John Hyatt Acoustic

I wanted to be a bass player when I was a kid and I bought a Woolworths' Top Twenty bass and a 30 Watt amp (with speed and reverb, yes, but, along with my kid-sized hand span, not quite up to the bass). My Dad bought me a single every week out of his lorry-driver’s pay packet and my mum, who was a school cook, brought me home a BIG empty jam tin to keep them in. They are still in it. I didn’t realise, then, that he was a singer in the pubs at night when there was a piano going. 'Buttermilk Skies' was his number. Singing was in my genes but my heart didn’t know it yet.
At school, when they asked you to blow down a pipe into the base of a column of water and push it up a glass tube with the air that you expelled, in order to measure your lung capacity on a gauge, I blew the water out of the top of the apparatus and all over the classroom.
As I sang in 'Skeleton Man' on the Three Johns’ 'Eat Your Sons' album, I was born with the finest lungs in the world, handed down to me by Paul Robeson for singing without a microphone to large crowds of unruly miscreants. This made me a natural band front man, especially in the early days when everyone else was too shy to sing and no-one could afford a PA but every guitarist bought the biggest amp that they could get.
You know, rocking and shouting and all that adrenaline is all so good, but sometimes I just want to strum my guitar in good company. Maybe I inherited these things, my wordweaving and my rebel heart, along with my Irish grandmother’s fiddle. The resonances sometimes, at the best of times, dissolve me to fly at the wind's rim.
Anyway, close your eyes and open up your ears.
Enjoy the songs and the site. Check out www.hyattartandlife.com for paintings and more new songs (free to download) or the Myspace sites beginning the friends below: the first seven are me or me and my collaborators.
J:^)