Trollheart

With his new band lineup established, Rory was back in the studio before Christmas to record what would be his fourth album, and one from which many of the tracks would go on to become minor classics and requested live songs. During this period Rory would also somehow fit in a tour of the USA, Canada, and Europe --- twice! Did the man have an army of clones? And of course he always made certain to tour his beloved native country, including Northern Ireland, even at the height of "The Troubles", when few if any bands from the south would venture north across the border. This dedication to his fans, bighearted bravery and a refusal to allow politics --- or even the risk of his own safety --- to affect his live schedule increased his army of admirers and solidified the almost messianic love those who already followed him lavished on him. Never a man to boast or brag, Rory shrugged his shoulders when asked about such things and replied that he just wanted to play, and see his fans. It really was as simple as that.

Even when, two years later, the popular Miami Showband were gunned down and killed near the border, and tensions between north and south reached breaking point, when no-one from the Republic would play in the Six Counties, Rory would buck the trend and continue his practice of playing venues like the King's Hall and Ulster University, almost oblivious to the danger, as if it had nothing to do with him. Perhaps inside he was worried, but if so he never showed it, and his fierce determination not to be scared out of playing the north made him a local and national hero.

Tattoo --- Rory Gallagher ---- 1973 (Polydor)


Building on the somewhat fuller sound of tracks like "Daughter of the Everglades", the title track --- well, sort of: it's called "Tattoo'd lady", but as close to a title track as you're going to get here --- starts us off in a sort of mid-paced tempo, definitely more guitar driven this time, though Lou Martin's piano still makes its presence felt, but Rory's firing up the Strat and letting it have its head. Martin's organ is let off the leash however for another song that would become a big favourite, "Cradle rock", which, er, rocks along at a great pace, Rory adding in a good dose of the ol' harmonica for effect. Not hard to see how this became a live favourite! Rory slips on the acoustic then for "20:20 vision", with Lou adding the piano lines, and some more harmonica finds its very welcome way into the tune.Gerry threads a great walking, almost swaggering bassline through the song, and it's a real swinger.

Sounding almost like the opening to "Grange Hill" (anyone remember it?) "They don't make them like you anymore" is another rocker, with a sort of lounge/cabaret feel to it, some fast piano and another great jazzy bassline from Gerry --- yeah, I could hear this in some upmarket club as the champagne glasses clink and people talk in the background. Sort of. "Livin' like a trucker" then is a harder, more stripped-down song, with some talkbox guitar from Rory and a funky rhythm, while "Sleep on a clothesline" has a twelve-bar blues beat that Status Quo would be proud of. Plenty of honkytonk piano and squealing guitar, then like a lone gunman riding into town it's Rory's Strat that leads the way on "Who's that coming?", joined shortly by bass and drums with plenty of slide and harmonica getting in on the act, and although the song is in fairness a little repetitive, there's something about it that makes its seven minute run not seem stretched too far. Great piano solo by Lou Martin helps, certainly, but I think it's kind of more the energy and just simple fun of the song that defies you to get bored of it. In fact, I'd probably listen to a couple more minutes of it!

Another big fan favourite then in "A million miles away", and another long song, the second on the album over seven minutes, it's a blues slowburner with a lot of soul and a sense of homesickness that translated really well to the live stage. This is the only track to feature Rory on his sax again, and I must say for once it actually works well here, adding to the sense of tension and loss in the song. I think I would have preferred the album to have ended on such a strong, powerful and later classic song, but there's one more to go, and it's "Admit it", which I will admit, is not that great an ender. It's not bad but you know... Interestingly, on this album Lou Martin is credited with also playing accordion, but I can't hear it anywhere. I guess it's there somewhere, but it just doesn't stand out to me.

TRACKLISTING

1. Tattoo'd lady
2. Cradle rock
3. 20:20 vision
4. They don't make them like you anymore
5. Livin' like a trucker
6. Sleep on a clothesline
7. Who's that coming
8. A million miles away
9. Admit it

Irish Tour '74 --- Rory Gallagher --- 1974 (Polydor)

Acknowledged as one of the finest and most honest live albums by a rock artiste, this album shows Rory's determination to tour Ireland during the troubled times of the mid-seventies, when few bands would even contemplate crossing the border into Northern Ireland. Rory played Dublin, Cork and Belfast, and this album is a testament to how his audience and his fans rewarded his dedication to them, and, it has to be said, his bravery in facing what was a very turbulent time in Ireland with the stoicism and everyman courage that coloured his entire career.

The album is made up of half material from his previous albums, three covers and one song that resulted from a jam session, and ends with a tiny little instrumental. "Cradle rock" starts us off, as it would many of his shows, and although the announcer again gets his name wrong, calling him Galla-ger instead of Galla-her, the crowd reacts with passion and he's obviously seen as a folk hero, especially in Belfast, who at the time would have been starved of acts to play in Ulster Hall. A version of Muddy Waters's "I wonder who" is next, after Rory has introduced the band. It's a real opportunity for him to pay homage to his heroes and also to show what he can really do on that beat-up old Stratocaster! A great organ solo too from Lou Martin, then we're into "Tattoo'd lady", another song that would become a favourite at live shows.

Another cover then, in J.B. Hutto's "Too much alcohol", which goes down really well with the (probably slightly pissed anyway) crowd, then he keeps the tributes going with Tony Joe White's "As the crow flies", with some fine individual skill on the Strat, playing it almost like a banjo at times. Rory also breaks out the harmonica, which fits in really well with the kind of folk/bluegrass feel of the song. It's Rory originals though from this point on, with the immense "A million miles away" getting us started, which Rory introduces as "a new song". Well, given that "Tattoo" was only released in November of 1973 and this tour took place in January of '74, I guess not too many people would have had the chance to have heard it, so yeah, from that point of view it could be seen as a new song.

Rory extends the song by about three minutes in this live performance, and it's a joy to hear. Martin plays his usual flawless part, and it really goes down well with the crowd. Ratcheting the tempo right back up then with "Walk on hot coals", another extended version (seriously extended: an extra four minutes compared to the version on "Blueprint"!) --- okay, let's be honest: it's overstretched but you can forgive that when it's live. I remember attending a Rory gig once where he "finished" a song about six times, jumping up and down with his Strat and each time as what we took to be the last chords were hit, running off into another verse or chorus. It's showmanship, it's entertainment, and you expect it at the gigs. Nobody wants to go to a concert and hear the songs played the way they are on their albums: why go if that were the case? What would be the point?

With that in mind, a ten-minute version of "Who's that comin'?" (original length just over seven) is perfectly acceptable, and to be honest, the more Rory you could have the better. No-one ever wanted his concerts to end, I'm sure, and like Springsteen at his height, Rory gave his all every gig, playing for two, sometimes three hours, and nobody complained. Rory crammed everything into his live performances, from his music to his personality and from his talent to his very soul, and I cannot believe anyone ever went home from any of his gigs feeling anything other than exhausted and satisfied.

As indeed are these guys as they chant "Nice one Rory, nice one son! Nice one Rory, let's have another one!" And he obliges, coming back for the encore with the jamfest "Back on my stompin' ground (After hours)" which I don't think is available on any other album, so those lucky people got a brand new song there that night in January seventy-four. And that's it, apart from a little fifties-style instrumental of less than a minute. A storming gig no doubt and if you were lucky enough to have been there be thankful. I did get to see Rory live as I say (I touched his boot!) so certainly consider myself blessed. This album has rightly gone down as one of his best live performances and taken its place among the live albums you must hear before you die.

TRACKLISTING

1. Cradle rock
2. I wonder who (gonna be your sweet man now)
3. Tattoo'd lady
4. Too much alcohol
5. As the crow flies
6. A million miles away
7. Walk on hot coals
8. Who's that comin'?
9. Back on my stompin' ground (After hours)
10. Maritime

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PoorOldPo

Just....YES!

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The Easter Rising, 1916

The last straw: eight hundred years of foreign occupation

The Tudors, the Normans, Cromwell: all had invaded Ireland in its past and subjugated its people, with varying degrees of success down the centuries, but Ireland had been a fiercely independent nation, an island in the most literal sense, with its own language and beliefs and its own ruling classes, and an almost fanatical determination to resist conquest. Of course, this resistance was complicated and diluted down through history due to the everpresent rivalry of opposing factions, so that when the Irish were not fighting the English or some other invader they were invariably fighting among themselves. It's no way to establish a stable government.

In 1169 a loosely-affiiliated band of Norman knights landed in Ireland, with the blessing of the pope of the time, who wished the then-pagan island civilised and, more importantly, to levy taxes on Ireland. He then granted permission to King Henry II of England to assert his dominion over Ireland. In typical Irish fashion, this invasion was sponsored by an exiled Irish prince, Diarmuid of Leinster, who could only see as far as regaining his own throne, and was prepared to sell his country out to the invaders as the price of that restoration of power. This would happen a lot throughout Irish history, not just with the English but with the French, Scottish, Spanish ... anyone a disgruntled or out of favour Irish lord could use as a means of regaining his power. We whine and bitch about "the English invaders", but it's sobering to think that we actually invited them here in the first place!

However, as soon as Henry was recalled to England to deal with pressing matters of state, factions arose within both the Irish and Norman camps, and rival groups, knights and kingdoms faced off against each other. Ireland was again at war. In 1495, as a backlash against rising powers within Ireland --- Norman knights who had "gone native" or indeed former kings or high kings of Ireland before the invasion --- the king imposed English statute law on Ireland. This took power from the previously more or less autonomous Irish Parliament, and in 1543 made Ireland a kingdom, thus coming under the direct control of the English monarch. The secession of Henry VIII from the Catholic Church following his difficulties with the pope regarding his wives, meant that English law required Ireland, as a kingdom of England, to practice the protestant religion, with catholicism, the then dominant belief in Ireland, outlawed and its adherents punished. Henry had monasteries and abbeys confiscated, monks priests and abbots slain, and generally sowed the seeds of discontent among his new subjects.

When his successor, Elizabeth I, was declared by the pope to be a heretic and excommunicated, this set the Irish on an even more direct collision course with their English masters. Devoutly catholic since Norman times, the vast majority of the Irish did not want or intend to change religions, and most had remained catholic in secret during Henry's reign. Elizabeth had taken a different tack, allowing people to keep their religion and refusing to impose Protestantism on Ireland. To the catholic Irish then, this proclamation against the person they saw as their main oppressor and overlord, by the head of their faith, God's spokesman on Earth, hardened their resolve and vindicated in their hearts their right, even duty to rebel and overthrow the English. With the enacting of Plantation policy, whereby English settlers were moved to Ireland to colonise and Anglicise it, Irish lords lost their lands and the native population began to feel like they were being squeezed out by the new invaders. This then led to the Irish Rebellion of 1641, under which the country regained its own government, after a fashion, and catholicism thrived until the arrival of Oliver Cromwell in 1649.

"The most hated man in Irish history"

Although revered and feted in England as a reformer and a leader, Cromwell's name is forever spat with disgust and contempt here. His invasion of the country was a brutal affair, and the stories told of the atrocities his armies carried out, while perhaps coloured and embellished a little, seem to be mostly accepted by historians. Cromwell seemed to view the Irish as savages, hardly human at all and nothing more than an impediment to his assuming total control over both Ireland and England in the wake of the English Civil War. Cromwell, a fanatical Puritan, hated the catholic Irish and saw them all as being heretics. He was also incensed by previous massacres carried out by the Irish in the 1641 Rebellion, and determined to make the blasphemers pay for this slaughter.

Cromwell landed in Dublin and quickly overpowered the attackers who had come to prevent him taking Dublin Castle, where the Parliamentarian centre of power was located. With the capital city secured, and with it a port at which to land his army, Cromwell marched on Drogheda where, after defeating the garrison there, he slaughtered everyone, despite surrender being offered. While one of his lieutenants marched to the north to retake Ulster, Cromwell moved on to Wexford and began negotiating terms of surrender, but in the midst of this his troops broke down the city gates and massacred the inhabitants, burning much of the town. Although he did not order the attack, it is pointed out by historians that he didn't reprimand his men for the act afterwards --- was it some sort of medieval "black op", allowing him what we now call plausible deniability? Whatever the truth, the action became a two-edged sword: some towns, fearing the brutality of his New Model Army, surrendered to Cromwell without a fight, whereas for others their resolve was only hardened, seeing that even if they surrendered they were likely to be butchered anyway.

By contrast, Cromwell's treatment of the surrenders of Kilkenny and Carlow was quite the reverse of that of Wexford and Drogheda; he accepted their surrender terms and honoured them, and no massacre took place. This however may have been in recognition that his excessive use of force and lack of mercy previously was having the opposite effect on his enemies. The re-conquest of Ireland took over two years, and in 1652 the resistance of the Irish was finally and decisively broken when Galway was taken. Following this defeat, the rebel Irish waged a campaign of guerilla warfare against the invader, though eventually even this token resistance melted away as the Irish were allowed to depart the country to serve overseas in other wars, as long as they did not take up arms against England or her allies.

During the colonisation of Ireland by Cromwell, Irish catholics were executed en masse, had their lands confiscated or were deported to the West Indies to work as indentured labourers, essentially slaves. His scorched earth policy produced a massive famine in Ireland, and his hatred of and massacres of catholics fuelled the fires of anti-Protestantism in Ireland which continue even to this day.

The Rising

In 1800 the Act of Union finally brought Ireland under the rule of the English sovereign, and the powerbase of the English goverment in Ireland was established in Dublin Castle. Ireland though never accepted English rule, and resisted it through various methods, such as the Home Rule bill (defeated twice), the Land League and the Repeal Association, as well as an outright uprising in 1848, but as World War One took the attention of the British away from Ireland, rebel factions there decided the time was right for another rebellion, one that would this time be successful and bring Ireland her own parliament and self-determination. The outrage at the fact that Irish men would be forcibly conscripted into a war that had nothing to do with them just added fuel to an already raging fire. The leaders of the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) therefore devised a plan which called for two of their number to visit Germany and secure the help of the German army and navy, who would stage a landing on Ireland's west coast. A rising would be planned and executed in Dublin to divert the attention of the British army from the German presence and to pull forces away from responding to it.

The plan however failed, as Sir Roger Casement, an English consul, returning to Ireland on a German U-Boat was arrested and the ship carrying the vital arms shipment was intercepted by the Royal Navy. The date for the Rising though was set and it went ahead as planned on the morning of Easter Monday, April 24. With four key strategic locations being identified for capture, it is the GPO (General Post Office) in O'Connell Street which has gone down in Irish history as the iconic location of the rebels' last stand, and indeed it was their headquarters, though they did abandon it under heavy shelling from the British. Also taken were Jacobs Biscuit Factory, the Four Courts and Liberty Hall, though there were other areas too, such as Saint Stephen's Green public park and Bolands Mill.

Leading the rebels were James Connolly, Padraig Pearse, Eamonn Ceant, Tom Clarke, Sean MacDermott and James Plunkett, the last of whom had travelled with Roger Casement to Germany the previous year. The rebellion was poorly planned: a chance to take Dublin Castle was spurned, as was the opportunity to secure Trinity College, despite both being somewhat lightly guarded. Irish people in the main had not been aware of the Rising and so were taken by surprise and, it is said, treated roughly at some locations including Jacobs and Bolands when they tried to prevent the rebels taking these strategic locations. The fatal undoing of the rebels was their failure to lock down either of the two train stations in Dublin nor the two seaports, which if taken would have denied the British access for the reinforcements they sent as the Rising moved into its second day. By the end of the week, slightly over 1,000 men had increased to nearly 16,000, against a total Irish force of less than two thousand. In many of the areas --- GPO, Jacob's, Boland's, Stephen's Green --- there was little actual combat, as all the British had to do was shell the strongholds or deploy snipers.

"Doomed to failure"

The Easter Rising was over within a week. With heavy casualties on both sides, the Irish rebels were nevertheless easily outgunned and outmanned, and there seems to have been something of a fractured strategy on the part of the rebels. Also, the eternal schisms and arguments between different factions within the IRB led to a weakening of the force that was supposed to rise up, leaving less than two thousand to face the might of the British Army. If indeed they had been intended to, the people did not rise with the rebels; in fact many resented the way they were treated --- some beaten, some shot --- and were unlikely to support them. The GPO, headquarters of the rebellion, was abandoned when the shells landing there set fire to the place, and from their secondary base in Moore Street the rebels could see no way out, and so sued for surrender. On Saturday April 29 Padraig Pearse issued the order to surrender, and the Easter Rising was over.

The reasons for its failure are many, among them the capture of the shipment of German arms being brought to Kerry by Roger Casement, divisions within the leadership, divergent ideas as to what the Rising was about and what its aims were, and what should be done afterwards, and what appears on the surface to have been staggering naivete on the part of the leaders, or commandants of the IRB. Had they secured the train stations and ports then no channel would have existed for the British to ferry in their reinforcements, and the rebellion might have had a much better chance of succeeding. The famous GPO stand appears to have amounted to the leaders holing up in the place and awaiting their fate, as no major offensive was carried out by them, though it's assumed they tried to direct the rest of the Rising from there; mind you, how they communicated I don't know. Also the failure to take Dublin Castle, a fat and waiting target and surely if nothing else a hugely symbolic victory had they achieved it, seems to have been passed up despite the possibility of securing it.

In the end, it would appear that the Easter Rising was badly planned, by men who did not agree on much and that power struggles within the leadership of the IRB led to opportunities slipping by and plans not being properly executed. It's possible that, had all the elements been in place, 1916 would still not have succeeded, but it certainly would have had a better chance than it did.

Aftermath: Legacy and Irish independence

The leaders of the rebellion were all executed by the British. Most if not all of them are now commemorated in street names, many close to where they fought. James Connolly, who had been wounded in the ankle in the battle, had to sit in a chair to be shot. Sir Roger Casement, as the only actual British subject, was tried for high treason and hanged. However, although the Easter Rising was a failure in the immediate sense, the reverberations and repercussions from it continued long on into the next decade. In 1918 the rise of Sinn Fein was almost directly a result of the nationalist feelings awoken by the Rising and more particularly the execution of its leaders. Sinn Fein won 73 seats in the House of Commons but refused to take them in protest, assembling instead in Dublin where in 1919 they formed Dail Eireann, the Irish Parliament which is still today the seat of power in Irish politics, and declaring the creation of the Irish Republic. Thus began the Irish War of Independence, which ended 1921 with a truce and the establishment of the Irish Free State.

Ulster, overwhelmingly Protestant and therefore loyalists to the Crown, sued to be allowed secede from the new State and remain part of the United Kingdom, a boon the King and Parliament in London was only too pleased to grant. This essentially weakened the new Irish Free State, and has ever since remained a bone of bitter contention over the partition of Ireland, as the minority of catholics in what became Northern Ireland felt that they had had no say in the decision, or had been effectively shouted down and shut up. This led to the thirty-year period of sectarian violence and upheaval we refer to as "The Troubles", but that is a story for another day.

What is clear is that without the Easter Rising in 1916, though independence probably would at some point have come for Ireland, it would not have been so soon, and the hand of the British would not have been forced as it was. After the rising, as the smoke cleared so to speak, people began thinking about how they had been treated under British rule, particularly in recent times, and nationalist fervour climbed to a peak, resulting in first the formation and then the victory of Sinn Fein in the General Election of 1918, which itself led by a somewhat circuitous route to the holy grail of Irish independence. Ireland owes, and always will owe, a massive debt to the men who gave their lives for the cause of freedom and independence, and even now, almost a century later, their names are revered in story and song, and their places of honour in Irish history is assured, and unassailable. It's the sort of legacy that led people here recently to ask, in the wake of our ratification of the Treaty of Lisbon which effectively told us to bend over and take whatever Brussels gives us, taking completely away our right to govern ourselves and handing power over to the faceless bureaucrats in Europe, "is this what the lads fought for in 1916?"

A very good question.

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Rory's fans are unanimous in their praise for his honesty, genuinity and simple down-to-earth courtesy to those who put him where he is today. He never lost that everyman touch, and you could, by all (and there are many) accounts expect to run into him in the bar of the club he had just played, having a pint and relaxing, and he would never be above talking to you or shaking your hand, or even, in one case related below, getting you a hotel room! The following accounts are all taken from Barry Barnes' excellent Rory Gallagher site, Sinnerboy, and used with his permission. Barry plays in a Rory tribute band, and you can see excerpts of some of his performances on his site, well worth a look. I haven't noted names, as I have not obtained permission from each individual person to use their accounts.

Note: some of these "just start" as many of them are a little long and set the scene in ways. In these instances I've truncated and abridged the accounts to only reflect the story as it pertains to Rory. Everything is transcribed directly, including any spelling grammatical or punctutation errors.

We went for a drink in a nearby bar, I was driving so it was a quick one...probably 4 or 5, I was young and daft then!!?? So off home we set. We walked past the studio, what timing - who was exiting? Yes, yours truly. I went up very shyly as I respected this man more than any person I'd met, actually no-one to this day has ever come close musically, nor as a person for that matter. I could see he had to be somewhere else, I went for my pocket .. I had paper but no sodding pen, He went back in and got one!!!!! so I have his autograph


I was standing on the sidewalk outside a club in New York (I'm afraid to say I can't remember the name of it) I was about three hours too early for the Rory concert that night but I was determined to take in all the atmosphere I possibly could, I was busy taking fotos of the posters outside the venue when a black sedan started to pull out into the street, the car suddenly veered onto the sidewalk and out of the front passenger seat came Rory Gallagher! There was some vibes coming from inside the car like "Hurry up Rory, we've got to be somewhere" but the man walked straight up to me and said "I hope you enjoy the concert, I can't stop, I've got a radio interview" He shook my hand and jumped right back into the auto which moved on down the street


Anyway I went to the bar to order the drinks, the barman held my gaze and was just about to serve me, when up stands Rory (He was sat in the corner with the band and a few roadies, his brother could have been there as well) anyway the barman went to serve Rory first, but Rory insisted that he serve me first, I insisted that he served Rory, and so it went on, so the barman took it on himself to serve Rory first, a little while later two pints of lager came over and a thumbs up from Rory!!!!! well this made my day as you can imagine, but what impressed me more than anything and I have never forgotten to this day when I got up to leave the pub, to get ready to walk over the road to see him perform, I went over to him to shake his hand, I felt compelled to do this (I don't normally intrude on anyone's space) when I thrust out my hand rather awkwardly to shake his hand he stopped his conversation and rose to his feet to accept my hand, he asked me if I was going to see the show and told me to have a good night, he was really genuine, modest and down to earth, just having a drink like everybody else in the pub, what a star.

The only building next to it was the pub. I was in the pub for about 10 minutes when the man himself, Rory walked in with all of the band members. After a few more minutes they were joined by all of the musicians from the smaller bands too. Rory introduced me to all the other band members and we all drank and had a craic together ‘til closing time.

I then decided to go and try and find a place to stay, as I had no place booked. So I walked up the avenue from the pub to see if I could find a local B&B which would consist of a loft full of hay! As I was walking up the avenue I could hear a car coming up behind me. It was an automatic Mitsubishi, Donal Gallagher was driving the car and Rory was in the passenger seat. When Rory saw me he opened the window of the car & he said to me “Mick, where are you off to?” I said I was looking for somewhere to put my head down and he said, “Why don’t you come back to our hotel?” which was in Cookstown. It was a new hotel built after the old one had been blown up by the IRA. It was a beautiful hotel; I still have the menu and guest book at home!

I drank in the lobby of the hotel with Rory, Donal, and all the other band members from the smaller bands that had played that day. We drank Guinness until 3 in the morning until just Rory, Donal and myself were left. Rory then said to me about 3.30 “We have about 10 or 12 rooms booked for the various bands” so Rory brought me up to a room and said “This is your room, you can stay here tonight at our expense” The room had a big double bed, and a big bathroom with a Jacuzzi! Rory smiled at me and said “Have a nice sleep, see you in the morning” and walked away.

When I got up in the morning there was nobody left……. they were all gone….. and I never got the chance to thank him……

As I was standing alone, a guy came towards me in a plaid shirt, long hair and shall we say possibly a bit tipsy. I had a little panic, so decided to cut him off at the pass by asking him the time. He asked me if I would be OK standing on my own, a very little girl with very big eyes. I thought to myself "Oh no, not another poet!!!" He explained that I was standing outside his Mum's house. I told him that I had a lift in a few minutes and then the car pulled up and he left - The guys were all yelling at me "What did you say to Rory?" I said "Rory Who?"

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Freedom for Nelson Mandela, February 11 1990

With the fall of the Berlin Wall the previous year, the nineties opened with another event I had never expected to see in my lifetime, as former leader of the Africa National Congress (ANC) and political prisoner Nelson Mandela finally walked free from prison after twenty-five years of incarceration for his beliefs. Ostensibly, Mandela had been jailed for his activities with the ANC, which included a bombing campaign against the then-ruling white majority government of P.W. Botha and the Afrikans Party, but in reality he was just too powerful a symbol and too dangerous an opponent to the government of South Africa to be left free.

Mandela's campaign against the government was a direct reaction to the then policy of apartheid, under which blacks had virtually no rights, or as many or few as the white-led government chose to give them. They had no vote, no say in politics and could hold no decent jobs. They were allowed minimal education, and could be arrested at a moment's notice and held without charge almost indefinitely.


When Mandela turned, reluctantly, to violent methods in his attempt to overthrow the government and attain equal rights for black South Africans, he was accused of sedition, sabotage and attempted revolution through arms (all of which were true) and sentenced to life imprisonment in June 1964. His time in prison was not easy: the government believed implicity in the term "hard labour", and Mandela's cell was in a very poor state. As well as this, the warders were of course all white, which added to his discomfort. He was so despised (or feared) that he was not even allowed out of prison on compassionate grounds to be able to attend the funerals of his mother or his son, the latter killed in a car accident.


As time went on though and the world began to change, calls were heard more and more for Mandela's release, though it's telling to note that neither US president Ronald Reagan nor UK Prime Minister the late Margaret Thatcher were among them, both firmly believing Mandela, as a "communist and terrorist", should remain behind bars. However, they were in the minority and the world was getting sick of apartheid, with more and more voices raised in support of freeing Nelson Mandela. In 1985 the South African President, P.W. Botha, offered him a conditional release, but he refused, as part of the conditions were essentially denouncing the ANC. Unrest grew over the following years as Botha cracked down on dissent and instigated a state of emergency, with the ANC stepping up their campaign of resistance. Even Thatcher added her voice to those demanding Mandela's release, but more because of the situation caused by the cessation of investment in South African banks due to a backlash and protest against apartheid than out of any suddenly discovered sense of morality. In Thatcher's world, one word ruled and that was money: put that under threat and everything else became secondary, even her own personal beliefs and opinions. If getting Mandela out of prison was good for business, good for international commerce, then he should be out. Never mind the fact that he had spent over twenty years behind bars in terrible conditions for the crime of trying to achieve a better life for his people and a better future!


As Mandela's seventieth birthday dawned, news was brought to him that his wife, Winnie, had been indicted on charges relating to her operating a criminal gang which used terror and intimidation, including against children, torturing and killing her opponents. He remained however faithful to her until she stood trial and was sentenced to six years, after which he separated from her. In 1989 Botha suffered a stroke and was replaced by F.W de Klerk, who could see that the idea of apartheid had had its day and had no place in the modern world. With the fall of communism South Africa was becoming increasingly politically isolated due to its repressionist policies against blacks, and de Klerk arranged the release of all ANC prisoners, bar Mandela, that year, with the man himself finally walking to freedom a few months later.

Although apartheid did not disappear overnight, strenuous negotiations were entered into and eventually not only did the outdated, outmoded and evil system disappear completely, with South Africa holding its first general election in which blacks could vote, but in 1994 Nelson Mandela was elected the first black president of South Africa.

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Union --- Yes --- 1991 (Arista)


I'm one of that perhaps rare breed who really has only heard and enjoyed "new" Yes, that is to say, albums from "90125" on. I'm not one of those who salivates over "Tales from topographic oceans", "Close to the edge" or "Going for the one" --- in fact, I've heard very little seventies Yes and what I did hear sounded at the time overblown, overlong, self-indulgent and boring. I could of course be completely wrong in that view; perhaps I should take the time to listen to more classic Yes. However as it stands the albums I like are the eighties and nineties ones, and this is one of the latter. The last, in fact, Yes album I listened to before getting "Fly from here", which I have yet to spin.

Regular readers of my journal will know that quite early on I featured the debut --- and indeed, only --- album from Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe, which was seen more or less as a sub-supergroup grown organically out of the parent band. Their only album was a triumph, to me, and I was disappointed there was no more. But "Union" kind of fills the gap, as it features all the ABWH crew as well as the previous members of Yes who were off doing their own thing. In effect, this album was originally meant to be the second release from ABWH, but a thawing of relations between them and Yes resulted in a reconciliation, and they all joined up to play on the album and tour, hence the title. In reality, it was mostly a Yes album, just the one track contributed from the demo sessions for what was to have been the second ABWH album, with the result that this album sounds very little like that one, but it still ranks as one of my favourite Yes records (of those I've heard), yet miles behind both "90125" and "Big generator".

I had always believed "The ladder" followed this, as it was the next Yes album I saw on sale, but apparently there were two more, plus a double live effort in between. I found I was quite disappointed with "The ladder", so really my experience of Yes, album-wise, centres on these four albums, plus the ABWH one. You would think though that with so many people involved --- eight in all --- and surely massive egos on either side not to mention simmering resentments still smouldering like dull coals in a fire that had not quite been extinguished, chaos would have reigned and a very mismatched, hit-and-miss album would have resulted, but no. I have to say this has a really professional sound and is quite cohesive, so much so that you would barely believe that, say, Rick Wakeman was glowering across his multiple banks of keyboards at Trevor Rabin, or that Chris Squire was making unseen obscene gestures at Bill Bruford. It sounds like an album created by one big happy family, even if that was far from the case.

In contrast to what you could generally regard as the last Yes album, the ABWH one, certainly Jon Anderson's last outing prior to this, "Union" opens much more strongly. Whereas "ABWH" started with Wakeman's piano and keys and it was a few minutes before any vocals came in, Anderson leaves us in no doubt that he is back, and back with a bang. The first thing you hear is his powerful crooning of the song title, joined by pounding guitar, skittering keys and crunching drums as "I would have waited forever" opens the album and gets us going. There's something of a harder edge to this than the ABWH effort, perhaps due to Chris Squire's stacatto bass, or indeed the different, more modern guitar work of Trevor Rabin. The famous Yes vocal harmonies are there in abundance, and in many ways this album reminds me more of "Big generator" than "ABWH". Some great guitar work from Rabin indeed, and this leads us into another fast-paced but more crunchy track.

"Shock to the system" comes in on punchy almost Led Zep guitar and a bouncy, echoey drumbeat, a song very much driven on guitar with a great riff running through it and a catchy little hook in the chorus. It slows down near the end for an almost acoustic accompaniment to Anderson's soulful vocal, then takes off again to its powerful conclusion on the back of some fine Wakeman keyboard work. Things slow down then for a Steve Howe showcase on "Masquerade", a little acoustic instrumental that he added to the album at the request of the label, quite a harpischord sound on it, pretty medieval sounding. Then we're off and running again with "Lift me up", one of the highlights on an album that has many. Living up to its title it's a very uplifting, boppy and uptempo song, starting off on sort of popping percussion and wibbly guitar which then powers forward, taking the song into a big progressive rock arpeggio by Rick Wakeman, and it's not until well into the second minute that we hear Anderson's vocal, more impassioned and harder than previously.

A sort of sitar sound is created by one of the guitarists, though I couldn't tell you which one, and this runs through the song as it goes along with a big rolling drumbeat carrying it into the extremely hooky chorus with some superb vocal harmonies. Not as fast as "Shock to the system" or the opener, it also has some lovely violin-like synth near the end, and finishes on a big flourishing arpeggio from Wakeman before fading out on clanging guitar from Rabin.A gentle opening then to "Without hope you cannot start the day", Wakeman's soft piano backing Anderson as he sings gently but with purpose. A sort of gong-like percussion slides along the tune as it slips almost away before coming back with hard guitar and punching drums, almost marching along as the song takes on a whole new shape. More great vocal harmonies as are something of the trademark of Yes, and if this song recalls anything to me it's "Hearts" from "90125". After it fades out we're treated to yet another standout in the amazing "Saving my heart", which almost moves along at the pace of a modern waltz at times, with snatches of a reggae or calypso beat thrown in as well. Not quite "Teakbois" from the "ABWH" album, but there are similarities.

There's another stupendous hook in the chorus of this song, and with music of this quality I have to wonder, as an outsider, why they wrote such long, rambling compositions in the seventies. Still, before any classic Yes fans lynch me, I'll just leave that comment and move on. This is so commercial that it really could have made a great single, and would maybe have been quite successful: I could definitely hear it playing on the radio. Great guitar solo which has to be Trevor Rabin, and we're into the longest track on the album, though diehard Yes fans will sniff and say that seven minutes is not even an introduction to one of their better-known earlier songs I'm sure! "Miracle of life" opens with a big, powerful progressive rock run on the keys and blasting guitars, and truth be told, those classic Yes fans who are even now plotting my downfall will likely recognise this as the sort of song they've been used to hearing from this band. Everything suddenly stops for a close-harmony vocal that would make Queen envious then it takes off again, and we're about two minutes in before it settles into a new groove and Jon Anderson's vocal comes in.

A real mid-paced rocker, it has everything: big guitar solos, great bridge, harmonies and keyboards, and another truly wonderful hook in the chorus. Some great growling bass work from Chris Squire here too, and a powerful ending that sets the seal on yet another standout. A mixture of solid organ and blistering guitar open "Silent talking", with Squire's thick bass getting in on the act too. About halfway through it slows down on the back on Anderson's angelic vocal, with backing vocals a little out of phase behind him and ends on a really nice fade, taking us into a heavier keyboard opening as "The more we live - Let go" gets going, a dramatic, almost ominous sound to it, carried mostly on Wakeman's keys. It's a slow, crunchy pace as the song moves along at a stately walk, and reminds me in places of "The order of the universe" from the "ABWH" album; just a bit, here and there.

In case you don't know, Angkor Wat is a temple in Cambodia, in fact the largest religious building in the world, and also the title of the next track, very much a vehicle for Anderson's vocal delivery, with almost Doors-ish rippling keyboard from Wakeman, sound effects and a murmured spoken passage in some foreign language I don't know (Cambodian?) that recalls Vangelis's "Intergalactic radio station" from the album "Direct. No, you probably won't know it. Very little if any guitar evident, this track is atmospheric and ambient and driven almost entirely by Wakeman and Anderson, almost an exercise in minimalism and abstraction. Nothing really in the way of percussion either, very ambient. In total contrast everything rocks out then for "(Dangerous) Look in the light of what you're searching for", with big dirty guitars and punching drums and almost Art of Noise-style synth from Rick, while for "Holding on" he's right back in control, backing the multi-vocal intro and then Howe's jangling guitars meshing with Rabin's terser one, all coming together to form a fine piece of music. A slower, almost mid-paced track, it's more restrained than most of what has gone before, though the guitarists go a little crazy at the end, which is no bad thing.

And that's almost it. "Evensong" is less than a minute of soft bouncing percussion and keyboard work that sounds like someone dropping a metal ball into a well or something, echoes all over the place, with some grindy, wailing guitar, very short and hardly really deserves the status of a track at all, taking us to the closer, which is "Take the water to the mountain", and finishes the album on a high --- not that it's ever achieved a low point. You may have noticed that I haven't referred to any bad tracks on this album, and the reason is simple: there are none. Even discounting the tiny little instrumental just past, everything here is top drawer. The closer opens on humming, atmospheric keys and a low Anderson vocal that recalls Peter Gabriel at his most, shall we say, rainforest? It's a slowburner, starting gently but with a definite sense of something building, and in the last minute of the only three it runs for the drums burst in, taking with them an African-style chant and chorus as the song soars to the heavens, squealing guitar holding court and booming electronic synth effects finishing the song off with an echoed vocal that recalls the end of "Birthright" from, yes, you guessed it, the "Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, Howe" album.

TRACKLISTING

1. I would have waited forever
2. Shock to the system
3. Masquerade
4. Lift me up
5. Without hope you cannot start the day
6. Saving my heart
7. Miracle of life
8. Silent talking
9. The more we live - let go
10. Angkor Wat
11. Dangerous (Look in the light of what you're searching for)
12. Holding on
13. Evensong
14. Take the water to the mountain

As I said I'm no huge Yes fan, but their later albums really grab me mostly. This I see as the natural progression from the breakup and then reformation of Yes, and there are songs on this album --- most of it really --- which should and maybe have gone down as classics. It's rare to come across an album that has not one bad track, the moreso when it's from a band you're not totally familiar with, and who has a large back catalogue you haven't explored.

So then, in musical terms a perfect union. But was it a permanent one? Sadly no: after the tour to support this album three-quarters of what had been ABWH left the lineup, leaving only the man who has led Yes since the beginning to carry on their legacy, until his medical problems forced him out of the band in 2008, to be replaced by Mystery's Benoit David.

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Scoundrel days --- a-ha --- 1986 (Warner Bros)


I briefly touched upon this, as I did all their albums, when a-ha formed the subject for my second "Taking centre stage" feature way back in 2011, but it's one of their seminal albums, and I always meant to look into it in more depth, which is what I intend to do now. Though the band are now gone, broken up after over twenty-five years of creating great music, they left behind them some incredible albums, and though they will forever be dogged as "that band that did Take on me" there was so much more to them than that one pop song, popular as it was. What a lot of people who don't know them won't, er, know, is that a-ha had some very deep and serious material, and were not really in any way the typical pop or chart band, despite having two number one singles and a slew of other hits. Despite releasing nine studio albums though, their heyday centred around the first three, with their big hits coming from the first two albums, and by 1990, when their fourth was released, they were consigned to the bargain bin of music history, a sad state of affairs and something they did not as a band deserve.

This however comes from their "golden period", when a-ha could really do no wrong. Riding high on the success of "Hunting high and low", their debut and that phenomenally successful hit single, the boys from Oslo came back with an album that far from being a pop followup desperate to cash-in on and capitalise upon the triple platinum status of the debut, comes across as a mature, well-constructed record that just happens to rain hit singles like a typical day in Ireland. It's one of my favourite a-ha albums, only beaten out for top spot by 2005's "Analogue", which I already reviewed. While it's not perfect, it's about as close to it as any a-ha album comes, with only two weak tracks (which could almost be cut to one) and the rest of the songs are so good that they more than compensate for the odd filler.

The album opens with the title track, with a running piano line and synth, then Morten Harkett's voice comes in low but with a sense of urgency as he asks "Was that somebody screaming? / It wasn't me for sure" and there's an ominous sound about the music as it builds, guitar coming in and then hard percussion, then for the chorus it kicks up in tempo and Morton's voice gets stronger and more powerful. I hear a sense of Alex Lifeson in Pal Waaktar's rocky guitar, great heavy drumwork and a lovely piece of orchestral strings with cellos and violins softening but not lessening the tone as the song goes on. It's a powerful opener and ends with a real punch on Harkett's pained vocal and strong synth from Mags Furuholmen, and takes us into "The swing of thing" on bright piano and bouncy bass with a sort of dancy vibe to it. Percussion from Michael Sturgis frames the middle eighth as the keys of Mags take the melody, with Pal's guitar chiming out in an uptempo, poppy manner while Morten's voice rises above it all; one of the most powerful voices in pop music at the time.

Halfway through the whole thing slows down on the back of soft, lush synth from Mags and Morten's voice drops back in tandem, then the rhythm and tempo slowly come back up, the percussion resurging, Pal's guitar stabbing through the melody and injecting a feel of rock back into it, and the big finish then is a joy to hear as Morten's voice gets rawer, more angry as he snaps "What have I done?/ What lies I have told! / I've played games with the ones/ That rescued my soul!" and on a big synth and drum roll the song ends. Drums then kick in one of the hit singles taken from this album, the rocker "I've been losing you" with bops along really well, with a great vocal performance from Morten and some great backing vocals. Quite guitar driven compared to previous tracks, it is one of the rockiest on the album. There's a great build up and then a false ending before the drums hammer back in and the song fades out, perhaps a little unsatisfyingly, it has to be said.

After all that power, we slow right down for the first ballad, and "October" is about as slow and laidback as you can get. Opening on soft wind sounds and distant chiming bells, with a gentle percussion that sounds almost like a distant steam train, it's built on an orchestral-sounding keyboard line from Mags and an almost muttered vocal from Morten, with trumpet and organ sounds meshing in the synth, thumping but almost castanet-style drums. This song demonstrates ably that Harkett can rise to the highest registers, belting out a powerful line, but is equally adept at making his mark with the barest of whispers; truly a unique voice. Some whistling complements the singing and the synthy trumpets as well as Pal's little almost unnoticed guitar touches, and the track ends on an expelled breath and the sound of rushing traffic as we move into another hit single, "Manhattan skyline".

With an almost harpsichordal piano intro and synth backup, it features another understated vocal performance by Harkett until Waaktaar's guitar snarls in, changing the whole thing, powerful percussion thumping in and Mags' synth squeaking almost in alarm as the tension in the song increases. Harkett's voice rises to meet this change, becoming powerful, soulful and lovelorn at once, crying to the wind almost, a man lost but not without hope. The song features a great guitar solo from Pal Waaktaar, and a slow and powerful ending, leading into yet another hit, the bouncy, poppy "Cry wolf", which would become a favourite in discos and clubs across Europe. An almost proggy synth opening soon metamorphoses into a dancy pop song with a great hook, though the chorus could possibly have been thought about a lot more: "Cry wolf/ Oooh!/ Time to worry!" Not for a-ha though, as it became a big hit single for them and raised their profile, although perhaps reinforcing the idea that they wrote all their songs like "Take on me" in certain quarters. There's a deal of progressive rock in Furuholmen's synthwork though, and some stellar drumming.

This is however where the songs begin to disappoint a little, and "We're looking for the whales" is a bit silly, though the melody is nice. A big heavy bass gets us underway and some nice effects, but then the chorus gets just totally poppy and quite throwaway, with a lyric that makes it difficult to know what the song is supposed to be about: "We're looking for / A little bewildered girl/ We're looking for the whales" --- er, yeah. There's not too much to recommend this song really, other than the fact that it's nowhere near as bad as "Maybe maybe". But before that we have a much better song, in the frankly excellent "The weight of the wind", which just screams class. With a fast, almost funky keyboard and bass line, quite new-wave in its sound, reminding me of Depeche Mode or some band like that, it features another low-key vocal from Harkett, with rolling percussion and sprightly keys, a dramatic atmosphere and some great guitar work from Waaktaar.

But we can't unfortunately avoid it forever, and "Maybe maybe" is up next. Sigh. Building on the pop sound of "Cry wolf", and something of the melody from "We're looking for the whales", it's probably the worst track --- hell with that, it is the worst track! --- on the album, and almost embarrassingly bad. It's a real pity, because without it, and if you could see the occasional flashes of brilliance in "We're looking for the whales" and accept it as a "not bad" track, then this could be an album of nothing but high spots, but the reggae-flavoured pop tune just takes the quality down to almost zero. Thankfully it's not long, just over two and a half minutes, with a sub-Genesis eighties keyboard riff and annoying clashing drumming, bit of nice jangly guitar, but it's so different --- and not in a good way --- to the other songs on the album that you'd be forgiven for thinking it was a cover, or written by someone outside the band, but not so.

Luckily the album recovers from this minor bump and finishes in glorious fashion with the dramatic yet gentle ballad "Soft rains of April", with a rolling drumbeat that starts in the distance and then comes up in the mix, dragging with it Mags' sonorous synthesiser melody and joined by Morten's gentle, almost breathy voice, the song moving at a stately pace with a real sense of grandeur. When Morten sings "Is it raining back home? / I'm so alone!" you really feel for him. Great piano solo from Mags, backed with lush synth and then the drums pound back in and Morten's voice takes off much more strongly, wounded and alone, crying out his frustration, and the song ends on his acapella whisper: "Over." Stupendous.

TRACKLISTING

1. Scoundrel days
2. The swing of things
3. I've been losing you
4. October
5. Manhattan skyline
6. Cry wolf
7. We're looking for the whales
9. The weight of the wind
10. Maybe maybe
11. Soft rains of April

The heart and devotion put into this album is nothing short of stunning. It is of course often the case that a band's second album will eclipse their debut, and this certainly happened here. Though "Hunting high and low" had the big hit single on it (and yielded others) I found it a little hit-and-miss; while I wasn't disappointed with it exactly I find I play it a lot less all the way through, whereas "Scoundrel days" I can run regularly, even despite the one or two weaker tracks. It's part as I said of a trilogy of albums that bracketed the purple patch a-ha went through, and though some of the other albums were as good, few if any equalled or better this, their second outing. Although they continued to have hits across Europe throughout the nineties and beyond, after 1988's "Stay on these roads" their massive popularity was more or less over. People who wanted more songs like "Take on me", "The sun always shines on TV", "Cry wolf" and the later "Touchy" as well as the title track to the third album shied away from later releases like "East of the sun, west of the moon" and "Memorial Beach", and a-ha were left to play music for their fans (of which there were plenty) but never again troubled the top echelons of the charts.

In the US they were even less known, having only the two hits over there, both from the debut. Singles like "Cry wolf" and "Manhattan skyline", despite the title of the latter and its reference to New York, went totally unnoticed in the US of A, and over there a-ha would have been considered as a one-hit (or maybe two) wonder. Here, too, their greatest claim to fame and the monkey that remained on their back for ten years was and is "Take on me".

As I outlined recently in my section "The Albatross", that song is, for so many people, all a-ha ever achieved, and what they will always be known for, something that continued to haunt them throughout their quarter-century-long career. But this album shows that good as that song was, they were capable of so much more.

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Well, maybe not two sides of the same coin. Kind of the same side but slightly different. Ah, what do ya want from me? I've temporarily run out of ideas for the names of new sections, and this will do as well as most. What's it about? I'm glad you asked. No, really, I am. It's going to be taking a look at how different songs or different artistes view the same basic situation. Someone might, for instance, write a slow, sad song about the evils of war, while another might have a fast, angry take on the same idea. Or one band might think the way to go to talk about religion is a punchy uptempo number while another might do an acoustic folk ditty. Others might think colours, rainbows, nature or any other concept can be handled in a variety of ways. And this is what we examine here. How two artistes can write on the same subject but tackle it two completely different ways. The songs are the same, at a very basic level, but different.

The first two I want to use to open this section concern making it big in the city. You know, that "this-smalltown-is-stifling-me" or "there-must-be-better-waiting-for-me", the kind of inner cry that so often builds inside people, usually younger and bored, or people who feel they are not achieving their full potential, are being held back in some way. Those who think they'll never make it in their small burg and head out for the bright lights of the big city.

"It never rains in Southern California"
(Albert Hammond)
from the 1972 album of the same name
When Albert Hammond penned "It never rains in Southern California" he envisaged his hero just deciding one day to get the hell out and make something of himself. "Got onboard a westbound 747/ Didn't think before deciding what to do" because he knew that he could make more of himself, his talents and his potential on the west coast --- "All that talk of opportunities/ TV breaks and movies rang true". But he soon finds that the streets of San Francisco or LA are not paved with gold in the way he had hoped they would be, and along with a thousand thousand other aspiring actors, singers, songwriters and musicians finds it hard, even impossible to get that big break that will take him into the big time. After some time in California he's reached his wits' end and is struggling.

"Out of work, I'm out of my head/ I'm out of self-respect/ I'm out of bread/ I'm underloved, underfed/ I wanna go home!" Then someone comes to visit him, possibly out of the blue, and sees how badly he's doing. He begs this person, who is obviously returning to his hometown, not to let on how he has failed, and asks them to support the fantasy that he's getting along just fine: "Will you tell the folks back home / I've nearly made it? / Had offers but don't know/ Which ones to take?"

"Comin' home" (Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band), from the 1982 album "The Distance"
Bob Seger, on the other hand, ten years later, relates the tale of someone returning, reluctantly, to their hometown after failing to make it big, and having to admit that they never will. As the protagonist looks out the window of the bus bringing them back to where it all started, the place they ran away from, hoping for better things, he or she notes that nothing much has changed, in a depressing sort of way: "Passed the old church on the edge of town/ Trailways bus was right on time/ Passed your uncle's house on mainstreet/ His old truck was parked outside" and remarks how "This old town has hardly grown" wondering "Has it really been ten long years? / Now you're finally comin' home."

The song is called "Comin' home", and is on Seger's 1982 album "The distance". In contrast to Hammond's upbeat, almost desperately cheerful song, this is a slow, acoustic guitar and piano-driven ballad, reflecting the pain and humiliation of having to come back with, as the singer sees it, your tail between your legs, when things failed to work out as you had hoped. I've never been in that position, but I'm sure many who read this may have been, or know those who have, and I can imagine the shame of having to face people to whom you probably bragged that you were off to the big city, getting out of this hick town, going to make your fortune etc. Seger relates the decision in a morose undertone:

"Left your hometown for the city lights/ You were young and you were strong" but then things did not turn out as expected: "Lots of traffic, lots of sleepless nights/ Lots of dreams that all went wrong". He, or she, emulates Albert Hammond's hero too in a way. Whereas Hammond is determined to stay in California, stick it out, hope it all comes together and sends his friend home with a made-up story about how well he's doing, the protagonist in Seger's song decides to keep his bad luck to himself. "You'll just tell them what they want to hear/ How you took the place by storm/ You won't tell them how you lost it all..."

For Seger's hero, the dream is over but that failure will never be made public. The aspiring star has come back to his hometown without achieving his dreams but nobody will ever know. It's highly unlikely that anyone else from Hicksville, USA (TM) will ever go where he has, and if he does, is doubly unlikely to ever hear of the failure of his townsmate. The only one who will know is the main character, and though it may haunt their dreams for months or years to come, it's a secret they'll bear alone. Even at the end, near the song's fadeout ending, they make a half-hearted excuse or reason for returning: "You grew tired of being alone" with the slightest hope that they may not be there forever: "And don't know for how long..."

Not only in the way that the two songwriters approach the subject matter are these two tales of dreams dashed different, but the whole tempo of the songs differs too, with Hammond's a fixed smile through gritted teeth, as he pretends all is well, and Seger's hero, though also a failure, will also grin and nod, and make excuses for leaving "the big city", though his is shrouded in a true acceptance of that failure, not a determined refusal to see the facts, that they will never make it. Seger's song is therefore more reflective, slower and more moody and melancholic, with the truth an unwelcome visitor but let in, whereas Hammond has kept the door firmly shut against reality, and his carefree, upbeat song reflects this.

Here, finally, are the two songs if you would like to hear them.

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Perhaps not the same story, as we focussed on in the first edition of this section, but both songs treat the same basic subject in two very different ways. Which is kind of what this section is all about really. Not that there's a finite amount of things writers can write about, but often the same themes or ideas will be used in two vastly different songs. Take something as simple as a city. Take New York. Someone might write a song praising the Big Apple whereas someone else might not be so enamoured of it, and look at its darker side. Of course, after 9/11 many songs will take that tack, whether praising the rescue services or commenting on the losses, or railing against the perpetrators of the deed, real or imagined. On a different level, one writer might see fishing as a relaxing sport, another as a form of murder, or one man's take on a news story could be totally different to another's, and how that inspires them both to write divergent songs about the same thing.


"Homeward bound" (Simon and Garfunkel) from the album "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme", 1966
This time I'm looking at the basic idea of going home, as viewed through two very different sets of eyes. In Simon and Garfunkel's classic "Homeward bound", the opening line is "I'm sittin' in a railway station/ Got a ticket for my destination", which we'll come back to when we get to the second example I want to examine. Simon, who wrote the lyric, moans about life on the road. Now, I'm not one to castigate artistes and musicans for their take on touring. It's surely hard, being away from your family, your home, living out of a suitcase from hotel to hotel, but there is one point that Simon is forgetting, or conveniently ignoring here: he (and Garfunkel of course) is getting paid! It's not like he's out here for the good of his health, tramping across America for no reward. Sure, he wishes he was "homeward bound", but that's the life of a touring musician.

When he sings "Every day's an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines" it's hard to have too much sympathy for him. I mean, as I say, he is being paid for the inconvenience, and some people can't afford cigarettes or magazines. So he wishes he was homeward bound, but in fact he's heading off to some other American town or city to play for his fans, and yet he doesn't seem to appreciate them when he sings "Tonight I'll sing my songs again/ I'll play the game and pretend"... But whatever I think of Simon's less-than-glowing tribute to being on the road (for a better one, see Jackson Browne's "The load-out/Stay") he has his own ideas of wanting to be home, and if he wants to go home nothing, other than contractual obligations and the possibility of losing money, is stopping him.



"Borderline" (Chris de Burgh) from the 1982 album "The Getaway"

Chris de Burgh, on the other hand, is in a much darker place. His song opens with lines very similar to Simon's, as he sings "Standing in a station/ I am waiting for a train" but this train is taking him home. However, it's a temporary respite, as here he is writing about a soldier on leave from the war, visiting his girlfriend or wife, and knowing he will have to return to the fighting. De Burgh keeps the identity of the war his protagonist is fighting in carefully ambiguous, so that it could be World War I or II, or even a fictitious or future war. It does however seem to concern one in which the British fight --- there's just not an American feeling from the lines "Rolling through the countryside/ Tears are in my eyes" --- so not likely to be Vietnam or Korea. In some ways, many ways in fact this song mirrors his 1975 "This song for you", from the "Spanish Train" album, although in that song it's very definitely World War I he's referencing, not only in the twenties-influenced melody but in the line "They say this war will end all wars" which sadly, and rather obviously, we know not to be true.

But de Burgh's writing is more melancholy, less concerned with himself and while certainly sad and yearning, contains the understanding that this is only a brief respite --- "I hear my country calling/ But I want to be with you / I'm taking my side/ One of us will lose" --- and that he will face his duty even though it breaks his heart to leave his lover. He must also realise that this could be the last time he sees her, as he may not come back from the war. It's a sad song, very moving in contrast to Simon's upbeat-melody but ultimately somewhat sulky and indulgent "Homeward bound".

Both men are on a train, one heading home but knowing he will have to return to the war, the other heading away from home but in no danger and knowing he will eventually come back to his own hometown. Very interesting to see the way two very different writers, almost two decades apart, treat the subject of coming home, which when I think about it now, dovetails rather nicely with the first edition of this feature. I love it when a plan comes together. Sort of.

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