Today is a day full of symbol and meaning (as, admittedly, all days should be, from Creation to Apocalypse) and rich in history. Importantly, in the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions, it’s the Feast of St. Cecilia, a martyr as well as the patron saint of music, a guardian of all that is beautiful in this vale of tears and sorrows.
My own family history is tied intimately to St. Cecilia. In the 1920s, my maternal grandfather’s oldest sister, Cecelia, contracted tetanus. The entire western Kansas farm community came together to collect the $200, a huge sum of money, necessary to purchase the shot. Some men then drove to Kansas City to purchase the shot. When they returned, they administered the medicine, but fate had outraced them across the Great Plains. Aunt Cecilia died a few days later, on May 19, 1927, just four months shy of her 21st birthday. She had also been seriously involved with a local boy torn between a love for her and a longing to enter the priesthood. Needless to write, he spent his career administering the sacraments.
Much to my regret, I never asked my grandfather about Aunt Cecelia, and my grandmother never knew her. The events of her life are now completely lost, outside of her tragic death which seems to have defined her very existence. I have visited Aunt Cecelia’s grave many times in my life; frankly, it’s one of my favorite spots in the known universe. She rests under a gravestone with her oval picture embedded in it. Though the porcelain containing the picture is cracked and chipped, the image intrigues me. Despite the distance from her to me, her eyes reveal much. She looks at me with penetrating intelligence and with more than a bit mischievousness. Aunt Cecelia has even visited me a time or two in my dreams, but she is always merely playful. She’s never spoken to me, even under the drug of Morpheus. Her grave faces east in the windswept and dramatic valley of Pfeifer, Kansas, under the shadow of the gothic church built stone by stone by my ancestors, Heilige Kreuz.
In some way I could never explain rationally, I love Aunt Cecelia. I’m eager to hear her speak to me, to tease me, and to look at me through those mischievous eyes.
I think of my grandfather, the single finest man I ever knew, and how close he had been to her, and I think she must have been a truly fascinating woman. From dreams to visits to the Pfeifer cemetery, she has always been a presence in my life, though hers had been so brief and had ended over forty years before mine began. My wife and I named our fifth daughter after her, slightly changing the spelling. Like her name sake, our Cecilia Rose’s life ended all too tragically and all too soon.
Yet, another reason to consider the importance of November 22. Famously, three prominent twentieth-century figures exited time and entered eternity forty-eight years ago today: John F. Kennedy; Aldous Huxley; and C.S. Lewis. The strange coincidence of their deaths ties them together. Kennedy will always be an enigma. In the public mind, he will remain an Arthurian symbol, though in corrupt form. His ruthless womanizing will (or should) always taint our memory of him. Indeed, justly, one should more readily associate him with Lancelot than with Arthur.
Despite his many oddities, Huxley gave us one of the most damning and accurate appraisals of modernity possible in his work of science fiction from the early 1930s, Brave New World. In this dystopian world, a sanitary but sexually-promiscuous and genetically-engineered population with names such as Benito, Shaw, and Marx, reverenced Henry Ford’s production methods by making the “sign of the T.” As one leader noted, “We have the World State now. And Ford’s Day celebrations, and Community Sings, and Solidarity Services.” With the exception of a small reservation of primitives—syncretic pagan-Roman Catholics—in New Mexico, the world resembles a factory. “Primroses and landscapes, he pointed out, have one grave defect: they are gratuitous. A love of nature keeps no factories busy.”
Five years younger than Huxley, C.S. Lewis also wrote of dystopias in his brilliant That Hideous Strength. Published two years before Orwell’s similar anti-totalitarian masterpiece, Lewis’s novel is a theistic 1984. The story revolves around a group of academic and bureaucratic conditioners–known as the N.I.C.E. (National Institute for Coordinated Experiments) who take over a small but elite English college as a prelude to a takeover of Britain. To stop “That Hideous Strength,” a new King Arthur emerges in the form of a philology professor, Dr. Ransom. With the aid of a small group of friends, he awakens Merlin from a fifteen-century sleep. Modernity perplexes Merlin. In a telling conversation,
This is a cold age in which I have awaked. If all this West part of the world is apostate, might it not be lawful, in our great need, to look farther . . . beyond Christendom? Should we not find some even among the heathen who are not wholly corrupt? There were tales in my day of some such: men who knew not the articles of our most holy Faith, but who worshipped God as they could and acknowledged the Law of Nature. Sir, I believe it would be lawful to seek help even there. Beyond Byzantium.
To which Ransom responds:
You do not understand. The poison was brewed in these West lands but it has spat itself everywhere by now. However far you went you would find the machines, the crowded cities, the empty thrones, the false writings, the barren books: men maddened with false promises and soured with true miseries, worshiping the iron works of their own hands, cut off from Earth their mother and from the Father in Heaven. You might go East so far that East became West and you returned to Britain across the great ocean, but even so you would not have come out anywhere into the light. The shadow of one dark wing is over all.
It would be difficult to ignore the prophetic elements of Huxley and Lewis, as our culture drowns in its sexualized and pornographic advertising, clothing, and entertainment.
Our Republican politicians continue to pander to the lowest common denominator as they gradually dismantle the Republic in favor of a flabby empire without purpose or meaning. Indeed, for many of our leaders, “democracy” has become a term of religious significance and intensity, and “freedom,” not the natural law as St. Paul told the Christians of Rome, “is written in the hearts of every man and woman on this earth.” Our Democratic politicians have no regard for the dignity of the human person as they advocate, without the slightest hint of remorse, the murder of the least of us.
With only a very few exceptions, our academics remain trapped in their own subjective realities, publishing only for each other.
Our corporations pursue their “dreams of avarice” as we walk through the Wal-marts of the world, mesmerized by Muzak and the shrines to the materialist gods, made, of course, in the People’s Republic of China.
Abroad, things remain wretched. Europe falls prey to a centralized bureaucracy of its own secular devising, mobs shout without purpose, and its citizens of a Christian heritage no longer seem capable of being fruitful and multiplying.
Russia, over two decades after the fall of communism, remains a nightmare—economically, culturally, and politically. Its leader at the beginning of the 21st century is a former member of the KGB, an operative, during the 1980s, in East Germany. As chess master Garry Kasparov claimed in early December, 2007, Putin and his followers are “raping the democratic system.” Things have not improved in the last four years.
Indeed, despite the western victory in the Cold War, systems of tyranny remain alive and well throughout Asia, Africa, and Latin America. Under the leadership of the three presidents following Ronald Reagan, the West failed to explain the demise of capitalism or lay a solid foundation for a post-Communist world. Instead, the leaders of the United States treated the fall of communism in Eastern Europe and Russia as just one more passing event in the history of the world. 1989 should be remembered in history as one of her greatest dates, an annus mirabilis, and, yet, scholars ignore its implications and the significance of its leaders, most of whom where Christian. Even more tragically, numerous governments throughout the world kill and torture Christians daily outside of the western hemisphere, while Cuba remains the important and tragic exception within this hemisphere.
It all seems terribly bleak right now, the world swirling around the abyss and Americans only pushing it faster and faster.
And yet, no matter how terrible things might look on this November 22, the symbols, history, and myths surrounding this day offer much in the way of hope. Communities “share symbols and myths that provide meaning in their existence as a people and link them to some transcendent order,” political theorist Don Lutz has written. “The shared meaning and a shared link to some transcendent order allow them to act as a people.” Indeed, the man “who has no sympathy with myths,” G.K. Chesterton argued, “has no sympathy with men.” One cannot, it seems, separate men from myths.
The choice is ours: We can choose corrupt symbols and myths suited to our pursuits, our lusts, our own wills, and our petty nationalisms, or we can choose those attached to what is eternally true and dignifies the uniqueness of each person, made in the Image of God. Indeed, no matter how corrupt and bleak and depressing the world may appear, we can always turn to the many Cecilias and the Laura Smiths of the world and see the goodness that is possible through grace and love. Properly remembered, these true symbols and true myths can re-orient our souls, our cultures, and perhaps even the world itself toward right order.
This day, of all days, should teach us this.
*****
All great systems, ethical or political, attain their ascendancy over the minds of men by virtue of their appeal to the imagination; and when they cease to touch the chords of wonder and mystery and hope, their power is lost, and men look elsewhere for some set of principles by which they may be guided. We live by myth. ‘Myth’ is not falsehood; on the contrary, the great and ancient myths are profoundly true. The myth of Prometheus will always be a high poetic representation of an ineluctable truth, and so will the myth of Pandora. A myth may grow out of an actual event almost lost in the remote past, but it comes to transcend the particular circumstances of its origin, assuming a significance universal and abiding. Nor is a myth simply a work of fancy: true myth is only represented, never created, by a poet. Prometheus and Pandora were not invented by the solitary imagination of Hesiod. Real myths are the product of the moral experience of a people, groping toward divine love and wisdom—implanted in a people’s consciousness, before the dawn of history, by a power and a means we never have been able to describe in terms of mundane knowledge.— Russell Kirk, “The Dissolution of Liberalism,” Commonweal (January 7, 1955), 374
In this post, Tad Wert, Carl Olson, Erik Heter, Kevin McCormick, and Bradley Birzer review that 1985 classic, Hounds of Love, by the inimitable Kate Bush! She was brilliant then, and she remains brilliant to this day. We are honored, and humbled, to consider her music as 1980’s perfection. God bless, the Fairlight!
Brad: Tad, Erik, Kevin, and Carl, so good to talk to you again. As always, a true pleasure. Hounds of Love was my introduction to Kate Bush. I realize that several of her albums had appeared before Hounds of Love, but it was Hounds of Love that awakened my soul to excellent music in 1985. At the time, I was a senior in high school. And, I mean this without hyperbole. I had loved Rush, Yes, Genesis, Thomas Dolby, ABC, and The B-52s prior to discovering Kate Bush, but it really was Hounds of Love that made me realize what music could accomplish. I really liked side one of the album, but I was deeply in love with side two: “The Ninth Wave.”
The fact that so many outlets gave it a high review suggested to me (then, as well as now) that prog was a delight for all concerned, even if they shunned prog in their formal reviews. Bush’s Hounds of Love was ultimate prog for those who hate prog!!!
Tad: Brad, thank you for suggesting we discuss this wonderful album! I have fond memories of it as well – for me, 1985 was one of the greatest years for music ever. Just consider some of the albums released that year: Arcadia’s So Red The Rose, Bryan Ferry’s Boys and Girls, Clannad’s Macalla, Cocteau Twins’ ep Aikea-Guinea, The Cure’s The Head On The Door, The Dream Academy’s eponymous debut, Joni Mitchell’s Dog Eat Dog, Marillion’s Misplaced Childhood, New Order’s Low-life, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’s Crush, Prefab Sprout’s Two Wheels Good, Propaganda’s A Secret Wish, R.E.M.’s Fables of the Reconstruction, Scritti Politti’s Cupid and Psyche ‘85, Simple Minds’ Once Upon a Time, Talking Heads’ Little Creatures, Tears for Fears’ Songs From the Big Chair, The Waterboys’ This Is The Sea, … I could go on and on! It was a watershed year, when it seemed like the sky was the limit when it came to what you could hear on the radio. Warm jangly guitar rock rubbed shoulders with icy British synthpop, while there was a revival of psychedelic rock happening (remember Prince’s Around The World In a Day?) and girl groups like the Bangles were breaking into the bigtime.
And yet, despite the incredibly high bar that was being set by all of these artists, Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love really stood out as an exceptional work. Like you, Brad, this album was the first time I heard her music. I was working in a record store at the time, and when it came in, our import buyer immediately put it on the store sound system. As those whooping synths that introduce “Running Up That Hill” came blasting out of the speakers followed by her unique voice, I knew this was something special.
I confess that I was prejudiced against Ms. Bush at the time, due to my copy of The Rolling Stone Record Guide, which I considered the definitive authority on all things rock. I remember it brutally panned her earlier albums, and described her voice as sounding like a “Hoover vacuum cleaner”. I think 1985 was the year I tossed my book in the trash, because its biases against any music with a hint of complexity were too great to ignore! As time has passed, Rolling Stone Magazine’s original critical faves and pans have become simply embarrassing.
Anyway, rant over! I’m happy to say that “Running Up That Hill” was an immediate cure for my initial anti-Kate Bush prejudice.
Brad: And what a rant it is/was! Astounding, Tad. So glad you put her into context: Tears for Fears, Songs from the Big Chair; Brian Ferry, Boys and Girls; New Order, Low Life. Astounding stuff. From every direction, astounding stuff. And, as great as Tears for Fears, Brian Ferry, and New Order, Kate Bush still delivers the best. Well, I’m not sure that Hounds of Love is better than Songs from the Big Chair, but I can still admit that one is worthy of the other. What a year 1985 was! Incredible.
Carl: Yes, great rant! Before getting to Bush and Hounds of Love, I want to give a rousing “Hear, hear!” to this: “Rolling Stone Magazine’s original critical faves and pans have become simply embarrassing.” I clued into that after reading their stupid “reviews” of Queen and Kansas, two of my favorite groups of my late teens (and still on regular rotation, all these years later). Plus, the albums they seemed to laud and drool over were, for me, almost all incredibly boring (and usually overtly leftist politically, which only added to the boredom). C’est la vie!
I graduated from high school in 1987, and didn’t hear anything by Kate Bush until late 1988, when I saw the film “She’s Having a Baby.” The movie itself was so-so overall, but the delivery scene, during which Bush’s song “A Woman’s World”—specifically written and created by Bush for the John Hughes’s film—played, was powerful. I was simply stunned by the song, which was both strikingly ethereal and emotionally raw. It was simply beautiful. And that voice! There was no other voice like that.
I got a copy of The Sensual World album (1988) as soon as it came out–and then bought everything else by Bush, including The Hounds of Love. There simply wasn’t anyone else like Bush; her music was (and is) remarkably unique, idiosyncratic in the very best way. And while I certainly have favorite songs, Bush has always been an Album Artist for me. I’ll say more about a couple of songs later, but here’s my highest praise for Bush: really good artists, even great artists, will create wonderful and memorable albums. But the truly best artists create complete worlds. They transport you somewhere, somehow. And that’s what Bush has always done for me: she demands complete and absolute attention, with characters and narratives that are wild, rich, bewildering, poignant, and always engrossing.
Tad: Thanks, gentlemen, for affirming my anti-Rolling Stone polemic. Back to the music! Carl, you hit the nail on the head when you assert that Kate Bush creates complete worlds. Hounds of Love sounds like nothing else, and it transcends its time. From those afore-mentioned whooping synths to the spritely melody of “The Morning Fog”, we are invited to explore her world of maternal love, dreaming, cloudbusting, witchhunting, and Celtic dancing, among other things.
As I’m listening to this album again, it’s hard to pick out any individual song for special attention. Every track has its beautiful moments – each one adds to the overall atmosphere of ecstatic joy on side one, and mysterious suspense on side two. Side two is a suite entitled “The Ninth Wave”, and the back cover of the album has the following quote from Tennyson’s “The Coming of Arthur”:
“Wave after wave, each mightier than the last
‘Til last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep
And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged
Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame”
If any other artist quoted Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I would consider them unbearably pretentious, but not Ms. Bush. In her hands, it makes perfect sense.
Brad: I remember hearing Kate Bush for the first time–again, Hounds of Love–during the fall semester of my senior year of high school. Some friends and I, all deeply rooted in progressive rock, were always looking for New Wave music that somehow touched on all things prog. We found it in some of Thomas Dolby, U2, Wang Chung (To Live and Die in L.A. soundtrack), INXS, and in lots of Rush, post-Gabriel Genesis, and Yes, etc.
But, we also found side two of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love to be extraordinary. Bush wasn’t just playing at being progressive, this side of the album, “The Ninth Wave,” as Tad noted above, was nothing but prog–-whole and complete and utterly compelling. To this day, I never get tired of side two of the album.
To be certain, I never tire of side one, either, but I’m more drawn to side two. “Running Up That Hill”–the opening track of the album–has been a Birzer family car mix staple for at least twenty years now. We, as a family, already loved Stranger Things, but we were completely blown away by Season 4’s gorgeous integration and employment of the song, itself always waiting to be fulfilled by the most noble heroism.
Additionally, my freshman year of college saw the release of Kate Bush’s greatest hits compilation, The Whole Story, and I devoured it. As it happened, my junior year of college, a good friend, Greg Scheckler, made a mixtape of all pre-Hounds of Love Bush. Why I’d not already explored her pre-1985 music at that point remains an autobiographical mystery to me. I still treasure that cassette that Greg made me, and I followed up by buying the complete catalogue of her work.
[To this day, I proudly own all of her CDs–separately and as a part of a comprehensive two-box set, complete with b-sides and live renditions]
Carl, I loved “She’s Having a Baby” when it came out. I saw it three or four times, believe it or not. I was a total John Hughes junkie! And, I loved “The Woman’s Work” from Kate.
Regardless, I despise Rolling Stone–aside from the articles by P.J. O’Rourke–and always have. Not only is it predictably leftist, but it’s predictably boring. Its weird hatred of Rush and then love of Rush at the end of the band’s career is nothing short of bizarre.
But, back to “The Ninth Wave.” Here, Kate Bush is at her absolute best, rivalled only by disk two of her later album, Aerial. As many times as I’ve listened to “The Ninth Wave,” I’ve never totally understood it. And, it’s in the mystery of the whole concept that titilates me. I think if I knew exactly what Kate Bush wanted, I’d be a bit disappointed.
As it is, it strikes me that a woman is lost, trying to navigate by various means–some supernatural (“Waking the Witch”), some by invoking the weirdest of the Beatles “(Watching You Without Me”), some by folklore (“Jig of Life”), and some by utterly natural means (“Hello, Earth”)–well, with a little German devil thrown in.
Hello earth Hello earth With just one hand held up high I can blot you out Out of sight Peek-a-boo, Peek-a-boo, little earth With just my heart and my mind I can be driving Driving home And you asleep On the seat I get out of my car Step into the night And look up at the sky And there’s something bright Traveling fast Look at it go Look at it go Hello earth Hello earth Watching storms Start to form Over America Can’t do anything Just watch them swing With the wind out to sea All you sailors (Get out of the waves, get out of the water) All life-savers, (Get out of the waves, get out of the water) All you cruisers, (Get out of the waves, get out of the water) All you fishermen Head for home Go to sleep, little earth I was there at the birth Out of the cloudburst The head of the tempest Murderer Murder of calm Why did I go? Why did I go? Tiefer, tiefer Irgendwo in der tiefe Gibt es ein licht Go to sleep little earth
All of it comes together in the album’s final track, the gentle and harmonious “The Morning Fog.” All seems well, as the protagonist is “born again” and remembers her unwavering love for her mother, her father, and her brothers. Indeed, all “loved ones.” What better way to end the album? No, not possible. It is the perfect ending to a perfect album.
That said, I still gravitate toward disc 2 of Aerial. . . .
Erik: Before I start in on the main topic, please let me chime in (pile on?) on the rant again on the vapid, droll, banal, and way-past-its-sell-by-date Rolling Stone, staffed by reviewers that write reviews for other reviewers in the hopes to look cool. I’d more trust Britney Spears’ opinion on the implications of quantum mechanics before I’d trust a music review from Rolling Stone at this point.
Now, to the subject proper. When Brad asked me to participate in this, I had to sheepishly admit that I had never heard Hounds of Love or any Kate Bush album for that matter, risking my credentials in the prog-lovers club. That turned out to not be entirely true, as once I looked at the track listing for this album, I quickly realized, thanks to the Netflix show Stranger Things and wider cultural echoes it made, that I had heard the first song on this album a number of times. But alas, that was the only song, so I’m going to be coming at this album from the perspective of a newcomer.
So far, I’ve only given it one listen (but have more planned tomorrow!). So for now, I’m going to add a few initial impressions.
To the surprise of exactly nobody, I will first start by saying Kate has an incredibly beautiful voice, with a vocal range that only a few possess. She can seamlessly transition between soft and subdued to exceptionally powerful and just as easily slide anywhere within that range. She uses her voice to such great effect as not only a vehicle to deliver her lyrics, but as an instrument in the larger orchestra. Some of the backing vocal arrangements in this album are simply otherworldly. I’m always a sucker for innovative vocal arrangements and good harmonies – think Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys, Leave It by Yes, and Seven Bridges Road by The Eagles. Kate has several tracks on this album with vocal arrangements – all of her own, multi-tracked voice – that stand with the best of any of them.
Another initial impression of this album is the way many of the songs combine catchy hooks associated with pop songs with the complexity of prog. The artists that can pull that off are few and far between, but Kate again shows another area in which she shines. Two tracks where this really hit me were The Big Sky and the album’s closer, The Morning Fog. The former includes some of the vocal arrangements that I have discussed above, and if I may paraphrase a line from a Eurythmic song, those arrangements have gotten into me like a poison dart. After even a single listen, I can’t get them out of my head – nor do I want to. “The Big Sky” also has a nice, thumping bass line that propels the listener along. With respect to the latter track, there is something about it that draws me in, and I can’t quite place my finger on it. The Morning Fog is somewhat subdued, but in a way that demands the listener’s attention. And in a glorious, wonderful contradiction, it sounds very much like something from 1985 while also sounding like nothing at all from 1985. I absolutely love that.
So there you have it – my very first impression of Hounds of Love – and boy, it’s a good one. I’m looking forward to digging into this and finding more hidden treasures. I’ll be sure to tell you about them in my next entry!
Tad: Erik, it is so nice to get the reactions and perspectives of someone who has never heard Hounds Of Love. I tend to have the same taste in music you do – I love a good hook! So, I agree that “The Big Sky” and “The Morning Fog” are exceptionally good tracks. When the chiming opening of “The Morning Fog” bursts out, after following the dense, dark, and mysterious “”Ninth Wave” songs, it is a cathartic moment for me. Brad, I love your characterization of it as a “born again” moment.
I’d like to mention Kate’s use of samples and processed vocals. That was something relatively new in 1985, and I think she does a nice job of employing them judiciously. They all serve the song, and they aren’t included for the sake of novelty. Let’s face it, by the mid-80’s there was an undeniable “sound” of echoing drums, soaring synths, and choppy guitars that, 40 years later, sounds pretty dated. Ms. Bush avoided that pitfall, and as a result Hounds Of Love is timeless in its allure.
Brad, like you, I’m not sure what the core meaning of “The Ninth Wave” is, and I don’t think I want to know. As you so aptly put it, the mystery of the concept is what’s key.
Kevin: One observation if I might sneak in here. I find Kate Bush’s storytelling craft to be most compelling. While there are many great songwriters over the last sixty years of modern popular music, Kate Bush uniquely approaches her subjects as a narrator walking her audience through wonderful short stories. If she’s then a songwriter, she’s just as much a screenwriter. Her albums play like great short films. Her lyrics are frequently dialogues with which she brings her listeners into intimate conversations or moments. What sets her music apart is her ability to lower her guard through her characters engaged in intense exchanges and fleeting moments. And she is totally invested in revealing that narrative–whatever the subject may be. It is no surprise that her first success was with the quite unusual (even to this day) and not-so-subtly literary “Wuthering Heights.” She’s a powerful storyteller and knows how to encase those stories in these extraordinary soundtracks.
Carl: Always fascinating to hear first impressions of great music (or books, art, film, etc.), Erik, and I enjoyed your observations!
Last night, I revisited the exceptional 2015 biography (nearly 500 pages long!) titled Under the Ivy: The Life & Music of Kate Bush by Graeme Thomson. I highly recommend it for anyone with any interest in Bush. Thomson highlights some aspects of Bush’s work and this album in particular that helped put a few of my final thoughts in perspective.
He reports (the book is very well sourced, as he talked to many of the musicians who worked with Bush over the years) that Bush writes most songs very quickly—sometimes in just hours or a few days—but that it is the production, playing, and arranging that takes months, even years. And part of that, which is so evident in Hounds of Love, is her ground-breaking use of the Fairlight, electronics, and using eclectic instrumentation and vocals.
He also emphasizes that Bush is remarkable for her vision of what she wants an album to be sonically, stylistically, etc. That should not be passed over too quickly, as there are many exceptional musical artists who simply don’t possess that quality. For example, the fantastic singer/songer-writer Seal (I’m a huge fan, as Brad knows well), has frankly admitted in recent interviews that he happily turned over song sequencing and related decisions to the legendary producer (and musician) Trevor Horn because he (Seal) simply doesn’t see that as an ability he possesses. Many have emphasized (rightly) that Bush set a new standard for women in “pop/rock” music; I’d say she simply set a new standard, regardless of sex.
Thomson also hits on something I was already going to mention, which is how deeply this album draws upon nature. Water, for example, is referenced throughout; it obviously has a huge role in the second half of the album. This is connected, without doubt, to both Bush’s Catholic upbringing (she no longer considers herself Catholic, but has spoken about Catholicism’s “powerful, beautiful, passionate images”) and her longtime interest in mythology, folklore, the occult, and so forth. Her eclectic musical tastes and styles seems to reflect her quite syncretistic approach to religion and spirituality.
As a practicing Catholic, I find this quite intriguing and if I ever had a chance to talk to her (completely theoretical, obviously), I would be most interested in her worldview and how that informs her artistry. And that is because she has always struck me as someone whose entire work flows from how she sees reality; that is, she doesn’t write and create music for a certain audience. She just creates—and what she has created has been one of most unique and timeless bodies of “popular” music we’ll ever have the privilege of hearing.
Erik: Carl, Bradley, Kevin, and Tad, thanks for all your kind words – and thanks even more for bringing me into this discussion. For in doing so, you have introduced me to something that has just blown me away in a way that only the truly great albums are capable of doing.
Between my last post and this one, I gave Hounds of Love a couple more listens, and did a little research as well. My initial impressions have only been reinforced, while new ones have come to me to lead to an even deeper appreciation.
For example, while I had read above that this album had (at least in its vinyl incarnation) a pop side and a progressive side, my additional listens made that all the more clear. While the first five tracks have more of a pop bent (and I don’t mean that in any disparaging sense at all), it’s the last seven tracks where Kate really begins experimenting. Her voice is positively lovely and mesmerizing in the opening track of this sequence, And Dream of Sheep. The next track, Under Ice, is haunting, ominous, and … beautiful, beginning with the staccato string section that dominates the song. Is she dreaming here? I’m not sure, but the ‘wake up!’ that sets the next track in motion suggests as much. Waking the Witch might be the most offbeat track on the album, with some interludes that are suggestive of similar ones from Pink Floyd’s Echoes. Watching You Without Me is another track that draws one in and demands to be listened to, while also having a subdued quality to it. It’s almost like a whisper. Kate then does another sharp turn into Celtic-flavored folk on Jig of LIfe – completely unexpected and yet it works so perfectly. Hello Earth is an incredible track, beginning with Kate in her beautiful, soft voice, and transitioning through different moods. The inclusion of just a touch of the Celtic folk from the track before and the addition of the choir add flavor to this song. And as I mentioned above, The Morning Fog that closes the album is a thing of pure beauty.
One of the things that really jumps out at me is the temporal context in which it was made. While 1985 produced some excellent music, the kind of music that appears on much of Hounds of Love, especially The Ninth Wave that makes up the second vinyl side was terribly out of fashion. Yet Kate was obviously undeterred, determined to make the album she wanted to make, to make music on her terms. Not only did she do it, but she managed to receive commercial success and critical acclaim in doing so at precisely a time few others would have (and I’m not referring to just the nimrods at Rolling Stone). Artistic integrity and having the courage of one’s convictions are beautiful things in and of themselves, and Kate shows it in spades here.
I was previously unaware that Kate was also the producer of this album. That really jumped out at me, since in taking on this role she assumed complete responsibility for the finished product. Many musical artists, even great ones, need the right producer to turn their creative inspiration into a finished product. To use one example, 90125 from Yes isn’t the same album without Trevor Horn. Self-producing is fraught with pitfalls. And yet, here is Kate, not merely avoiding these pitfalls, but taking on the role that bridges the gap between creative inspiration as an input and a masterpiece as an output, and executing flawlessly.
The producer’s role is even more impressive when you consider the technical innovations that are found on this album from start to finish. As Tad mentioned above, innovations such as samples and processed vocals were relatively new in 1985, so employing them on a project this ambitious was not without risk, to say the least. Combining synthesizers, Celtic folk instrumentation, and choral arrangements was equally risky. And these risks were taken in the context of making music that was unlike anything else contemporary to 1985. And despite all these risks, the album is a complete artistic triumph, a masterpiece that still reverberates, as evidenced by the resurgence of its leadoff track thanks to Stranger Things (which was insisted upon by one of its stars, 80’s child Winona Ryder, who described herself as “obsessed” with Kate Bush).
So guys, if you were trying to make me a Kate Bush fan, congratulations – mission accomplished. I’m going to spend more time absorbing this album, but I’ll happily take your recommendations on where to go next. Thanks again!!
Tad: And with Erik’s ringing endorsement of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love, we’ll bring our symposium to a close. You can purchase a hard copy of this album from our friends at Burning Shed. Buying music from them helps support artists like Ms. Bush.
In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller, life comes at you fast. In this case, it was 10 years that came at us fast – for it was 10 years ago that I wrote the piece linked below about one of the seminal albums of the 1980s. Those 10 years have allowed for additional perspective to develop.
If anything, my appreciations for this album has only grown. As the original piece notes, 90125 brought in scores of new fans of both Yes the band and the genre of prog in general. In the latter area, I would be hard pressed to name an album whose ripples had more of an effect than 90125. Moving Pictures from Rush might give it a run for its money, but that’s the only one I can name that’s really in the same ballpark. 90125 attracted millions of fans who would have had no reason to pay attention to the genre and who now are aficionados of the same.
Many people (myself most definitely included) love to talk about albums that had a lasting impact. Sgt. Peppers by The Beatles is certainly one that gets a lot of ink spilled, as does Led Zeppelin IV and Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. And by Yes themselves, Close to the Edge is often cited as an album whose impact has continued to resonate long past its release date. And now, 40 years after its release, I think its time we put 90125 on the same shelf. And now, let’s move onto the main topic of discussion to learn some of the reasons why.
Brad Birzer, Carl Olson, and Tad Wert are all big fans of Bruce Soord (check out Brad and Tad’s earlier dialog on the deluxe reissue of The Pineapple Thief’s first 7 albums!). Bruce has released his third solo album, Luminescence, and so, of course, we had to share our thoughts on it.
Tad: Brad and Carl, I really enjoy Soord’s solo work; sometimes I think he saves some of his best songs for it! They tend to be more lowkey and relaxed than his music with The Pineapple Thief – more straightforward rock/pop. I’ve been listening to Luminescence quite a bit, and I find it very charming. “Olomouc” is a winner, in my opinion, with its lush string accompaniment. On the other hand, the stripped-down (and aptly titled) “So Simple” is a real gem of acoustic beauty that ends too soon. What are your first impressions?
Carl: Gents! A couple of quick thoughts about Soord’s impressive, beautiful album. I expected it to be “good,” but I’ve become a bit obsessed with it, having now listened to it at least 30 times or more. The songs are subtle, but perfectly constructed. The playing and production are both exceptional: warm, intimate, engaging. There are a lot of layers, but also a lot of space, which is no small feat sonically. I especially like the combination of electronica sounds and beats with acoustic guitar (see “Lie Flat”). Vocally, Soord is both understated and emotive in perfect pitch (both musically and emotionally). Who knew a “prog” guy would create such a remarkably good pop album?
Brad: Tad and Carl, great to be talking with you both! And, what a beautiful album to discuss. I only started listening to it about a week ago, but I’ve been listening to it non-stop. Carl, I will admit, I’m not surprised that Soord–a prog guy–could create such a remarkably good pop album. The album, for what it’s worth, reminds me very much of mid-period Tears for Fears, especially Raoul and the Kings of Spain. Soord, like Roland Orzabal, is really a master of mixing beautiful melodies in complex ways. Tad, I think “charming” is exactly the right word for this album.
Carl: I cannot speak to the Tears for Fears comparison (although I completely believe you!), but will bring up two artists that this album brings to mind, in very positive ways. The first is Charlie Peacock, a very eclectic American singer, songwriter, producer, keyboardist, etc., who is known for his work in contemporary Christian music, but has worked in jazz, country, Americana, and more. He’s a brilliant producer/writer, as can be heard on the 2021 album “Skin and Wind,” which mixes electronic and acoustic instrumentation—including strings—brilliantly, in the service of concise songs filled with longing and questioning, just like Soord’s fabulous album. The other is the better-known Duncan Sheik, especially his first three albums (1996, 1998, and 2002), which were quite successful commercially. Their voices are similar, and songs such as Soord’s “Instant Flash of Light” is very “Sheik-ish,” right down to the really lovely small chamber strings. These comparisons are, in my book, very high compliments.
Tad: Holy cow, Carl, your evocation of Charlie Peacock brought back some nice memories! I was very much into his music in the early to mid-90s, and now that you mention it, there is a lot of similarity between his style and Soord’s. And, Brad, you also made a connection I hadn’t thought of, but is very true: TFF’s Raoul and the Kings of Spain is a worthy ancestor and influence of this album.
Carl, you mentioned Soord’s use of electronica, and I’d like to jump off of that to say a little bit about another song I really, really, like: “Nestle In”. It begins with a police siren wailing, and as it becomes slightly distorted, a gentle wash of electronica begins to pulse. Soord’s vocals are mixed up front, and if you listen on headphones, it’s as if he were singing right at your shoulder. Whoever is playing drums on this track is outstanding – beautiful fills as Soord sings “The storm is approaching/And no one dares to look”. The distorted siren returns, and the song is over. I know my description makes it sound like it is cacophonous and noisy, but it isn’t at all. It’s oddly comforting, as a song entitled “Nestle In” should be.
Brad: Tad, the first time I heard “Nestle In,” I was immediately sure that a police car had just passed by, and I offered up a quick prayer for the person involved in whatever altercation there might be!
Then, I realized my mistake.
Also, Tad, I should note that I think both Orzabal and Soord share an absolute earnestness in their music. I especially think the influence is strong with Tears for Fears’ “Falling Down,” arguably the most earnest (the beautiful) song Orzabal has written.
Carl, thanks, too, for such good insights. I’m not familiar with the artists you mentioned, but it sounds like I should be.
I must admit, as much as I love the entire Soord album, I’m most partial to the album opener, “Dear Life.” The song just immediately grabs me and wants me/begs me/asks me to listen to the rest of the album.
I like the lyrics, too:
This sight
Barely changed
Just the shadows cast over our remains
With the wounded leaves
We’re still clinging on for dear life
Don’t wish it away
Don’t wish that it will all be over
In the sweetest blink of an eye
This light
The reddest glow
Barely time to dry those saddest eyes I know
After all we have seen
We’re still clinging on for dear life
For this dear life
They’re not only nice lyrics, but they match the music, perfectly.
Carl: All three of us had a similar experience with “Nestle In”! I live in the country and we never heard police sirens. But when the song first came on, I was out of my chair and opening the door: “What is that…?” I continued to be really riveted by the combination of intimacy and space in this album. Tad, you highlighted this perfectly in saying it’s like Soord is singing at your shoulder. It would be fascinating to talk to Soord about how he recorded and produced the album. It sounds so incredibly good.
Every song is excellent, but “Lie Flight” is probably my favorite, at least at the moment. It’s deceptively simple, but with a wonderful drums/bass sound that really locks you in. I tend to like lyrics that allow multi-interpretations/levels, and these certainly fit the bill:
Finally I’ve made some sense of it all
How could I not have known this all before?
I’m coming home
Is it too late for me?
It plays so differently with one eye on the soul
It could be about a romantic relationship. Or could it be about something more spiritual, pertaining to God and transcendence? “It plays so differently with one eye on the soul” is so good; it’s both simple and very mysterious. And maybe that’s this album’s greatest attribute: it’s immediate and accessible, but really mysterious at the same time.
Tad: Okay, since we began this discussion, I bought a hard copy of Luminescence (if I find an album I really love, I don’t trust streaming services to keep it always available). I’ve had some time to go over the lyrics, and they seem to be documenting the collapse of a relationship. There is a consistent theme of loss and regret running through every song. However, I like the tack you take, Carl, and I’m going to assume there’s a higher yearning involved here.
Also, that drummer I singled out for praise is Soord himself! The only instruments he doesn’t play are the strings that accompany him on several songs.
I have one more thing to add to our conversation – I have fallen in love with two songs near the end of the album: “Stranded Here”, and “Read to Me”. To my ears, they go together, because the acoustic guitar line from the former flows seamlessly into the latter. Soord has overdubbed a couple of acoustic guitars in this mini-suite, and their interplay is simply wonderful.
Gentlemen, it looks like this is a good place to wrap things up. Gentle readers, please take our advice and give Bruce Soord’s Luminescence a listen!
Here’s the video for the first single, “Dear Life”:
The Mommyheads share video for “Coney Island Kid,” prog-influenced title track from new album
New album Coney Island Kid out now! Photo Credit: Steve RoodProg-pop cult heroes The Mommyheads have released the most ambitious album of their nearly four-decade career, CONEY ISLAND KID, out now via FANFAR! Records in Europe and Mommyhead Music for the rest of the world.
CONEY ISLAND KID marks the venerable NYC-based band’s 15th studio LP and first-ever foray into concept album terrain. Now, the band are pleased share the video for the title track and opening track from the new album.WATCH THE VIDEO FOR “CONEY ISLAND KID”ORDER THE ALBUM CONEY ISLAND KIDGuitarist, singer Adam Elk on the “Coney Island Kid“: The Video for ‘Coney Island Kid’ is a combined edit of 7 different shows from our Sept 2023 tour of Sweden and the US North East. ‘Coney Island Kid’ kicks off the album and firmly establishes the main character as a survivor, witness, fighter, protagonist and escape artist. It’s a 6 minute sonic subconscious deep dive into my childhood neighborhood that hopefully taps into those intense emotions most listeners have for their early memories. Love or hate the place you come from, your feelings for it will eventually need to be addressed to truly understand who you are. We did our best to conjure up the smells and sounds of Coney Island with music and sound design.”THE MOMMYHEADS CONEY ISLAND KID (FANFAR! Records / Mommyhead Music)Tracklist: Coney Island Kid Artificial Island Spookarama Solemn By The Sea Suburban Office Park Learning To Live Why Aren’t You Smiling Such Beautiful Things Onset, MA Soul’s AquariumWATCH THE VIDEO FOR “WHY AREN’T YOU SMILINGLast year saw The Mommyheads reaching new creative heights with GENIUS KILLER, hailed by Bay Area alternative newsweekly The Bohemian as “a tight, self-assured affair that sounds all the more youthful for its maturity.” CONEY ISLAND KID continues in that tradition, opening with an eclectic suite of technicolor prog-pop that uses archetypal Coney Island imagery to convey themes of desperation and soul-searching, complete with pier side ambience.
The skeletal acoustics on “Spookarama” call back to the whimsical woodsy gloom of 1989’s now-classic debut, ACORN, while elsewhere, songs such as the epic title track (arguably the closest the band has come to full-on interpolating Genesis) and the angelic tone poem, “Onset, MA,” see The Mommyheads continue to gracefully channel existential anxiety and progressive influences in equal measure. Having devoted a lifetime to evolution, both in terms of sound and the ever-increasing scope of their ideas, CONEY ISLAND KID stands as perhaps the most cohesive representation of The Mommyheads’ glorious eccentricities thus far.THE MOMMYHEADS: WEBSITE | FACEBOOK | TWITTER | YOUTUBE
In this crazy post, Tad and Brad think hard and deep about Spock’s Beard’s fifth album, appropriately named V. Tad and Brad (my gosh, we rhyme) think the world of this album. As Tad will note, it’s what brought him back to the genre of progressive rock, and Brad will affirm that he loves all things, Spock’s Beard, never having actually left prog rock. Indeed, if truth be told, Birzer thinks that he first encountered Spock’s Beard, THE LIGHT, sometime in 1994, even though the official literature claims a 1995 release date. . .
Brad. My gosh, it was 2000, that year of mystery and chaos that saw the release of the fifth Spock’s Beard album, V. The album, even subconsciously, seems to think that prog needs a new release, a new introduction to the world. Even the opening track wants to invite all new adherents to all things proggy.
At the end of the day, you’ll be fine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And, to be sure, prog was coming into its third phase. Spock’s Beard, The Flower Kings, and Porcupine Tree had all ushered the genre into its newest phase.
Tad: Brad, it’s hard to believe that V is more than 20 years old! Yes, this one album reintroduced me to the world of prog. I still remember exactly how I discovered it: at the time I read Mojo Magazine regularly, and they had an issue with a Genesis cover story. There was an inset article about “current prog artists to check out”. One of them was Spock’s Beard, so I went to Tower Records (remember when there were record stores?) and, low and behold, there was a copy of V. I popped it into my car’s CD player, and I couldn’t believe the incredible music that poured out!
Up to that point, I was listening to practically every style of music except prog. In high school, I enjoyed Yes, Genesis, ELP, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, etc., but once the 80s hit, I quit following that genre. I was flabbergasted to hear a band like Spock’s Beard unapologetically playing progressive rock, but with an updated, contemporary sounding style.
I think what impressed me the most was Neal Morse’s gift for melody. He obviously loved the Beatles, but he didn’t imitate them. Rather, he incorporated their sense of harmony and melody into massive epics that never seemed overlong. I remember in March of 2021 we went down to Florida for Spring Break, and all I listened to for a week was Spock’s Beard! And from there an entire new world of music opened up for me.
Brad: Wow, Tad, what a wonderful memory. Florida and Spock’s Beard! Very nice.
In the early 1990s, I remember wondering what had happened to progressive rock and encountering–through Tracks Records in Bloomington, Indiana–a revival of the genre through Spock’s Beard, The Light.
As I noted above, it seems–at least in memory–to be sometime in 1994. I was a graduate student at Indiana University, then, and I was quite the customer for Track’s. I remember the manager telling me about The Light, but I remember it in the fall of 1994.
For whatever reason, SB remembers the albums as coming out in 1995. Somewhere–and I don’t know where–there’s a discrepancy. At the time, I was thrilled with The Light, and I wanted more. From that point forward, I followed the band. Except for the embrace of the f-word, I absolutely loved The Light.
It’s funny, but since the band was so abrupt in its language, Neal Morse has since sent out a warning about the music. Honestly, though it was his attack on Catholicism–especially through his album Sola Scriptura, that warned me more than his embrace as had the f-word. I don’t mind my kids hearing the f-word, but it was his attack on Roman Catholicism that really chilled me.
As it was, the band, Spock’s Beard, produced some great prog rock and some real straight-forward rock after 1995. It was V, however, that really reminded us all that progressive rock was not only alive but thriving. It was, by far, the most progressive album the band had released since its second release, Beware of Darkness. Yet, to be sure, V is nothing compared to its successor, Snow, which really embraced not only progressive rock, but the Catholic Church (its priests, in particular) as well.
When V came out, I was blown away,. Album number 5 from the band was simply brilliant, and I was so glad to have the progressive rock genre come back in full force. Indeed, when you bring into account the early Flower Kings, it and Spock’s Beard really introduced us to the third wave of progressive rock. Both, somehow, brought us all into the fold of a whole new take on the classic genre.
Tad: Before we get into discussing the music, I want to give a shoutout to the artwork. At first glance, it looks like a businessman walking in a desert past a traffic sign (a sideways V) telling him to go forward while a forked lightning bolt (making a V) pierces the sky behind him. But on closer inspection, you realize he has two shadows (making a V), he must be on an alien planet! The whole scene is worthy of Hugh Symes’ best work for Rush. I love it!
Brad: Agreed. The art is excellent and reminiscent of Hugh Symes. A wonderful comparison.
What surprises me most, however, Tad, is how much of a solo album for Neal Morse this fifth album from Spock’s Beard actually is. If we take the liner notes seriously–and I have no reason not to–Morse wrote every lyric and every song with the exception of the excellent. THOUGHTS (Part II), the most Morse-like of all the tracks! Indeed, the original “Thoughts” appeared on the second Spock’s Beard album, Beware of Darkness, and is credited to. . . no surprise. . . Neal Morse! Indeed, looking over the first six Spock’s Beard’s albums, what is shocking is that all seem to have been written by Neal Morse and Neal Morse almost (not always) solo!
This means, of course, that V really is a Neal Morse album with Spock’s Beard as a mere backing band. I will admit, I’m rather shocked to realize this. I had always thought the band contributed much more to Spock’s than this.
As such, Testimony is a Neal Morse album without Spock’s as a backing band!
That said, and attributed, Spock’s Beard V is an astounding album, whether a Morse album or not. Everything just works perfectly on V. The art, the lyrics, the music, the sequence of songs. All of it, just perfect.
And, though Morse wrote all of this, I’m quite happy with the band. Nick D’Virgilio is especially great at drumming so appropriately for this album.
Tad: Yes, the first six Beard albums were almost entirely Neal Morse projects. I have a DVD, The Making of V, that chronicles his production of V, and it’s very illuminating. It’s clear he has a very specific vision of how he wants every song to sound. He meets with each member of the group to go over their parts. They make minor suggestions, but by and large he is calling all the shots. Even that little woo-wah guitar sound that Alan Morse makes 12 minutes into “At The End of the Day” is due to Neal’s urging.
Speaking of “At the End of the Day”, let’s dive into the songs on this album. “At the End of the Day” is one of my favorite opening tracks, ever. It has it all – driving rock, acoustic passage with soft vocals, and time changes all over the place! At 16:28 in length, it’s not a quick listen, but the time flies – I never get fatigued whenever I listen to it. As with every Morse composition, the catchy melodies fall over themselves as they spill out of my speakers – they are endlessly engaging and captivating. I love this song!
You mentioned “Thoughts (Part II)”, and this song led me to explore the music of classic Gentle Giant, because somewhere I read that the a cappella sections were inspired by that group (I think by “Knots”, off of their Octopus album). I also hear a lot of Kansas in this song. It is another highlight.
Actually, there isn’t a bad track on V. I skipped over “Revelation”, but it deserves some praise – at first listen, you think it’s a relaxed, soft rock ditty, but then it morphs into some of the heaviest rock Spock’s Beard ever produced.
Even though V was only released on CD, I’ve always thought of “All On A Sunday” as kicking off “side 2”. This is such a happy, welcoming song for me. Once again, Morse’s gift for a catchy melody really shines here. “Goodbye To Yesterday” is more sombre, but still beautiful. This song is a showcase for the Beard’s knack for gorgeous vocal harmonies. You can hear how good a singer Nick D’Virgilio is here.
I’ve rambled enough – you’re our resident lyrics expert; what do you think of Morse’s words on V?
Brad: Tad, thanks for such good thoughts. I think your analysis is simply awesome. Fantastic. The DVD “The Making of “V”” sounds excellent. I’ll have to check it out.
I must admit, Tad, when it comes to Neal Morse lyrics, I’m always a bit conflicted. I love his music–composition, tone, flow, etc.–but I find his lyrics less persuasive as it were. Some of this is simply poor bias on my part. I loved the music of The Light, but I was less than taken with the lyrics. As mentioned above, I just think the “f-word” is totally avoidable in songs. To me, its employment is always and everywhere a sign of a lack of imagination. Since then, I’ve been skeptical about his lyrics. I especially disliked the lyrics of Sola Scriptura.
Specifically, as to V, however, I generally like the lyrics, though I find them–again–unpersuasive. When I listen to Big Big Train, for example, I always assume my prevailing attitudes and ideas will be challenged. As I hear V, though, the lyrics are just random words that sound good with the music. In no way have I been challenged in basic assumptions or ideas. I’m more moved by the insertion of a dirty organ than I am by the words.
Here’s section III of the “Great Nothing.”
Come up breathing Up from the water Man, he was so submerged Where’s the feeling?
It must be way under Far from the spoken word
No, no – no corporate ladder No hometown parade The fat cats just keep getting fatter What does it matter The thing must be played…
One note timeless…
Don’t let the buzz get you down Don’t lose your memory or you’ll sink fast and drown But you can’t seem to sleep for the thoughts in your mind Since you can’t stand to think you have one hell of a time Hanging with submergers you drink yourself blind You think it’s fine
You’ve got time…
What is this all about? I have no idea, and, worse, I’m not that interested in knowing or figuring it out.
Again, Tad, don’t get me wrong. I really like Morse’s music, I just feel less taken with his lyrics. An exception to this is his lyrics for Testimony and Testimony 2. I loved and devoured these lyrics–as they told a story.
Tad: Brad, your points are well taken. As far as the lyrics to “The Great Nothing” go, I believe Morse wrote them as a tribute to his friend and fellow musician, Kevin Gilbert. He was enormously talented, but the music industry never knew how to promote him. He died not too long before V was recorded.
As I’ve mentioned before, I have a hard time paying attention to lyrics , except as they add to the overall sound of a song. It’s a failing of mine – I’m too lazy to get into them! Like you, though, I don’t have a lot of patience for gratuitous profanity when it occurs.
As far as “The Great Nothing” goes, I think, musically, it is one of the greatest songs Spock’s Beard ever recorded. It is one I never tire of listening to, with its various sections of melody. Dave Meros’ bass is outstanding on it, as is Nick D’Virgilio’s drums.
There is one section (the “You missed your calling” one) that sounds like something Paul McCartney could write – it’s that catchy. When I first heard this epic, I had to stop what I was doing and hit “Rewind” on my CD player several times!
They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I get the sense that Morse intended for V to close a chapter in Spock’s Beard’s career. I couldn’t wait for the next album, Snow, but I was very disappointed with it. It sounded so different from anything else they had recorded, and the story kind of creeped me out. Like you, I thought Testimony was a tremendous album – one of Morse’s all-time best. But that’s a topic for another post!
Brad: Thanks so much, Tad. You have excellent responses, of course, and I had no idea that Morse was referring to the work of Kevin Gilbert. Next time I listen to V, I’ll keep that in mind.
Tad: It’s always a blast to bounce thoughts and reactions with you, Brad! I hope our readers take some time to listen to V. It is not available on Spotify (apparently Morse doesn’t like their payment structure), but it is on Apple Music. Here is “The Great Nothing”, via YouTube:
In this post, Tad and Brad are joined by Kevin, as we assess the brilliance of Ultravox’s 1981 masterpiece, Rage in Eden. By the way, Tad usually does these intros, so forgive me (Brad!) for making a mess of it.
Brad: Tad and Kevin, so very glad to be doing this review with you. I have a feeling this will be a long one. It was, I must admit, Kevin who really introduced me to Ultravox in the fall of 1986, our freshmen year at Notre Dame. I had, of course, heard of “Vienna” as a single, but I knew very little about the band.
After telling him how much I loved progressive rock (especially Genesis, Kansas, and Yes), Kevin introduced me to Vienna (the album), Rage in Eden, Quartet, and Lament. I must reveal–I feel deeply in love with all of them, but especially with Rage in Eden and Lament.
At the time, Kevin mentioned to me that he loved the lyrics so much he hoped, one day, to write an entire book about “The Thin Wall.” This notion, of course, caught my attention.
But, I must also admit that my love of Ultravox has been deeply personal, too. I was a huge fan of Quartet, and I was listening to it when my wife and I drove to the hospital to deliver our fifth child way back in 2007. She (our baby) died in childbirth, and I still can’t listen to that album. I tried again, recently, and it only brought up terrible memories. In a weird way, I say this as a compliment to Ultravox, as the music means everything to me.
Relatively recently, though, Steven Wilson has remixed and remastered Midge Ure-era Ultravox: Vienna; Rage in Eden; and Quartet.
Tad and Kevin, what do you guys think of Rage in Eden?
Tad: Brad, I am looking forward to discussing this classic album with you and Kevin! I had just begun my junior year in college when it was released, and I still remember my jaw dropping when I first heard the urgent synth beat to “The Voice” fading in to full volume.
By fall of 1981, I was totally immersed in British new wave music, and I loved artists like Thomas Dolby, Gary Numan, The Human League, Depeche Mode, ABC, Howard Jones… well, I could go on forever! Anyway, to my ears there was something that immediately set Ultravox apart, and Rage In Eden became an album that transcended its moment in pop history. I think what struck me the most was the warmth of their music, which arose from three elements: Midge Ure’s powerful baritone vocals, Warren Cann’s excellent drums, and Billy Currie’s violin.
Other synthpop artists, like Gary Numan or Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, could come up with killer hooks, but they also sounded cold and brittle. Ultravox had awesome synth lines that cracked and boomed, but underneath them was a human presence that lent their music accessibility.
Okay, I’ll stop for now and give Kevin a chance to jump in!
Kevin: Thanks Tad. So glad to be a part of this discussion. I came a bit later to this Ultravox album. I was intrigued by the Ultravox when I first caught the video for “Vienna” probably around 1982 or so. Not long after seeing it I found a copy of the album at Hogwild Records in San Antonio. I was completely taken with the sound. And shortly after that a musician friend suggested Rage in Eden. Upon hearing Rage In Eden again today I had the same uncanny sense about it that I was so drawn to so many years ago.
On the one hand, they are unmistakably a part of the early 1980’s oeuvre. The synth sounds by themselves place them among the artists you mention, Tad. And I would agree that unlike Numan and OMD, Ultravox had a warmth and a power that was much more appealing. And Midge Ure’s theatrical way of writing really sets their music apart. The textures and the lyrics are very much about establishing a sense of place and story. It’s as if you’ve stepped into the pages of a novel and UV is providing the soundtrack. And his stories and vocal delivery are so compelling that even after so many years the music is remarkably fresh and engaging.
Another thing that struck me when listening to Rage in Eden again, was the guitar work. The synths are clearly present throughout the mix, but it’s Ure’s guitar that really sets them apart from the schtick of the typical keyboard band. It’s the great blending of his angular phrasing and the sharp tone that shape the overall sonic impression. No doubt he and Edge (U2) were listening to each other, but Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee of Rush were too. Ultravox was breaking new ground.
Brad: I’m in full agreement with you both. I love the music on Rage in Eden and I also think it’s angular, but I must admit, it’s the lyrics that do the most for me. Take the lyrics to the title track:
We sit and watch these lifeless forms Stark and petrified The high suspense of an empty stage drawing in clutching to its breast With murmured words we sigh and focus on the main facade
Beyond the hard reluctant windows News from magazines We wrote their names on books we’d borrowed as if to bring us closer still And threw it all away to focus on the main facade Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence But no-one could see the end
And they were the new gods And they shone on high Their heavy perfume on the night sucked them down in red tide All is through the looking glass focus on the main facade Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence But no-one could see the end
Disciples of the new way Portraits in the new sand See when they run their longest mile holding caps in wet hands Eyes upon them try to focus on the main facade Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence But no-one could see the end
These lyrics are simply astounding. As many times as I’ve listened to this album since 1986, they continue to grab me, wrestle with me, and turn me into something pathetically receptive.
Or, even better, the lyrics for “The Thin Wall,” here with Bovine Grace!
The sound is on the visions move The image dance starts once again They shuffle with a bovine grace and glide in syncopation Just living lines from books we’ve read With atmospheres of days gone by With paper smiles The screenplay calls a message for the nation
And those who sneer will fade and die And those who laugh will surely fall And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin wall The thin wall Thin wall
Grey men who speak of victory Shed light upon their stolen life They drive by night and act as if they’re moved by unheard music To step in time and play the part With velvet voices smooth and cold Their power games a game no more And long the chance to use it
And those who dance will spin and turn And those who wait will wait no more And those talk will hear the word And those who sneer will fade and die And those who laugh will surely fall And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin wall The thin wall Thin wall The thin wall
And those who dance The thin wall And those who talk The thin wall And those who sneer The thin wall And those who laugh The thin wall And those who know The thin wall And those who dance The thin wall And those who wait The thin wall And those who talk
Again, simply astounding. Words that actually mean something. Or, again, “Accent on Youth”:
What is this phase that I am going through O these precious years Please take my hand and let me breathe again Young depressive tears
We stumble blindly chasing something new and something sinful You take my time you live my life for me What have I done to rate this penalty You suck me dry My body cries We stumble blindly chasing instant thrills and lasting memories
Accent on youth Attention Ascends on you
I scream with frustration and lost control Open for the blows My hands fall limp and hang down by my side Take my soul and go We stumble blindly chasing dancing lights and others’ wishes
Just let me close my eyes and slip away Dream a dream alone You give me just enough rope for the task Let this man alone We stumble blindly chasing silhouettes and vacant faces So well rehearsed our moves once so graceful turn against us
We stalk dark passages, we’re looking for that sweet surrender Just let me close my eyes and slip away Dream a dream alone You give me just enough rope for the task
Let this man alone We stumble blindly chasing silhouettes and vacant faces So well rehearsed our moves once so graceful turn against us We stalk dark passages, we’re looking for that sweet surrender
After thirty-plus years of listening to these words, they still mean everything to me. If I had to find a comparison, I would say that, at the time, only The Fixx were writing lyrics as beautifully wrought and perfectly written for the angular music they were producing.
Tad: Kevin, now that you point it out, of course Ure must have been influenced by The Edge in his guitar style! His choppy, rhythmic lines are very similar to The Edge’s, yet still original. And his solos are so good – flowing and ascending inexorably to a satisfying conclusion. His solo on “Death in the Afternoon” is breathtaking.
Brad, thank you for sharing the lyrics to these songs. As many times as I’ve listened to this album, I’ve never delved into them very far. To me, they always conjured an overall atmosphere of drive and energy, while sounding somewhat claustrophobic (and I mean that in a good way).
I love the way Rage In Eden is sequenced – for example, after the slow dirge of the title track, “Death in the Afternoon” bursts out with incredible energy. The music of that track is paradoxically life-affirming, given its title. And how about the transition from the album’s longest song, “The Stranger Within” to “Accent on Youth”? The former song is one long, relentless groove with subtle synth accents in the background that hypnotically lulls the listener into a relaxed state, until the rapid beat of “Accent on Youth” ups the energy again with a beautiful melody sung with pure joy by Ure. That transition might be my favorite moment of the album.
However, I can’t pick a favorite song, because each one hinges on the next to create an organic whole. I think Conny Plank deserves a lot of credit for the frankly beautiful sound of this album. There is a depth to the soundstage that reveals new and delightful details in the mix. At times it is a massive wall of sound (“The Voice”), and at other times it is a wide-open space, (“Your Name Has Slipped My Mind Again”).
One last point I’d like to make – the album art is some of my all-time favorite. Peter Saville, who also worked with New Order and Factory records, came up with a gorgeous art deco style for Rage In Eden that complements the music perfectly. (See above) It looks sleek, modern, ancient, and classical all at the same time. Due to legal issues, his artwork that graced the 1981 vinyl version wasn’t used on a couple of reissues, but Chrysalis has recently reissued a 5 CD/DVD version that has the original art.
Brad: Tad, you’re most welcome! Good lyrics mean everything to me. So glad to know there are good writers out there. Ultravox is definitely among the best when it comes to words and lyrics. If, as Kevin said, the guitar is angular, so are the words and images the band presents.
And,Tad, I agree with you regarding the organic whole. Every song relies on every other song. A definite completeness to Rage in Eden.
Kevin, I hadn’t thought about The Edge getting his sound, in part, from Ultravox. But, as you pointed out, we do know that Rush was influenced by Ultravox. You can really hear it on “Vital Signs” on Moving Pictures and really all of Signals.
Kevin: I don’t doubt their influence on other bands and songwriters of the time. Ure didn’t invent the chopped chord technique—reggae and ska were everywhere in the English scene—but he brought into it his own colors within the context of the atmospheric keyboard parts. That blend IS the UV sound. And he was also working more with minor chords and almost jazzy voicings. That along with the mostly dry engineering, creates a sort of cubist tapestry.
Which is what makes the final track so striking. “Your Name Has Slipped My Mind Again” is drenched in reverb, echo, and sustain. It’s like a freeze frame at the end of an intense film but the credits don’t flow. Instead, it continues for four-and-a-half minutes frozen in time. None of the parts are synced until the refrain is sung. And then all you can recall of the lyric is the title line and the passionate “oh ohs.”
Which brings me back to the dramatic nature of the writing. He places you in a narrative that leaves you wondering, yet there is a clarity to the storyline. It’s not all smoke and mirrors—or Duran Duran-y drama for drama’s sake. As it concludes you have the distinct feeling that you’ve arrived somewhere with the narrator: somewhere quite mysterious, yet beautiful.
And this cinematic sensibility (which begins with the arrival of Midge Ure on Vienna (1980)) has Ultravoxcreatinggreat art and continuing the development of progressive rock. They pick up where Yes’s Drama (1980) leaves off and take the genre somewhere utterly new. Though at the time of the release of Rage in Eden Chris Squire and the boys were working on their own new band, Cinema, (which eventually drew in Jon Anderson and morphed into Yes’s90125) theirs was more of radio-friendly rock. Concurrently Genesis was heading into similar territory with Abacab and Genesis (1983). Ultravox, along with a handful of other like-minded groups, were much more the avant garde creativists and the real inheritors of the progressive rock aesthetic. Less than five years after the release of Ultravox’s Lament, Talk Talk would release their post-rock masterpiece Spirit of Eden.
Which reminds me—I’m glad that you focused in on the lyrics, Brad. Because there is something so compelling about Ure’s writing and the way he brings his sensibilities to each subject. There is a unique sense of place for each individual track on Rage in Eden. If you examine the tracks carefully in sequence you’ll notice that each one has either a slightly or sometimes greatly differing cadence. Which leads to another striking element on the album—the variety in the groove. Even though three of the tracks share a close tempo it’s never in sequence and the other six tunes are quite varied.
It’s interesting, Tad, that you mentioned the transition between “The Stranger Within” and “Accent on Youth.”Rage in Eden really shines in those transitions—like scene changes.
And remarkably, despite it being a classic New Wave album, it’s clear that at least the final track was recorded without a click track. The tempo imperceptibly varies a great deal—as much as 7bpm faster and slower and in that ethereal space. Yet Ure’s vocal, the drum, and the keyboard are pretty tightly in sync after the intro. Which makes it likely that at least these main parts were recorded live in the studio and not overdubbed. Coming on the heels of the incredible ascending key modulations at the end of “Accent on Youth” (one of my favorite musical moments on the whole album), into the great violin solo called “The Ascent”, then the cascading piano and the revved-up glissando at its culmination and suddenly…it cuts off into an echoing gunshot. The variability in the final track’s tempo along with the removal of the rhythmic pulse casts the listener into space—adrift—off a cliff and in descent. It’s one of the most powerfully visual moments on the whole record. A riveting conclusion to the whole album.
Tad: Beautiful insights, Kevin! Midge Ure himself would agree with you; he is quoted as saying, “I think ‘Rage in Eden’ was always one of my favourite albums. There’s a starkness about it, an austere, mystical distance, a coldness to it but a coldness that kind of works.”
I think with that, we can bring our celebration of Rage In Eden to a close. Even though it didn’t chart above 144 in the US, it had a huge influence on the New Wave music scene internationally. I hope our conversation has given Spirit of Cecilia readers some incentives to check out this classic work from the early 80s!
Alongside Luke Machin and Dan Nelson, the second Cyan album will be released on Nov 17th 2023. Video for “Broken Man” out now!
Keyboardist and composer Rob Reed, known for his work with Magenta, Kompendium and Sanctuary solo albums, has once again joined forced with Peter Jones, along with Luke Machin and Dan Nelson for a new Cyan album titled Pictures From The Other Side. The second album from the resurrected project is due out on the 17th of November 2023. The new album contains 6 songs, including the epic 17-minute track ‘Nosferatu’. The CD is accompanied by a DVD with a full 5.1 surround mix of the album and a live acoustic performance of songs from the previous album For King And County.
Cyan was originally formed by Robert Reed (Magenta) when in school, back in 1983. After recording some demos at a local studio, the band went their separate ways. Years later, those demos led to the release of ‘For King And Country’ on the Dutch SI music label. It was the first of three Cyan albums released in the 1990s before the project was shelved and Rob went on to form Magenta.20 years later Rob Reed, along with a killer line-up, decided to brush off the cobwebs and successfully release a completely re-worked version of the ‘For King And Country’ album. Cyan has since performed at the 2023 Night Of The Prog festival in Germany, and at the 2022 Summers End and Fusion festivals in the UK.
Rob Reed: “I remember that the first Cyan album ‘For King And Country’ was written when I was still in school with a band I formed with some school friends. After I left school, we went our separate ways and it was several years later that I was approached by the record company. After the success of the first album, they wanted a follow-up so I wrote new material for what became ‘Pictures From The Other Side.’ It was more song-based, but included a couple of long epics.
Obviously, I was influenced by the classic Prog of Genesis and Yes when writing this originally, but I was also listening to a lot of other bands of the time like It Bites, Simple Minds and Marillion. It’s been great to finally hear this material played by this line-up, it’s a completely different album. Re-written, re-recorded and re-arranged. Hopefully, I’ve brought to the album, everything I’ve learned in my career.
Pete Jones: “It’s a joy to be involved in the ongoing resurrection of the Cyan canon and the vision Rob has for these new interpretations. As a vocalist, there’s so much to work with on the new album, with epics like “Broken Man,” which really let me dig deep into my inner Genesis prog vocals. The title track has some great hooks, as does the rest of the album. Tracks like the dark but beautiful “Solitary Angel,” and the vampire world of “Nosferatu,” really call for some vocal gymnastics where I can stretch myself and really go for it. Then there’s “Follow The Flow,” which is just gorgeous. As with all Rob’s stuff, it’s the feeling and emotions which are key to the whole thing. I hope I’ve managed to do my bit with the vocals.
We’ve now got a few gigs under our belt, including the recent fabulous time we all had at Night Of The Prog in Loreley. That was a real highlight of the year for me. The live band is sounding really great, with Luke, Dan, Jiffy and the man himself Rob Reed all at the top of their game. As well as doing the vocals, I play sax and whistles, and rhythm guitar which Rob asked me to do in a moment of madness. Ha-ha. All being well, we’ve got some rather special shows in the pipeline for next year. So I’m looking forward to the album coming out, and taking it to the stage!”
CD tracklisting: 1- Broken Man 2- Pictures From The Other Side 3- Solitary Angel 4- Follow The Flow 5- Tomorrow’s Here Today 6- Nosferatu
DVD consists of: Full album in Dolby Digital and dts 5.1 surround Promo videos The Quiet Room session (live acoustic performance) 1- I Defy The Sun 2- Don’t Turn Away 3- Call Me 4- Man Amongst Men/The Sorceror 5- Snowbound 6- For King And Country Pre-order ‘Pictures From The Other Side’ here: https://tigermothhosting.co.uk/CYANCD2023/
Photo Credit: Steve RoodProg-pop cult heroes The Mommyheads have released the most ambitious album of their nearly four-decade career, CONEY ISLAND KID, out now via FANFAR! Records in Europe and Mommyhead Music for the rest of the world. 
THE MOMMYHEADS
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