songofcopper: (cessole)
A ghost is present - standing behind my shoulder, pouring into my ear a memory that is not mine - speaking a borrowed sorrow, a breath once warm made condensate upon cold mirror.

Music is the key to Time Travel. Replicating moments (thoughts, feelings) from the past. Yeah, fine, so far so obvious, the Emy. ;-) Surrounded as we are by the aural dregs of past ages, we can become desensitised to this phenomenon. The forms and conventions of past music become cosily familiar - background nostalgia.

But occasionally, the Cold Mirror brings you something chilling, haunting, uncanny.

Have a seasonally-appropriate song:



My ghost is the composer Pelham Humfrey. I stumbled across this song ('A Hymne to God the Father', also known as 'Wilt Thou Forgive That Sin') when looking for this anthem (which I've always loved; I'm not a classical music fan in general but Baroque and early music = ROCK as far as I'm concerned - were it less of a massive musical iceberg I'd probably investigate more of it).

It's all too easy to ignore the religion part of sacred music; at least, it is if you are not religious. ;-) But there's something about this lone soul, seeking propitiation - a solitary voice dragging a weight of sin across an elegantly arctic expanse of melody. Something intimate and obsessive. A flawed individual's personal experience of god is always going to be more affecting than massed ranks, organisationally-sanctioned, on-message. Real fear of god is here - no half-assed community-sing platitudes.

Of course the words (by John Donne) are pretty mesmerising in themselves, but it's the intensity and concentrated purity of the music that brings that silver shiver. Musically, I love the economy of this piece - not a single wasted note. And it oscillates very cleverly between minor and major, as the supplicant sinner wavers between shame and hope. There's something oddly modern-sounding in it, eerie, haunting, unplaceably timeless. I can imagine it being used in a film (maybe it has been) - against a slow-motion murder, or an implosion in deep space, or as the camera pulls very, very slowly away from a person who sits completely still, poleaxed by feeling, acting only with the eyes.

The most electric chill is reserved for the moment when you discover that Pelham Humfrey is a 17th C. pioneer of what we now call 'the 27 club'. He even behaved like a rock star - according to Pepys (cheers Sam!), he came back from France full of vainglorious affectations, but was nonetheless a bona fide prodigy. There seems to be very little information about Humfrey to be found (at least on a cursory search) - how did he die? What did he look like (other than the fancy French duds!)? How very tantalising. At least we have his music. I know I'll be searching out more.
songofcopper: (Demetrio Stratos!!)
Today’s song of choice is pretty much my new favourite song.  It’s by a very idiosyncratic band called – wait for it – ‘Area – international POPular group’.  (I have no idea why they capitalised the ‘POP’ like that, nor why they decided on this rather grandiose subtitle!  But pretty much everything about their music is entertainingly self-confident, almost overly so in fact, so I suppose it suits them.)

This band was recommended to me on the strength of (a) excellent drumming and (b) all-round quirkiness, and they don’t disappoint on either front.

songofcopper: (Demetrio Stratos!!)
Today’s song of choice is pretty much my new favourite song.  It’s by a very idiosyncratic band called – wait for it – ‘Area – international POPular group’.  (I have no idea why they capitalised the ‘POP’ like that, nor why they decided on this rather grandiose subtitle!  But pretty much everything about their music is entertainingly self-confident, almost overly so in fact, so I suppose it suits them.)

This band was recommended to me on the strength of (a) excellent drumming and (b) all-round quirkiness, and they don’t disappoint on either front.

songofcopper: (21 with clock)
Say the name ‘Frank Zappa’ and you tend to get some interesting reactions.  Some of the usual ones are as follows:

1.    Professional weirdo.
2.    Man sitting on toilet.
3.    Purveyor of offensive lyrics.
4.    Twentieth century American composer.
5.    Hero of Eastern European political activists.
6.    World’s pre-eminent guitar genius.
7.    Disciplinarian bandleader.
8.    Bestower of cruelly peculiar names.
9.    Basement-dweller.
10.  Pop cultural satirist.

I could go on, but I think that’s enough really!

songofcopper: (21 with clock)
Say the name ‘Frank Zappa’ and you tend to get some interesting reactions.  Some of the usual ones are as follows:

1.    Professional weirdo.
2.    Man sitting on toilet.
3.    Purveyor of offensive lyrics.
4.    Twentieth century American composer.
5.    Hero of Eastern European political activists.
6.    World’s pre-eminent guitar genius.
7.    Disciplinarian bandleader.
8.    Bestower of cruelly peculiar names.
9.    Basement-dweller.
10.  Pop cultural satirist.

I could go on, but I think that’s enough really!

songofcopper: (full head & shoulders)
Ok.  LET’S GET SERIOUS, FOLKS!  Today’s featured song is brought to you by that paragon of the peculiar, Captain Beefheart.

songofcopper: (full head & shoulders)
Ok.  LET’S GET SERIOUS, FOLKS!  Today’s featured song is brought to you by that paragon of the peculiar, Captain Beefheart.

songofcopper: (glance)
Tom Waits. Tom Waits for me.
 
That is, Tom Waits and his body of work is out there, ready for me, when I am ready for it.
 
So far, I haven’t delved into it very far (something tells me it might get rather expensive if I did!). But – especially for singalongs in the car – I love ‘Mule Variations’, even if I am told by some music critics that it is ‘Tom Waits for Sissies’. Ah well, perhaps I’m a sissy.
 
songofcopper: (glance)
Tom Waits. Tom Waits for me.
 
That is, Tom Waits and his body of work is out there, ready for me, when I am ready for it.
 
So far, I haven’t delved into it very far (something tells me it might get rather expensive if I did!). But – especially for singalongs in the car – I love ‘Mule Variations’, even if I am told by some music critics that it is ‘Tom Waits for Sissies’. Ah well, perhaps I’m a sissy.
 
Smiles and Dreams )
 
Sun come up, it was blue and gold
Sun come up, it was blue and gold
Sun come up, it was blue and gold
Ever since I put your picture in a frame
 
I come calling in my Sunday best
I come calling in my Sunday best
I come calling in my Sunday best
Ever since I put your picture in a frame
 
I’m gonna love you till the wheels come off
Oh yeah
 
I love you baby, and I always will
I love you baby, and I always will
I love you baby, and I always will
Ever since I put your picture in a frame.
 
Copyright Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan
 
If you ever wanted to let someone know that you really cared for them, and your tongue was tied, I prescribe this song. If you could dance with them around your kitchen to it, that would work especially well, methinks.
 
Yes, I am sentimental. (Sentient and mental; oh my yes. ^_^)
songofcopper: (rrrrred)
I am, from time to time, a connoisseur (connoisseuse?) of weirdness.  People who can go about being confidently and unapologetically eccentric... make my day.   So I suppose that it's no great surprise that a certain Mr Julian Cope makes the occasional appearance in my music collection.

Ladies and gentleman, Mr Cope is not just an eccentric in his own right, he is also a *scholar of weirdness* to boot.  I think it's that combination of reckless enthusiasm and twinkly professorness that I like so well.  Anyone who can write a learned tome on Teutonic-influenced progressive rock music and follow it up with a comprehensive gazetteer of British ancient monuments can come for tea and cake at my house any day!  Home-made cake, an' all.

Here is not the place for me to spew out gibberish on the lives and times of Julian C., however.  A little light Googly-Mooglification will tell you anything you want to know in that department.  Let's change focus and get between the notes a little bit.

Follow the pattern... )
songofcopper: (rrrrred)
I am, from time to time, a connoisseur (connoisseuse?) of weirdness.  People who can go about being confidently and unapologetically eccentric... make my day.   So I suppose that it's no great surprise that a certain Mr Julian Cope makes the occasional appearance in my music collection.

Ladies and gentleman, Mr Cope is not just an eccentric in his own right, he is also a *scholar of weirdness* to boot.  I think it's that combination of reckless enthusiasm and twinkly professorness that I like so well.  Anyone who can write a learned tome on Teutonic-influenced progressive rock music and follow it up with a comprehensive gazetteer of British ancient monuments can come for tea and cake at my house any day!  Home-made cake, an' all.

Here is not the place for me to spew out gibberish on the lives and times of Julian C., however.  A little light Googly-Mooglification will tell you anything you want to know in that department.  Let's change focus and get between the notes a little bit.

Follow the pattern... )
songofcopper: (pixel me)
This song is a candidate for The Best Song I Have Ever Heard.

Normally, I scoff at the idea of perfection.  There is no such thing.  It is silly and wrong even to aim for it.  All one can ever hope to be is... good enough.  And that's... well, good enough.

And yet, and yet...

songofcopper: (pixel me)
This song is a candidate for The Best Song I Have Ever Heard.

Normally, I scoff at the idea of perfection.  There is no such thing.  It is silly and wrong even to aim for it.  All one can ever hope to be is... good enough.  And that's... well, good enough.

And yet, and yet...

songofcopper: (pixel me)
Some songs hit you with instantaneous love – a fanfare – an instant, pulse-racing recognition – an immediate response, like hunger attends upon the smell of baking.  But some songs are more discreet and cunning.  They trickle in and take up residence without ever imposing in the hot-and-heavy manner of the more passionate sort of song-crush.

This is one of the more discreet ones. :-)

songofcopper: (pixel me)
Some songs hit you with instantaneous love – a fanfare – an instant, pulse-racing recognition – an immediate response, like hunger attends upon the smell of baking.  But some songs are more discreet and cunning.  They trickle in and take up residence without ever imposing in the hot-and-heavy manner of the more passionate sort of song-crush.

This is one of the more discreet ones. :-)

songofcopper: (pixel me)
Hmmm, sentimentality.  It's a tricky old thing.  I have a sort of love/hate relationship with it.  Part of me wants to inhale kittens and sweat cherry blossom.  Another part of me rolls its eyes, groans, and mutters behind the page of the virtual broadsheet newspaper it's reading. :-)  Almost anything could make me cry, if I was in the right (or perhaps the wrong) frame of mind.  And yet I'm not a fan of schmaltz at all.  I resent having my heart prodded in that vulgar manner...

The reason for this momentary self-analysis?  I'm still trying to decide what I really think about this song.  The biggest thing about it that I might not like, is the gooey 'modern hymn-ness' of it.  The lyrics will tell you what I mean.

The lyrics... and more drivellish from me! )
songofcopper: (pixel me)
Hmmm, sentimentality.  It's a tricky old thing.  I have a sort of love/hate relationship with it.  Part of me wants to inhale kittens and sweat cherry blossom.  Another part of me rolls its eyes, groans, and mutters behind the page of the virtual broadsheet newspaper it's reading. :-)  Almost anything could make me cry, if I was in the right (or perhaps the wrong) frame of mind.  And yet I'm not a fan of schmaltz at all.  I resent having my heart prodded in that vulgar manner...

The reason for this momentary self-analysis?  I'm still trying to decide what I really think about this song.  The biggest thing about it that I might not like, is the gooey 'modern hymn-ness' of it.  The lyrics will tell you what I mean.

The lyrics... and more drivellish from me! )
songofcopper: (sol. col.)
"Dawn, he's in a postcard of the dawn,
Where the knives of light
have left the dark night tattered and torn"

Love, love, LOVE those opening lines.  And since I got me a copy of 'Casablanca Moon' on CD, I can't get this song out of my brain. ^_^

More blather... the rest of the lyrics... and yep, more blather from me! )
songofcopper: (sol. col.)
"Dawn, he's in a postcard of the dawn,
Where the knives of light
have left the dark night tattered and torn"

Love, love, LOVE those opening lines.  And since I got me a copy of 'Casablanca Moon' on CD, I can't get this song out of my brain. ^_^

More blather... the rest of the lyrics... and yep, more blather from me! )

Identities

songofcopper: (Default)
songofcopper

April 2017

M T W T F S S
     12
3456789
10111213141516
17181920212223
2425 2627282930

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Eavesdrop, snoop, and sigh with yearning…

This journal is not a private diary, it is more like an occasional, imaginary column. Therefore, much of it is on public display. However, if you want to read my occasional attempts at creative writing, my Caution Elf tells me I should only show that stuff to my friends. You know what to do. :-)

NB: If you add me in an unsolicited fashion, please introduce yourself. Otherwise I will probably ignore you.

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sunday, 22 October 2017 09:49
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios