| Invocation |
I am the crow of desperation
I will effect your validation
I spin relentless variation
I scramble in the dust of a failing nation
I was concealed
Now I am stirring
And I have waited for this time. |
| Lesson |
The birds they sang
at the break of day
Start again
I heard them say
Don't dwell on what
has passed away
or what is yet to be.
Ah the wars they will
be fought again
The holy dove
She will be caught again
bought and sold
and bought again
the dove is never free.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in. |
| Benediction |
I remember King David,
With his harp
And his beautiful, beautiful songs;
I answered his prayers,
And showed him a place
Where his music belongs
It's not too far from here;
Come get up off your knees
If you're looking for ways to please...
Sing me no psalm;
You're not King David.
Sing me no high,
Hushed Glory Be:
Sing it to one,
One of the broken
And brother you're singing,
Singing to me
Sing me no deep
Hymn of devotion;
Sing me no slow
Sweet melody:
Sing it to one,
One of the broken--
And brother you're singing,
Singing to me. |
|
| Wrong Way Up |
| Saturday, July 15, 2006 |
Unsurprisingly to those who know me, I spent some little time dithering over how to inaugurate this blog. I've been collecting music since I got my first tape recorder some 25 years ago; I used to lean the (monaural) recorder against one of the speakers on my stereo clock radio. Seriously. Being an archivist (read: craphound) by nature, I made dozens of compilations on as many Radio Shack cassettes as I could afford.
For some reason I never labeled those tapes, as a result of which more than one song appeared in multiple compilations. So that you, dear Reader, will feel appropriately warned of my taste in music, I will confess here the identity of one song I recorded at least three times. Mercifully, I came up too late for the disco years.
I always tell friends that my taste runs to clever, pretty music. Doesn't have to be pretty if it's clever enough, and vice versa.
 Down the line I'll have more to say about Wrong Way Up, the 1990 collaboration of Brian Eno and John Cale. At the moment, though, I'm trying to determine whether I've mastered the process of arranging remote-hosting for tunes. So here's an essay about the album from Chicago-based critic Jim deRogatis (a man unafraid to stand by his opinions). The lyric, which you can see quoted in the left sidebar, is reproduced with my own correction (unless I'm wrong) from enoweb.
I'm just a little obsessive about cataloging in iTunes, by the way; I hope the information is preserved in the file transfer, but I'm pretty ignorant about such things. Feedback is welcome, unless you have stock tips or pills for sale.
 Brian Eno and John Cale: Lay My Love
Brian Eno and John Cale: Empty Frame
If you like the tracks above and are tempted to buy the album, be aware that I haven't posted my favorite song. How's that for the hard sell? (The art to the left is from the 2005 reissue, by the way. With two bonus tracks I haven't heard. I'm just sayin'.)
While I'm about it, here are a pair of representative moments from two 1974 solo recordings: Eno's Here Come the Warm Jets and Cale's Fear. There's no point in my blathering about similarities of sound or style; you can hear them as well as I can describe them (also Eno co-produced the Cale album, so it would be cheating anyway). Just sit back and gaze out the window...
Cale - You Know More Than I Know
Eno - Needles in the Camel's Eye |
posted by Rah @ 11:31 AM  |
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