Introducing the protagonist…it shouldn’t be difficult. The issue is in choosing the moment from which to mould him. I have several favourites….the “bathroom scene at evening” is a particular peach. As the sun sets it casts a light beyond colour into the room, and our man stares at his outline in the mirror, the glow hitting him, sink, and tile indiscriminately. He imagines his merging with the tile; how the sudden cold stone acquiesces to his eager blood. He allows himself the notion that the softest hint of his power, the slightest twitch of his eye, is enough to separate, and to recreate things as they rightfully should be. That’s a whopper all right.
Some, however, would be more enchanted by a nocturnal scene; the shade is spectral almost-blue now, although the subject of our discussion doesn’t know this: having just turned off the television, his world has been compressed into a small square of echo-light where the screen once glared…everything else is darkness. Only if you’re very quiet will you hear him whispering his own name, perhaps feeling that, if there is nothing else, one must fill the void with things that one understands. Only when he can appreciate his world in some sensual way will he make his way to bed.
To your taste? Either of these instances would open a pigeonhole into our man; however, as is the way with moments, his has chosen itself. I find myself the voyeur of a kitchen scene, morning. The air is young; the colour tactile. He is carving Achilles from boiled egg. There is a woman, undoubtedly…a wife, perhaps. The stretching of the air between them suggests a common distance. A far cry between their then and its now. She watches the ceiling, from which a piece of abandoned cobweb hangs...barely. The breeze that makes it swirl can have no logical source, unless in the filling and un-filling of space around his digging hand. The woman motionless…glue-eyes believing the sway of broken flytrap, the one thing in the room that might actually understand the earth’s rhythm. He watching her watch…her pupils in minute movement, little affirmations…declines…suggestions. He might call them his own, these twin globes. They’ve guided him as he could never guide himself. Like his, her eyes have celebrated the gradual blurring of corners.
She weakens her breath, fearing the frail rope’s fall. She knows that a sigh would be too much for it to take…yet this is not like his illusion of power; it’s a fear of clayed clumsiness. Her hair is tumbling into coffee steam…but, for our fool, there is no world outside brow and crease; the secrets of the universe are hidden by bluegreen skies. His head is still drunk on sleep, enough that he will allow himself another draught of complacence…he owns those spheres, and there is no secret so deep that it can be hidden. What he sees in her eyes is not his reflection but his successful plantation. But things mustn’t change...
…he will say the words.
Like plate on plate he coasts the air between his head and hers. The world leans in anticipation. He whispers softly,
“Wife, there’s a man looking through the hall door…”
A curse on me! My neediness brought me too close! I am a weak observer that cannot observe unnoticed. I will fold back… smooth over…
…I swim back through ink, to where my breath mists on the applewood door. This time I retreat to the shadow. The king of our prose is coasting as before, and we just about manage to glimpse the words that spill like over-perfected wine from his lips.
“Wife, we should get away. You remember that holiday in the mountains? That was nice, wasn’t it? The air is so clear up there. Would you like to go back there this autumn, see the leaves fall?
No?
No, possibly not, you’re right. Best not to retrace old steps and all that.
Yes, yes, of course, you are right…
You are always right. Still, it was a wonderful time…”
We wait. We wait, and watch and listen. But the shudder and the shimmer do not come. The universe does not shatter and restore itself for small change. Even from our new distance, we know that she is silent, and does not avert her gaze from the swaying of string. Eventually she rises, and leaves the room to find another space… to press herself against the walls. They will grant her no entry. Her colour and theirs will not be compatible, and it is not evening, and brick is not tile, and it is not the bathroom.
We cannot follow, for our eyes are on him, not her. On his eyes as he watches hers turn away. Her back is somehow unfamiliar and, as she leaves, she pulls the shades of two, five, even ten years with her. The scene’s colour is still indescribable but it is only half what it was. Intimacy trails like a gown of tattered ribbons from her shape. Oh yes, he is awake now and nature is greedily snatched by each of his senses…the last to waken is sight, and it sees only TV static where her silhouette once shimmered. Desperate to know something, anything, he rushes to her place, as if to shield himself in the fading shape of her absence. Only now does he see the cobweb.
The noose is whirling a dervish into the room and, although it is her name that he would whisper to recreate, he can hear only the echoes of his last words. The drone rises as the web fragrances the air with a tapestry of forgotten moments. All of the ghosts of himself, from young manhood to hobbling elder, spin from the ceiling, each saying a similar thing, each seeming as unfulfilled and unfulfilling as the last. Their chorus steals the air from about him; his name and hers become tasteless. Now the words of each son, husband, father, grandfather and beyond have become indecipherable, crowding each other with their emptiness. Soon he is on the ground, gasping for space, for light, for power. There is no mirror, only is the reflection of his own past, present and future…but he cannot fade into his own skin, the light will not allow it. There is no common colour, and is not evening, and he is not tile, and this is not the bathroom.
This noise is almost unbearable…yet, in the rumble of his voice, there are brief moments of clarity. Promises overlap. Words become one. United they are an incessant sentence, the inevitable question that a life in Technicolor had somehow helped him avoid. I cannot watch any more and turn to escape to my own rock-solid existence, but not before hearing the coincidence of a word and a last breath. Finally the spider’s ironic legacy falls to the floor and captures its prey. Even in my escape I understand my foolishness. I was wrong to think imagination great enough to encompass a moment that was not my own. In claiming his eyes I made his mistake. Even the walls see and I am not unwatched. I am guilt, in pillage of sight, sound, smell, touch, taste...that question was only his to hear.
The answer was yes.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Rebecca Collins interview
Rebecca Collins Myspace profile. Listen to her music here. http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=55787979
Rebecca Collins Interview – By John Doyle February 2007.Irish music is in healthy shape these days. Joe Chester, Gemma Hayes, and Fionn Regan to name a few, have all flirted with the mainstream without compromising that certain magic which endears them to, shall we say, more discerning audiences. Recently, John Kelly, now comfortably settled in his Lyric FM slot, took a shine to At Sea, Rebecca Collins’ current E.P., which in the time honoured critical cliché, really does transcend the “Ireland Inc.” pap, the likes of You’re A Star incessantly slops up. Collins threads a similarly endearing path to her contemporaries with a brief, but stunning subterranean collection, showcasing her own fascinating idiosyncrasies, and the instrumental chemistry of a supporting band that gives her liberties to mould a contemporary, yet comfortingly familiar sound. Like the explosion of heroic sentiment that encapsulates the first few seconds of hopping into a hot spring evening bath, something that clings to the psyche is happening in Rebecca Collins’ music, and it would be foolish to ignore it. I caught up with Collins on-line to discuss her views on the Myspace phenomenon, critical recognition, and what the future holds for one of Ireland’s “great white hopes”. We began discussing her latest developments, and her reaction to support from a certain cult DJ. “I was just over in Brooklyn in January recording a new album with some friends of mine from a group called Red Rocket and some other great musicians. Most of it was recorded live in the studio and the songs in general are a bit more free form than the E.P; so hopefully this album will have a nice free feel to it. It will be out in the summer”. So any chance our future professors and doctors might have of catching her in concert soon? “I’m going to start gigging again in March and hopefully will gig around the country a bit”. She adds that “I’m also doing a live session with my band for John Kelly at the end of February which I’m really looking forward to”. Collins' influences range from Gillian Welch to Elysian Fields, and Tom Waits, amongst others. She describes the impact they’ve had on her, and how she sees the unique direction of her own music. “They all wrote great music. I suppose that’s basically it. I’m drawn to honest to god musicality, whatever genre it comes through. As for my own songs, I suppose they are just the result of my musical tastes filtered through my personality! In general, I like things to be quite soulful. I’m influenced by a lot of the musicians I know and play with also, and they are mostly jazz musicians, so that has definitely brought something to my music. It’s exciting to give your charts to such talented people and see how they interpret them. The last record (Tether’s End 2005) was done in pretty much the same vein. That said, I have a group of other songs that are much more arranged, in a sort of pop way (Rebecca was listening to a lot of Steely Dan at the time) so that will hopefully be in the next project”. Recognition can be a double edged sword, where “cult”performers often dabble precariously between underground kudos, and the stodgy, formulaic, playlists of Tabloid radio stations, like Dublin’s FM104, and Cork’s Red FM. Collins is well aware of the pros and cons of such scenarios and explains how she would deal with such a development. “So far, the reaction has been really great, which is encouraging. I don’t really mind which radio stations play my music, although it made my day when I heard John Kelly playing At Sea, because he’s one of my favourite DJs. To be honest, I don’t think I need worry about more commercial stations wanting to brainwash the nation with my songs or anything like that, but if they want to, they can go ahead. Besides, that sounds more like a cult to me, don’t you think?! I don’t really feel artistic integrity can be compromised at that stage, I make music my way, and the more people who want to listen to it, the better”. The enigma that is Myspace was another area highlighted, with Rebecca’s own site sharing webspace with acts more akin to shining Simon Cowell’s shoes. “I was living in Paris last year when Myspace became huge, so for me, the immediate benefit was just being able to keep in touch with my friends and all their musical goings on really easily. I don’t think it has been tainted as such. It’s there for everybody to take advantage of if they want to, and all those sorts of things take the corporate road in the end, it seems. I haven’t seen any manufactured bands on it, but I haven’t been looking for them, and on the other hand, I’ve discovered some fantastic music. To be honest though, I don’t think I’d miss Myspace, I have a love/hate relationship with technological phenomena”. One listen to the unnerving I Bit A Tear, instantly summons flashbacks of Seattle in its most edgy days, while Can’t Be Tough recalls Nellie Hooper’s trademark productions with unorthodox quirky drums, and slow burning keyboards. With such an eclectic pulse driving her musical statements, surely certain events and muse(s) must be at the back of her mind when she goes into creative top gear. “In general, I suppose, I’m inspired by human nature. I have a strange love for the way people struggle with the ugly side of themselves, and try to be good and beautiful, I find that in itself to be really beautiful. Life is tragi-comic in my view and I guess that’s the angle I’m usually coming from when I write lyrics. Music itself has so much to offer though, it can make you want to dance, it can be so sexy, it can be a source of huge comfort. I wouldn’t say I’ve one particular muse, I listened to everything for the past few years, I’ve been working on the best musical instinct I can, because I’ve tried compromising in an intellectual way and I hated the results. These days I just sort of let things stew, and when something feels right, I drop everything else and follow it to its conclusion. I have a similar approach to producing the music". Some of the critical plaudits previously mentioned Irish performers have received, intrigues Rebecca. “Hmm… “Critical acclaim” sounds nice alright… and it certainly would be nice to give up the day job! I think I’m fairly realistic about what sort of market there is for my music, but I’m what I like to call a “Hopeless optimist”, who knows, maybe if I build it, they will come…” Being so difficult to tag, and a writer of abundant variety, there must be at least one song Collins wishes she had written, similarly, which song of her own creation does she cherish the most? "Favourite song of all time is a difficult one to answer. I do wish I had written I’m The One by Anette Peacock. Someday I might have the balls to cover it, maybe. As for my own songs, at the moment, my fave is probably one called Chiaroscuro, we recorded it in New York last month, so it will be on the next record. Chiaroscuro is an artistic term that refers to the interaction of light and dark. Needless to say, I thought it was a good analogy for the human condition”.
Rebecca Collins Interview – By John Doyle February 2007.Irish music is in healthy shape these days. Joe Chester, Gemma Hayes, and Fionn Regan to name a few, have all flirted with the mainstream without compromising that certain magic which endears them to, shall we say, more discerning audiences. Recently, John Kelly, now comfortably settled in his Lyric FM slot, took a shine to At Sea, Rebecca Collins’ current E.P., which in the time honoured critical cliché, really does transcend the “Ireland Inc.” pap, the likes of You’re A Star incessantly slops up. Collins threads a similarly endearing path to her contemporaries with a brief, but stunning subterranean collection, showcasing her own fascinating idiosyncrasies, and the instrumental chemistry of a supporting band that gives her liberties to mould a contemporary, yet comfortingly familiar sound. Like the explosion of heroic sentiment that encapsulates the first few seconds of hopping into a hot spring evening bath, something that clings to the psyche is happening in Rebecca Collins’ music, and it would be foolish to ignore it. I caught up with Collins on-line to discuss her views on the Myspace phenomenon, critical recognition, and what the future holds for one of Ireland’s “great white hopes”. We began discussing her latest developments, and her reaction to support from a certain cult DJ. “I was just over in Brooklyn in January recording a new album with some friends of mine from a group called Red Rocket and some other great musicians. Most of it was recorded live in the studio and the songs in general are a bit more free form than the E.P; so hopefully this album will have a nice free feel to it. It will be out in the summer”. So any chance our future professors and doctors might have of catching her in concert soon? “I’m going to start gigging again in March and hopefully will gig around the country a bit”. She adds that “I’m also doing a live session with my band for John Kelly at the end of February which I’m really looking forward to”. Collins' influences range from Gillian Welch to Elysian Fields, and Tom Waits, amongst others. She describes the impact they’ve had on her, and how she sees the unique direction of her own music. “They all wrote great music. I suppose that’s basically it. I’m drawn to honest to god musicality, whatever genre it comes through. As for my own songs, I suppose they are just the result of my musical tastes filtered through my personality! In general, I like things to be quite soulful. I’m influenced by a lot of the musicians I know and play with also, and they are mostly jazz musicians, so that has definitely brought something to my music. It’s exciting to give your charts to such talented people and see how they interpret them. The last record (Tether’s End 2005) was done in pretty much the same vein. That said, I have a group of other songs that are much more arranged, in a sort of pop way (Rebecca was listening to a lot of Steely Dan at the time) so that will hopefully be in the next project”. Recognition can be a double edged sword, where “cult”performers often dabble precariously between underground kudos, and the stodgy, formulaic, playlists of Tabloid radio stations, like Dublin’s FM104, and Cork’s Red FM. Collins is well aware of the pros and cons of such scenarios and explains how she would deal with such a development. “So far, the reaction has been really great, which is encouraging. I don’t really mind which radio stations play my music, although it made my day when I heard John Kelly playing At Sea, because he’s one of my favourite DJs. To be honest, I don’t think I need worry about more commercial stations wanting to brainwash the nation with my songs or anything like that, but if they want to, they can go ahead. Besides, that sounds more like a cult to me, don’t you think?! I don’t really feel artistic integrity can be compromised at that stage, I make music my way, and the more people who want to listen to it, the better”. The enigma that is Myspace was another area highlighted, with Rebecca’s own site sharing webspace with acts more akin to shining Simon Cowell’s shoes. “I was living in Paris last year when Myspace became huge, so for me, the immediate benefit was just being able to keep in touch with my friends and all their musical goings on really easily. I don’t think it has been tainted as such. It’s there for everybody to take advantage of if they want to, and all those sorts of things take the corporate road in the end, it seems. I haven’t seen any manufactured bands on it, but I haven’t been looking for them, and on the other hand, I’ve discovered some fantastic music. To be honest though, I don’t think I’d miss Myspace, I have a love/hate relationship with technological phenomena”. One listen to the unnerving I Bit A Tear, instantly summons flashbacks of Seattle in its most edgy days, while Can’t Be Tough recalls Nellie Hooper’s trademark productions with unorthodox quirky drums, and slow burning keyboards. With such an eclectic pulse driving her musical statements, surely certain events and muse(s) must be at the back of her mind when she goes into creative top gear. “In general, I suppose, I’m inspired by human nature. I have a strange love for the way people struggle with the ugly side of themselves, and try to be good and beautiful, I find that in itself to be really beautiful. Life is tragi-comic in my view and I guess that’s the angle I’m usually coming from when I write lyrics. Music itself has so much to offer though, it can make you want to dance, it can be so sexy, it can be a source of huge comfort. I wouldn’t say I’ve one particular muse, I listened to everything for the past few years, I’ve been working on the best musical instinct I can, because I’ve tried compromising in an intellectual way and I hated the results. These days I just sort of let things stew, and when something feels right, I drop everything else and follow it to its conclusion. I have a similar approach to producing the music". Some of the critical plaudits previously mentioned Irish performers have received, intrigues Rebecca. “Hmm… “Critical acclaim” sounds nice alright… and it certainly would be nice to give up the day job! I think I’m fairly realistic about what sort of market there is for my music, but I’m what I like to call a “Hopeless optimist”, who knows, maybe if I build it, they will come…” Being so difficult to tag, and a writer of abundant variety, there must be at least one song Collins wishes she had written, similarly, which song of her own creation does she cherish the most? "Favourite song of all time is a difficult one to answer. I do wish I had written I’m The One by Anette Peacock. Someday I might have the balls to cover it, maybe. As for my own songs, at the moment, my fave is probably one called Chiaroscuro, we recorded it in New York last month, so it will be on the next record. Chiaroscuro is an artistic term that refers to the interaction of light and dark. Needless to say, I thought it was a good analogy for the human condition”.
Second hand news
Second Hand News
Stevie Nicks: vocals
Lindsey Buckingham: guitar, vocals
Christine McVie: keyboards, synthesizer, vocals
John McVie: bass
Mick Fleetwood: drums, percussion
Thirty years ago this month, Fleetwood Mac made music history with the release of their Grammy award winning album, ‘Rumours’, an album who’s prominence and relevance still resonates as true today as it did upon it’s release on February 4th 1977.
Good day and welcome. Here I’m going to be discussing a classic album which is an essential addition to any music collection. As you may have already guessed, it’s Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumours’
As it was the second album released by the act, following their eponymous debut, it was much anticipated by both the fans and the music press alike (both ‘Rolling Stone’ and ‘All Music Guide’ giving it a five star review).
At this time, all five members were in emotional turmoil as their marriages and relationships had broken down, including those of the two couples who made up the majority of the group. This, as Stevie Nicks pointed out, lead to long hours being spent in the studio in the most uncomfortable of circumstances. It is from these instances that most of the songs on the album came to be, charting their discomfort and lack of emotional stability, most noticeably with the track ‘Go Your Own Way’ which was a song composed in the anticipation of the groups break-up.
Finally, upon completion of the album, the band realised the quality of the album released and were brought closer together.
‘Second Hand News’, the opening track is a heartfelt romp describing how the physical act of love is not as essential to love itself as initially perceived. It is more of a folk song of the modern era giving an insight into the mind of Lindsey Buckingham who had recently been in a relationship with Stevie Nicks.
‘Dreams’, unfortunately covered by The Corrs in recent years, tells of the imminent break-up of Fleetwood Mac, hidden under the guise of the end of the relationship of a couple. Stevie Nicks’ sweet sultry voice describes this in the kind of detail which makes one feels the need to redeem any quarrel held with them and their partner.
‘Never Going Back Again’, reverting again to the bands folk roots, tells of how empty the victory of a fight between a couple is, describing how although a point has been proven, both of you have been hurt in the process. Buckingham’s acoustic guitar gives a hint of warmth and joy to the song which creates a great juxtaposition between the lyrics and the music. This recurring theme is a key aspect of ‘Rumours’
‘Don’t Stop’, penned by Christine McVie following her divorce from bass player John, is an optimistic look at her new life and how things will surely get better. It was an instant pop classic which shot straight to number three in the Billboard Charts.
‘Go Your Own Way’ as previously stated is about the chaos that the band descended into. It tells of how it’s possible to give your life to someone, or something, it can often be in vain as you are not appreciated. The hint of optimism within the song tells us that it is much easier to find someone who will love you for who you are rather than to convince someone that you are worthwhile.
‘Songbird’ is easily the most heartfelt song on the album. Covered by Eva Cassidy recently, it is described by its writer Christine McVie as ‘a little anthem’ that she wishes upon ‘all of us’. It tells of a rediscovery and a new appreciation of an old love. It instils within the listener a sense of joy and empathy for the singer, but perhaps a hint of sadness for ones self for not being able to express the same emotions she describes so perfectly. It consists primarily of a soft piano sound with a slight acoustic guitar accompaniment, forming a truly beautiful ballad on the album.
Never before has such heartbreak been shown as is done in ‘The Chain’. A perfect combination of pop with a dark bluesy under tone, it tells a tale of pain, heartbreak, deception, lies and how a partner can find it impossible to let go, even though both are aware that their relationship has no future. Although both the lyrics and music were wrote separately, they fit together so seamlessly that the listener feels that they were wrote for each other.
‘You Make Loving Fun’ is up tempo blues at its best. We, as listeners, are brought into Christine’s new relationship as she tells us of how she gives herself, emotionally and spiritually, to another. The darkness that exists here lies within the fact that she is, perhaps, saying this to hurt the partner, John, who came before. It is only expected seeing as she is recently out of a long and arduous divorce.
‘I Don’t Want To Know’ is a cheery pop song about letting go, a willingness to find love and move on while at the same time wishing only the best for your ex-partner. This song shows us that once the pain and heartbreak is over, life can begin anew with a fresh outlook to all that is ahead.
‘Oh Daddy’ is Stevie Nicks acknowledging her vulnerability now that she is alone. It is set within the phase of the break-up in which she has lost her self esteem and is crying out to her lost lover to find out what is was they saw in her. This song reverts back to simplicity consisting of prominent bass with a hint of synth. The backing vocals bring home the hopelessness portrayed in the lyrics.
In essence the closing track on the album, ‘Gold Dust Woman’, is about cocaine. This pseudo-psychedelic song tells us of how a relationship ended because a greater emphasis is put on drugs than on their partner. The song never once refers to the drugs, but instead uses the ‘Woman’ as the evil within the song, letting the listener believe that it was adultery as opposed to addiction which lead to the downfall. It is told in the form of new-age country with a slight hint of oriental influences with underlying blues tones.
‘Sliver Springs’ did not initially feature on the album but was a B-Side to ‘Don’t Stop’. It is available on later re-mastered edition of the album
Although its sweet acoustic sound lulls the listener into believing that this album is about the joys of love and closeness between two people, it is in fact a tale of heartbreak, loss and the void which can only be filled by the love of another. It shows us the error of our ways and tries to teach us that we don’t know what we have until it is lost. For this factor, I regard ‘Rumours’ very highly and would strongly encourage you all to find a copy for yourselves, not only as a reflective epic on love within this modern era, but also as a timeless pop classic.
If anything needs to be cut, a lot of the song analysis can be let go.
I decided to do an album from around the date of the issue. I could continue with this style of things or just pick albums at random, whatever’s clever.
Stevie Nicks: vocals
Lindsey Buckingham: guitar, vocals
Christine McVie: keyboards, synthesizer, vocals
John McVie: bass
Mick Fleetwood: drums, percussion
Thirty years ago this month, Fleetwood Mac made music history with the release of their Grammy award winning album, ‘Rumours’, an album who’s prominence and relevance still resonates as true today as it did upon it’s release on February 4th 1977.
Good day and welcome. Here I’m going to be discussing a classic album which is an essential addition to any music collection. As you may have already guessed, it’s Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rumours’
As it was the second album released by the act, following their eponymous debut, it was much anticipated by both the fans and the music press alike (both ‘Rolling Stone’ and ‘All Music Guide’ giving it a five star review).
At this time, all five members were in emotional turmoil as their marriages and relationships had broken down, including those of the two couples who made up the majority of the group. This, as Stevie Nicks pointed out, lead to long hours being spent in the studio in the most uncomfortable of circumstances. It is from these instances that most of the songs on the album came to be, charting their discomfort and lack of emotional stability, most noticeably with the track ‘Go Your Own Way’ which was a song composed in the anticipation of the groups break-up.
Finally, upon completion of the album, the band realised the quality of the album released and were brought closer together.
‘Second Hand News’, the opening track is a heartfelt romp describing how the physical act of love is not as essential to love itself as initially perceived. It is more of a folk song of the modern era giving an insight into the mind of Lindsey Buckingham who had recently been in a relationship with Stevie Nicks.
‘Dreams’, unfortunately covered by The Corrs in recent years, tells of the imminent break-up of Fleetwood Mac, hidden under the guise of the end of the relationship of a couple. Stevie Nicks’ sweet sultry voice describes this in the kind of detail which makes one feels the need to redeem any quarrel held with them and their partner.
‘Never Going Back Again’, reverting again to the bands folk roots, tells of how empty the victory of a fight between a couple is, describing how although a point has been proven, both of you have been hurt in the process. Buckingham’s acoustic guitar gives a hint of warmth and joy to the song which creates a great juxtaposition between the lyrics and the music. This recurring theme is a key aspect of ‘Rumours’
‘Don’t Stop’, penned by Christine McVie following her divorce from bass player John, is an optimistic look at her new life and how things will surely get better. It was an instant pop classic which shot straight to number three in the Billboard Charts.
‘Go Your Own Way’ as previously stated is about the chaos that the band descended into. It tells of how it’s possible to give your life to someone, or something, it can often be in vain as you are not appreciated. The hint of optimism within the song tells us that it is much easier to find someone who will love you for who you are rather than to convince someone that you are worthwhile.
‘Songbird’ is easily the most heartfelt song on the album. Covered by Eva Cassidy recently, it is described by its writer Christine McVie as ‘a little anthem’ that she wishes upon ‘all of us’. It tells of a rediscovery and a new appreciation of an old love. It instils within the listener a sense of joy and empathy for the singer, but perhaps a hint of sadness for ones self for not being able to express the same emotions she describes so perfectly. It consists primarily of a soft piano sound with a slight acoustic guitar accompaniment, forming a truly beautiful ballad on the album.
Never before has such heartbreak been shown as is done in ‘The Chain’. A perfect combination of pop with a dark bluesy under tone, it tells a tale of pain, heartbreak, deception, lies and how a partner can find it impossible to let go, even though both are aware that their relationship has no future. Although both the lyrics and music were wrote separately, they fit together so seamlessly that the listener feels that they were wrote for each other.
‘You Make Loving Fun’ is up tempo blues at its best. We, as listeners, are brought into Christine’s new relationship as she tells us of how she gives herself, emotionally and spiritually, to another. The darkness that exists here lies within the fact that she is, perhaps, saying this to hurt the partner, John, who came before. It is only expected seeing as she is recently out of a long and arduous divorce.
‘I Don’t Want To Know’ is a cheery pop song about letting go, a willingness to find love and move on while at the same time wishing only the best for your ex-partner. This song shows us that once the pain and heartbreak is over, life can begin anew with a fresh outlook to all that is ahead.
‘Oh Daddy’ is Stevie Nicks acknowledging her vulnerability now that she is alone. It is set within the phase of the break-up in which she has lost her self esteem and is crying out to her lost lover to find out what is was they saw in her. This song reverts back to simplicity consisting of prominent bass with a hint of synth. The backing vocals bring home the hopelessness portrayed in the lyrics.
In essence the closing track on the album, ‘Gold Dust Woman’, is about cocaine. This pseudo-psychedelic song tells us of how a relationship ended because a greater emphasis is put on drugs than on their partner. The song never once refers to the drugs, but instead uses the ‘Woman’ as the evil within the song, letting the listener believe that it was adultery as opposed to addiction which lead to the downfall. It is told in the form of new-age country with a slight hint of oriental influences with underlying blues tones.
‘Sliver Springs’ did not initially feature on the album but was a B-Side to ‘Don’t Stop’. It is available on later re-mastered edition of the album
Although its sweet acoustic sound lulls the listener into believing that this album is about the joys of love and closeness between two people, it is in fact a tale of heartbreak, loss and the void which can only be filled by the love of another. It shows us the error of our ways and tries to teach us that we don’t know what we have until it is lost. For this factor, I regard ‘Rumours’ very highly and would strongly encourage you all to find a copy for yourselves, not only as a reflective epic on love within this modern era, but also as a timeless pop classic.
If anything needs to be cut, a lot of the song analysis can be let go.
I decided to do an album from around the date of the issue. I could continue with this style of things or just pick albums at random, whatever’s clever.
We have no oil again
We have no oil again
Agraphia
Maynooth, I’ve given you everything and now I’m nothing. Maynooth, twenty-four euros and forty cents. I don’t have any understanding of your choices. I am too selfish to think why people don’t have a care for the world or even their local environment’s over-taking by the sadistic government that drives our college to turn from a school into a business (though it tries so). I am merely offering a piece of artistic prose. Sometimes I write, and it does some good and other times it does not. Sometimes I tell the future in bizarre senso-matic ways that bewilder me in hindsight. Sometimes I rant at a keyboard when someone asks me, and I enjoy that too. Care to listen to me talk about myself for a long time? I know I’d love it.
But seriously forks. Or not. I’m enjoying myself at least, in my jigsaw-life with my rambling prose in between “academic life” and somebody’s Symphony No.1 in E minor. Tell me, are you familiar with the works of e. e. cummings? Isn’t it awfully poetic how he didn’t use capital letters in his name? How romantic! I’ve been in this wee establishment for nigh on four years, and I and my peers seem only the more stressed because of it. Yes, we can now get TEFL, or do a Masters or even… The sky is my ass’s limit. Learn to fly. Or transport donkeys. My friend Fuckhead has been in this college nigh on 8 years, and he’s one of the most stressed out, but terribly productive people I know. With all respect, what can I make of it after four years in The Nooth.
I entered as a lost faun, awaiting a structure of logic and law that might ease the existential dramas and delinquencies of my former life. Miles from home, I entered into this strange and plastic campus to participate in things like “quantitative methods” and “psychology”. Who had heard of such things? Bizarre fascinations of a closed world of intellectuals kept well hidden from the far-reaches of society. And as I grew I realised, and took fun out of, my studenthood. Likewise I realised that this studenthood (which I realised), was indeed… normal. I began to enjoy the stereotypes of “the woolly hat” and “getting drunk” – crazy things I’d only experienced on Barry’s Tea ads or in the Beano… or somewhere I don’t remember. Unfortunately, however, I’ve had reports of cynicism.
What I mean to tell you, with the couple hundred words I must squeeze my mind-frame onto, to whomsoever it may concern, life of the student can be one of invaluable education. Before you get into an uproar, I must proclaim clearly – it’s true, you can get an education of some kind here. So long as the will is there to learn (this particular type of information). You do, of course, learn what they want you to. Now in final year, they seem to have let a couple gaps that enable one to squeeze imagination into undergraduate schoolwork (which is an almost distant, bizarre concept in my line of study), and to allow that spark of what one has interest in, to ignite on the suffering. Yes indeed, a pleasant experience, this so-called learning, with the right motivation. For example, writing, or “interest”, can be intertwined with some sort of achievement – like a sort of a hobby. So, it appears that one can interact talents with actions to participate in meaningful endeavours, which goes against what Mr Society Man seems to encourage - the life of living because you have to and doing what you’re supposed to do.
To thine own self be true, they said. And it’s all juxtaposition, and every degree is talking about pretty much the same thing in different languages. So long as we can wear scarves over jumpers with hairy coats, and get drunk before 12, and get to bed after 12, and have the money (or none), we don’t need to worry about the future of student life. ?. With its wheelings and dealings and horrible overtakings by people that just aren’t as cool as they used to be; and the funding-based biases that just don’t think free speech is profitable, or proper. And the wonderful position of the students taking over the old independent newspaper to try and get people educated about what’s educating them. Indeed.
So the moral of the story is:
Free the fucking radio waves!
And wake the fuck up!
Agraphia
Maynooth, I’ve given you everything and now I’m nothing. Maynooth, twenty-four euros and forty cents. I don’t have any understanding of your choices. I am too selfish to think why people don’t have a care for the world or even their local environment’s over-taking by the sadistic government that drives our college to turn from a school into a business (though it tries so). I am merely offering a piece of artistic prose. Sometimes I write, and it does some good and other times it does not. Sometimes I tell the future in bizarre senso-matic ways that bewilder me in hindsight. Sometimes I rant at a keyboard when someone asks me, and I enjoy that too. Care to listen to me talk about myself for a long time? I know I’d love it.
But seriously forks. Or not. I’m enjoying myself at least, in my jigsaw-life with my rambling prose in between “academic life” and somebody’s Symphony No.1 in E minor. Tell me, are you familiar with the works of e. e. cummings? Isn’t it awfully poetic how he didn’t use capital letters in his name? How romantic! I’ve been in this wee establishment for nigh on four years, and I and my peers seem only the more stressed because of it. Yes, we can now get TEFL, or do a Masters or even… The sky is my ass’s limit. Learn to fly. Or transport donkeys. My friend Fuckhead has been in this college nigh on 8 years, and he’s one of the most stressed out, but terribly productive people I know. With all respect, what can I make of it after four years in The Nooth.
I entered as a lost faun, awaiting a structure of logic and law that might ease the existential dramas and delinquencies of my former life. Miles from home, I entered into this strange and plastic campus to participate in things like “quantitative methods” and “psychology”. Who had heard of such things? Bizarre fascinations of a closed world of intellectuals kept well hidden from the far-reaches of society. And as I grew I realised, and took fun out of, my studenthood. Likewise I realised that this studenthood (which I realised), was indeed… normal. I began to enjoy the stereotypes of “the woolly hat” and “getting drunk” – crazy things I’d only experienced on Barry’s Tea ads or in the Beano… or somewhere I don’t remember. Unfortunately, however, I’ve had reports of cynicism.
What I mean to tell you, with the couple hundred words I must squeeze my mind-frame onto, to whomsoever it may concern, life of the student can be one of invaluable education. Before you get into an uproar, I must proclaim clearly – it’s true, you can get an education of some kind here. So long as the will is there to learn (this particular type of information). You do, of course, learn what they want you to. Now in final year, they seem to have let a couple gaps that enable one to squeeze imagination into undergraduate schoolwork (which is an almost distant, bizarre concept in my line of study), and to allow that spark of what one has interest in, to ignite on the suffering. Yes indeed, a pleasant experience, this so-called learning, with the right motivation. For example, writing, or “interest”, can be intertwined with some sort of achievement – like a sort of a hobby. So, it appears that one can interact talents with actions to participate in meaningful endeavours, which goes against what Mr Society Man seems to encourage - the life of living because you have to and doing what you’re supposed to do.
To thine own self be true, they said. And it’s all juxtaposition, and every degree is talking about pretty much the same thing in different languages. So long as we can wear scarves over jumpers with hairy coats, and get drunk before 12, and get to bed after 12, and have the money (or none), we don’t need to worry about the future of student life. ?. With its wheelings and dealings and horrible overtakings by people that just aren’t as cool as they used to be; and the funding-based biases that just don’t think free speech is profitable, or proper. And the wonderful position of the students taking over the old independent newspaper to try and get people educated about what’s educating them. Indeed.
So the moral of the story is:
Free the fucking radio waves!
And wake the fuck up!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)