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Lyrics by William Butler
Yeats...
"The Stolen Child" has always been one of
my favourite pieces of poetry by the great Irish visionary,
William Butler Yeats. Evidently, he had a profound understanding
of the traditional faery lore he collected, as the beings
in this poem are far from the insipid, child-like "flower
fairies" depicted by so many Victorian artists. These faeries
are powerful, seductive - and clearly do not share human emotions,
though they may play upon them! This melodic setting for the
refrain of the poem came to me suddenly and forcefully - perhaps
whispered in my ear? (Cheryl)...
Come away, O, human
child!
To the woods and
waters wild,
With a fairy, hand
in hand,
For the world's more
full of weeping
than you can understand
Some brief thoughts
about La Feé Verte...In addition to being a song about absinthe,
La Feé Verte (the Green Fairy) continues the fairy
theme from the Stolen Child. Just as the Fairy Folk steal
away children to Fairyland, a world that seems to us composed
of dreams and illusion, the Green Fairy in absinthe calls
to the innocent in us to take us away to a world where the
edges are not as clearly defined, pain and loss are not felt
as deeply and and your troubles are left behind.(Frank)...
Would that we could visit fin
de siecle Paris and decadently sip absinthe in a cafe, letting
it carry us away from the mundane world. As Oscar Wilde noted,
"A glass of absinthe is as poetical as anything in the world.".
It is not surprising that absinthe was depicted as a green
faerywoman, as they are traditionally unpredictable and dangerous,
yet unbelievably appealing temptresses. What a perfect personification
of the much maligned Belle Epoch beverage which inspired many
otherworldly dreams & visions (and still does so today, though
in a somewhat less potent form). (Cheryl)...
Come, embrace La
Feé Verte - she's everywhere
Glowing in the glass...if
you dare
Sinuously swaying
in the air
Always out of reach,
she glimmers near
Come, embrace La
Feé Verte
Absinthe tinted dreams
Thoughts are adrift
in a sea of green
Wormwood underneath
Sweetness a lure,
hides a bite that's keen
La Feé Verte
La Feé Verte
Come, embrace La
Feé Verte - she's everywhere...
Absinthe in your
veins
You drift away from
your life's debris
Cloudy in the glass
Yet with a sip, clearly
you can see
La Feé Verte
La Feé Verte
This piece is meant to evoke
the image of walking along an Andean mountain range, aware
of the desolate cold and hearing a sound that seems like the
wail of a child. Unlike the call to Fairy in the previous
songs, this is the sound of the children sacrificed to the
mountain gods of the Andean peoples, calling to anyone who
will hear them.The most beautiful children were chosen, which
was a great honor to their families. They were led in a ceremony
to the mountain peaks, given a drink which contained a drug
that would put them to sleep, then buried alive (though some
were also killed before the ceremony ended). There are echoes
here of a far more ancient tradition of Sleepers within the
land. These are people, usually priests, priestesses or sacred
kings who voluntarily accepted a ritual death to enter into
the earth at a sacred place where they act as a contact for
future generations and as an interface to otherworldly powers
within the body of the planet.(Frank)...
The bodies of quite a few of these buried
children have been found and, of course, excavated and subjected
to scientific scrutiny or public display. Sadly, the deeper
meaning of the ritual had probably been lost by the time most
of these boys and girls were sacrificed, and now they have
been taken from their icy graves forever. This poignant piece
of music gives them their voices back for a brief moment -
to lament their fates, or perhaps to call to their gods.(Cheryl)...
The story of Merlin has many
fascinating aspects to it. This song deals with his 'end'.
Many have written how he was tricked by the evil temptress
Nimue (or Vivien, or Morgana, depending on the story) into
teaching her all his magic, as he was besotted with her. When
she felt she finally had learned all she needed, she trapped
him forever within a great oak (or a cave within the earth,
again depending on the source). Again, there are echoes of
the Sleeper within the land. Of course, both Arthur and Merlin
are said to be asleep and will return in the time of England's
greatest need. This song looks at it from Nimue's perspective
and presents a slightly different slant.(Frank)...
Tennyson, in particular,
popularized the "evil" aspect of Vivien, who, regardless of
which name she is called, is connected to the Lady of the
Lake and as such is a sort of otherworldly being. The marvelous
painting by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, "The Beguiling of Merlin",
seems to show that this arrangement is far from one-sided,
as his Merlin is not at all an aged and almost impotent wizard
held in thrall, but looks knowingly at at the studious Nimue
as she boldly meets his intense gaze. Too often it is true
that we must be careful what we ask for...and such is the
case (to my mind) with Merlin (or Emrys) and Nimue. (Cheryl)...
They say you are
enthralled
and enchanted too
But all I know of
charms
I learned in full
from you
You followed on my
heels
and always begged
for more
I asked you in return
to help me unlock
a door
We made a pact
Somehow now I am
blamed
You wanted all
and I shall not be
shamed
The night in your
hair
tangled in tendrils
there
You chose - unfettered
Forever lovers
Forever we're lovers
Entwined lovers
Men know me as Nimue
and may curse my
name
for what I did to
you
though you called
'til I came
Great Emrys - with
your pride
but still, you felt
a lack
Forever seeking love
until love sought
you back
We made a pact
Somehow now I'm to
blame
You knew the rules
when you joined in
this game
The night in your
hair
tangled in tendrils
there
You chose - unfettered
Forever lovers
Forever we're lovers
Entwined lovers
As there are no lyrics, just close your eyes
and let the pictures come. This is a short movie for your
ears.(Frank)...
For those who appreciate the tales told to
the original dreamchild by the Rev. Charles Dodgson, AKA Lewis
Carroll, the title should be familiar. (Cheryl)...
I Feél I was truly "faery
led" to write this one. The relentlessly hypnotic & somewhat
disturbing harp part and the eerie & ethereal melody & countermelody
had already come into being, as had Frank's weird & ominous
opening section on the VG-8, and it was clear to me that
this was a song about a Leanan-Sidhe, or faery mistress.
Traditionally in Ireland, she is the beautiful faery woman
who inspires poetic greatness, but drains and exhausts her
chosen one 'til she leads him, siren-like, to an untimely
death and an early grave. However, the lyrical approach
was still unclear...until I was in a bookstore and felt
driven to walk the full length of the sales floor and then
to put my hand on and pull out a volume called "After the
Funeral: The Posthumous Aventures of Famous Corpses" by
Edwin Murphy (a charmingly morbid little tome!). The reason
for finding the book soon became clear, as one chapter discussed
the fate of the young English Romantic poet Percy Bysshe
Shelley after his demise and was entitled "How Shelley Gave
His Heart to Mary" (this being a literal and not a figurative
gift - after his body was burned, we are told that his heart
survived and was duly presented to his widow, who kept it
in her desk). One cannot avoid then thinking of Lord Byron
and John Keats, who both burned too brightly to live long;
these three great poets were surely lovers of the same seductive
mistress - the Leanan-Sidhe. My thanks for the otherwordly
guidance in finding that book...(Cheryl)...
Bereft, with no muse
what would you hear
or see
Poets all long for
the Leanan-Sidhe
Keats and Lord Byron
Both beckoned by
me
And Shelley, 'til
he
was called by the
sea
All sought for me
Their Leanan-Sidhe
Leanan-Sidhe
Give me all your
breath
I fill your lungs
with song
Aflame with my art
you flicker before
long
My call and caress
consume e'en the
strong
My voice in your
ear
Succumb, you belong
Succumb, you belong
You belong
Shelley's burnt shell
lifeless near the
tide
His heart, still
whole
hidden for his bride
His soul hungered
for me
His Leanan-Sidhe
Leanan-Sidhe
Again, there are no words. The idea came
from the title. What would it sound like if the box Pandora
opened was a music box. To me, it's like a Tim Burton/Danny
Elfman take on Clive Barker's Hellraiser box. (Frank)...
I can hardly improve upon the above apt description.
However, I will say that the "winding sounds" in this piece
come from my very dear, departed mother's broken music box,
which is evidently haunted. Though it normally doesn't function
at all, it has been known to play at length after members
of my family have died, then to lapse into its accustomed
silence again. Clearly, it is the Bean-Sidhe (banshee) of
music boxes, though it keens after the deaths and not before.
It seemed appropriate to use it for this rather nightmarish
little piece. (Cheryl)...
This is one of my favorite
cuts on the whole CD. I love the way it came out. (Frank)...
This is sort of a sequel thematically
to "Outside the Window" on our first cd - something spectral
lingers, and the longing is there to make contact, regardless
of the consequences. As we learned from a certain Coppola
film, "love never dies". (Cheryl)...
I sense someone watching
me
Though there's no
one, nothing there
Phantom fingers brush
my neck
Breathless sighs
stir my hair
Your eyes
Following me
Your eyes
Unseen, they see
me
In the corner of
my eye
Restless motion,
formless light
And whatever you
may be
You are with me every
night
Your eyes
Following me
Your eyes
Won't let me be
All alone, I'm with
you
Close my eyes - do
I dare?
See me shiver in
my sleep
For I Feél you everywhere
Your eyes
Following me...
This song was originally recorded to be part
of a compilation of Beatle songs done by the Roland VS880
Users Group. It was one of the weirdest cuts on the comp.
We felt then, as now, that if we're going to cover something,
we should make it our own. It also seems true to the spirit
of Lennon and McCartney to do something other than just repeat
their performance. Most people never recognize it as a Beatles
cover. We only wanted to do the "Can You Take Me Back" bit
at the end of Cry Baby Cry, from the White Album, and the
reason we listed it as we did is for copyright purposes. That's
how the song is registered, so that's how we list it. Maybe
some day we'll do some others. (Frank)...
The rather elaborate vocal "fugue" just came
to me as the right approach to this piece, and it was very
enjoyable creating it. The original little ditty by Paul McCartney
was a just a short little snippet, but was such a haunting
melody, it begged to be given a dark ethereal arrangement.(Cheryl)...
This is my tribute to the brilliant but tortured
dancer, Vaslav Nijinsky, who did what no male in ballet had
done before him (and certainly set the stage for those who
would follow, like Nureyev). It deals with his wild spiral
downward from genius to madness, perhaps precipitated by his
love/hate relationship with his mentor and sometime paramour,
the renowned impresario Serge Diaghalev, and by his abrupt
marriage to Romola Pulszky (which estranged him from Serge
and the Ballet Russe). When I speak for Nijinsky, I am paraphrasing
from his diary, written when he was fully in the grips of
his derangement, in which he alternately obsessively discusses
& curses Diaghalev (though he says "I do not want to punish
him") and expresses distant pity for his wife - whom he oddly
never mentions by name. Meanwhile, he speaks of himself in
the third person as "a clown of God", and says that his "soul
is weeping". The song suite opens with a sole, flute-like
vocal (inspired by my favourite of his ballets, set to Debussy's
"Prelude a l'apres-midi d'un faune" in 1912), and builds orchestrally
to its ultimate chaotic conclusion, with Vaslav trapped by
and struggling with the voices and sounds in his head. This
piece is entirely performed by me, with vocals (including
improvised spoken word), harp & bass. (Cheryl)...
No deep meaning here. This was originally
a loop I was experimenting with, Cheryl liked it, and we developed
it to what we have here. Close your eyes and see what processes
in your imagination. (Frank)
A visual inspiration for me for my part of
this composition was Scottish painter John Duncan's "Masque
of Love", a print of which hangs in the control room of Moonpool
Studios. Our artist, Wendy Kaye Greenblatt, commented that
the painting is disturbing because its parade of characters,
(humans, gods, animals & faery beings), all "appear to be
dead".(Cheryl)...
An accounting of Anne Boleyn's
last day alive, from her own perspective. I wanted to get
up at five AM early in May to record the sounds of the birds
in our yard for the opening, but I didn't manage to get it
done until August. So much for authenticity! Special thanks
to the birds who added their bit and especially the Raven
who chimed in in the second verse. (Frank)
As a child I was always particularly
drawn to the glamourous rise and ignominious fall of Anne
Boleyn (who was quite certainly "framed" when she became undesirable
to her insatitable husband, the infamous Henry VIII). There
are actual quotes from her in these lyrics, things said as
she nervously chattered to her captors and to certain "planted"
spies during her final captivity (which ironically was in
the same building and, indeed, the very rooms at the Tower
that she stayed in before her coronation). These phrases of
hers include: "I have but a slender neck" (she supposedly
encircled her neck with her delicate hands upon saying this,
and laughed somewhat hysterically) and "I thought to be past
my pain" (said when her execution was delayed for a day).
Indeed, she apparently also commented on how green it was
during the last May she would ever see.(Cheryl)
Once I knew I had
transgressed
it was just a matter
of time
Would the child had
been alive
for my failure was
a crime
Once you were a man
obsessed
and you wagered all
for me
Since our son refused
to come
you just long now
to be free
The blade is sharp
The swordsman keen
My final May is so
green
Tomorrow calls -
I must be gone
You will remarry
anon
There can be no more
delay
for the block thirsts
for my blood
I thought to be past
my pain
I am ready, by the
rood
Once your pardon
seemed at hand
Now I know you wish
me gone
I have but a slender
neck
and shall not see
a new dawn
The blade is sharp.
No particular story inspired this,
just the idea of something huge coming through the forest,
destroying things in its path and moving on. Let your imagination
run away with it. (Frank)
Actually, a VERY specific work of literature
inspired my part of this piece, as to me those bellowing VG-8
sounds evoked only one infamous mythical beast: "The Jabberwock,
with eyes of flame,came whiffling through the tulgey wood,/And
burbled as it came...". My thanks to the Rev. Dodgson again.
Frank was somewhat startled when, improvising whilst recording,
I suddenly belted out the rather dramatic operatic ending
(following my considerably quieter "hissed" whispers!). (Cheryl)...
A wordless piece dedicated to all those friends
we have lost. In particular, Lorry Doll, Joe Pope and Richard
Grandfield, who died while we were recording this CD. And
of course to all those who passed away before. (Frank)...
When singing this, I also think of my extraordinarly
wonderful, loving & supportive parents, Edwin L. and Elizabeth
L. ("Betty") Wanner, whom I will always mourn; and our beloved
cats, Marzipan and Bandersnatch, who are also sorely missed
but forever with us in ash form (and in spirit, too). (Cheryl)...
This is the only song on the CD done
in full rock band mode, many thanks to Shawn Marquis of sabot
for his brilliant drumming. It also gave me a chance to be
a rock guitar player again and just make a gloriously noisy
solo. I am thankful for these small things in life. And I
love the whole mood. (Frank)
A celebration of the night,
these lyrics came through a very productive bout of insomnia
(the words to "Nimue", "Your Eyes" and "The Blade" were written
in those same wee hours). I had heard my melody long since
(as is often the case - my melodies are usually created first,
and the vowel sounds I am singing tend to solidify in time
into words). (Cheryl)...
In the twilight,
when the veil
between the worlds
is growing thin
You can sense the
waning
and the death throes
of the day
The curtain of the
dark is drawn across
the sickly light
The hectic glow recedes
and fades, and
daylight's gone away
Alone in the dark,
I venture forth
and fumble for a
light
Motionless, without
a sound
I revel in the night
In the jeweled velvet
of the sky
the starlight tells
a tale
'Til mist falls to
cover all
to comfort and conceal
Mundane day has passed
away
and will it come
again?
For the night o'ertakes
my soul
'til only it seems
real
Alone in the dark
I venture forth
and need not seek
a light
Sleep deprived, but
filled with life
I revel in the night
In the twilight,
when the veil
between the worlds
is growing thin
You can sense the
waning
and the death throes
of the day
Mundane day has passed
away
and will it come
again?
For the night o'ertakes
my soul
'til only it seems
real
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