So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain. Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?
Sometimes one will resonate more than the others, for longer, it seems. Some will linger in your mind better. With some, the flavor of the ear candy presented never becomes tiresome or old, but always fresh. It's not true with all, at least for me, but with some, it is very true.
And did they get you trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
Sometimes, though the meanings are vague, the images stir deeper. For me, this is what makes something timeless. This is what makes something last, endure. Over time, some images fade, some stanzas become over used and typical. But not this one. For me, this is one of the best, one of the classics, one of those that will remain. This is one of the ones during which, I do not mumble, but let fly from my vocal chords with confidence. This is one of the ones that I know by heart.
How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here.
It's some of the greatest stuff ever, this collection of acoustic Jethro Tull. All my favorites, and some forgotten favorites, hand selected by Ian Anderson himself. Lyrically, these songs are also some of the best of Tull. If you're looking to get a really nice collection of Jethro Tull that DOES NOT include the song Aqualung, get this collection.
Below, I've included some of my favorite lyrics from this collection.
"One White Duck / 0^{10} = Nothing At All"
There's a haze on the skyline, to wish me on my way. And there's a note on the telephone --- some roses on a tray.
And the motorway's stretching right out to us all, as I pull on my old wings --- one white duck on your wall.
Isn't it just too damn real? I'll catch a ride on your violin --- strung upon your bow. And I'll float on your melody --- sing your chorus soft and low.
There's a picture-view postcard to say that I called. You can see from the fireplace, one white duck on your wall.
Isn't it just too damn real?
So fly away Peter and fly away Paul --- from the finger-tip ledge of contentment. The long restless rustle of high-heeled boots calls. And I'm probably bound to deceive you after all.
Something must be wrong with me and my brain --- if I'm so patently unrewarding. But my dreams are for dreaming and best left that way --- and my zero to your power of ten equals nothing at all.
There's no double-lock defense; there's no chain on my door. I'm available for consultation, But remember your way in is also my way out, and love's four-letter word is no compensation.
Well, I'm the Black Ace dog-handler: I'm a waiter on skates --- so don't you jump to your foreskin conclusion. Because I'm up to my deaf ears in cold breakfast trays --- to be cleared before I can dine on your sweet Sunday lunch confusion.
Wondering Aloud
Wond'ring aloud -- how we feel today. Last night sipped the sunset -- my hands in her hair. We are our own saviours as we start both our hearts beating life into each other. Wond'ring aloud -- will the years treat us well. As she floats in the kitchen, I'm tasting the smell of toast as the butter runs. Then she comes, spilling crumbs on the bed and I shake my head. And it's only the giving that makes you what you are.
Mother Goose
As I did walk by Hampstead Fair I came upon Mother Goose -- so I turned her loose -- she was screaming. And a foreign student said to me -- was it really true there are elephants and lions too in Piccadilly Circus?
Walked down by the bathing pond to try and catch some sun. Saw at least a hundred schoolgirls sobbing into hankerchiefs as one. I don't believe they knew I was a schoolboy.
And a bearded lady said to me -- if you start your raving and your misbehaving -- you'll be sorry. Then the chicken-fancier came to play -- with his long red beard (and his sister's weird: she drives a lorry).
Laughed down by the putting green -- I popped `em in their holes. Four and twenty labourers were labouring -- digging up their gold. I don't believe they knew that I was Long John Silver.
Saw Johnny Scarecrow make his rounds in his jet-black mac (which he won't give back) -- stole it from a snow man.
Salamander
Salamander --- born in the sun-kissed flame. Who was it lit your candle --- branded you with your name? I see you walking by my window in your Kensington haze. Salamander, burn for me and I'll burn for you.
Skating Away On The Thin Ice Of The New Day
Meanwhile back in the year One --- when you belonged to no-one --- you didn't stand a chance son, if your pants were undone. `Cause you were bred for humanity and sold to society --- one day you'll wake up in the Present Day --- a million generations removed from expectations of being who you really want to be.
Skating away --- skating away --- skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.
So as you push off from the shore, won't you turn your head once more --- and make your peace with everyone? For those who choose to stay, will live just one more day --- to do the things they should have done. And as you cross the wilderness, spinning in your emptiness: you feel you have to pray. Looking for a sign that the Universal Mind (!) has written you into the Passion Play.
Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.
And as you cross the circle line, the ice-wall creaks behind --- you're a rabbit on the run. And the silver splinters fly in the corner of your eye --- shining in the setting sun. Well, do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real and in the present tense? Or that everybody's on the stage, and it seems like you're the only person sitting in the audience?
Skating away on the thin ice of the New Day.
Thick As A Brick
Really don't mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper -- your deafness a SHOUT. I may make you feel but I can't make you think. Your sperm's in the gutter -- your love's in the sink. So you ride yourselves over the fields and you make all your animal deals and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick. And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in the tidal destruction the moral melee. The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers the newfangled way. But your new shoes are worn at the heels and your suntan does rapidly peel and your wise men don't know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away: I'm a bad dream that I just had today -- and you shake your head and say it's a shame.
Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth. Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth. Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.
Grace
Hello sun. Hello bird. Hello my lady. Hello breakfast. May I buy you again tomorrow?
At first, I wasn't sure about this album. I've had it playing in the car off and on over the past week or so however, and it's grown on me. Overall, and in my own opinion, it's not one of their strongest releases, but is still one of their better ones. The production quality is stellar, the musicianship is, as usual, very good. Song structure is nice, but there are a few weak tracks (again, my opinion.).
The only real weakness is in the area of lyrics. They're ok.. just ok. I mean, I like them, but it seems that they weren't as "feeling" as the last few albums. Sometimes, it seems they just lifted popular bumper stickers of our time and set them to music.
Still, overall, I like the album. There are some great moments here. Go to their website and listen to some of this album there, and buy it if you like. I fully endorse Marillion, and encourage you to try them out...
Sorry I haven't posted over here in so long. I've been trying to think of things to do on this music blog. I think I've figured out what to do. I'm just going to kind of journal what I'm listening to from time to time, and tell you what I think about it...
Today, because of a conversation with a co-worker, I started up the Kansas playlist. Yeah.. Kansas. Dust In The Wind, Carry on my Wayward Son. Those are their two "songs," right? Wrong. Very wrong. Those are the two overplayed songs they wrote. Both songs are good in their own right, but not a really good cross section of the underplayed and under appreciated music that makes up KANSAS.
Taking cues from Mahavishnu Orchestra's fusion of jazz and rock, Kansas branches off into classical and rock and roll fusion.
Kansas rocks. I'll give you a sample of a rare and old cut. This one is called Journey from Mariabronn. I don't know what the title means, but this is one of my favorite tracks off their first album in 1974. It's a bit lengthy, clocking in at around 8 minutes, but well worth it if you ask me. I hope you enjoy it. If you do, be sure to go out and grab some Kansas at the music store of your choice!
While in Texas, I confessed to my oldest nephew, who is a great musician, and all around cool kid, that I liked Muse. He also admitted to liking them. We both, however, likened our Muse listening to a guilty pleasure because the Muse is so theatrical, dramatic, and emotional. This makes me chuckle sometimes, but I still like it...I'm weird that way.
I've been cruising YouTube recently, and have found, among other things, some Marillion videos. I kinda like them, although YouTube is fraught with bad audio and amateur videos, so beware.
Marillion - Neverland(Live):
Marillion - Don't Hurt Yourself(Promo Video):
Marillion - Warm Wet Circles (from the 1987 tour..with Fish as the lead singer...classic weird Marillion here):
This is as close as they'll be to my location on this tour, and I won't get to go. I'd love to, but I just can't work it out. I can't justify it, afford it, or anything else.
I hope they play well. I'll wish I was there, listen to some live stuff today, and think about next time.
If you're in Seattle, and want to see a good prog show tonight, go to Studio Seven tonight and check out the Flower Kings.
I suppose I must admit that I occasionally do listen to BritPop. I know, I know.. what you're saying to yourself is "But Toadman! You've always struck us all as a musical snob, listening to high brow progressive and art rock!" I'll have to answer that, while I do listen to a lot of progressive and art rock, I have been known to listen to musical styles that are quite different from those normally considered 'high brow art' by so many.
I blame Radiohead, really. They're like a gateway drug for proggers, luring us in with their talented song writing, emotive lyrics, and creative instrumentation. It's all their fault, really. Now, I'm on to harder stuff, like Muse (Their Wikipedia Page, here.). They're just kids, you know. Being over ten years younger than me, and rocking like they do, curls my hair and makes me feel older than I should. I sing along with them, looking like an old poser trying to be young again...but I'm not fooling anyone, and neither are they. They've got some good chops, some great song writing skills, and interesting lyrics (like Radiohead, you know?). I've gotten my hands on their latest album, Black Holes and Revelations, and while at first I was a bit confused (obviously thinking that it would sound just like their last album, Absolution), I'm starting to come around, and hear some of the genius embedded in this stuff.
Suffice it to say, and to sum up, and in conclusion, I'll say this: If you like Radiohead, you'll like these guys. If you liked Modern English back in the day, you might like these guys too. Lastly, if you live in England (marmitetoasty), and have teens in your house (marmitetoasty), tell them to give Muse a listen, then go and see them live in a town near you!
No one's gonna take me alive The time has come to make things right You and I must fight for our rights You and I must fight to survive
Yeah.. listen to it.. those simple lyrics are made so much more grand when they sing them.
