..:: audio-music dot info ::..


Main Page     The Desert Island     Copyright Notice
Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh Ii Jj Kk Ll Mm Nn Oo Pp Qq Rr Ss Tt Uu Vv Ww Xx Yy Zz


Peter Hammill: Out of Water

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Enigma Records
Released: 1990
Time:
 45:20
Category: Progressive Rock
Producer(s): Peter Hamill, David Lord
Rating:
Media type: CD
Web address: www.sofasound.com
Appears with: Van der Graaf Generator, David Jackson
Purchase date: 1994
Price in €: 13,99





 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Evidently Goldfish (Peter Hammill) - 5:02
[2] Not The Man (Peter Hammill) - 4:23
[3] No Moon In The Water (Peter Hammill) - 4:35
[4] Our Oyster (Peter Hammill) - 5:33
[5] Something About Ysabel's Dance (Peter Hammill) - 5:31
[6] Green Fingers (Peter Hammill) - 4:35
[7] On The Surface (Peter Hammill) - 8:14
[8] A Way Out (Peter Hammill) - 7:16

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Peter Hammill - Vocals, Guitars, Keyboards, Producer, Enginner

Fury - Guitar on [1], [7]
David Jackson - Saxophone on [3], [6]
Nic Potter - Bass on [3], [6]
Stuart Gordon - Violin on [5]

David Lord - Engineer, Producer on [5]
John Ellis - Cover Drawing

 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


Recorded at SOFA SOUND/TERRA INCOGNITA Mixed at CRESCENT STUDIOS/TERRA INCOGNITA Jan - Aug 1989
Recovered by Ridart
© 1990 Restless Records

All songs by PETER HAMMILL Published by STATIC MUSIC LTD.



A moody collection, varied tempos, varied styles: typically lyrical and poetic, sometimes amusing, sometimes moving, sometimes sad. As always, each track is emotionally charged and an entity in itself. "Not This Man" is a thought-provoking response to the accusation "you've changed!" "Isabel's Dance" is classic, cheeky Hammill, "Green Fingers" is a good example of aggressive rock and "A Way Out" has to be one of the finest rock songs ever recorded.

Ali Sinclair - All Music Guide



To my mind, this is where late period Hammill properly starts. The sound has a much more modern and processed feel to it which I am not terribly keen about. Still, the material is strong. Evidently Goldfish opens and has that spark of Hammill originality. A nice attention to detail and a driving mid-ranged delivery. A successful mixture of the enigma with a modern approach. This album is successful largely in virtue of its diversity which is one of Hammill's most endearing traits. Perhaps the heterogeny is narrowing somewhat at this point in his career however, possibly, I think, due to the production style which does not lend itself to particularly wide-ranging treatments. No Moon in the Water is nice, evidencing Hammill's preoccupation with Zen philosophy (the title refers to the final line of a well-known Zen story) and featuring some nice wind playing from David Jackson. A high point is Something About Ysabel's Dance. A spirited and original piece with fine vocals and violin in a darkly romantic piece about the indefinable qualities still to be found in an undefined tourist infested resort. Green Fingers is not particularly inspiring. A taste of things to come on later albums I am afraid. The final track A Way Out deserves special mention and ranks amongst Hammill's finest along with tracks like Silver, In the End. Hammill sings with passion one of those phonetic themes it is hard to damage with gratuitous attention to semantic content. A worthy album, if nothing too outstanding. There was to be better and worse to come.

© 1996 Phil Kime
 

 L y r i c s


Evidently Goldfish

Check the honesty of what's on offer,
true detective or a fake fakir?
All the evidence is circumstantial
-as mud the evidence is clear.
Paranormal the investigation -
where do things go when they disappear?
All the evidence has been trumped up...
as mud the evidence is clear,
I think we're on to something here,
I think we're into something...
I don't know but maybe we're all goldfish
in the mental sphere.

Evidently goldfish, never questioning environment
self-evidently goldfish, we swim in circular
experience;

Church of logical deliberation,
school of accidental wheels in gear...
Surface knowledge is a serious matter,
a little consciousness is dangerous, dear;
all the evidence must be summed up -
as mud the evidence is clear,
I think we're into something,
I don't know but maybe
we're all goldfish in the mental sphere.

Evidently goldfish, never question their
environment;
Self-evidently goldfish, we swim in circular
experience;
Evidently goldfish, round and round and round and
round
within our consciousness
in the mental sphere.

As mud the evidence is clear.


Not The Man

There are so many questions,
there are so many doubts -
this is auto suggestion
your spirit is giving out.
If I offered my reasons
would you give me a break?
Now it's all open season,
no sense of give and take.

You see I'm not the man I was....

But if I'm not the man
that you took me to be
do I fade from your dreams,
disappear from your memory?
look at me:
if I'm not the man I was
then who was he?

There can be no returning
to the scene of the crime...
for perfection you're yearning:
some romance, some foreign clime!
Is the memory explicit
under strict rule of thumb?
It was always implicit,
this character I've become.

But if I'm not the man
that you took me to be
do I fade from your dreams,
disappear from your memory?
I remember it well,
I can guess what went wrong...
you believed all those words
in the popular songs...
but, if I'm not the man
that you took me to be,
did I walk in your dreams?
I've no idea who that person could be.

Look at me: If I'm not the man I was, then who is he?


No Moon In The Water

So
if it's just so then
where is it now when
I find the moment
uncertain?

Broken water pail -
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now.

So
I want to hold on
reflection's all gone,
no ego - so.

Broken water pail -
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now,
broken water pail,
hold me in the moment,
no more ego now.

I would
drink the dregs of daylight,
break the bread of consciousness
and dream:
dream day for night,
nightfall around us,
waking, dreaming,
awake to the dream.

Broken water pail -
no moon in the water,
try to hold it now,
hold me in the moment,
no more ego now,
no moon in the water,
no more ego now.


Our Oyster

This one's authentic,
son of a gun,
a soundtrack from China
in the universal tongue....

The world is our oyster
to plunder at will
though the palate is jaded
by all but the thrill
of fish out of water,
life in the raw...
without understanding
of what life's worth fighting for.

Out of universal language
some stuff never translates -
the reports come in clusters
but for words it's too late...
six o'clock entertainment,
tears of anguish and rage...
in the zoos of the media
the spirit of moment is caged.

There's only one language
the whole world comprehends,
there's only one message
as the darkness descends...
do you still have a question
or do you retract?
There's a whole world of difference
between the observer and the act.

They're playing World Music
in Tiananmen Square,
they're playing World Music
in Tiananmen Square,
the whistle of bullets in the air.


Something About Ysabel's Dance

In the new hotel on Fiesta Night, the staff are
bored;
Donna Ysabel dances zombie-like,
the guests applaud....
the color is local, the tourists are tanned,
the natives are restless
and everything's second-hand.

Places disappear, but the names endure as alibis;
memory's hazy here, no-one's really sure
of how time flies....
Well drunk, the bass player
cries into his beer -
are Ysabel's mother or Ysabel dancing here?

After hours all the couriers are in the bar
round the corner
with the drivers in a game of cards...
In bursts Ysabel, her hair let loose,
her limbs set free;
on the tabletops she's dancing to a memory -
conversation stops and every eye
is turned to see...
something about Ysabel's dance.

It's a shrinking world, it's a fun-packed cruise,
a museum trip:
skirt the native girl, check the rabid dog,
rejoin the ship.
There's no Charlie Mingus,
his Tijuana's gone...
This smile for the camera is all just a tourist con.

But after hours all the couriers and drivers know
of a cantina where there's every chance
that she might show, and maybe Ysabel
will dance the dance for real again,
her mother's footsteps, vice and virtue,
lust and love and pain.
There's something here
the anthropologist dare not explain,
something about Ysabel's dance....


Green Fingers

He'll be young forever if he keeps this up...
so the bedroom playboy's never going to grow up.
The heart is a secret garden
to which there are no short cuts.

Only green young fingers make the garden bloom;
for the serious young men now is always too soon
-
the heart is a secret garden,
the head is a darkened room.

Close your eyes...
how does it feel to be in love?
Much too difficult, you shove
green fingers into gloves.

Get those fingers dirty - now you're getting
warm;
blood those hands with passion,
turn your face to the storm.
The heart is a bed of roses,
the heart is a bed of thorns.

Bleed, green fingers, bleed.

Some future memory stirs...
someone's always getting burned
if intensity holds true.
If it's real to be in love
how does it feel to be in love?
Green fingers stripped of gloves.


On The Surface

On the surface
phosphorus gleaming;
deep down
we carry on dreaming.

On the surface
compass and charts checked;
deep down the currents run
in a shining vortex,
in a swirling vortex.

On the surface
oil troubled water
sails set the seas on fire
to the farthest quarter....
Are we dreaming?
Dream deep of childhood,
dream deep of future days -
it'll all come good,
deep dreaming.

On the surface
head above water
legs kick the carry-on...
(dreaming) break the surface;
dreaming of long-lost childhood,
hoping for better days -
it'll all come good,
deep dreaming.

It'll all come good,
deep dreaming.
It'll all come to the surface,
it'll all rise to the surface,
deep dreaming.


A Way Out

Out of joint, out of true, out of love,
out of the blue, out of order, out of orbit,
out of control,
out of touch, out of line, out of sync
and out of time, out of gas, out of tread, out of
road.

Out of date, out of stock, out of use -
out, out, damned spot!
You want out, you want out of it for good.
Out of the running, out of the game,
out on your feet, clear out of range,
out of context, out of contact,
out of the woods.

Out, out, looking for a way out,
no straws are left to cling to;
out, out, going for the fade-out...
but what do you fade into?

Out on the town, out for laughs,
out of service, out to grass,
out of mourning, out of purdah,
out on bail, out of kilter, out of grace,
out to get out of this place,
out of this world, out and out
beyond the pale.

Right out of character, out of sympathy,
so far out upon a limb
you're out of your tree....

Out of breath, out of tune, out of your head
and out of view, down and out,
out for the count, or is it just for revenge?
Out of sight, out of mind, leave it out,
leave it behind out of reach
of all family, all friends.

Out, out, going for the bale-out,
no parachute above you.
Out, out, you'll not feel the fall-out,
I wish I'd said "I love you".

 M P 3   S a m p l e s


Currently no Samples available!