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Steve Hackett: Wild Orchids

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Camino Records
Released: 2006.09.11
Time:
 72:06
52Category: Pop/Rock
Producer(s): Steve Hackett
Rating: *********. (9/10)
Media type: CD
Web address: www.hackettsongs.com
Appears with: Genesis, GTR, Peter Gabriel, Tony Banks, Mike Rutherford, Phil Collins, Chris Squire, Steve Howe
Purchase date: 2006.10.16
Price in €: 17,99





 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Transylvanian Express (S.Hackett/R.King/Glück) - 3:44
[2] Waters Of The Wild (S.Hackett/R.King) - 5:34
[3] Set Your Compass (S.Hackett/J.Hackett) - 3:37
[4] Down Street (S.Hackett/R.King) - 7:33
[5] A Girl Called Linda (S.Hackett) - 4:44
[6] Blue Child (S.Hackett) - 4:24
[7] To A Close (S.Hackett) - 4:48
[8] Ego And Id (J.Hackett/N.Clabburn) - 4:08
[9] Man In The Long Black Coat (B.Dylan) - 5:07
[10] Cedars Of Lebanon (S.Hackett) - 4:01
[11] Wolfwork (S.Hackett) - 4:49
[12] Why (S.Hackett) - 0:47
[13] She moves in Memoires (S.Hackett) - 5:00
[14] The Fundamentals Of Brainwashing (S.Hackett) - 3:00
[15] Howl (S.Hackett) - 4:30
[16] A Dark Night In Towtown (S.Hackett/R.King/Glück) - 3:42
[17] Until The Last Butterfly (S.Hackett) - 2:28

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l

 
Steve Hackett - Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals, Voices, Psaltery, Electric Sitar, Optigan

Roger King - Rhythm Guitar, Keyboards, Engineer, Mixing
John Hackett - Flute, Riff Guitar
Rob Towsend - Saxophones, Principal & Alto Flute, Whistle, Bass Clarinet
Gary OToole - Drums, Harmony Vocals
Nick Magnus - Keyboards

The Underworld Orchestra:
Christine Towsend - Viola
Richard Stewart - Cello
Dick Driver - Double Bass
Colin Clague - Trumpet
Chris Redgate - Oboe, Cor Anglais

Jerry Peal - Engineer, Backwards Vocals
Benedict Tobias Fenner - Programming, Engineer
Harry Pearce - Design
Kim Poor - Cover Painting
Paul Clark - Photography
 

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s

 
2006 CD Inside Out Music 79172
2006 CD Camino 38

For almost 40 years now, Steve Hackett has been one of the most innovative artists on acoustic and electric guitar. His technique came to be known as landmark in the musical business and influenced rock giants like the original Genesis formation, among others. As a solo artist, he skilfully moves between various musical spheres of refined rock music. After the release of his classical album Metamorpheus, he again has produced in Wild Orchids a real rock album that bursts with experimentalism, playfulness and vigour and shines with its jazzy and folky elements. The unique artwork, which is quite characteristic for all Hackett’s works, derives its ideas entirely from Kim Poor, his wife. The deluxe Special Edition of Wild Orchids comes packaged in a hi-quality slipcase and contains four bonus tracks.



Until his back catalog was recently reissued, it was easy to forget what an important musician Steve Hackett was in the late 1970s and very early '80s. That was when the former Genesis guitarist was releasing LPs like Voyage of the Acolyte and Spectral Mornings. Though he's continued to record albums at a steady clip, ranging from forgettable pop to flirtations with classical music, he still faded away in the '80s. Wild Orchids finds him in the terrain of many post-prog rockers, moving all over the stylistic map. He jumps from classical on the orchestral "She Moves in Memories" to American folk on Bob Dylan's "Man in the Long Black Coat." He sings the latter in a deep baritone reminiscent of Leonard Cohen and tears off some blistering distorted blues guitar leads in the process. "A Dark Night in Toytown" almost sounds like an art song (as in classical, not art-rock) touched by a bit of Broadway. There are many echoes of the '60s, including references to Pink Floyd and especially the Beatles. "Waters of the Wild" calls up the spirit of "Tomorrow Never Knows" with a trancy rhythm and Eastern overtones as Hackett mutates his guitar from a sitar to electric sarangi. An instrumental called "Howl" ends the album, and its demonic groove and afterburner guitar recalls one of his earliest songs, "A Tower Struck Down." It reminds us that Steve Hackett hasn't quite found a voice that resonates the way it did 30 years ago--but Wild Orchids makes me think it should.

John Diliberto - Amazon.com



Der letzte Grenzensprenger der alten Progrock-Heldenriege veröffentlicht erneut ein Album voller wunderschöner Melodien, innovativer Songideen und Streicheleinheiten für die Seele.

Statt sich in die Frührente zurückzuziehen oder zu versuchen, die kommerziellen Highlights der Vergangenheit wiederzukäuen, ist der ehemalige Genesis-Gitarrist Steve Hackett nach wie vor auf der Suche nach immer neuen Sounds, ungehörten Gesangslinien und originellen Instrumentierungen. Wild Orchids gefällt mit vielen kleinen Querverweisen zu Hacketts Sternstunden mit Genesis, wichtiger sind jedoch die enorm facettenreichen, völlig klischeefreien Rock-Arrangements, außerordentlich feinfühligen Klassik-Einschübe und das breite Arsenal an Sahnehäubchen aus der schottischen, irischen, französischen, orientalischen und karibischen Folklore. Der Multiinstrumentalist und Sänger formt zusammen mit seiner versierten Band aus den zahlreichen Zutaten ein einzigartiges, inspiriertes Klangkunstwerk, das sich zu keinem Zeitpunkt hinter seinen ersten, gefeierten Soloalben aus den siebziger Jahren verstecken muss.

Michael Rensen - Amazon.de



Wild Orchids marks the return of the former Genesis and GTR guitarist to his progressive rock roots. If 2005's Metamorpheus was Steve Hackett's penultimate classical record, then Orchids is his art rock flagship. A heady mix of David Gilmour, Adrian Belew, Yanni and Future-era Leonard Cohen, fans of the genre will look upon this 13-track collection (seventeen if you pick up the Special Edition) as a template for excess, but for those who still reserve an upper level seat in the stadium of their hearts for silly narration ("Down Street"), extended blues jams ("Blue Child") Thrak-era King Crimson-inspired arena-rockers ("Ego and Id") Dixieland interludes ("Why") or heavily orchestrated Dylan covers ("Man in the Long Black Coat:"), then this impeccably-crafted, surprisingly playful and alternately wince-inducing and beautiful barrage of superior musicianship should inspire the flickering flames of a thousand lighters.

James Christopher Monger - All Music Guide



After 2003’s acclaimed rock album To Watch The Storms and its classical successor Metamorpheus from 2005, Steve now presents Wild Orchids, an album that is in many ways a synthesis of its predecessors

Steve surpasses even the diversity of style and mood found on Storms and at the same time presents an even more homogenous album

"Each album is an adventure. A search for a place without boundaries where cultures collide in order to influence one another..."

The album integrates a classical element on a much grander scale than ever before. But is it still rock? As Steve says, “Rock gets 'bigger' when you add an orchestra” and this is exactly what he did!

In addition to regular Hackett 'acolytes' Roger King, John Hackett, Rob Townsend, Gary O’Toole and others who previously contributed to Storms, Steve also utilised his Underworld Orchestra, with whom he recorded Metamorpheus

"The Orchid is famous as a cultivated flower, but when grown in the wild the perfume seems stronger and sweeter…"

Special Edition Features:
4 extra tracks (compared to standard edition)
16 page booklet
The CD jewel case is packaged in a limited edition card slipcase

StevenHackett.com
 

L y r i c s

Transylvanian Express

Instrumental


Waters Of The Wild

Come away O human child
To the waters of the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
For the world’s more full of weeping
Than you can understand

Fly away you stolen child
Through a magic lantern slide
Singing in the acid rain
With all those who drink from
The waters of the wild

Far away my lost child
I see your breath and your smile
On the silver frosted lawns
In the dream that came alive
At the end of nowhere


Set Your Compass   

Underneath a sailing moon
Lemon lime ginger soft glow
Scale the woodland around the dale
Rising falling through hedgerows
With her train the queen of night
(Her pale window)
(Calming your fear)
(With the Earth)
Slowly turning the tide (in the lowland)
From the long arms of the sea
Set your compass by your dream (falling)
Grazing sheep have lost their way
Fifty fathoms below the bay

Windward of the sunken rock (blowing)
Faces set like gravestones (staring down)
Oarsmen pull to cleave the brine
Neath the blackcliffs their cross-bones
Under the waves and put to right
Toy armies too rusty to fight (in the lowland)
Cling to the wheel how deeply you breathe
Set your compass by your dream (falling)
Grazing sheep have lost their way
Fifty fathoms below the bay


Down Street   

Dear friend you’ve come at last
I wish to impart to you something of a deeply personal nature
Dare we venture off the map
And indeed between the cracks
To a private road of sorts
I presume you have a strong will
And the stomach to match the underbelly of our fair city

You’ll need this firm crowbar
Whilst I implore you to utilise no sense of smell
And to think people live down there
A rush of chill air heralds our clattering necropolis railway
Like a Transylvanian express plunging into rivers of fungi algae and eels
Ten million rats, one for each one of us
And to think people live down there

A race of wild hogs inhabit the sewers of Hampstead
A cesspool suburb superb supreme
Catacombs of Kensal Green
I know you’d like to slime away
Like those walled up under Whitechapel
But I’ve my own kind of Jubilee line out of sight and out of mind
And to think you’ll have to live down there

Strangled streams, smothered rivers, London always gives me the shivers

Forty abandoned stations and Churchill’s last bolthole
Impregnable as Hitler’s bunker
Can’t you see them dancing on the platform at Down Street


A Girl Called Linda

Read me a dream sighs Linda
Flying through nursery windows
Leaving a night light burning
Keep all my love beside you
Toys R Us for you dear
Chocolate Crocodile tears
Now look who’s talking
Jigsaw Junior High School
All overtime in play group

Under a railway footbridge
Primrose Hill by moonbeams
Buckle my shoe in springtime
Winter’s child grows restless
Pining for bread and roses
Somewhere she’s been before
Gazing at the farmyard
All those things adored
Only until she’s bored

Climbing the wall of China
Outside the old toy station
Wrapped in a garden glory
Read me a bedtime story
I know that you have to grow up
Leaving all this behind you
Farewell my lovely Linda
Sweet as a birdsong Linda
Once in a dream called Linda



Blue Child

Instrumental


To A Close   

When the debs came down in their famous gowns
Jacqueline at once was the talk of the town
Launched and lunched on Society’s cream
Smiled and curtsied so gently

Toujours chercher pour quelle-que-chose
As the curtains are drawn to a close

When her Daddy’s bank sailed close to the wind
He traded it all for Gordon’s Gin
All the King’s horses and all the King’s men
Conquered elsewhere never called again

Said a discreet madam with your pedigree
A belle de jour if ever I’ve seen
The home service the French lesson round
So neatly attired costing one hundred pounds

Propped up in bed all alone at The Ritz
The Evening Star printed she razored both wrists
Dressed in her furs with her girdle and gloves
Surrounded by photos of all her old loves


Ego And Id

Heard you on the radio
(You) sounded very strange
Voices in the distance
Way beyond my range

Tried to call the station
Panicked and I ran
Tried to find the moment
When you and I began

Looking in the mirror
Cut off all my hair
Made myself a moment
When no one seemed to care

This room is getting smaller
My ego and my Id
Now I知 really sorry
For all the things I did


Man In The Long Black Coat

Crickets are chirping the water is high
There’s a soft cotton dress on the line hanging dry
Windows wide open African trees
Bent over backward from a hurricane breeze

Not a word of goodbye not even a note
She gone with the man in the long black coat

Somebody seen him hanging around
At the old dance hall on the outskirts of town
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
If she wanted to dance he had a face like a mask

Somebody said from The Bible he quote
There was dust on the man in the long black coat

Preacher was a talking there’s a sermon he gave
He said every man’s conscience is vile and depraved
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
When its you who must keep it satisfied

It ain’t easy to swallow it sticks in the throat
To give her heart to the man in the long black coat

There are no mistakes in life some people say
And its true sometimes you can see it that way
Well people don’t live or die people just float
She went with the man in the long black coat

There’s smoke on the water it’s been there since June
Tree trunks uprooted neath the high crescent moon
With a pulse and vibration and the rumbling force
Someone is out there beating on a dead horse

She never said nothing there was nothing she wrote
She gone with the man in the long black coat


Cedars Of Lebanon

I long to gaze at the Cedars of Lebanon
To breathe the air on the mountain of olives
To feast my eyes on Babylon’s gardens
To take you back to Sumeria’s glory
To set you free with a full man’s pardon

In a language as old as the whispering sands
Ever submerging the towers of silence

I long to show you one thousand golden Buddhas
I long

The street is crying its lost it’s name
Inscription washed away by the pouring rain
I long


Wolfwork

Clapperboards sandwich hordes scavengers in paradise
Training their eyes under grey porridge skies
Magistrates Ivory gates opiates potentates
Kings of carrion badness in the blood

Its all wolfwork

Faxes from a wall of corpses
Gorging on each day in mourning
Father time squeezing the sun
For light relief they bare their teeth
And turn on their own
Rolling around on a fresh bed of nails

Come and see the show
Join in the ring
With your mouth open wide


Why

Why must you treat me like a child
Why not join me on the prom
I’d go on singing forever
But cremation won’t be long


She Moves in Memories

Instrumental


The Fundamentals Of Brainwashing

History’s a vinyl record stuck in a groove
A hundred warring sects claiming to have the truth
Blessed robots with so much to prove
You could say so much to lose

The scorching air
The slumbering mass
Of forgotten things

Preening peacocks ignite the fuse
Trumpets and promises a turn of the screw
To have a human face we’ll have to start all over again
Back to the drawing board all the boys and men

When you lose your kite in the wind and fall on the trees
You’re sucked in bulletin blown out on T.V.
The glory of the past is really only a tomb
The thing from the crypt long ago nurtured you


Howl

Instrumental


A Dark Night In Toytown

Alone in the crowd
Beside the big wheel
You’ve run out of luck
I know the way you feel
A dark night in toytown
Round the carousel
If you want to ride faster
It’s happiness I sell

If you can’t find heaven
I’ll show you a ghost train to hell

The pleasure principle
Is what I had in mind
I’ll make you feel invincible
Then you’ll be mine
A gorilla tranquiliser
Will help to slow you down
Monsters of the Id
Call from the underground

I know I seem sordid
Beneath you at first
I’ll pierce your defences
Take away your thirst
I hold you gently
You gasp out loud
Blood on your white cheek
The fairground closes down


Until the last Butterfly

Instrumental

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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