The original Wilburys were a stationary people who, realising that their civilisation could not stand still for ever, began to go for short walks - not the "traveling" as we now know it but certainly as far as the corner and back. They must have taken to motion, in much the same way as penguins were at that time taking to ledges, for the next we hear of them they were going out for the day (often taking lunch or a picnic). Later - we don't as yet know how much later - some intrepid Wilburys began to go away for the weekend, leaving late Friday and coming back Sunday. It was they who evolved simple rhythmic forms to describe their adventures. A remarkable sophisticated musical culture developed, considering there were no managers or agents and the further the Wilburys traveled the more adventurous their music became and the more it was revered by the elders of the tribe who believed it had the power to stave off madness, turn brunettes into blondes and increase the size of their ears But as the Wilburys began to go further and further in their search for musical inspiration they found themselves the object of interest among many less developed species - nightclub owners, tour operators and recording executives. To the Wilburys, who had only just learnt to cope with wives, roadies and drummers, it was a blow from which many of them never recovered. They became hairdressers or tv rental salespersons. But a tiny handful survived the last of the traveling Wilburys - and the songs gathered here represent the popular laments, the epic and heroic tales which characterise the apotheosis of the elusive Wilbury sound. The message of the music travels, as indeed they traveled and as I myself must now travel for further treatment. Good listening, good night and let thy Wilbury done.