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Peter Hammill: Enter K

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Fie! Records
Released: 1982.10.01
Time:
 42:31
Category: Progressive Rock
Producer(s): Peter Hammill
Rating:
Media type: CD
Web address: www.sofasound.com
Appears with: Van der Graaf Generator, David Jackson
Purchase date: 2012
Price in €: 1,00





 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Paradox Drive (P.Hammill) - 4:31
[2] The Unconscious Life (P.Hammill) - 5:05
[3] Accidents (P.Hammill) - 4:35
[4] The Great Experiment (P.Hammill) - 5:05
[5] Don't Tell Me (P.Hammill) - 4:45
[6] She Wraps It Up (P.Hammill) - 4:20
[7] Happy Hour (P.Hammill) - 9:15
[8] Seven Wonders * (P.Hammill) - 4:39

*) Only the Fie! reissue contained this extra track.

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Peter Hammill - Electric & Acoustic Guitars, Keyboards, Organ, Piano, Grand Piano, Synthesizer, Vocals, Vox Organ, Producer, Engineer
John Ellis - Lead Guitar
Nic Potter - Bass
Guy Evans - Bells, Drums, Percussion
David Jackson - French Horn, Tenor Saxophone on [2,8]

David Lord - Engineer
Arun - Mastering
Steve Byrne - Cover Art, Original Cover
Valerie Hawthorne - Original Cover
Jo Swan - Photography

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


LP 1982 Mercury - 6302 215 (Germany, Greece)
CD 1991 Fie!- WM332 (France)
CD 1991 Fie! Records - FIE 9101 (UK)
CD 2003    Fie! Records - FIE 9101 (UK)

Recorded in 1982 at Sofa Sound, Wiltshire, Dubbed and mixed at Crescent Studios, Bath.
Group members have aliases:
  K (Peter Hammill)
  Mozart (Nic Potter)
  Brain (Guy Evans)
  Fury (John Ellis)
  Jaxon (David Jackson)


Enter K is an album by Peter Hammill, originally released on the Naive Records label in Oct 1982. The label was owned and operated by Gordian Troeller, the former manager of Hammill's band Van der Graaf Generator that had found success managing Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (which Hammill has said "must have been a blessed relief after the VdGG years"). Hammill subsequently reissued the album on his own Fie! label. The album was Hammill's first studio album to be recorded with the K Group, a band that he had formed in 1981 to tour material from his earlier albums A Black Box and Sitting Targets. Each member of the band adopted an alias: Hammill was K, John Ellis was Fury, Nic Potter was Mozart and Guy Evans was Brain. The K Group also backed Hammill during his performance on a 1981 broadcast of Rockpalast, as well as Hammill's first live album, The Margin. Enter K reached #21 in the UK Indie Chart.



"Enter k" is very much a hybrid set of recordings which makes up a pair with "Patience". By the time of recording the k group was in full effect, having been formed to tour with songs from "Sitting Targets" and "A Black Box". As I've said elsewhere, not exactly a Beat Group but probably the closest ensemble I've ever been in which would come under that category. The personnel on "k" are, of course, the k group - with additional contributions from David Jackson.

In spite of our road-ready state as a group, though, I wasn't quite ready to do a full-on studio recording. Nor did I really have material available which would be suitable for a live (-ish) in the studio approach. Instead, I decided on a mixed approach: half of the material would be worked up in familiar solo in Sofa Sound fashion, to be overdubbed later; the rest would be rehearsed and recorded as in the old days. This seemed to make options for both experimentation and surety as wide as possible.

Of the Sofa Sound songs, "The Unconscious Life" and "Don't Tell Me" are the piano neo-ballads and in so far as there is such a thing conform to familiar Hammill blueprints structurally and sonically. "She Wraps it Up" approaches the pop song (in my understanding of the term) and the organ part in particular nods towards the "bop shoo-wop de bop bop shoo-wop"s of the 1960s. "Accidents" is something else entirely and in construction and execution owes a passing debt to the experimentation of "The Future Now"/"pH7" era. Brain, Mozart and Fury applied ornamentation - which at times became almost structural - with intuitive sympathy to all of these pieces once they'd been transferred from 8 track to 24 in what was then Crescent, later to become Terra Incognita.

We had a month for recording and mixing in Crescent; just about the right period of time to give us a bit of leeway but keep the pressure on. Many polaroid shots; a daily bedecking of the control room with flowers...more set dressing than Summer of Love, this; and a note pinned above the mixing desk stating "Day 3" &c. If the destination was somewhat unknown, the passage of time at least was marked. The chart of track listings (absent on previous CD releases but present on the newly remastered version) is an exact replica of a hand-written one which was also posted up in Sofa and Crescent's control room for the duration.

If memory serves, we rehearsed the "live" songs in the studio; I certainly don't recall run-throughs anywhere else. So the freshness of performance was fuelled by the just-learned as well as by innate energy. We probably played all of these tunes to more powerful effect later on, when they were fully bedded in (as on "The Margin +"), but there was certainly something to be said for the passion of immediate discovery.

For a "beat group" record the lyrical content is quite challenging and neo-philosophical. There is much here on the nature of unconscious life, whether sub-awake or in sleep mode. The inexorability of unrushing (deliberate) accidents - and changes - of life also feature heavily. As for the "real life" songs, "Don't Tell Me" has always been for me something of a Balearic screenplay, with that strange island sense of being in more than one space and time simultaneously to the fore; "Happy Hour" is a glimpse into a darker mirror. The particular bar I had in mind was in Hamburg, by the way. "She Wraps it Up" is, frankly, pretty whacky for a pop song: sometimes people do blow up in front of your face, possibly regarding the observation of the explosion as some kind of gift.... Clearly this is the obverse side of the coin of Energy Vampirism; and more, rather than less, demanding.

The masters were evidently originally intended for vinyl, still the only game in town at that time. In the new remastering I've attempted to apply the same sonic processing as washed over the VdGG Box set and, indeed, "The Margin +"; I hope that the end result gives back some analogue oomph to the digital experience.

The album was released on Gordian Troeller's freshly minted Naive label (which lasted, oh, a good couple of years or so). At the time he was managing Orchestral Manouvres in the Dark, which must have been a blessed relief after the VdGG years. The charts were, needless to say, untroubled by its appearance. This remains good stuff.

And the k group really was something else....

Oh, finally, why "k"? The prophet of unlikely ventures; the constant unknown. Graham Smith gave me the name; he said he could spot a "k" mission in the offing from the look in my eyes. I hope some of that remains even in my approaching dotage.

Peter Hammill



The usual Hammill combination of musical excellence and the deepest emotions this side of hell. Shades of David Bowie in "The Great Experiment" and "Happy Hour." Dramatically moody "Don't Tell Me" (which also appears, rearranged, on The Love Songs) contrasts with the upbeat, tongue-in-cheek "Paradox Drive." The centerpiece has to be "The Unconscious Life": the vast, full range of Hammill's vocal gymnastics coupled with David Jackson's soulful sax make this song unforgettable.

Ali Sinclair - All Music Guide
 

 L y r i c s


PARADOX DRIVE

The thought crossed my mind -
how curious, why should I want so much shut-eye?
Fighting the darkness and furious,
oh, but I once more fall into the song...
just the normal unconsciousness;
could that be wrong?
All out into action then all down into sleep -
check that attraction, it must be more than skin deep.
        
I've checked the twenty-four hours,
I've done the stay-up-all-night;
in a certain way that's power,
but it's not wired up right.
Up for the pleasure, then it's dead to the world;
our lives surely measured by the unconscious third....
        
Living on Paradox Drive,
we must be living on Paradox Drive.
        
The thought crossed my mind, how curious -
why should I want so much shut-eye?
Fighting the darkness and furious...
oh, but I once more dropped off to the deep,
the sweet comfort of a life on my own, asleep.
Up for the pleasure or dead to the world,
a life surely measured by the unconscious third...
        
Living on Paradox Drive,
we must be living on Paradox Drive.
        
I've checked the twenty-four hours,
I've done the stay-up-all-night;
in a certain way that's power,
but it's not wired up right,
it still isn't right.


THE UNCONSCIOUS LIFE

I'm in command,
I'm in control,
I am the captain of my soul.
Still, I'm uncertain in one major role...
oh, I drift through the unconscious life,
shift through the unconscious life,
lift up my unconscious eyes:
beyond all normal pain and pleasure
we should treasure the unconscious life.
        
We've got our reasons for most things we do,
we could surely rationalise them through.
A false ring of confidence
would characterise us true -
oh, we're deep in the unconscious life
asleep in the unconscious life,
peeping through unconscious eyes.
Beyond all normal pain and pleasure
we should treasure,
treasure the unconscious,
treasure the unconscious life.
        
Something makes me nervous,
something makes me twitch,
something makes me scratch that Pavlovian itch,
(Wonder what that is now...?)
Someone that I barely know must unpick the stitch
to unravel the unconscious life,
travel the unconscious life,
gather the unconscious eye...
far from shedding light on any motive
the candle is votive when it burns at both ends.
        
I'm not in command,
I'm out of control,
I am the Ship's Boy of my soul....
        
Oh, we drift through the unconscious life,
shift through the unconscious life,
live through the unconscious life.


ACCIDENTS

This meeting is a coincidence
which deserves a second look:
we've seen the chapter of accidents
become the longest in the book.
I see your face in the picture for better or worse,
all power to the accident!
        
Oh, the sweetest is the one I'm holding in my arms
and the fleetest is the one who survives
but the meetest is the one who's running on the spot
where the accident's about to arrive.
I know my place on the planet, chapter and verse,
all part of the accident.
        
I know my place in the story, a line of blank verse,
a part of the accident.
        
No system worth its salt
lays all its cards upon the table;
no discipline of thought
will render me more able
to buck those random throws.
        
This meeting is a coincidence
which deserves a second look -
we've seen the chapter of accidents,
it's the longest in the book.
Oh, the sweetest is the one I'm holding in my arms
and the fleetest is the one who survives
but the meetest is the one who's running on the spot
where the accident's about to arrive...
(The accidental, the accident!)
        
Your face in the picture for better or worse,
all power to the accident!
I know my place on the planet chapter and verse,
all part of the accident.
I know my place in the story, a line of blank verse,
a part of the accident.
I see your face in the picture for better or worse,
all power to the accident,
all power to the accident!


THE GREAT EXPERIMENT

"Is that all there is to it," he asks,
"no more conjecture or controversy?
Don't think I could go through it,
I couldn't live with the memory.
Now is the hour, it comes eventually;
how great the power as it falls on me!"
        
He's raising his sense of occasion to the limit -
(The big moment is coming up.)
Practised, his sense of evasion... or is it?
(No sidestep or dummy run.)
Craving a certain indulgence - would you give it?
Would you give it in time?
        
Treading water, making waves
from the cradle to the grave;
home by a whisker - close shaves!
I'm waiting,
what I said I meant:
no faking
The Great Experiment.
        
Near the end of the reel now,
he's hanging on by his fingertips.
He knows how it feels;
at last the kiss of unearthly lips.
Now is the hour to get a tighter grip.
How great the power as the tide begins to rip!
        
I'm waiting -
no faking
The Great Experiment.


DON'T TELL ME

You don't have to say a thing,
the silence is sweet;
we've been together today
in a way we might never repeat.
Oh, your head on the pillow,
the distance in your eyes -
already you might be
rehearsing the word ''Goodbye".
        
When the evening comes of this perfect day,
when the shadows run will you look away,
will you slip away?
Don't tell me anything.
        
You don't have to say a word,
all too well I understand:
there's a nervous tension
in the touch of your gentle hand.
That makes me afraid -
I've seen you like this before...
the moment you find somebody new
you find yourself bored.
Oh, I don't want to lose you.
        
When the evening comes of this perfect day,
when the shadows run will you look away,
will you slip away?
Don't tell me anything.
        
Now the evening's come,
now I'm left alone;
now the passion's done
and you're going home...
oh, when will you telephone?
You don't tell me anything.
No, you don't even tell me
the bell won't ring.


SHE WRAPS IT UP

You know that she's got something she wants to give;
hard to tell if it's of spirit or the life she lives...
maybe somewhere between the two.
Oh, the waiting to see what it is!
        
The energy donor, looking over her shoulder,
she sees it all, she sees it slipping away.
There's a backbone shiver for the energy giver...
she wraps it up, and that's a final wrap for today.
        
Some things she'll soon learn to live without,
while others she's not secure enough to doubt.
It'll be hard to stay so close
when all that special emptiness floods out.
        
The energy donor shoots it straight from the shoulder:
she sees it all, she sees it all rushing through.
There's a backbone shiver from the energy giver...
she wraps it up, she wraps it up and gives it to you.
        
Jumping shells, the electrons will dance
like dusk-time fireflies.
Just as well that you took that last chance
to extend all your by-and-bys.
Let's be clear:
don't be too far away...
oh, but don't get so near!
You'll remember today for the rest of your life.
        
The energy donor, looking over her shoulder,
she sees it all, she sees it slipping away.
There's a backbone shiver for the energy giver;
she wraps it up, and that's a heavy rap you'll have to pay.
The energy donor shoots it straight from the shoulder:
she sees it all, she sees it all rushing through.
There's a backbone shiver from the energy giver -
she wraps it up, she wraps it up and gives it to you.


HAPPY HOUR

Fuelled by alcohol,
shooting out words like a rocket,
like a prophet out of Babylon
method acting the absurd....
Shoot me those highballs
till I'm lit up like I'm plugged in a socket;
lock me eyeball to eyeball,
let's not bother with the words.
Oh, bring on the clowns, bring on the night,
pour me double vision in black and white.
I'm falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
My chickadee, my passion flower,
show me the way to the Happy Hour.
        
I don't like to see that:
oh, no, I don't like the way the hand is shaking,
shape-making like an acrobat
on his way to the trapeze.
My friends in the crowd
are all taking bets -
they're taking away the safety net.
Falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
vertigo on the high-wire tower -
is this really what they mean by 'Happy Hour`?
        
The line between the social and the suicidal
so fine he might not know when he's crossed it,
when he's lost it;
when the social kick becomes the gauging-stick of survival.
        
So here's to the circus,
let's drink to the game of forgetting
the marionette strings that jerk us,
the real world just outside the door.
I know that my legs have gone
and I know that the light here is far from perfect...
I've rehearsed it, so I'll carry on
until I wind up on the floor.
        
My friends in the bar
will stand me a round,
they'll toast me on my way to the underground.
I'm falling, falling - don't give me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest trick in the book,
My chickadee, my passion flower,
show me the way to the Happy Hour.
Vertigo on the high-wire tower -
is this really what they mean by 'Happy Hour`?
        
Put on the greasepaint, we're getting ready for Happy Hour.
Do you hear me now? Can you feel me now?
I'm in the middle of Happy Hour...
Put on the greasepaint.


SEVEN WONDERS

Well, it must have been here somewhere,
that which the culture highly prized:
the list of ancient buildings,
the attitude of mind,
the wisdom of the prophets,
the catalogue of books....
You can't get off it,
you don't know where to look.
I know you don't know what to say
and it's strange now, see how
everything's changed,
including the Seven Wonders.
Nothing is permanent here.
        
New kick, new game, new theory,
the rest reduced to nought:
it only takes a moment,
one clear and lucid thought.
Once the process has been triggered
all previous process disappears....
I don't know what it is you fear,
I don't know what it is you fear -
the shift is nothing to be afraid of.
        
Strange now, see how
everything's changed,
including the Seven Wonders.
Nothing is permanent here,
that's part of the spell we're under.
Getting old then, say when
you're happy to hold
your personal Seven Wonders.
Nothing is permanent here.

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


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