad wasn’t really into being a dad, they said. My mum could not cope alone. She moved up north to ‘better herself’, and that hurt the first few times I heard it, because I always wondered what was better than having a son. But it turned out she was going to go back to school to get some qualifications. She started writing letters, and as I got a bit older, I reckon the letters improved a bit too, so school was obviously working pretty good for her the second time around. Granny and Grandpa were good sorts, but I know she didn’t like it much when he went out drinking, or just had too much in his chair at home. But he seemed to have his reasons, reckoned sometimes she went out late alone without him when I was asleep, but also that I really didn’t need to know much more about that. We were quite a funny wee gang. I got teased a bit in school sometimes by people saying who is that old man or that old lady, or just who are those stupid old people that pick you up. But I just ignored that. Like a lot of what I am saying here, and a lot more I’m choosing not to say, it hurt a bit at the time. And then it didn’t. But I had good times with them both, and it felt like I was just living in a different world. Helping to pickle beetroot and lemons in the kitchen with Grandma. Helping to grow vegetables in the hydroponic greenhouse out back in the yard with Granddad. All of it completely normal to me, at least until we talked about what we did in the weekends first period Monday. I certainly never mentioned the combs. I knew that would take some explaining. One time, Granddad stumbled into my room and I thought he was lost, but he said to just shove over, and he pushed me close to the wall and he just fell asleep in the bed behind me. But pressed right up against me. It was fine, I guess. I felt safe. I just thought it was weird. And his breath smelled a bit like if someone had been sick in a cup of tea. So I hugged the wall instead of him. And another time, Grandma came in, but she was not going to let me sleep in the bed with her and told me to get on the floor. I tried to say that I was comfortable, but I was also pretty sleepy, so must have just crawled into place on the floor. I woke up and I was curled into a ball like a cat, under a huge rug, and also on top of a fluffy rug too. So it was actually really comfortable, and a little bit funny. I didn’t being there, like how I got there at all, until Granny said. And it was actually really weird because she was already up and making breakfast, so I thought at first I’d done some silly sleepwalking or something. But Granny believed in telling the truth. Most of the time anyway. And definitely whenever I asked. Which is why I had to find out why she would yell, “boil the combs”, and what did that even mean? She said it was a throwback to when she’d be woken up by her mum yelling the same thing whenever her dad came home drunk. Her mum would shout “boil the combs”, and the kids in the house would get up, put a pot of water on, and with the cast iron pot cooling off the fire, they’d then place two hair combs in, so as to be sure no lice were trapped, and the combs were nice and clean. They would then help their mum tie their dad into bed, so he didn’t fall out. He’d come home drunk and want to do one of two things that started with ‘F’ apparently. I didn’t really understand that part. But that’s what Granny said. She reckoned the plan her mum had worked out was that if they tied him into bed he couldn’t move, nor be a danger to anyone, and also he wouldn’t fall out and end up on his face on the cold wooden floor too. But the genius part of the plan was that once tied into bed, they would all have a go at doing his hair, combing it back and tidying it while he snored. The two combs were so that it was a game, Granny reckoned. And her and her two sisters and brother would take turns. They thought it was so much fun. And got a real giggle she said. The idea was that when her father woke, he had no idea what had happened but could tell by his hair that it must have been a trouble-free night. That all made so much sense, and sounded funny, and a little bit sweet, but also a little bit weird, and even quite scary, but Granny said that they all knew what they were doing and had fun, and it wasn’t until quite long after her father had died that her mother explained a bit more about how serious it was sometimes, and how the “boil the combs” scream wasn’t quite a code, or a , but then again it also almost was. Her mum couldn’t always get out of bed straight away, and sometimes the kids had to do all of the boiling and even get some rope to bring in to their mum in the bedroom. Sometimes she was standing up in her nightgown, and was in the corner of the room and their father was yelling a bit about how he was angry at the world for so many things. “Kids can be clever”, I said to my Granny after all that. And she agreed that they can, and reckoned that’s why I didn’t need to know too much more about anything else related to why she still yelled out “boil the combs”. She just said it was some sort of throwback to her childhood, and definitely nothing to with Granddad at all. She also said it was smart of me to not come in when I heard it. To just do my best to get back to sleep. Things were different these days, she said. And she hadn’t married her father. She definitely hadn’t, no matter what Mrs. Waters across the road said. Things were fine most of the time she also said. And I wondered why she had said those last two things. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Start writing today. Use the button below to create a Substack of your own Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the tenth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. Our second of 2025 is the King’s first YA title, The Eyes of The Dragon, and since there’s no film version, as yet (and unlikely to ever be), and because it’s related — age-wise, we also dip into his graphic novelette, The Cycle of the Werewolf, and its ropey film adaptation, Silver Bullet. The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I haven’t made a bit of music for a while. Some would say I never have — including after hearing any of the pieces. Fair enough. With that in mind, here’s my most recent. A wee piece I call Dark Winds. Might use it for some spoken word at some point, but for now, here it is. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

When George Harrison died, I helped move a friend from her flat in Elizabeth St to her new place then in Tasman St. From Mt Vic to Mt Cook sounds like the title to a down-scaling book but this was just how it was back in 2001. We scrubbed the walls to get the smoke stains off from where the pictures had been and all the while the radio was playing Beatles songs. I was on the heavy lifting, helping the removal men when they arrived. I was lifting tables and chairs, computer desks and various things down the alleyway to the street front. It was baking hot; I’d played a gig the night before and stayed up late drinking whatever was in the house as a toast to the Quiet Beatle. My hangover was getting a workout. The removal truck arrived, driven by the world’s rudest man. He was instantly a caricature. Loud and dumb and full of himself. And his truck was in the middle of the street – a one-way road. He figured everyone could wait because he was on a paid job. And when he did, grudgingly, move the truck, he backed it into someone’s car. A neighbour popped his head in to say he’d seen what happened. The moving man stuck his neck out to tell the man to forget what he saw if he wanted to keep all his fingers. Then there was a car of women beeping. Beeping. Trying to tell this man to move. I was head-down and just bringing out the loads of stuff. But I said, at one point, that maybe he ought to move his truck. He laughed maniacally and then went to meet the women in the car. He bent down, leaned in and hoiked a giant spit right into the face of the driver. His co-worker laughed, then corrected himself, shook his head, was mortified. And he asked the lunatic, “why did you do that?” The meathead replied that it was the “the dirtiest thing I could think to do”. The radio belted out I Me Mine and Here Comes The Sun and Taxman and While My Guitar Gently Weeps. All those great George Harrison-penned Beatles songs. We heard a few of the solo gems too – obviously My Sweet Lord and All Those Years Ago, that cover of Got My Mind Set on You and a Travelling Wilburys song – or two. But this was the end of the line. A guy spat in a woman’s face because he couldn’t be bothered to move his truck. Because he was sure that he was the boss. Because he knew that he was large – and if not in charge he was still the king. At least of anything that mattered in his world. We were mortified. Horrified. We were stunned to silence – and didn’t feel good about that. We had a story. A weird story. And it’s one we’ll always have. Me and the friend I helped move that day…were married a few years on, we’ve moved houses a handful of times since that occasion. We’ve streamlined all we can but the mess continues to grow, the stuff we don’t need builds up around us. And we have a son now that wants to know any story about The Beatles that we can think of. One day, he can read this. And make of it what he will. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

It was my first time reading at The Office in Newtown, a regular get-together for some, but a new venue for it. I read two new poems — including one so new I wrote it the morning of the day I read it. The other is a couple of weeks old, both were new to being read aloud. They have a musical guest and a guest-poet but the first half of the programme is all-comers on an open mic. So check it out above to hear my two new poems. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

Here’s three brand new poems from me at the regular Poetry in Motion open mic at the Fringe Bar in Wellington. Where all of last year and even into early this year I have been rehearsing and showcasing material from The Richard Poems, this was my first time in years reading brand new material. So the three poems captured here are being read for the very first time.They are called Worlds Colliding, Ex/Terminate and Shake What Ya Mama Gave You. In the case of Ex/Terminate, I haven’t even ed it to Substack, but you can read Worlds Colliding — — and Shake What Ya Mama Gave You — — you know, for those that like to read along at home. Anyway, new poems, the start of reading new poems out and about again hopefully. Let me know what you think. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I’ve mentioned my little book, The Richard Poems a bunch here. Launched in November last year. I’ve shared a few (audio) readings along the way to publication — and then a couple that have come out since the release: But there at the top you have a video poem, I’m reading Summerslam, 1988 — a piece from early in the book. A scene-setter I guess. I also will include here a bonus video of a handful of poems from the book — being read for the first time, and as you’ll see (and hear) chosen on the fly: This Friday, Feb 21, I am taking some of these poems, and many more, and performing them on stage with a band. If you buy a ticket, all the money will be donated to Women’s Refuge. Just $10 a ticket. You can even watch some rehearsal footage to get an idea of how it’s going to sound: Buy your ticket/s to the show! Buy a copy of the book Let me know if you’d like to see more video content, or hear more audio content. Start writing today. Use the button below to create a Substack of your own Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

The final rehearsal for our show “DICK” is in the can — here’s a couple of sneak-peek clips; we were in the main room at Photospace Gallery today, where we’ll be delivering the show this Friday, Feb 21, 7.30pm. A reminder to buy your tickets online from The Fringe website — it’s $10 and that money goes to Women’s Refuge. There are no door sales on the night. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I popped along to the New Zealand Society of Authors — Wellington’s first event of 2025, an open mic at Undercurrent bookshop. There were all sorts of readings from all sorts of readings, including from novels and short stories and memoir and children’s books, and poetry. For my five-minute set, I read four poems from my latest collection, The Richard Poems. And you can listen to the recording here. It was also — of course — a chance to plug the show: Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the ninth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. Our first of 2025 is the classic Pet Sematary, and the slightly less classic film adaptations (plural). Will they ever get this book right on screen? We think not. The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

Another rehearsal, so a few more teaser clips of the show developing… On Friday, February 21, I’ll be performing poems from my latest book as part of a Fringe Festival show: The show is taking place at Photospace Gallery in Courtenay Place, Wellington, at 7.30pm. I’m being backed by musicians John Kingston and James Gilberd of the duo Filtersphere. Their ambient, improvised wash of music is the perfect soundscape for my Richard Reimagining — a kind of poetry remix where I take about a third of the poems in the book and re-arrange them to tell the same story-arc of the poetry sequence’s narrative, but in a whole new shape. We are rehearsing the material to build up an idea of how it will go on the night. And I’m really thrilled with it so far. I couldn’t have better and understanding and intuition from my musician pals. Anyway, work in progress, but have a look and let me know what you think. And maybe see you there on the night? Or tell your friends in the Wellington vicinity. See below for the details again about the show, in a link. And also there’s a previous rehearsal clip to click on if you missed it at the time, or wish to compare. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the eighth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. A bit delayed here sorry, we actually put this up first on YouTube in late 2024, but then, you know, summer holidays, etc… And we are talking Christine — from 1983, the classic movie version from the same year too (John Carpenter). It’s a big book too, so as always that is the focus of the chat. We’ll be back as quick as we can with Pet Sematary, the first proper pod of 2025… The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the seventhepisode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. And we are talking Cujo — from 1981, the classic movie version, and the sequel story Rattlesnakes, from the brand new story collection, You Like It Darker. But, as always, it’s the book that matters most. And for this conversation we were ed by our first guest, one of New Zealand’s greatest authors, Pip Adam. The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. But also adding it here so you can find it on Substack, and your favourite podcast providers like Spotify if you just want the audio. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I was the guest poet at the November edition of Poetry in Motion. They have an open mic each month, and then a Feature Poet. This month it was me. I’d last done it in 2021 after the late 2020 release of The Death of Music Journalism. This time I had The Richard Poems to plug, but also read a few new and old poems. I also introduced Tarns Hood, during my segment, and got her to recite one of her poems. (Tarns is thanked in the Acknowledgments of my new book, she is one of the best performance poets around, a SLAM champ, and she gave me crucial advice on my delivery of these new poems, for which I am very grateful). Anyway, this is the recording of the night’s feature spot. You’ll hear my full set here, including Tarns’ poem, and all the explanatory banter and backstory around various poems too. I hope you enjoy. It felt good to launch the book in this way, well pre-launch. The main launch is still to come of course: Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the sixth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. And we are talking Firestarter — the first book of the 1980s, the classic Drew Barrymore-starring film version, its ludicrous non-canon ‘sequel’, and a pretty bad recent remake. But it’s the book that matters most. (And the film soundtracks by Tangerine Dream and John Carpenter — LOL!). The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. But also adding it here so you can find it on Substack, and your favourite podcast providers like Spotify if you just want the audio. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the fifth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. And we are talking Dead Zone — the 1979 political thriller/existential horror, and its 1983 David Cronenberg-helmed Sci-Fi film adaptation — but we are not discussing the TV series. We did not go there! The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. But also adding it here so you can find it on Substack, and your favourite podcast providers like Spotify if you just want the audio. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

I’ve got this (silly) idea for my next book — by which I mean the one after the one that is about to be released. I’d like to catalogue various low-key failures in my life via a set of autobiographical short stories. Vignettes, really. I have some audio recordings of some of these too, so I’m occasionally sharing them here with both options — you can listen to the spoken-word version (with my primitive soundscaping) or read the story below. Or both, you know, read-along-as-you-listen… Anyway, here’s the truth story of when I was very luckily not good enough… Some 20 years ago I got a friend to drive me out towards Porirua to rehearse for a Jimi Hendrix tribute act. My car had been stolen, my drums too (they were in the car). The local guy we hired our PA from let me rent a kit for the weekend for $20. Amazing eh? I had the rehearsal and a couple of gigs, I made enough to pay petrol for my mate and the cheap-as-chips hire fee and actually it was a pretty good payday (had to wait to get a new car). But the thing that I’ve just ed is that the Hendrix rehearsal went okay; the bass player was pretty good and I thought I did fine as well. I played as many of the songs from memory as I could and if I didn’t know it I just gave it a nudge, which you can do on the drums, more so than on most other instruments. The lead singer and guitarist — The Jimi Hendrix for this experience — was good too. He rolled around the floor at one point, had the guitar up over his head. We had a beer after and a get-to-know-each-other chat and he explained that he really liked to get into the showmanship side of things, said he’d be doing more than just what we saw then. He liked to really get into character as well and explained that when we played he had big plans for huge venues. H e’d be dres as Jimi. A big wig he said. And he liked to paint his face black… I didn’t do any gigs with his group. I can’t say it’s because of any moral fibre. I’d love to say I was too good for blackface but perhaps, even more luckily, I wasn’t good enough. A couple of years ago I recorded a few of these stories, with crude musical backing, and released an album or two on Bandcamp under the name Second Storey Teller. Here’s an earlier Audio + Typed Short Story, about another kind of failure: Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Start writing today. Use the button below to create a Substack of your own Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

Hey there, here’s a new set of recordings — more from the files of ‘The Richard Poems’. You’ll I have shareda few previous times reading, as I try to get to grips with these new poems, and work on the idea of creating an actual show, also the book is on its way soon. But if you missed the other recordings I’ll add them down here below: And, if you’re playing at home, I like to give you the option to read along — so below are the poems featured in this podcast in their print/text ‘readings’: See you next month — with a book out, and news of a launch, and maybe even a recording from the launch, as well as a featured spot at the Fringe Bar open mic where I’ll be reading more from the book than just two or three… Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe

We are back with the fourth episode of We All Float Down Here — A Stephen King podcast. And we are talking The Stand— the 1978 epic novel, and its 1994 and 2020 miniseries’ — but we are discussing the 1990 Complete and Uncut version of the novel, since that’s the one in circulation these days. (And the one we read). The podcast goes out on YouTube first and foremost — so we’d love you to like and subscribe over there. But also adding it here so you can find it on Substack, and your favourite podcast providers like Spotify if you just want the audio. Thanks for reading Sounds Good! ! This post is public so feel free to share it. Sounds Good! is a reader-ed publication. To receive new posts and my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Sounds Good! at simonsweetman.substack.com/subscribe