The Joywheel



This tune’s ’bout the upliftment of the Joywheel, my term for transcultural dancefloors of profound and spiritual celebration where we can all dance to eachother’s music in a drug-and- alcohol-free family-friendly zone where no-one has to worry ’bout overstoned drunken geezers vomiting over their kids.

C’mon Kings Cross!


Danse, danse.

People of all ages
out of their cages.
People of all races
and interspaces.
People of all books,
with deep down the same outlook,
People of relation
We’re talkin’ bout roughsleepers
and old doorkeepers:
We’re talkin bout conditions
seen in visions.
We’re talkin bout release
and inner peace
We’re talkin bout accord
across the board.

O the joywheel turning,
dance if you are burning,
religion of the dancers…

If you want to rave it
like royal David
get out of your footwear,
au contraire,
get out of your system
the old abysm,
up comes the full moon
to party, this is opportune.
Dreadman from the street
Anastasia from the elite,
someone from the army,
but that don’t alarm me!
Check the cool granny
cruisin at the hootenanny.
Now the vibes are level
in this ya revel

O the joywheel spinning,
dance from the beginning,
religion of the dancers.

Joue, joue.

I want
to kiss her.
As for Ali
out of Mali,
Niger River
will deliver.

O the joywheel grooving,
move if you are moving,
religion of the dancers.

Chante, chante.

Now we’re on the planet
with more Netsannet.
Now you have to laugh,
a joywheel-and-a-half.
Now you’re spirits up,
yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yup,
The dance releases
sorrow’s antithesis.

O the joywheel flying
dance away from dying,
religion of the dancers.

O the joywheel turning,
dance if you are burning,
religion of the dancers…

O the joywheel racing,
in the dance of life we’re facing,
religion of the dancers…

Give me some Stravinsky
the steel-tailed Minsky,
give me some Bolero
Coltrane and Pharoah,
play me Salif Keita
sooner or later
Hildegard of Bingen,
accused of singin.