Yes, SLOB it has become (courtesy, as I recall, of a fan's e-mail
shorthand rambling) and SLOB it will probably remain, at least in the
parlance of the knowing Tull or IA afficianado.
The Secret Language Of Birds began as an intention to produce, in the
off-time between Tull tours during 1998, an album of songs to join the
collection of the many acoustic pieces which have graced earlier Tull
albums from time to time.
I first plucked up the courage to sing to the simple accompaniment of
the mandolin on the 'b' side, A Christmas Song, recorded without Mick
Abrahams (briefly the first Tull guitarist), in late 1968.
Subsequently, around the time of Aqualung (1971) In the difficult
process of recording the record at the then new Island Records Studio,
I resorted to the sometimes necessary expedient of the simple (sonicly
speaking) performance of little acoustic punctuation pieces to
complement the grizzlier and often doomy riffs which epitomised the
musically more weighty numbers. These songs, in retrospect, gave the
album some real depth and variety. I think that the sense of drama and
differing dynamics which feature in Tull's music since that time was
born at that moment. Thick As A Brick cemented the relationship which I
was to enjoy with the acoustic guitar and other "silk, steel and wood"
instruments, although some of my more ethnic musical interests had
already begun with the much earlier Stand Up album in 1969.
So, on to the SLOB sessions: the first few pieces (Montserrat, Flower
Girl, Postcard Day, Panama Freighter) were worked out as acoustic
mandolin, bouzouki or guitar backing tracks with vocal lines and a few
lyrics, mostly already with titles. Soon, Andrew Giddings, dropping by
on a few occasions, added some subtle additions from accordion, bass,
marimba and so on and the drums or percussion were finalised just
before the final mixing down process many months later. The trouble
with working on a record over a prolonged period of time is that the
interruptions are many and it often takes some while to resume the flow
and impetus for the project. However, the up-side was that there were
many more song ideas to choose from and no strict schedule to achieve
finished work.
Some of the later songs to be written and recorded (Set-Aside,
Sanctuary, A Better Moon, Jasmine Corridor, Circular Breathing) tended
to be quite personal and emotive and Andy put his additions to the
almost completed work at the final stages. Other musicians were brought
in along the way: Gerry Conway, Darren Mooney and James Duncan on
drums; Martin Barre for a brief strum and twiddle and the un-credited
last moment performance of one of Brittany's leading Gallic folk
fiddlers, the illusive, indeed almost legendary, Monsieur Roland
Bord-du-Quai, who added some emotional and perfect violin accompaniment
to the song Sanctuary. Unfortunately Rick Sanders of the Fairports was
washing Dave Pegg's hair on the day in question.
The two instrumental pieces were each derived from a preconceived
title. The whimsy behind Boris Dancing needs no repeating. Good luck
Yeltso!
The Stormont Shuffle, with its two-part tune representing the divisions
between the nationalist and republican combatants, seems all the more
appropriate at the time of writing when, almost two years later, the
peace process is in disarray and the stormbringers are at each other's
throats once again. Poor old David Trimble seems set to follow the
decent and maligned John Major in the History lesson of how not-to-be
remembered. But maybe not yet. Good luck Trimbo!
Well, I hope you like the finished work and that the legacy of early
Tull lingers on through the songs on this record. It is, at least, a
personal document, free from the need to accommodate the heavier
aspirations and tendencies of typical Tull members (including me!) No
requirement to Rock-On, Cleveland! More, Strum-On, St. Cleve (in the
parish of Gwynne-Thorpe on the Mundle, and twinned with
Gerhardstadt-in-Deutzkrandtz, for you Europhiles).
Must go now: I think feel a song coming on, or might that feeling
merely signal the male and menopausal truth, stranger than wildest
fiction, which ushers in that time of the evening when all good men
must retire to their sleeping beds, better to be invigourated before
the steely and unstoppable dawn? Noooo…… I probably just
need to take a widdly-wee and a last look at the eveready fax machine.
Ian Aanderson
February, 2000
Das beste Ian Anderson Werk seit 'Songs From The Wood'.
Das Album ist einfach klasse! Anfangs etwas
Gewöhnungsbedürftig aber danach ist jedes Lied ein Ohrwurm.
Auch das Video auf der limitierten Ausgabe ist Spitze und ein muss
für jeden Tull Fan.
Nach einer doch etwas längeren Durststrecke mit durchwachsenen
Alben, kehrt Ian Anderson zu seiner alten Stärke zurück. Ein
Album, dass als Äquivalent zum letzten Tull-Album "j-tull DOT COM"
die leisen Töne bevorzugt, ist in jeder Hinsicht super gelungen.
Prädikat: Sehr empfehlenswert.
Ein sehr schönes semi-akustisches Album mit gute Texte. Viele
ungewöhnliche Instrumente werden benutzt und Ian's Stimme ist
fabelhaft. Nicht nur Tull-fans werden sich an diesem Album freuen:
jeder der akustische Folk-songs liebt und etnische Einflüsse
interessant achtet soll dieses Album einfach kaufen.....
Ian Anderson, der Flötenderwisch von Jethro Tull, kann machen was
er will: Seinen unverkennbaren Singsang und die typisch trillernde
Flöte hört man wohl selbst im Oropax-Test raus. Dabei schafft
er es nach mehr als drei Jahrzehnten im Musikbusiness offenbar
mühelos, auf seinem dritten Soloalbum (nach Walk Into The Light
und dem rein instrumentalen Divinities) halbwegs im vertrauten
Stilrahmen zu bleiben und dennoch immer wieder neue Varianten zu
finden. Aber keine Bange: The Secret Language Of Birds fällt nur
insofern ein wenig aus dem Rahmen, als der professionelle
Lachszüchter nach dem jüngsten, überaus erfolgreichen
Band-Album J-Tull Dot Com solo zu seinen traditionelleren
folkloristischen Wurzeln zurückgeht.
Der federleichte Titelsong beispielsweise ließe sich in
Spurenelementen mühelos bis zum Sixties-Klassiker "Bourée"
zurückverfolgen. Was primär daran liegt, dass praktisch alle
Songs das höfische Fest in einem Historienfilm prächtig
untermalen könnten. Bis auf vereinzelte Keyboards, gelegentlich
einen dezenten elektrischen Bass oder eine E-Gitarre ist das gesamte
Instrumentenarsenal rein akustisch. Der Chef selbst zeichnet
außer für Gesang und diverse Flöten für Gitarren,
Mandoline oder Bouzouki verantwortlich, den Rest bestreiten die
bewährten Tull-Kompagnons Andrew Giddings und Martin Barre plus
drei sehr verhalten die Stöcke schwingende Drummer. Eine
beschwingt tänzelnde Leichtigkeit zeichnet das gesamte Album aus,
in fülliger instrumentierten Nummern wie "Panama Freighter" ebenso
wie im Instrumental "Boris Dancing", das Anderson keck Boris Jelzin
widmete, oder dem schlichten "Set-Aside". Perfekte Tafelmusik, ideal
zum Entspannen und Träumen.
Claus Böhm, Amazon.de
What does it mean when, after having listened to The Secret Language Of
Birds disc only once (and listening to other stuff after it), I start
dreaming about it? Not just dreaming about my review of it, but
dreaming of it. Of listening to it, and Ian Anderson is there ... and
yet, I am of course, also thinking about my review of it. Of how I'm
not going to quite say enough about it, or that maybe I will tell you
too much, leaving nothing for you to explore. Never before have I
dreamt about an album like this. Sure, I've been listening to stuff and
fallen asleep (not because of the material) and find when I get in a
half-awake/half-asleep state I write lushly full reviews - words I
cannot remember the next morning, but for the sense of them. But here,
the effect that music has stays with me, putting me in warm,
comfortable, relaxed place - a place of summer colours (yellow, orange,
green, lime) and summer fruit.
So anyway, I'm awake now and listening to the beautiful disk by Jethro
Tull mainman Ian Anderson. Maybe it has something to do with the album
cover, but the music here is coloured in citrus - lemon, lime, orange,
tangerine ... Anderson's flute is light and breezy, floating through
the various passages of various songs like ... well, like a bird on the
wing. His is the secret language of birds - communicating just as much
in a trill as in a syllable. Meaning, Anderson is at his usual poetic
ways, painting vivid word pictures in both broad and fine strokes.
Along with flute, Anderson plays acoustic guitar, bouzouki, mandolin,
piccolo, and percussion. Andrew Giddings (his bandmate in Tull)
accompanies Anderson on accordion, piano, organ, marimba, keys, and
orchestral sounds. The sound is rounded out by the following on drums:
Gerry Conway (ex-Tull member), Darren Mooney, and James Duncan, plus
current Tull guitarist Martin Barre.
We were treated to a sample of this album on the J-Tull Dot.com release
last year. The title track is lovely and lyrical, full of warmth ...
I'd say with a sweet come on from Anderson, "Stay with me and learn the
secret language of birds." But this is no mere come on; it's more a
declaration of love.
At first glance, "The Little Flower Girl" might come across as a little
disturbing ... well, actually it made me think of "Aqualung" a bit in
it's imagery. But when you read Anderson's notes at the end of the
booklet, it all becomes much clearer. I'm not familiar with Sir William
Russell Flint, but from what I gather from Anderson's notes, this track
is his vision of the story behind the Flint watercolour (of the same
name as the song's title?).
"Postcard Day" is all warm summer breezes; bright, clear skies, where
the sun makes deep shadows, and shines blindingly on white, plastic
outdoor furniture. "A Better Moon" sounds vaguely reminiscent of an
earlier Jethro Tull piece, at least I think it's Tull ... it's quiet
elusive so I'm not quite sure.
The textures used throughout are warm, owing to acoustic nature of them
music and richness of Anderson's voice, and are folk in nature, if not
vaguely Celtic, though with tracks like "Postcard Day" the setting is
far from the dense woods or land of faery associated with Celtic music.
Of course, this is also overt in "The Habanero Reel," as it moves
enough to make you think of dancing, though the setting here, again,
isn't the lush green of the forest, but rather some "dryer" coastal
city (I'm thinking Mexico or South America somewhere).
"Boris Dancing" weaves both the Celtic feel of the rest of the album
with an admixture of middle-eastern and ... well obviously what we
associate with Russian music - sort of a twisting arrangement.
Well, I'm off have a cool drink, sit on my patio with this playing, and
listen to the secret language of birds. But, before I go, there are two
bonus tracks here (unlisted) - one is from Ian Anderson's earlier solo
disk Divinities, the other is a new version of a Tull classic ... that
I'll leave to you to discover.
Reviewed by: Stephanie Sollow, March 2000 www.progressiveworld.net -
Your Ultimate Guide To Progressive Music
On the latest Jethro Tull album, J-tull Dot Com, we could hear a bit of
the latest solo album by master magician Ian Anderson by means of a
bonus track. Anderson has admitted to being influenced by both folk and
Arabian rhythms and its especially that rustic, folky feeling that we
find on his The Secret Language Of Birds. All of the fifteen songs can
be placed under the heading of pure acoustic music, featuring a truly
relaxed Anderson on flute, acoustic guitar, bouzouki, bass, mandoline
and percussion. Ian is mainly accompanied by keyboard player Andrew
Giddings, who, along with accordion, piano and organ, also adds
marimba, percussion, electric bass and orchestral sounds to the album.
A nice example of the latter can be found during "The Little Flower
Girl." Arabian influences galore in "The Water Carrier," with Martin
Barre on guitar, whilst also during “A Better Moon" a similar
atmosphere steps in. In fact this album comes very close to the best of
Jethro Tull because, as on Aqualung, to name but one album, you can
also find three or so pure acoustic songs that highlight the talent of
Ian Anderson, accompanied by a sparse arrangement. Similar music can be
found on Songs From The Wood; Heavy Horses also contained a lot of that
folk "feel." In fact Anderson is very priviliged because he lives in a
huge house in the country and every morning, when he opens the bedroom
windows, he looks to the fields and listens to "the secret language of
birds."
Each of the fifteen songs on this album are musical paintings like only
Anderson can depict them. The lyrics are his canvas, his unique timbre
is the royal palette of colours whilst the flute is the
‘stand-in’ for the much-needed brush. This album also
includes a multimedia segment where we can witness a fantastic image
quality and a very relaxed Ian Anderson who explains, in a minstrel
kind of way, the album, followed by a sober video of the title track. A
warm and beautiful album full of class!
Reviewed by: John "Bo Bo" Bollenberg www.progressiveworld.net -
Your Ultimate Guide To Progressive Music
Because he's oft-lumped with classic-rock vets from the Zeppelin era,
it's easy to forget that Jethro Tull's flautist-vocalist Ian Anderson
has always been a complete original. It's also tempting to think that
Tull has in recent years been little more than a vehicle for Anderson's
idiosyncratic whims, but his third solo outing, The Secret Language of
Birds, quickly clarifies that notion. Entirely acoustic and worlds away
from its two predecessors--the dated electro-pop of 1983's Walk into
Light and the refined classicism of 1995's Divinities: Twelve Dances
with God--Birds hearkens back to the pastoral, Renaissance-tinged music
that Tull has explored less and less since Tull's second outing, 1969's
Stand Up. With a nod to the folk influences of Steeleye Span (whom
Anderson produced) and rife with Gaelic and Eastern European musical
influences, Anderson contemplates issues from lost innocence to the
Irish Problem with typically baroque grace.
Jerry McCulley, Amazon.com
Ian Anderson's bird call
Tweet, tweet, tweet ... Jethro Tull's satyr-like singer and flautist
indulges himself terribly on a collection of wispy nothings filled with
images of "glistening" iguanas, "flitting" illusions, "milky" light,
"virgin" dawn (you get the idea) and, of course, the birds, the birds
....
Steeped in an Olde English flavour and loaded with twittering flute
solos, there are some laughable moments in Anderson's gentle music. But
he's dead serious, singing the most esoteric, mystical and silly
sentiments in his reedy voice, undoubtedly inspired by years of
wandering around in his own garden. Music for hobbits.
MIKE ROSS, Edmonton Sun
Musik für das Ohr ab 30
Eigentlich paßt der sympathische alte Flötengnom ja nicht so
richtig zu dem Rest dieser Seite. Aber eigenartigerweise fanden Jethro
Tull ja schon immer da ihre Nischen, wo man es beim besten Willen nicht
vermutet hätte Auch im Katalog des Labels Roadrunner, das
ansonsten hauptsächlich schwermetallische Klänge an die Leute
bringt, dürfte Anderson eher als alter Paradiesvogel gelten. Im
32. Jahr seiner Musikerkarriere veröffentlicht Ian Anderson nach
"Walk into light" (83) und "Divinities" (95) mit "The secret language
of birds" sein drittes Soloalbum. Auf dem legendären Jethro
Tull-Konzept-Album "Aqualung" aus dem Jahr 1971 servierte Anderson mit
"Cheap bay return", "Wondring aloud" und "Slipstream" erstmals drei
wunderschöne, akustische Häppchen. Mit "The secret language
of birds" will Anderson jetzt wieder zurück zu diesen simplen und
essentiellen Elementen der Singer-/Songwriter-Musik.
Insgesamt legt Anderson jetzt 15 teils persönlich, teils ironisch,
immer aber sehr stimmungsvoll arrangierte Songs vor, die allesamt den
Geist der Akustik-Stücke der frühen Jethro-Tull-Alben
heraufbeschwören sollen. Im Bandgefüge von Jethro Tull sah
sich Anderson ja schon immer als eine Art "Unplugged-Guy innerhalb
einer Rock'n'Roll-Band". Die Songs von "The secret language of birds"
hätten laut Anderson daher nicht im Kontext der Heavy Classic
Rock-Band funktioniert.
Wie auch schon auf seinem letzten Solo-Album "Divinities", eiem reinen
Flöten-Instrumental-Album, wird Anderson wieder von Andrew
Giddings (seit etwa neun Jahren Keyboarder bei Jethro Tull)
unterstützt. Auch Martin Barre (langjähriger Gitarrist bei
Jethro Tull) schaute für zwei Songs mal kurz im Studio vorbei. Bis
auf die Unterstützung von drei Gastdrummern werden dann auch
wirklich alle Instrumente (Flöte, Akustik-Gitarre, Bouzouki,
Akustik- und Elektro-Bass, Mandoline, Percussions, Piccolo-Flöte,
Akkordion, Piano, Orgel, Marimba, Keyboards und Orchestral-Sounds) von
Anderson und Giddings gespielt. Anhand der verwendeten Instrumente kann
schon man auf den ungefähren Gesamt-Sound von "The secret language
of birds" schließen. Die 15 Songs bewegen sich allesamt im
klassisch-folkloristischen Unplugged-Terrain. Nur selten spielt ein
Schlagzeug mal einen durchgängigen Beat. Manche Tracks muten
keltisch ("The habanero reel"), manche sogar orientalisch ("The water
carrier") an.
Insgesamt gesehen aber eine nette, verträumte und anregende CD,
die man sich gerne mal im richtigen Moment (alleine daheim,
Kerzenschein, Duftlampe mit Patschuli und eine wohltemperierte Flasche
Rotwein) geben kann. Mit dieser CD sollten sich aber
ausschließlich eingefleischte Fans von Jethro Tull
beschäftigen. Anderen Musikliebhabern wird der Zugang wohl
verwehrt bleiben. Eventuell könnten sich auch noch Anhänger
der New Age-Fraktion für diese doch recht zarten und
naturbelassenen Klänge begeistern. Die Kids von heute hingegen
werden dieses Unplugged-Album sicherlich ziemlich unerträglich
finden und verächtlich die Nase rümpfen.
Matthias Allstadt
Ich gönne es Carlos Santana ja wirklich, mal wieder ganz vorne in
den Charts zu stehen, aber Ian Anderson hätte es mit Jethro Tull
ja mindestens genauso verdient. Gut, das letzte Tull-Album hat es
immerhin auch auf Rang 15 der Album-Charts gebracht, aber das war's
dann auch schon. Nur knapp ein halbes Jahr nach „J-Tull Dot
Com“ präsentiert uns der Herr der Flöentöne nun
sein drittes Soloalbum. Ganz vorne in den Charts wird es vermutlich
auch bloß nicht zu finden sein, aber so haben wir letztlich
wieder einen Beweis mehr, daß eine Chartplatzierung die eine,
Qualität aber eine ganz andere Sache ist..
Soloalben werden zwangsläufig mit den Outputs der jeweiligen
Stammbands verglichen, und der Vergleich könnte nicht deutlicher
ausfallen: Hätte auf dieser CD anstelle von Ian Anderson Jethro
Tull draufgestanden, kein Mensch hätte sich gewundert. Gesang,
Flötenspiel und Songwriting des Ausnahmekünstlers sind eben
so einzigartig, da wäre jedens andere Resultat eine
Riesenüberraschung - und vermutlich eine negative. Den Titelsong
dieses Albums gab es ja schon auf der letzten Tull-Scheibe als
Bonus-Track, und dieser eröffnet dann auch diese CD - und schon
zeigt sich Ian Anderson so, wie seine Fans ihn lieben, nämlich in
seinem ureigenen, unverwechselbaren Sound. Verglichen mit den
regulären Tull-Alben geht es hier zwar vorwiegend akustisch zu,
aber wie gesagt, auch das hätte vermutlich bei einem Band-Album
niemanden erstaunt. Jedenfalls passen die Arrangements perfekt zu
Anderson's filigranen Kompositionen zwischen Folk und Rock.
Tull-Fans häatten dieses Album vermutlich auch gekauft, hätte
Ian Anderson das Telefonbuch von Buxtehude rückwärts
gesungen. Aber das bleibt ihnen erspart - der Meister zeigt sich von
seiner besten Seite, und ob nun Charts oder nicht, Tull oder Solo -
Album - wen stört's, wenn die Musik ein solch hohes Niveau hat?
The third solo album of the Jethro Tull mastermind, and to be honest,
if this would be an regular Jethro Tull album no one would be
astonished. The record is more focussed on acustic instruments, but the
songwriting, vocals and of course the playing of the flute are
connected so strong with the name Jethro Tull that the acustic aspect
not makes an difference. But who cares about this, if the music is on
such an high level?
If you miss Jethro Tull, check out Ian Anderson's "The Secret Language
of Birds." Here Anderson gets back to Tull's 'Renaissance-tinged' sound
- but this time he's totally unplugged! Not only is this a visually
very appealing CD (gorgeous liner notes and a tropical bird-emblazoned
CD), it also highlights the multi-talents of Ian Anderson - his vocals,
poetic lyrics, and his skills as a musician (here he plays the flute,
guitar, bouzouki, mandolin, percussion, piccolo). Highlights include
"The Secret Language of Birds," "A Better Moon," and "Montserrat."
Carissa Herold, www.emazing.com
So zäh und bemüht Jethro Tull mittlerweile musizieren,
erstarrt vor der eigenen Vergangenheit, so befreit, heiter und
leichtfüßig kommt uns plötzlich Ian Anderson. Das
Ergebnis ist nicht nur erfreulich, es ist eine echte Sensation. Frei
von Bluesrock, frei von den zentnerschweren Riffs, mit denen die
Melodien bei Jethro Tull allzuoft plattgewalzt werden, entfalten sich
hier vergnügte Harmonien, komplex arrangiert und mit Mut zum
arabesken Schnörkel.
ME/Sounds 4/00
Because he's oft-lumped with classic-rock vets from the Zeppelin era,
it's easy to forget that Jethro Tull's flautist-vocalist Ian Anderson
has always been a complete original. It's also tempting to think that
Tull has in recent years been little more than a vehicle for Anderson's
idiosyncratic whims, but his third solo outing, The Secret Language of
Birds, quickly clarifies that notion. Entirely acoustic and worlds away
from its two predecessors--the dated electro-pop of 1983's Walk into
Light and the refined classicism of 1995's Divinities: Twelve Dances
with God--Birds hearkens back to the pastoral, Renaissance-tinged music
that Tull has explored less and less since Tull's second outing, 1969's
Stand Up. With a nod to the folk influences of Steeleye Span (whom
Anderson produced) and rife with Gaelic and Eastern European musical
influences, Anderson contemplates issues from lost innocence to the
Irish Problem with typically baroque grace.
This sparkling wine is all but empty.
Too late for trains and no taxis.
I know the feeling. Seems all too contrived.
There was no master plan but the fact is:
you must stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
A tentative dawn about to be breaking
on a Rousseau garden with monkeys in hiding.
The truth of the matter, yet to be spoken
in words on which everything, everything's riding.
Now stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
Circled by swallows
in a world for the weary.
Courted by warblers; wicked and eloquent trilling.
Lie in the stillness, window cracked open.
Extended moments, hours for the taking.
Careless hair on the pillow, a bold brushstroke.
Painted verse with a chorus in waiting.
Stay with me and learn the secret language of birds.
The Little Flower Girl
Down at the church the flower girl sits. Legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
Painted sister stopped beside. A word upon her saintly lip.
Perhaps admonishing the child inside the open slip.
I don't know where she might go when she runs home at night.
It's for the best: I wouldn't rest when I turned out the light.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.
I have touched that face a dozen times before. And I have let my pencil
run.
Laid down washes on a foreign shore, under a hot and foreign sun.
My best sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
I close the door. She is no more until the next appointed hour.
Northeastern light push back the night: painted promises in store.
No little flower girl singing in my troubled dream----
just an old man's model in a pose from a magazine.
Down at the church my flower girl sits. Legs innocent, apart.
I make the picture puzzle fit to start your heart.
My golden sable brushes drift the soft inside of her arm.
Her chin I tilt, her breasts I lift. I mean no harm.
I mean no harm. I mean…………….
Montserrat
Fires on the mountain, and the dogs bark.
Crash of the ocean swelling: crickets in the dark.
The temperature is rising. The village gets no sleep.
It's hardly surprising, given the hot company they keep.
Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins;
Somebody's life in the lost and found.
Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe.
Sinking feeling, sink another beer down.
Hey, Jimmy. What you doing here?
Looking up at the high cloud cover, so far and yet so near.
Flying in with the chopper. Lieutenant of the crown.
Tell the boys from that CNN, the good cops have come to town.
Angry island, no-one's listening. Shamrock villa, green to grey.
Down in the swamp, iguanas glistening.
Toast tomorrow, if not, today.
Hey, Jimmy. What you doing here?
You a scientist? You a newsman? Or simply come to feel the fear?
The temperature is rising. And we're in too deep.
There really is no point in disguising the hot company we keep.
Postcard Day
My eyes are white circles above cheekbones on fire:
pale hand gripping my pen.
Rounding up to the zero, adding infinite fractions,
letting nine become ten.
Two pink doves strut the shingles
picking crumbs from the breakfast I saved
for you dear. And I wish you were here
on this postcard day.
Focus on the fine indeterminate line
where the sky meets the sea.
Desperate midweek words, banal and absurd
freely flow out of me.
Well, I may be a hostage to summer
but I'm a hostage, not a slave.
And I'm clear that I wish you were here
on this postcard day.
Precious cargo of flotsam: mixed memories on an ocean tide
swim madly with spice from the orient
on a mystery watery carpet ride.
But with the sun going down, the wind goes around;
blows them back out of mind.
My eyes are white circles staring down past the point
of my restless pen.
While the ghosts of my youth all sworn to the truth
call my name again.
Two brown legs don't make a summer.
But two brown arms couldn't keep me away.
Well, my dear, I wish you were here
on this postcard day.
The Water Carrier
Crystal fountain springing from the hill.
It irrigates your soul. You may drink your fill.
Water of life, carried high.
One hand upon the gallon jar. Feel her fix my eye.
Every good traveller's for the taking.
All good money for the making.
Seller's market: wet appeal.
Water carrier------let's make the deal.
Covered face and black pool eyes.
Between us, no words spoken: no words to the wise.
Here's to another time and a drink somewhere.
Plush on a Nain carpet; on a café chair.
Set-Aside
Hard black crows bobbing where once ran deep furrows.
Frazzled oak silhouetted in her ivy dress.
Winter sun catches dog fox through thin hedges:
throws his long shadow north to the emptiness.
Farmhouse in tatters; shuttered and battered.
Even lovers don't go there these last few years.
Spider-web windows on set-aside heroes
standing lost in a landscape of tears.
A Better Moon
I see you better now, shaded in deeper blue.
Hardly needing to carry the find-your-way lamp
down to the river.
Tonight flies a better moon.
Sad water buffalo lie fast near the shallows;
a splash revealing the fly-catching fishes.
Dark Gods silently watching.
Tonight flies a better moon.
I guess you've known lovers here, compliant in passion;
softly laid in the old reed bed, harshly
lit in the noon sun.
Tonight flies a better moon.
Now cloaked in this milky light, new as the virgin dawn,
shrouded sweetly in all kinds of mystery,
you turn, smile and then are gone.
Tonight flies a better moon.
Sanctuary
Dear uncle sold her into the purest kind of slavery.
Hood-eyed little middlemen profited from damaged goods
along the way.
Good angels brought her back to a last Nepal summer.
Debased, hollow-faced, a smile might become her.
Now she's cosied up, cosied up and comforted
in the warm flush of September.
Gone before winter.
Wondering as to might-have-beens.
Somebody's daughter in sanctuary, waiting.
Seen through softer cage of kindness, far and further still away,
from time-warp Victorian zoos
where staring ice cream gameboys play.
Big paws, worn claws and swishing tails.
More damaged goods in the market sales.
Too proud for anger, too late for hate: resigned in dignity.
Gone before winter.
Purring might-have-beens.
Somebody's kitten in sanctuary, waiting.
Somebody near you in sanctuary, waiting.
The Jasmine Corridor
In all my lives, I never knew anyone like you before.
Woke up one day, swore I heard the sound of heaven knocking on my door.
And after all these years long passing,
time to reflect, no time for wasting.
Walking down the jasmine corridor.
Reflecting echoes of quiet laughter.
In all my life, I was never better served than I was served by you.
And in my way, hope you agree I tried to serve you too.
Out on the headland I stepped once unsteady.
You there to catch me , I breathe more freely.
Hand in mine down the jasmine corridor.
Through all my life, I chased flitting illusions at a faster pace.
Never stopped to think: the moment was for seizing, had myself to face.
You made my bed to lie in, stately.
Mad cats, grandchildren, here more often lately.
The final view from the jasmine corridor.
The Habanero Reel
Cool in the corner, tom cat sitting
on the edge of the yard; sand-flies flitting.
Orange order on a field of green.
Smothers me to smithereens.
Rum and cola, ice cubes crashing.
Jumping beans and brown eyes flashing.
Long hair swinging, tell me how d'you feel?
Well, hot and fancy, it's the habanero reel.
Troubled skin? Pour oil upon it.
She's fit to burn in her new Scotch Bonnet.
Spice up anybody's stew.
Frogs and goats and chickens too.
Barefoot in the sunshine.
Kicking empty beer cans down on the high tide line.
Big wave nearly float your dress away.
And I'm thinking that it's just another day:
just another day.
Feel that hot rush start its tickle.
Sweat is rising, taste buds prickle
with ears of bat and eye of eagle.
It's just as well it's strictly legal.
Panama Freighter
Night close in on a shanty town.
Panama freighter wearing rusty brown.
She sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound.
Head up on a lumpy sea.
I'm not the only lonely planet rider
in this one horse town, I'm thinking.
And I won't over-rate or patronize you.
I know we're as different as chalk and cheese;
as black hole winters and salad days
and I wouldn't like your mother much anyway.
But it's not her I'm taking home with me.
Don't intend to dress you in silver threads
like some trophy in sublime seclusion.
Won't try to educate or civilize you.
Night close in on a shanty town.
Panama freighter wearing rusty brown.
She sails tomorrow and she's homeward bound
and you're bound to come home with me.
On the Panama freighter with me.
The Secret Language Of Birds, Pt. II
No buzz words, fuzzy fudge words,
so freeze those goalposts, don't take the Admiral on board.
This Hardy's not for kissing…
Expression, no explosion,
or whispered promises in cliché or in rhyme.
Instead let's talk the secret language of birds.
Right time but the wrong idea.
Well, you're making it all sound just the same.
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale
still over there in Berkeley Square.
Do we have problems of communication?
There's something I don't know and you can't explain it to me.
Let's talk the secret language of birds.
Step out of the circus now.
Learn a new trick and make it stick.
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale
still over there in Berkeley Square.
Finger tracing on misty window:
I'm reading loud and clear this salacious semaphore,
as you leave me standing at the station.
Give it to me ---- the big dawn chorus:
no whispered promises in cliché or in rhyme.
Let's talk the secret language of birds.
Right time but the wrong idea.
Well, you're making it all sound just the same.
Try taking it up a key like that Nightingale
still over there in Berkeley Square.
Boris Dancing
(Instrumental)
Circular Breathing
Pick up my wings and fly
into a Constable sky.
Look down on the world and try
to make you out on the distant ground.
Lonely toy in a lost toy-town.
Suspended in spiral sounds---
Sounds of circular breathing.
I'm a kite on a silver thread.
Daring lightning to strike me dead.
Harsh echoes of things you said
banished me to a thinner space
with unholy ghosts of your bedroom face.
Hands cupped to my ears to place
the sound of circular breathing.
Matchbox cityscape below----
I watch Lowry matchstick figures go.
Caught in the timeless flow of discreet silence.