inspecting minutes as they tick away. I wonder what, they will hold today. each one looming like the dawn of another day, until you realize they’ve all ticked away.
looking back is futility
looking back won’t bring you to me
looking back blinds you to what lies ahead
look forward that is where the future flies.
hope is dead in the past, tomorrow is where it lies.
grasp it firmly, and never let it go. there is a germ of possibility in the things that we don’t know.
look forward that is where the future flies.
hope is dead in the past, tomorrow is where it lies.
the heavens fall in arcs of silence no one seems to notice
no one wonders why
no one feels the cold
no one seems to think they need a hand to hold
which world shall I enter? in which world shall I live? the one that has the empathetic power to forgive.
where comfort has its way, where hearts are always pure. in which world shall I live, I’m not really sure
where the sun is shining.
whispered words fall on deaf ears. no one lies alone at night awash in silent tears.
I try to see, I try to see. lay thy body down, that you shall float with me.
as we reach out to paint the sky, the life we knew goes floating by.
Reason never seems to come to guilty men Things that meant so much mean nothing in the end That function is dysfunction and to hide the truth Distracted by their faith, ignoring every proof
A bicycle A garden wall A mother’s call A love is born And after all, the sleet that falls on me
In this city there are those who’d live alone Twilight brings them from the gloom into our homes And hiding there among the wreckage left behind They see things that aren’t there when they close their eyes
Come back if you want to And remember who you are ‘Cause there’s nothing here for you my dear And everything must pass
When the world doesn’t want you It will never tell you why You can shut the door but you can’t ignore The crawl of your decline
The remarkably unremarkable story behind one of the most remarkable flourishes in pop music history, in which music professor David Mason plays a solo so perfect that even his peers can’t believe he actually did it.
The Beatles were magpies, always looking for sounds they haven’t heard on pop records before, never moreso than in 1966 and 1967. Paul heard the solo played by baroque trumpet (an octave higher than typical ones) in Bach’s 2nd Brandenburg Concerto, and asked George Martin to track the fellow down and get him to the studio as soon as possible.
David Mason was his name, and he arrived at Abbey Road on the evening of January 17, 1967. As the band walked into the session, David asked, “So, just come from a film set, have you?”, to which John replied, “No, we dress like this all the time.”
(David later playfully crossed John again when he expressed dismay that “Penny Lane” was being relegated to a b-side. “I think it’s better than ‘Strawberry Fields’, said David, standing next to John at the time. “Thanks, mate. *I* wrote that one!” As it turned out, “Penny Lane” and “Strawberry Fields” was in fact released as a double-A side, peaking at #2 on the UK’s official charts, although Melody Maker had it at #1 for 3 weeks, and “Penny Lane” as the band’s 13th #1.)
I’ll let you hear the rest of the story from David himself, noting his reply to the interviewer’s question, “How does it feel when you hear that solo today?” David answers, “Not to be immodest, but some people tell me it makes the song – and I think it did!” No immodesty there, Professor Mason. It did.
Along the way, David hit a high “E” note that had previously been thought impossible – hence his musicologist expert friends mistaken certainty that David had played a standard trumpet and sped it up – that has since become expected from every piccolo trumpet player to this very day.
David recorded twice more with The Beatles, on “All You Need Is Love” and “Magical Mystery Tour.”
And a quick note about the promo video for the song, directed by Peter Goldman. For all that it’s quite simple visually – the lads walking through the East End and Chelsea, with a sequence shot in a park in Sevenoaks, roughly 20 miles southeast of London – it was a significant departure from anything that had come before. No real narrative, no shots of them playing, but a montage of images that are barely related on any rational level, but creating an impressionistic unity that underscores the song’s emotional context.
This is of course what music videos became more as the rule rather than the exception going forward, leading this clip (and the related clip for “Strawberry Fields”, also directed by Goldman) to be identified by the Smithsonian Institution as among the most important of the era.
i cover myself up with things that shouldn’t touch me. I cover myself up with a blanket of denial. I cover myself up with the Mississippi moon, shining down on my antiquated trial.
it shows the fear that I am hiding. it shows the colour of my sin. it shows the horses I’ve been riding, to get to the places where we’ve been.
I cover myself up with the echoes of your voice. I cover myself up with the filter of the past. I look for peace, there is no choice. I cover myself up with the things that never last.
I cover myself up with the thought that you may find me. I cover myself up with happy ever after. I cover myself up with all the things that blind me. your warming smile, the joy that is your laughter.
it shows the fear that I am hiding. it shows the colour of my sin. it shows the horses I’ve been riding, to get to the places where we’ve been.
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