On this, the morning of my 47th birthday, I've begun a retrospective session of albums that served to mark stages in my uncertain progression uphill to - it is rumoured - maturity:
David Crosby: If I Could Only Remember My Name. I first purchased this on LP from John Ford of Mousetrap Records, Christchurch, in 1974. Only an aging bachelor could recall such trivia. But Jerry Garcia's guitar still lifts me.
Neil Young: Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere. Apart from the searing accuracy of the title track, the lyrics are absurd - however the band's lumbering brilliance lets me forgive every extraneous "la la la...."
Talking Heads: More Songs About Buildings & Food. The remake of Al Green's 'Take Me To The River' is a more intelligent coda to Young's 'Down By The River' than anything in the latter's catalogue.
Hawkwind: In Search of Space. Proving once again that drugs do not inspire but they do delude: "Adjust me, adjust me..."
Now, having started on the bottom shelf, I reach for the sonic champagne -
Arthur Bliss: The Colour Symphony (Sir Charles Groves/Royal Philharmonic Orchestra), EMI 1985 LP.
Pierre Certon: Messe 'Sus le Pont d'Avignon' (Joel Cohen/Boston Camerata), Harmonia Mundi 1980 LP.
Henry Purcell: Birthday Odes for Queen Mary (David Munrow/Early Music Consort), EMI 1976 LP.
- As the grey spreads over my head it's difficult to be interested in popular music. The most recent release from a younger artist to enchant me was the watercolour-gorgeous 'Venice' by Fennesz. I guess, with a decreasing interest in the body, I'll become even more intolerant of songs that gush on about endless love: "Baby, make it last all night..." Any girl with that request will be referred elsewhere.
Last edited by Max_Gate
on Sat Aug 26, 2006 11:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
'No city or monument is much more than 5,000 years old. Only about seventy lifetimes, of seventy years, have been lived end to end since civilization began.' - Ronald Wright