Thanks for the tips. Would you believe I already listened to Motor Bike in Afrika and Nadir's Last Chance last night! You can definitely understand Johnny Lydon's admiration. Still, even now, in these anything goes times (sic), the prospect of sitting down to listen to PH must fill non-believers with dread. There never will be anyone like him, will there? Anyway I'm going back to the lyrics to try and get a better handle on his oeuvre but only on vinyl please :) He deserves that surely?mcq wrote:Simply put, Silent Corner and In Camera are indispensable and remain cornerstones of the Hammill canon. The Future Now is superb and rather different in its way from the classic Over (released the previous year). It's one of his most adventurous albums (Mediaeval and A Motorbike in Afrika in particular), and really shows how hungry he was to work with synthesisers and drum machines. The Mousetrap is one of his most underrated songs, and one of his best (in my opinion). The stinging vitriol of Energy Vampires is also a standout. And the title track is a wonderfully bracing statement of intent, which receives a fine performance here, but the classic recording is on the live album, The Margin. Ph7 follows on from The Future Now and forms part of a trilogy with A Black Box. It must be said, though, that the live versions I've heard (whether on official releases or bootlegs) surpass the studio versions, but Hammill is in his natural environment in concert, and has given us some genuinely unhinged moments onstage over the years. Nadir's Big Chance is an interesting album. The wonderful elemental fire of the title track, Open Your Eyes and Nobody's Business were a profound influence on John Lydon who, during a 1977 radio interview, expressed his admiratioHn and respect for the man.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZdtFHLT8 ... ure=relmfu
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PdJ1mtXbtls
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzHCOfsy5o4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKoP19WHcFA
At least The Mousetrap is easy to understand :) Stunning!
After all is said and done,
Not very much will have been either way:
I'm a chronicler of action,
I'm an actor in the play.
I know the lines I have to speak,
I know that I won't ever quit, corpse, or dry,
But the performance gets so pointless
And the days just drift on by.
Every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar
In the third act of this twenty-ninth year of the show
I'm aware of the latest leading lady and get mad at her...
It's perfunctory, but why she'll never know.
When I began I had my hopes,
Believed that I could be a leading light of the stage,
But now I've stunned myself to silence,
Exhausted all my inner rage,
Extinguished all my joy and violence,
Trapped all my feelings in a cage.
And every time that I go to turn the pages of the calendar
I can see that I'm not really going anywhere;
All these years I have skirted round experience like a scavenger.
Can I really feel? I wonder if I dare?
At the end of the run, will there be anyone who cares?
And behind the actor's pose, heaven knows
If there's anyone left in there.