First, massive respect, always.
Also, I wonder if you ever came across my poem, ‘Sometimes a Wild God’? I did wonder, with your new album (the poem gets about a bit) and then I thought perhaps not. I think you might like it…
You can find it here: https://tomhirons.com/poetry/sometimes-a-wild-god
Many thanks for your continuing genius and commitment to the real life.

Dear Tom,

Thank you so much for your letter. I am aware of your poem, although I came upon my ‘Wild God’ entirely independently of your ‘Wild God’. As a friend suggested, perhaps the same ‘Wild God’ was just ‘doing the rounds’ looking for someone new to write about him!

At the end of November last year, Warren and I were at Dave Fridmann’s studio, Tarbox Road, in Cassadaga, New York, which is basically just a cabin in the woods. On the final afternoon, it was raining heavily and the two of us were sitting on the porch watching the rain overflowing the gutters and dripping through the trees. We had finished the mixing, felt we had an excellent record, and were pretty pleased with ourselves. Warren asked me what we were going to call the record. I had three ideas, which were titles of songs on the album, ‘Conversion’, ‘Joy’ and ‘Wild God’. We discussed the titles and thought ‘Conversion’ was probably too overtly religious and may scare people off; we both liked ‘Joy’, but I was concerned that the word ‘Joy’ might be interpreted as ‘Happy’, which felt misleading. This left Wild God. We both agreed that this was a powerful and mysterious title for an album. 

I googled Wild God in case some other band had called their record something similar.

“Fuck,” I said, “there’s a poem. It’s called ‘Sometimes a Wild God’.”  

“Really?” said Warren.

“Yeah, it’s by a guy called Tom Hirons.”

I read the poem to Warren.

“Great poem,” said Warren.

“Yes,” I said, “amazing poem. Beautiful poem.”

Warren and I grew silent. We sat on the porch in the woods and continued to watch the rain spill over the gutters and drip through the trees, thinking about the poem.

“Fuck it,” says Warren, “there’s always something.”

“That’s true,” I said.

At that moment, Dave opened the screen door and stepped onto the porch.

“What are you gonna call the record?” asked Dave.

“Wild God,” Warren and I said together.

Tom, I have often returned to your poem since that rainy afternoon in Cassadaga. It is a beautiful, deep, raw thing, full of unruly life, and I feel a genuine connection to it. I love the feeling of ordered humanity at the mercy of this ancient, chaotic, pagan force – of ‘wrens singing old songs in the mouth of our kettle.’ Reading it is a particular pleasure because it gives weight to my own ‘Wild God’, pouring meaning into it and deepening and intensifying it, and I find reading your poem aloud and listening to my song at the same time to be a powerful experience. I see you wrote your poem about ten years ago – clearly, we are travelling down the same road, you’re just a bit further along than me! Hold your lantern high, Tom Hirons. We need it. And thank you for getting in touch so graciously. I wish you the best in everything and encourage everyone reading this letter to check out your extraordinary poem.

Love, Nick

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