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Van der Graaf Generator: I Prophesy Disaster

 A l b u m   D e t a i l s


Label: Virgin Records
Released: 1993.09.20
Time:
 70:47
Category: Progressive Rock
Producer(s): See Artists...
Rating:
Media type: CD
Web address: www.vandergraafgenerator.co.uk
Appears with: Peter Hammill, David Jackson
Purchase date: 2009.02.27
Price in €: 9,99





 S o n g s ,   T r a c k s


[1] Afterwards (P.Hammill) - 4:58
[2] Necromancer (P.Hammill) - 3:36
[3] Refugees (P.Hammill) - 5:24
[4] Boat of Millions of Years (P.Hammill) - 3:51
[5] Lemmings (Including Cog) (P.Hammill) - 11:37
[6] W (P.Hammill) - 4:26
[7] Arrow (P.Hammill) - 9:46
[8] La Rossa (P.Hammill) - 9:50
[9] Ship of Fools (P.Hammill) - 3:46
[10] Medley: Parts of A Plague if Lighthoesekeepers and The Sleepwalkers (P.Hammill) - 13:33

 A r t i s t s ,   P e r s o n n e l


Peter Hammill - Guitar, Keyboards, Vocals, Producer
Hugh Banton - Bass Guitar, Bass Pedals, Organ, Guitar Producer on [1] and [8]
Guy Evans - Drums, Percussion, Producer
David Jackson - Saxophobe, Flute, Producer on [1], [8] and [10]
Nick Potter - Bass on [3] and [4]
Keith Ellis - Bass on [1] and [2]
Graham Smith - Violin on [9] and [10]
Charles Dickie - Cello, Keyboards on [10]

John Anthony - Producer

Mark Paytress  -  Record Collector, Liner Notes


 C o m m e n t s ,   N o t e s


1993 CD Alex 839048-2
1993 CD Virgin CDVM 9026

Recorded at Rockfield (tr. 1, 3), Ross-on-Wye (tr. 6, 10), Norton Canon (2, 4, 9)  and Crowborough (tr. 8) between 1971 and 1975.

This career-spanning compilation is an excellent overview of their early recordings plus some other gems that you cannot get anywhere else, excpt THE BOX .


Liner Notes from the Album:

        Conceiving in an age when every second social science student aspired to become a poet and young classically-trained musicians wanted to be rock artists, Van der Graaf Generator's mission was certainly of its time. The order of the day to be progressive pop was simply no longer adequate to describe the aspirations of a generation reared on a heady cocktail of the Beatles, Karl Marx and Coca-Cola. Nothing was simple any more. Even the career of Van der Graaf Generator was marked by so many intricate twists and turns that it defies summary within the space of a few brief paragraphs. The group once described as "an incredible combination of rock, poetry and jazz " (Charisma advertising slogan, 1970) are now rightly regarded as perhaps the ultimate progressive rock experience, albeit one that, both musically and conceptually, remain far more than a pleasing anachronism.

        The existential tightropes walked by singer/lyricist Peter Hammill still find resonance in the work many rock artists who've drawn inspiration from him, Johnny Rotten (Lydon), Marc Almond and Nick Cave in particular. And newcomers to Hammill are usually struck by similarities with a style touted by David Bowie - certainly vocally, and occasionally in the writing too.

        Hammill has pursued a solo career since Van der Graaf finally parted the ways in 1978, with a series of fascinating, and richly varied solo albums. Musically, he's strayed far from the manic maelstrom of sound conjured up during VDGG days, although few would argue that his talent with the pen has diminished in any way.

        But it is to the Van der Graaf Generator years that we turn to for this CD collection of classics and rarities. The nucleus of Hammill, Hugh Banton (keyboards), David Jackson (saxes) and Guy Evans (drums) presided over the group's most active period, which lasted roughly from 1970's "The Least We Can Do Is Wave To Each Other", through to 1976's "World Record". A rejigged version of the band soldiered on using the abbreviated name Van der Graaf for another couple of years, but the arrival of punk rock, coupled with a sense of creative exhaustion prompted one final split - they already been wrested apart in 1969 and 1972, on the latter occasion, for three years.

        This set is designed to complement Virgin's previous two CD collections, "First Generation" and "Second Generation", which documented the group's career from either side of the 1972-75 watershed. "I Prophesy Disaster", which takes its title from what's the group's finest moment, "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers" suite on "Pawn Hearts", has the good fortune of drawing from both periods. While providing an alternative introduction to the group's music, we've also managed to unearth a few rarities which, until now have yet to make it onto the CD format.

        Whether you're a recent converter or a confirmed completist, this set should provide what every VDGG album sought to do: combine moments of hair-tearing panic with touching displays of lyrical and musical splendour. Van der Graaf Generator always courted the outermost limits both in terms of emotional intensity and musical experimentation. This didn't always translate into commercial success - their biggest audiences were always the student circuit and on continent - but their cult following remains fiercely loyal and insistent that in Peter Hammill, VDGG had one of the leading songwriters of their generation.

1. Afterwards (1969, from "The Aerosol Grey Machine"). This track appeared on the group's U.S.-only debut album, which took six years before securing a British release. Its acoustic guitar and understated organ give it a Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd feel. The song was originally written in 1967.

2. Necromancer (1969, from "The Aerosol Grey Machine"). Although rumour has it that more one version of this has appeared over the years (on the album, the U.S.-only coupling with "Afterwards", and on the "68-71" compilation), the vaults indicate otherwise. We've performed our own act of necromancy in conjuring up this vintage recording in tip-top sound quality.

3. Refugees (1970, single version). An undisputed Hammill classic composed in the aftermath of the political upheavals of 1968. A longer version of the song appears on the group's second album, "The Least We Can Do Is Wave To Each Other"

4. The Boat of Millions of Years (1970, B-side). This backed the "Refugees" 45, and subsequently appeared on the "68-71" compilation, since when it's lain dormant on scratchy vinyl. Here it is for the first time on CD.

5. Lemmings (1971, from "Pawn Hearts"). With "Man-Erg" and "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers", this makes up the trilogy on what's probably the band's finest album. Fuelled by an insistent, undulating riff, it was always a live favourite.

6. W (1972, B-side). If George Martin's "Theme One" instrumental was a somewhat out-of-character diversion, Hammill used the flip to revisit one of his favourite themes, estrangement.

7. Arrow (1975, from "Godbluff"). Comeback albums are often fraught with difficulty but VDGG passed the admirably with "Godbluff". Although hints of more conventional jazz-rock playing were in evidence, "Arrow", when it got going, provided an album highlight.

8. La Rossa (1976, from "Still Life"). "I've been hiding behind words", sings Hammill on this, one of several classic songs on "Still Life", probably the groups's most satisfying 'comeback' release. "La Rossa" provides plenty more camouflage, though it sounds more like ten minutes of no-hold-barred purification!

9. Ship of Fools (non-U.K. B-side). This appeared in live form on 1978's "Vital" though the studio version, once slated for "The Quiet Zone/The Pleasure Dome" ended up on an obscure overseas single release of "Cat's Eye".

10. Medley (Parts of "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers and "The Sleepwalkers") (1978, from "Vital"). The "Vital" double album live set wasn't perhaps the perfect ending to Van der Graaf's ten-years career, but this medley coupling excerpts from "Lighthouse Keepers" (from "Pawn Hearts") and "The Sleepwalkers" (from "Godbluff") found the newly-reconstituted group performing two classics from the VDGG repertoire.

Mark Paytress, Record Collector, April 1993



After recent compilations of Peter Hammill material, Virgin have put out this rather nice collection of odds and ends of singles, plus a few more easily available items. There are some new sleeve photos, including three of the last line-up with Graham Smith and cellist Charles Dickie. Nothing actually unreleased, but certainly some of their more obscure items here - the prize goes to the studio version of Ship of Fools, previously only obtainable on the B-side of a French single. Although recorded sometime during the final phase of Van der Graaf's existence, this is curious in that there is no discernible violin or sax - at a guess there's just Hammill, Evans and Potter on this track, played very much in the NADIR style. The rest of the obscurities are culled from the long unobtainable LP only compilations, namely Afterwards and Necromancer (AEROSOL GREY MACHINE); Refugees and Boat of Millions of Years (both sides of the single) and W (B-side of Theme One single). They've obviously hung on to the masters well, as these are all clear and crisp.

As to the less interesting stuff, there's Lemmings, Arrow, La Rossa and the Lighthouse Keepers / Sleepwalkers Medley from VITAL. This raises the usual question with compilations - who is this intended for? If it's for the VdGG enthusiast who's already bought their entire CD back catalogue, then why not include the Theme One single and the tracks which got left off the VITAL CD:- Urban and Nadir's Big Chance. That would then only leave the re-issue of AEROSOL GREY MACHINE and the Firebrand single (...we can but dream...) to complete their entire output on CD. It also raises the thought that if Virgin have the masters of two of the tracks from AEROSOL GREY MACHINE, then surely they must know where the others are?

The sleeve notes, (by Mark Paytress of Record Collector), tell us someone's taken the trouble to put together some difficult to obtain material in a decent packaging at a reasonable price - as it stands its either a good introduction to the band or a nice filler to the collection - it's just that for the sake of substituting a few tracks for some easily available ones, we could have had a much more complete collection of odds and ends. The music, by the way is superb throughout, but you don't really need me to tell you that do you?

Allan Terrill in Audion #27, Winter 1994.

 L y r i c s

Afterwards

You stare out in yellow eyes larger than my mind;
in viscous pools of joy, relaxing, we glide...
it's all too beautiful
for my mind to bear.
and, as we shimmer into sleep, something's unshared.

But, seeing the flower that was there yesterday,
a tear forms just behind the soft peace of your shades...
The world's too lonely
for a message to slip
but between the dying rails of peace
you trip.

The petals that were blooming are just paper in your hand;
your eyes, which were clear in the night, are opaque as you stand...
It was too beautiful
for it to last...
These visions shimmer and fade out of
the glass.


Necromancer

Yes I live in the black woods, where you dare not even
speak my name.
If there is evil in your heart and you will come near to me you will
lose your sane.
My form is mystic, but my heart is pure,
you'd better believe what I say:
I am the Necromancer.

I cast deep spells and potent: I am a Seer
of the Real.
My forces work against evil, for I love
all I feel.
I know the secrets long forgotten,
you'd better believe in me:
I am the Necromancer.

Look into my eyes!
I tell you, occults power lies in love.
I fight against darkness, the power
of the Black.

Every day the power is greater, and soon the world will
come to rights.
Through the magic, through the power, shaman shall die
on the seventh night.
And now remember magic is here;
you'd better believe in the White.

I am the Necromancer,
and I come to carry your heart away to good.


Refugees

North was somewhere years ago and cold:
Ice locked the people's hearts and made them old.
South was birth to pleasant lands, but dry:
I walked the waters' depths and played my mind.
East was dawn, coming alive in the golden sun:
the winds came, gently, several heads became one
in the summertime, though august people sneered;
we were at peace, and we cheered.

We walked alone, sometimes hand in hand,
between the thin lines marking sea and sand;
smiling very peacefully,
we began to notice that we could be free,
and we moved together to the West.

West is where all days will someday end;
where the colours turn from grey to gold,
and you can be with the friends.
And light flakes the golden clouds above all;
West is Mike and Susie,
West is where I love.

There we shall spend our final days of our lives;
tell the same old stories: yeah well,
at least we tried.
Into the West, smiles on our faces, we'll go;
oh, yes, and our apologies to those
who'll never really know the way.

We're refugees, walking away from the life
that we've known and loved;
nothing to do or say, nowhere to stay;
now we are alone.
We're refugees, carrying all we own
in brown bags, tied up with string;
nothing to think, it doesn't mean a thing,
but we'll be happy on our own.
West is Mike and Susie;
West is where I love,
West is refugees' home.


The Boat of Millions of Years

Horus, the son of Isis, lay in the marshes of Buto,
poisoned by Set.
She called out to the High God Ra to kill this evil,
so that her son may live yet;
casting aside her present fears, she called out
on the boat of millions of years....
Ra came and saw, and stopped the sun until he had
cured the life of the innocent.

Horus the Good lived in the North,
in lands of fertility and beauty;
But Set stayed in the hard desert,
to him belonged all drought and perversity. While he sheds his tears beneath
the boat of millions of years.
He fights to kill the Hawk,
bearing with him evil and darkness;
but Horus lives with the Sun.

Forever the battle rages, evil tries
to kill the innocent baby,
and only Osiris, the Lord of the Dead,
can eventually save it.
So we must cast aside our future fears
and call out on the boat of millions of years:
the God of Love is on our side, and with him
we shall not die - there's life in the Sun!
Only in violence is the cause lost;
in peace, grey Set can't kill our baby of love.


Lemmings (including Cog)

I stood alone upon the highest cliff-top,
looked down, around, and all that I could see
were those that I would dearly love to share with
crashing on quite blindly to the sea...
I tried to ask what game this was,
but knew I might not play it:
the voice, as one, as no-one, came to me...

'We have looked upon the heroes
and they are found wanting;
we have looked hard across the land,
but we can see no dawn;
we have now dared to sear the sky,
but we are still bleeding;
we are drawing near to the cliffs,
now we can hear the call.

The clouds are piled in mountain-shapes,
there is no escape except to go forward.
Don't ask us for an answer now,
it's far too late to bow to that convention.
What course is there left but to die?

We have looked upon the High Kings,
found them less than mortals:
their names are dust before the just
march of our young, new law.
Minds stumbling strong, we hurtle on
into the dark portal;
No-one can halt our final vault
into the unknown maw.

And as the Elders beat their brows
they know that it's really far
too late now to stop us.
For if the sky is seeded death
what is the point in catching breath? - Expel it.
What cause is there left but to die
in searching of something we're not quite sure of?

What cause is there left but to die?
... I really don't know why ...

I know our ends may be soon
but why do you make them sooner?
Time may finally prove
only the living move her and
no life lies in the quicksand.

Yes, I know it's
Out of control, out of control:
Greasy machinery slides on the rails,
Young minds and bodies on steel spokes impaled...
Cogs tearing bones, cogs tearing bones;
Iron-throated monsters are forcing the screams,
Mind and machinery box-press the dreams...

... but there still is time ...

Cowards are they who run today,
the fight is beginning...
no war with knives, fight with our lives,
lemmings can teach nothing;
death offers no hope, we must grope
for the unknown answer:
unite our blood, abate the flood,
avert the disaster...

There's other ways than screaming in the mob:
that makes us merely cogs of hatred.
Look to the why and where we are,
look to yourselves and the stars and in the end
What choice is there left but to live
in the hope of saving
our children's children's little ones?

What choice is there left but to live?
to save the little ones?

What choice is there left but to try?


W.

Life is an endless succession of waves...
you're happy/you're sad,
and you don't appreciate the good times
until you're in the bad:
you wake up one morning... w...
and you're twice as unhappy as you've ever
been before in your life.

You wake up, go to the window and see smoke
billowing across the lawn.
You pick your feet up, drag yourself downstairs
and you're gone....

You wake up, look to your left but you see
no reassuring head.
You stay in bed all day;
at six o'clock you realise you're dead.


Arrow

Stub towers in the distance, riders the blasted moor
against the horizon
Fickle promises of treaty, fatal harbingers of war,
futile horisons
swirl as one in this flight, this mad chase,
this surge across the marshy mud landscape
until the meaning is forgotten.
Hood masks the eager face, skin stretched
and sallow,
headlong into the chilling night, as swift
as any arrow.

Feet against the flagstones, fingers scrabbling
at the lock,
craving protection.
'Sanctuary!' croaks a voice,
half-strangled by the shock
of its rejection.
Shot the bolt in the wall, rusted the key;
now the echoes of all frightfull memory
intrude in the silence.
What a crawl against the slope -
dark loom the gallows
One touch to the chapel door,
how swiftly comes the arrow.

"Compassion" you plead, as though
they kept it in a box
- that's long since been empty.
I'd like to help you somehow,
but I'm in the self-same spot:
my condition exempts me.
We are all on the run on our knees;
the sundial draws a line upon eternity
across every number.
How long the time seems, how dark the shadow,
how straight the eagle flies,
how straight towards his arrow.
How long the night is -
why is this passage so narrow?
How strange my body feels,
impaled upon the arrow.


La Rossa

Lacking sleep and food and vision,
here I am again, encamped upon your floor,
craving sanctuary and nourishment,
encouragement and sanctity and more.
The streets seemed very crowded,
I put on my bravest guise -
I know you know that I am acting,
I can see it in your eyes.
In the harsh light of freedom I know
that I cannot deny that I have wasted time,
have frittered it away in idle boasts
of my freedom and fidelity
when simpler words would have profited me most...
...it isn't enough in the end,
when I'm looking for hope.
Though the organ monkey screams
as the pipes begin to spit
still he'll go through the dance routines
just as long as he thinks they'll fit,
just as long as he knows that it's dance,
smile - or quit.

Like the monkey I dance to a strange tune:
when all of these years I've longed to lie with you,
I've bogged myself down in the web of talk,
quack philosophy and sophistry -
at physciality I've always baulked,
like the man in the chair who believes it's
beyond him to walk.
I've been hiding behind words,
fearing a deeper flame exists,
faintly aware of the passage
of opportunities I have missed.

But the nearness and the smell of you,
La Rossa from head to toe....
I don't know what I'm telling you,
but I think you ought to know:
soon the dam wall will break,
soon the water will flow.
Though the organ-monkey groans
as the organ-grinder plays
he's hoping, at the most,
for an end to his dancing days...
still he hops up and down on his perch
in the usual jerky way.
Though this might mean an end to all friendship,
there's something I'm working up to say.

Think of me what you will:
I know that you think you feel my pain -
no matter if that's just the surface.
If we made love now would that change all that ahs gone before?
Of course it would, there's no way
it could ever be the same...
one more line crossed,
one more mystery explained.
Now I need more than just words,
though the options are plain
that lead from all momentary action.
If we make love now it will change all
that is yet to be...
never could we agree in the same way again.
One more world lost, one more heaven gained.

La Rossa, you kow me,
you read me as though I am glass;
though I know it
there's no way in which I can pass -
though it means that you'll finish my story
at last I'd trade all the clever talk,
the joking, the smoking and the quips, all the midnight conversations, all the friendship,
all the words and all the trips
for the warmth of your body,
the more vivid touch of your lips.

All bridges burning behind me,
all safety beyond reach:
the monkey feels his chains out blindly,
only to find himself released.
Take me, take me now and hold me deep
inside your ocean body,
wash me as some flotsam to the shore,
there leave me lying evermore!
Drown me, drown me now and hold me down
before your naked hunger,
burn me at the altar of the night--
give me life!


Ship of Fools

The captain's in a coma, the lieutenant's on a drunk;
the owner's in his cabin with his special friend,
the monk;
the midget's on the bridge, dispensing platitudes
and junk -
those wild and special places,
those strange and dangerous places,
those sad, sweet faces,
it's a Ship of Fools.

The nurse in black seamed stockings, she's already on patrol
for fake fur starlets panicked by the watering-hole;
everybody's waiting for the drama to unfold
in those cold and treasured places,
those old and degenerate places;
those posed, posed, empty faces
it's a Ship of Fools.

Run, rabbit, run, you're the only one
that can do it;
turn, baby, turn, there's a ring of fire
and you've got to go through it.
Fun, baby, fun, when the sands have run
to the limit
turn, baby, turn, there's a ring of fire
and you're in it.

Looking for logic and adventure
down the dark end of the street,
open city, open season, open lips that gleam so sweet
offer kisses like piranhas
to the soft flesh of your feet,
and any man's poison is every man's meat
in those mad and special places,
those sad and desparate places,
those sad, sweet soul embraces,
it's a Ship of Fools
Those strange and special places
those wild and dangerous places,
those dead, dead, dead faces....
It's a Ship of Fools;
no rules.

Medley: Parts of A Plague if Lighthoesekeepers and The Sleepwalkers

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