Music mystery

OK, have a go at this. Well-known band having a bit of a larkabout.

Name the band.

For bonus points, name the singer, the year and the flip-side.

No Googling!

Moment

Bitterly cold night, all the site locked down and secure, taking five minutes between duties, I listened to some music on my phone with a pair of headphones borrowed from Lost Property. It was a piece of music I had almost forgotten I had: After The Goldrush by Neil Young.

And the song 'Birds'.

When you see me
Fly away without you
Shadow on the things you know
Feathers fall around you
And show you the way to go
It's over.

Young's lyrics are never clear, and don't slap you in the face with a 'meaning'. They are more associative and suggestive, and any meaning you find is something that was probably in your head anyway. Listening to this song in my own quiet moment, I found it both melancholy and very moving. Young's thin and plaintive voice matches the words perfectly.

Only love can break your heart.

Geoffrey Burgon

I was sitting in the car in Morrisons car park today, having a quiet listen to Radio Four, as you do, when I heard the news that Geoffrey Burgon had died.

He was best known for his film and television themes, where he was able to turn out music that was both moody and melodic, and highly memorable. The two best known were the theme to Granada's Brideshead Revisited in 1981, and the magical setting of the Nunc Dimittis which played out every episode of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy in 1979. But I remember him for a much more obscure work - so obscure that it doesn't even feature in his Wikipedia entry. Even his own website doesn't list it.

In 1984, The National Federation of Music Societies (now known, tediously, as 'Making Music'), with funding from the Arts Council, commissioned a work from Burgon as part of its Golden Jubilee celebrations in 1985. The work was commissioned to be sung at twelve regional performances by choirs made up of local music societies. Its title was Revelations, and the composer combined the words of St John the Divine in the last book of the Bible with the words of four mystical and visionary poems: Yeats' 'The Cold Heaven', Emily Dickinson's 'Behind Me Dips Eternity', 'But Sweet Sister Death' by David Jones, and 'Darest thou, O soul, walk out with me towards the unknown region' by Walt Whitman. It's a stunning and thought-provoking collection.



At the time I was a member of the local Choral Society (top tenor, since you ask), and as we were the crack choir of the area, we were invited to make up part of the regional choir. We rehearsed the work for several weeks and eventually performed it in Lincoln Cathedral. For the performance, it was paired with the Fauré Requiem, which made an odd combination.

Performing any work will let the music get well under your skin, but this one really got to me. It was very modern in style and harmonic structure, which pleased me and irritated the older members of the choir. In places, all four parts were split, giving eight melodic lines, and some of the harmonies made Phil Spector's 'Wall Of Sound' seem like a cheap MP3 player. It was the first piece I ever sang where both major and minor chords were sung simultaneously. It's frighteningly hard to pitch, and it ought to have grated, but the effect was cataclysmic and incredibly moving. I enjoyed rehearsing and performing that work as much as any I have done.

I still have the vocal score, but although I have searched everywhere I have not been able to track down a recording. I would love to hear it again.

Thank you, Geoffrey Burgon, for some lovely music.

Lyrics flowchart

Apologies for lack of posts over the last few days. There's been work, and there's been stuff, and I've had a bad back and sitting at the computer has been painful. But it's Saturday, the shopping is done, and the weekend has started.

I love this (click for bigger):



H/t Obnoxio.

Sublime Slowhand

Saw this on another blog this week. I've been a fan of Eric Clapton since the John Mayall and Cream days, way back when. He always seemed to 'get' the blues better than any other white musician. And he still does. Here he is, ripping into Otis Rush's 1957 classic Groanin' the Blues.

The boy's still got it.

Good work

I came across this while idly surfing this evening. I liked it enough to put it here.

"Reading a newspaper, I saw a picture of birds on the electric wires. I cut out the photo and decided to make a song, using the exact location of the birds as notes (no Photoshop edit). I knew it wasn't the most original idea in the universe. I was just curious to hear what melody the birds were creating."

Birds on the Wires from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

Nothing left to say

Those who know me in Real Life ™ know that I am a big fan of the music of Pete Atkin. Atkin was in the Cambridge Footlights with Clive James and together they wrote some amazing music in the 70s. Atkin did the notes; James wrote the words. The music was to some extent the soundtrack of my sixth-form and university days, and to my great pleasure the old albums have recently been released and even some new material produced. A song from the 'Secret Drinker' album (1974) has been going round in my head for the last few days. Perhaps it's how I feel at the moment. Find out more at Pete's homepage.

The breakers from the sea that kept me sane
Were clean and lucid, all along the line
Like shavings tumbled upward from the plane
That leave with ease the surface of the pine
When the carpenter is planing with the grain
It's nothing
Nothing but a dream of mine

    And I have come to nothing in a way
    That leaves me with nothing left to say

Half a lifetime bending with the breeze
To buy the stuff I don't know how to use
A deck of credit-cards, a bunch of keys
A station I achieved but didn't choose
The screws are on and no-one beats the squeeze
It's nothing
Nothing I can't bear to lose

    And I have come to nothing in a way
    That leaves me with nothing left to say

The sea I dreamed of closes like a vice
Parading waves are frozen into place
Their veils of vapour scattering like rice
And far below, the ultimate disgrace
A mermaid crushed to death inside the ice
It's nothing
Nothing but a frightened face

    And I have come to nothing in a way
    That leaves me with nothing left to say