CHEERING
This one's all about
the old man up there in the sky, if he's still listening.
I should imagine he is.
Say, say, put the kettle on, we'll be up there in a minute.
This one is dedicated to the great misunderstood.
My God. My God.
MUSIC: My God
# People, what have you done?
# Locked him in his golden cage
# A golden cage
# And made him bend to your religion
# Him resurrected from the grave
# From the grave
# He is the god of nothing
# If that's all that you can see
# You are the god of everything
# He's inside you and me... #
I could understand if I was a mountaineer,
and I could come out with that glib answer of,
"Because it's there, that's why I have to climb it."
Music isn't there. It's bloody hard to find.
I suppose if you believe in being born to do something,
that's what I think I'm supposed to be doing.
# With your promised social graces
# Oh, and the sins you used to waive
# You used to waive
# And the bloody Church of England
# In chains of history... #
We came into our successful period as a product of fashion.
And we've retained,
out of the public gaze,
a level of continued success
in terms of selling seats,
you know, bums on seats at concerts, and record sales, and so on,
just by dint of carrying on doing it
and not being fashionable any longer.
HE PLAYS FLUTE
Two, three.
Hello, one, two, three, hello. Testing, testing.
Doot, doot, doot, doot. Beep, beep. OK. OK.
ACOUSTIC GUITAR STRUMS Keep going.
HE SINGS SOFTLY
Ian Anderson, as a music writer, as a person,
he's very articulate, very precise,
and he places huge demands on himself,
and he expects other people to do the same.
I remember one year we did about 200 flights in one year.
I enjoy it for the first week, and then I must say,
I begin to miss home,
and start counting the days after the second week.
But, you know,
I just feel very fortunate
that I can earn a living doing what I like doing.
And it means going away a lot, so that's it.
Hi, Dad.
Jethro Tull!
THEY CHEER
So much is going for you when you go out and do a show,
especially in America, the kids are so much behind you.
Very, very good.
It's horrible to be blase,
but it's nice being nervous.
and I'd like to be nervous a lot more.
I've done it so many times that it has become normal.
My mother was a piano teacher.
My parents were very keen that I should play the piano,
for which I'll obviously be eternally grateful,
and also wonder what I would have done
if I hadn't have been so keen.
Just try the vocal harmonies in Songs from the Wood, fellas.
# Let me bring you
# Songs from the wood... #
APPLAUSE AND CHEERING
# To make you feel much better than you could know
# Better than you could know
# And dust you down from tip to toe
# Dust you down from tip to toe
# I'll show you how the garden grows
# Show you how the garden grows
# Hold you steady as you go
# Hold steady as you... #
TOGETHER: # Join the chorus if you can
# It'll make of you an honest man
# Let me bring you love from the field
# Poppies red and roses filled with summer rain
# To heal the wound and still the pain
# That threatens again and again
# As you drag down every lover's lane
# Life's long celebration's here
# I'll toast you all in penny cheer
# Let me bring you all things refined
# Galliards and lute songs served in chilling ale
# Greetings, well-met fellow, hail
# I am the wind to fill your sail
# I am the cross to take your nail
# A singer of these ageless times
# With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes... #
Oh!
# Songs from the wood make you feel much better
# Songs from the wood make you feel much better. #
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
We, in fact, struggled for three years
without making any money at all,
and about four years without making any money from records.
I see, first class, all the way down the plane. That's it.
We had a huge debt to repay, in purely financial terms,
to managements and agencies and record companies
who'd financed us through the embryonic period.
And now we're ten years into
our musical activity and we're all comfortably well off,
you know, which is nice,
but rather than just sit back and do the profitable tours,
the profitable concerts,
the Madison Square Gardens and the big Los Angeles gigs,
you know, we enjoy going to these weird little country towns.
Not because we need to for money,
but simply because if you're going to play music to people at all,
you mustn't discriminate, you've got to go where they are,
where the roots of those people are.
In America, a lot of the roots still remain in the Midwest
and the little places.
DJ: KGON welcomes Jethro Tull.
Here's the revised date for Jethro Tull.
I really forgot after two weeks,
but then I found out we hadn't done two weeks.
So we've done eight or nine gigs. 18 to go, fair enough.
But after the first week, you may as well stay a year after that,
cos you're into it and that's it.
RADIO PLAYS BUNGLE IN THE JUNGLE
# I'm a snake if we disagree... #
Jethro Tull.
Well, the thing starts at eight o'clock in the morning when one of
these lighting rig trucks appears and the lighting rig is hoisted.
That takes about two, two and a half hours,
by which time the sound system
and the rest of the gear will arrive.
And that's installed on the stage. Then, a while after that,
the London road crew arrive and plug everything in.
By that time, it's mid-afternoon. The band arrives,
does a sound check, and we're ready to go.
All our papers and shit are together,
but they held our trucks up at the border again as usual.
Rock and roll, it seems to be a favourite target.
We got a job to do.
They're supposed to be here at eight o'clock in the morning.
It's now going to be a two o'clock arrival.
It's going to put everything behind today about three, four, five,
six, seven, eight hours. Who knows when they get here?
All the sting's taken out of it.
We travel first class wherever we can.
We take a tea lady with us, Nina,
who does excellent food for us at the gig.
Robert Kelly, the tour manager,
makes everything as plain sailing as possible.
On our days off, we usually find
the latest movie that's on in the town.
Indian restaurants take preference over everything else.
Ian's first job when he gets in is to take the Yellow Pages
and look down for Taj Mahal, and we usually find one.
We know where all the Indian restaurants are
in the whole of the United States of America.
All trucks used to do this show tonight
are on this side of the Canadian border.
The last truck will be arriving here, realistically,
at six o'clock tonight.
When we've checked the luggage at the other end,
you go straight down to the gate, which is B2.
Well, that's right here. If you be there by 1.15
so that we can try and get pre-boarding, cos it's all economy.
MUSIC: Thick as a Brick
# So you ride yourselves over the fields
# And you make all your animal deals
# And your wise men don't know
# How it feels
# Oh, to be thick as a... #
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
The group, as a group onstage, look and play like a group.
And the fact that Ian's songs are so personal,
he sings in an English accent,
or near-Scots accent, or whatever Ian sings in,
but he certainly doesn't sing in Mid-Atlantic
as so many pop groups do,
and that really is why that the group has had the life it's had.
All of us have some kind of response to something of a folk heritage.
I don't think it's something that bears analysis
or an academic kind of objectivity.
You just don't...you daren't stop to question it.
If you become conscious of it, it doesn't work any more.
It's a magic. It's like Peter Pan, you know, telling the kids,
"Just step out of the window and do it,
"you know, you can fly. No problem. You just have to believe."
If I go any further, we might find a bit of magic.
HE LAUGHS
Basically, all the gear is transported in four trucks.
Two of those contain duplicate lighting rigs
which leapfrog and do alternate shows.
This is because the lighting rig is
the first thing to go up in the morning
and it's the last thing to come down very late at night,
when the show's over and the band have all gone home.
And as successive nights,
there can be anything up to 500 miles between two towns,
it's literally physically impossible for this equipment,
which may not be loaded until two or three in the morning sometimes,
to make it to the next town for the eight o'clock load-in.
The other two trucks carry the sound system and the stage gear.
HE PLAYS FLUTE
Live performance is a very important thing to me,
because somewhere inside me is basically
a show-off waiting to get onstage and wave to the masses.
But also somewhere inside me is a private person who,
given that I'm going on record in the literal sense,
would rather do it without the public watching,
to allow for me to make some mistakes, which I do.
50% of what happens in the studio is really unsuccessful,
and the bits that you use are the good bits,
as you judge them to be.
Therefore, the live performance and the studio performance
are necessarily complementary.
ACCAPELLA: # Darlings, are you ready
# For the long winter's fall?
# Said the lady in the parlour
# Said the butler in the hall... #
Very often when we come into the studio to begin an album,
there'll be some sort of theme lurking in the back of my head.
This song deals with the idea that we are entering a new period,
equivalent to the Dark Ages of medieval history.
# Is there time for another?
# Cried the drunkard in his sleep
# Not likely, said the little child
# What's done the Lord can keep... #
The fact that we have got to a point where,
through industrial and commercial overkill,
we don't have any longer a solvent sort of situation,
we're totally dependent on rapidly drying-out resources.
# And the gloom in the valley here
# Grows brighter as the town
# Lends its light most royally
# And the houses all burn down... #
MUSIC STARTS
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Dull rages
# They burn in your head... #
ELECTRIC GUITAR PLAYS
You put your neck on the chopping block when you come into the studio,
because every little mistake, every problem,
every inarticulately played note or slightly out-of-tune vocal,
or something, is going to be there on the final master,
and there's nothing you can do about it.
I mean, other than to do it again.
That, of course, is why all of this is here,
it does allow us the flexibility.
If there's one track of the 24 tracks,
the 24 different potential instrument sources
that we have to mix down through this mixer onto the tape,
if one of those isn't good,
we don't have to do the whole thing again,
we can merely select the thing that isn't right and say,
"We'll do that little bit again."
HE PLAYS ELECTRIC GUITAR
So shall we have a go, then, put one down?
OK. Three, four, one, two...
MUSIC STARTS
What's the piano on, Rob? 23, 24.
I know there are people who sort of rush off to Los Angeles to mix
and, you know, fly to Paris to record some vocal overdubs
or something in the belief that a certain studio is good
for one thing and not good for another.
From my point of view, I prefer to be in one place all the time.
So that's why I built this studio, because I wanted a place to work in
that would be consistent. Some of these studios
that I have been in, you know, they change from year to year.
They bring in new equipment,
or new people work there and set it up a different way,
and you find it difficult to rely on the sound that any one studio gives.
Sometimes Ian will just have
the very basic skeleton of the thing,
the melody line and chord sequences,
and the rest of it is thrashed out during rehearsal.
I don't seem to have any monitor echo. Why's that?
THEY PLAY HEAVY ROCK
You come in with two thirds of an idea,
and you add the other third in the studio, and then, possibly,
if it's a bad night, you take it all apart and redo it again
the next day or whatever.
But it is like building up on that basic sketch all the time,
and that's how it sort of grows.
HE PLAYS FLUTE
With the first few songs that we record,
something starts to emerge,
some common unity between them,
which may be musical and/or lyrical.
That's the thing that you then capitalise on when it comes to
the latter part of the album.
DARK AGES PLAYS
This song that we're recording now,
I would say we're at that point where something is emerging.
And the lyrics to this, I wrote this morning.
Although I must confess
I knew vaguely what it was going to be about before this morning,
I hadn't actually taken the trouble to sit down and let
all of that come out on a piece of paper.
# The big jet rumbles over runway miles
# That scar the patchwork dream
# Where slick tycoons and rich buffoons... #
I never sing my songs until the red light comes on,
that's the first time I sing them, and it's for real, you know,
and it's exciting, it excites me.
If I sang the songs and all the lyrics in rehearsal,
it would be too much of a formality putting them on record.
When I open my mouth to sing,
even I don't know really what's going to happen.
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# And closed pages
# Are better not read
# Cold rages
# They burn in your head... #
HE PLAYS FLUTE
That's really the fun of making records, I think,
is that the discipline that you can impose upon it all
is not necessarily a rigid one that you have to adhere to
every time you make a record.
There's always room for the unexpected.
# Families screaming... #
Cut. I'll have to come and listen to that.
I think it needs something else there.
Probably James Galway.
HE PLAYS FLUTE
Oh!
VOCALISING AND PLAYING FLUTE
HE SNORTS
HE PLAYS TOCCATA AND FUGUE IN D MINOR
VOCALISES WHILE PLAYING FLUTE
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Up until the time when that aeroplane
takes off from Heathrow, a couple of days before it is a mad rush
getting your gear together, and eventually you pack
your suitcase in ten minutes.
But once the aeroplane's off the ground and you've got
the first day's rehearsal over and the first gig's done, it's fine.
We get on very well on the road
and it's exciting playing to people, that live thing, very important.
Of course, once the first gig's over and you're into the tour,
if it's six weeks, two weeks or eight weeks,
it all lasts the same amount of time,
and we all telephone home very regularly, we write,
and then the last two or three days, there's that
getting yourself ready to coming home again, living with
your family, which is what you do,
really, but learning to live with them again.
I know Barrie has a hell of a time when he comes back,
but what I usually do is count
not up to ten before I reprimand my brood, but 50.
And a couple of days later, we're back loving each other again.
That's the way it works.
That's better.
Good. Go. Me? You've got a four. A four?
I was working as a studio music writer,
I'd just left the Royal Academy and forging a career as an arranger.
And Ian, in contact with the studio that I was working in presently,
wanted a music writer in order to put some brass,
I think it was, on one of the tracks
on the very first album. Sent me a tape...
CASSETTE PLAYS ..told me, vaguely, what he wanted,
and I suppose I quickly realised what kind of terms we've got
to correspond to each other in, or communicate, rather,
and went into the studio with a bunch of musicians,
did it and that was it.
Two weeks later, another thing turned up, and on we went from there
until eventually I joined the group.
SWITCHES OFF CASSETTE
Ian writes lyrics that no-one else writes.
That's why Jethro Tull is successful, because the group,
as it is, and as it always has been,
has been in pursuit of a musical style all of its own,
and particularly the lyrics.
PLAYS ALONG TO CASSETTE
There are an awful lot of Ian's experiences in his lyrics,
and of course, they're written in a style.
Ian claims not to have ever read any of the English literature.
He was at Blackpool Grammar,
where they concentrated entirely on science.
I doubt that. He's an avid reader. Every aeroplane we're on,
he's always reading. He always reads before he goes to bed, I think,
and I think he's probably sneaked in a few of the classics.
I don't think he's done any Hardy yet,
but he's certainly got a few up his sleeve.
But the lyrics are entirely personal.
There's no message in them, they're just personal statements,
reflections of what Ian Anderson sees about him,
that's all they are.
I'm always writing songs that lag behind the point I'm at in my life.
Things like Songs From the Wood or Heavy Horses,
which appear to tie in with my circumstances now, don't at all.
I mean, they weren't written about now,
they were written about a period before I lived in the country.
They were written about a time, perhaps five years ago,
when I decided I couldn't stand living
in the middle of London in a nasty flat,
and wanted to move out to get a breath of fresh air.
And they represent that period rather than the here and now.
ONSTAGE: This next song is not about a wee beastie,
but about a big beastie.
It's all about those leviathans of the fields of Merrie England.
It's dedicated to the heavy horses.
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
MUSIC: Heavy Horses
# Ironclad feather feet pounding the dust
# An October's day towards evening
# Sweat-embossed veins standing proud to the plough
# Salt on a deep chest seasoning
# Last the line at an honest day's toil
# Turning the deep sod under
# Flint at the fetlock, chasing the bone
# Flies at the nostrils plunder
# The Suffolk, the Clydesdale
# The Percheron vie
# With the Shire on his feathers floating
# Hauling soft timber into the dusk
# To bed on a warm straw coating
# Heavy horses move the land under me
# Behind the plough gliding
# Slipping and sliding free
# Now you're down to the few, there's no work to do
# The tractor's on its way... #
I suppose, in terms of, say, the next five or ten years,
or however long I'm lucky enough
to be able to continue making music professionally, are really a time of
that continuing requirement for making music
within the framework of the other things
that I'm involved in.
Having a family and homes,
other activities, which at present take up only
a very little amount of my time because it's a sort of hobby,
things I do in my spare time, or administrate from hotel rooms
while I'm on the road touring, and that sort of thing.
Come on, fellas, time to take the air.
English partridge, you know, fine bird.
What we're doing for the world's population here,
setting them free on the hills of Buckinghamshire.
Some of my gun-toting friends to blast out the sky.
ENGINE ROARS
How are the fouling tests in terms of...?
Well, those two... There's seaweed but no mussels or anything? Oh, no.
But they've been there since last autumn anyway. Yeah.
This particular area has a tremendous history of abuse,
both in terms of the land and the people on it.
The dreadfulness of the Highland Clearances,
and as a result of which, people like me, ie landlords,
or lairds in Scotland, got a very bad name
for, you know, abuse of the social units
that existed here in the crofting townships.
What we're engaged in here is essentially the on-growing
of salmon smolts, which we get about this size,
just at the point where they make
the transition from freshwater to a saltwater existence.
And we put them in cages,
which are going to be floating out there,
and we attempt to grow them into big blighters, this big.
But we want to come in a bit more...
And if things look as good as Andrew,
our fish manager here, seems to think that they might,
we may end up with 75 or maybe 100 tons
of salmon coming out of this loch every year.
It's all sort of fairly evenly shelfing down, is it?
Um...
I am at the helm of several things that are happening.
And they will... If they succeed, it won't be all my work.
But if they fail, it'll certainly be my fault. There again,
the music activity, I think if you allow for the fact
that I don't spend the evenings going to the in clubs
or going to movie premieres,
or doing all the other spare-time pursuits
that perhaps a lot of other people in the entertainment world do,
I still have a lot of spare time, if you like,
and that's what I should be doing.
So how are we doing with our liming here?
Well, it's getting on quite well, really. Yeah. Did they do
any bracken and heather-spraying and...? Well, the spraying will
come on later on in the year. Maybe about July. I see.
I can't make any apology either to the public or, more specifically,
to the other people who live in this part of the world
for being the absentee landlord, because I am most certainly
and I shall go on being an absentee landlord,
at least for some time to come.
But only by being that sort of a person, ironically,
can I be the same sort of person who, in this rather pressured day
economically, can afford to operate this or get going
this sort of a venture. I need to fund it, and I need
to fund it by working damned hard in a certain fruitful area of life.
But it's so much... It's so much easier to stand up on
that stage and take $10 off the kid in the front row,
you know, knowing that I'm going to buy a new tractor
or I'm going to plant some trees or buy some more sheep,
or put a fish out there in the water to grow.
It's much easier to take his $10 knowing that
than thinking that I'm just going to buy,
you know, my fifth Rolls-Royce or a, you know,
a third swimming pool or something.
I actually do have some economic goals that make sense,
or they do to me.
I'd like to think that the person sitting there
in the front row would share that sentiment with me.
He'd rather see his money being "well spent",
and he's most certainly welcome to come and walk around
the mountains here and enjoy it.
It intrigues me that a house like this,
which has been neglected for some 12 years -
unlived in and is falling down -
it is within my power, only because of my success in a totally
opposite sort of lifestyle, to be able to do something about it,
to put it back to the way that it was
and to make it have a working part in the community.
Not just to be the big house where the laird lives,
but to be the house where I hope
I and my family will play a part in the community.
We should walk across the bridge in a minute and I'll show you
the old, um, the Beaker People's burial mound,
which is a big stone cairn. I'd like to clear that up sometime. Mm-hm.
You know, if you can get an army of youth workers in or something.
Our ballet that we did with the Scottish, The Water's Edge,
is set in an area not unlike this.
The idea is that these variety of creatures
in Scottish mythology will appear out of the waters,
in the form of the kelpie - who is half-horse, half-man -
who steals onto the shore and entices the young maidens.
Usually... He had a preference for virgins, it seems.
He basically liked them young.
And whizzed off with them, and they were never seen again.
Of course, other than that, there's the selkies,
the seal-like creatures
who would entice unsuspecting fishermen -
come and dance in female form on the shore.
CLASSICAL MUSIC PLAYS
# The light that burned so brightly
# Suddenly burn so pale
# Bright eyes... #
RADIO DJ: Every rabbit's dream come true.
Art Garfunkel, Bright Eyes is still at number one.
Bank holiday special tomorrow.
If you like the number 19 record this week,
have a listen to ABBA between 11.00 and 12.00 tomorrow morning.
It's exclusive to Radio 1.
Bernie Andrews produced this programme.
Thank you for listening, and stay tuned.
After the news, it's Ian Anderson.
Right. You coming too?
# Radio 1
# News! #
The time now is 7.00 and this is David Bellon at the news desk...
A very interesting tax meeting.
Very interesting in as much as I'm not now on the way to Switzerland!
Mrs Thatcher spent the day at Downing Street,
deciding on the rest of her government appointments,
ministers outside the Cabinet. Those announced so far...
I mean, as long as it flows quite nicely.
It's two hours. It's a two-hour show.
Do we have time... One hour 58, actually.
I see. It's in here. What about ins and outs?
I mean, is there a music, er...
That's the news at 7:02.
..or whatever you call it.
# Radio 1
# Stereo! #
MUSIC: All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix
Hello, this is Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull here.
You're going to be listening to me for the next two hours
with some of my favourite records. You've heard the top 40.
Here's the lost 40.
First, Jimi Hendrix and All Along the Watchtower.
The significance of the Jethro Tull name is only that it was
thought of not by me or any of the group,
but one of the bookers in the agency whose sad job it was
to invent new names for us in order that he could get us some work.
So we were just stuck with that one. Had it been a week earlier
or a week later that we got our first break,
as it were, we would have been called something different.
And it's pure coincidence, um,
only a recently recognised one in my case, in fact,
that the original Jethro Tull being
a farming or agricultural innovator of sorts,
um...
..I'm doing the same sort of thing now,
in a modest way, doing things in farming
which are a little bit, er, a little bit different.
We try very hard. Each one of us try very hard.
We never think, "Oh, well, we've made it.
"We're doing really well.
"They're going to like whatever we do."
Every song we do, every tour we do is like starting again.
It is for me, anyway.
There's an awful lot of luck becoming successful initially,
but there's an awful lot of hard work keeping there.
There are very obvious rewards, you know.
I mean, look where I live and stuff like that.
But it's hard to keep it all together.
All the touring becomes hell after a while.
It's nice to live in a village
and go to the local pub and play darts
when you have a day off, but they're few and far between.
In fact, this is the first day off for about three weeks now,
because we've been working on the album.
We've been working at it for about three months now.
And you perhaps get one day off in two weeks,
and you get home at 4.00 or 5.00 in the morning, you know.
So, in a way, being at home,
I still don't see much of my wife and children.
This morning I was talking to the lady who lives next door,
who I call Auntie Joyce, who's very much like...
Have you ever read Travels With My Aunt by Graham Greene?
Well, she's a bit like that, you see.
And she said to me, "You know, the trouble with you is,
"you don't know whether you're having a shit, shave or a haircut."
And that is true.
But when I get onstage, I know exactly what I want to do
and what I'm there for and what I'm going to do.
And it's so clear cut that I can just get on and do it.
But as far as the rest of my private life, you know,
I haven't really got much of a clue which direction I'm going in.
Musicians...or pop musicians,
I'm sure it's a novelty to most people.
They can't fit you into any of their
little boxes, you know, like an accountant
or been to public school and he's a bank manager,
or he's joined the council
and he's now worked his way up to this position.
You don't fit into any social, um,
strata at all. So you tend to be floating around in the middle.
And I mean, it's sad that the young people you tend to, um,
because of money... I mean, not being snobbish in any way,
but if you meet young people and you probably get on with them,
and then as soon as they find out what you do or that you haven't got
a mortgage and the car isn't on HP,
then it's this kind of wall that falls between you
and you just don't share the same problems.
It's a shame. It's like a bit of a misfit.
I'm not feeling sorry for anybody, but it does seem to be that way.
HE PLAYS THE PIANO
I'd certainly rather be in Jethro Tull
attempting to do what we do,
whether people like it or not, than in some rock and roll band
that turned out lyrics with "I love you, baby"
or whoever wrote that, and nothing...substantially nothing
more than that. But there is a great striving with our band to get music
that Jethro Tull plays accepted
as music of a pretty high standard,
because that's what we try to achieve.
The reason it works is because... based on the old axiom
that unlike poles attract, and with Ian, Martin,
Barrie, John, John and myself, there are six individual people.
We don't live in each other's pockets
or each other's dining rooms.
We don't go out with each other much when we're away,
although we're living very closely together.
We all have different ambitions or... No, not ambitions -
we all have different needs to do the things that we do.
And for that reason alone,
we can work together harmoniously as a group of six guys.
I can see the group carrying on for several more years,
providing that Ian wants to do it, wants to go out there in front,
stand on one leg occasionally and blow the flute and sing
and write the songs. It's got to be Ian.
Ian's got to be in the band. Ian's got to be Jethro Tull.
I mean, most people in America think Ian's Jethro Tull,
think his name is Jethro Tull.
But it isn't. It's Ian Anderson. CHUCKLES
The answer is in there. I'd unlock the case every night,
and I don't find the answer even when I put my clothes on,
but that's where the answer is.
It's something to do with being a gyppo, you know, a troubadour,
a travelling musician. There's that peculiar romanticism
about travelling around and hawking your wares,
which is what we do, to a bunch of people,
different people in different places.
And that magic is very difficult to capture.
It's very difficult to talk about. It's difficult to verbalise,
and that's what I'm here looking for every time I unlock the case
and put on the gear and go out there.
There's a compulsion, ultimately, to... A, show off,
B, be an artist,
C, to get rich quick, or preserve your riches
if you've already got rich quick. I don't know.
It's many, many different things.
Don't shoot till you see the whites of their, um...
They're there!
It's very intricate music, and he's a real acrobat onstage.
Martin, don't forget the D. If I shout...
If I shout E, play D.
It's really theatrical. It's a really good show.
Do you want a night off? Yeah!
It's good music. And he's a good showman.
A really good stage show.
INAUDIBLE SPEECH
CROWD CHEERS
# Can't hear you calling in your sweet dream
# I can't hear your daddy's warning cry
# You're going back to be all the things you want to be
# While in sweet dreams you softly sigh
# You hear my voice is calling to be mine again
# Live the rest of your life in a day
# Get out and get what you can
# While your mummy's at home sleeping
# But no time to understand
# Cos they've lost what they thought they were keeping
# Get out and get what you can
# While your mummy's at home sleeping
# And no time to understand
# Cos they lost what they thought they were keeping... #
CHEERING AND APPLAUSE
Here is a number that we haven't recorded yet.
In fact, can't even play it yet!
This one is all about the terrible doom to come,
and it's called Dark Ages.
# Darlings, are you ready
# For the long winter's fall?
# Said the lady in her parlour
# Said the butler in the hall
# Is there time for another?
# Cried the drunkard in his sleep
# Not likely, said the little child
# What's done the Lord can keep
# And the vicar stands a-praying
# And the television dies
# As the white dot flickers and is gone
# And no-one stops to cry
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Dull rages
# They burn in your head
# And the gloom in the valley
# Grows brighter as the town
# Left alight most royally
# And the houses all burn down
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Cold rages
# They burn in your head
# Jagged fires mark the picket lines
# The politicians weep
# And mealy-mouthed through corridors of power on tiptoe creep
# But come and see bureaucracy
# Make its final heave
# And let the new disorder through
# While senses take their leave
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Cold rages
# They burn in your head
# Families screaming line the streets
# And put the windows through
# In corner shops where keepers kept
# The country's lifeblood blue
# Take their pick
# And try the trick with loaves and fishes shared
# And the vicar shouts as the lights go out
# And no-one really cares
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Cold rages
# They burn in your head
# Head!
# Darlings, are you ready
# For the long winter's fall?
# Said the lady in her parlour
# Said the butler in the hall
# Dark Ages
# Shaking the dead
# Closed pages
# Better not read
# Cold rages
# They burn in your head. #