Marianne Faithfull + Sandy Denny

∞  Ismael Lo & Marianne Faithfull ↓  ‘Without Blame’

♥   ‘Bored by Dreams’    ⇐ (1995)

Things are never what they seem  –  Play a part most of the time.
What is yours cannot be mine  –  And I’m bored by dreams  –  Bored by dreams.

I can’t say the words I mean – Make myself go through the line.
Does the payment fit the crime – If I’m bored by dreams ?

Take me through the steps my love  –  Shall we dance again ?
I was older then  –  Now we are the same.

Lasse des rves  –  Rve qui brille dans le noir  –  Brillera bien tu peux le croire.

Toujours dire la verite  –  Quand je suis lasse des rives.

Take me through the steps my love  –  Shall we dance again ?
Things were always brighter then  –  Hear me call your name.

After a certain age  Every artist works with injury . . .

Take me through the steps my love  –  Shall we dance again ?
I was always older then  –  Now we are the same.

Φ  ‘Broken English’  ⇓ [Derek Jarman]

Could have come through anytime,   Cold lonely, puritan
What are you fighting for?   It’s not my security.

It’s just an old war,  Not even a cold war,
Don’t say it in Russian,  Don’t say it in German.
Say it in broken English,  Say it in broken English.

Lose your father, your husband,  Your mother, your children.
What are you dying for?   It’s not my reality.

It’s just an old war,  Not even a cold war,
Don’t say it in Russian,  Don’t say it in German.
Say it in broken English,  Say it in broken English.

What are you fighting for? [ . . . ]

Could have come through anytime,   Cold lonely, puritan.
What are you fighting for?   It’s not my security.

It’s just an old war,  Not even a cold war,
Don’t say it in Russian,  Don’t say it in German.
Say it in broken English,  Say it in broken English.

Say it in broken English,  Say it in broken English.

What are you fighting for?  What are you fighting for?

◊→   ‘Song for Nico’  ⇓

Born in 1938  –  A good year for the Reich
She could not participate  –  She didn’t have the right
For she was fatherless in the Fatherland

Now it’s 1966  –  Andrew’s up to all his tricks.
And when Brian Jones is near  Nico doesn’t feel so queer;
She’s in the shit, though she’s innocent —

Yesterday is gone,  There’s just today — No tomorrow.
Yesterday is gone,  There’s just today — No more …

Now it’s Andy Warhol’s time  –  Mystic 60’s on a dime.
Though she kinda likes Lou Reed —
She doesn’t really have the need.
Already in the shit, though she’s innocent

And now she doesn’t know  what it is she wants
And where she wants to go
And will Delon be still a cunt
Yes, she’s in the shit, though she is innocent

Yesterday is gone  –  There’s just today  –  No tomorrow.
Yesterday is gone  –  There’s just today  –  No more

∞  ‘Love Is Teasin’ ↓ [with the Chieftains]

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish I were a maid again.
But a maid again I can never be
Until apples grow on an ivy tree.
For love it is pleasin’ and love is teasin’
And love is a treasure when first it’s new.
But as love grows older, then love grows colder
And it fades away like the morning dew.
There is a little house into town
And there my love, he sits him down.
He takes a strange girl on his knee
And he tells her things that he wants to be.
For love and water make younger older
And love and whiskey make her old and grey.
And what cannot be cured, love, must be endured, love,
And now I am bound for America.
La la la la la la …
La la la la la la …
As life grows older sure love grows older
And it fades away like the morning dew.

◊  ‘Strange Weather’ ↓  [2005]

«…Obviously this cigarette is just used as a prop…»

Will you take me across the Channel,  London Bridge is falling down.
Strange a woman tries to save  what a man will try to drown.
And he’s the rain that they predicted,  It’s the forecast every time.
The rose has died because you picked it  –  I believe that brandy’s mine.

And all over the world  strangers  talk only about the weather.
All over the world   It’s the same  –  It’s the same  –  It’s the same.

The word is getting flatter,  The sky is falling all around.
And nothing is the matter  For I never cry in town.
And a love like ours, my dear,  is best measured when it’s down.
And I never buy umbrellas,  For there’s always one around.

And all over the world  strangers  talk only about the weather.
All over the world   It’s the same  –  It’s the same  –  It’s the same.

And you know that it’s beginning,  And you know that it’s the end
When once again we are strangers  And the fog comes rolling in.

And all over the world  strangers  talk only about the weather.
All over the world  It’s the same  –  It’s the same  –  It’s the same.

∞  w/  Bill Frisell  ↓  [London_2013]

01 – The Stations  ↑

Oh Mama, ain’t no time to fall to pieces
He has arrived,  There by the Grace of God go I
I don’t know what they mean
I don’t know what they mean and I say

Oh Mother, now I can believe you’re leaving
Seen through your eyes, There by the Grace of God go I
I don’t know what they mean
I don’t know what they mean and I say

I hear the rapture’s coming; they say he’ll be here soon
Right now there’s demons crawling all around my room
They say he lives within me; they say for me he died
Right now I hear his footsteps almost every night

Oh Children, this is where they come to take me away from here
I don’t know what they mean
I don’t know what they mean and I say

02 – Working Class Hero

As soon as you’re born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all.
A working class hero is something to be …

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool
Till you’re so fucking crazy you can’t follow their rules.
A working class hero is something to be …

When they’ve tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career,
But you really can’t function, you’re so full of fear.
A working class hero is something to be …

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you’re so clever and classless and free,
But you’re all fucking peasants as far as I can see.
A working class hero is something to be …

[…Bill Frisell…]
There’s room at the top they are telling us still,
But first we must learn how to smile as we kill
If we want to live like the folks on the hill.
A working class hero is something to be . . .

03- Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

I walk along the street of sorrow – The boulevard of broken dreams
Where gigolo and gigolette can take a kiss without regret
So they forget their broken dreams.

You laugh tonight and cry tomorrow when you behold your shattered schemes.
And gigolo and gigolette wake up to find their eyes are wet
With tears that tell of broken dreams.

Here is where you’ll always find me – Always walking up and down,
But I left my soul behind me in an old cathedral town.

The joy that you find here, you borrow – You cannot keep it long, it seems.
And gigolo and gigolette still sing a song and dance along
The boulevard of broken dreams.

Da, da, da, da, da, da, da . . .

The joy that you find here, you borrow – You cannot keep it long, it seems.
And gigolo and gigolette still sing a song and dance along
The boulevard of broken dreams

04 – The Ballad of Lucy Jordan

The morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom, in a white suburban town
And she lay there ‘neath the covers, dreaming of a thousand lovers
‘Til the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round

At the age of 37, she realized she’d never ride
Through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she’d memorized in her Daddy’s easy chair

Her husband he was off to work and the kids were off to school
And there were oh so many ways for her to spend her days
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street, screaming all the way

At the age of 37 she realized . . .

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the rooftop where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd

At the age of 37 she knew she’d found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair.

•→w/ Carla Bruni:  ‘All the Best’ ⇐[2014]

◊ ‘Sparrows Will Sing’  ⇓  [R. Waters_2014]

A child breaks the ice and peers into the hidden depths
I’m trying to decipher the horror of un-holiness
I have no doubt you’ll figure it out someday
Calo, calo, cale

Then the sparrows will sing on the boulevards, again
And on the corridors of karma, where they walked on
Soft for a night
Me a sultan’s embrace, but mythical peace will surely fade away
Calo, calo, cale . . .

The young generation is eager to muster the helm
They cannot be seduced by this candy floss techno-hell
They put over the hell and the fresh breeze
They’ll sustain
Calo, calo, cale . . .
A child breaks the ice and peers into the hidden depths
To try to untangle the whole of this unholy mess
Well I have no doubt they will figure it out one day
Calo, calo, cale . . .

∇   ‘Born To Live’   ⇓   [«Negative Capability»_2018]

Born to live and born to die
Aren’t they just the same?
We’re always breaking someone’s heart
Especially our own
Life goes on its joyful way
As usual nothing’s as it seems
But to die a good death is my dream

And I wish it for all, for all I know and love
Deep down below and high above
We’re born to die, no one to blame
We’re born to love, we’re all the same

Blues stay away, stay away from me
I hate to lose old friends
Blues are my enemy, but love gets me through
Born to live and die
Forever loving you
Don’t make me cry, know what I must do
Pray for a good death, one for me, one for you

And I wish it for all, for all I know and love
Deep down below and high above
We’re born to die, no one to blame
We’re born to love, we’re all the same

∇  ‘The Gypsy Faerie Queen’  ⇓   [feat. Nick Cave] 

I'm known by many different names
My good friend Will
Calls me Puck and Robin Goodfellow
I follow the gypsy faerie queen
I follow the gypsy faerie queen

She walks the length and breadth of England
Singing her song, using her wand
To help and heal the land
And the creatures on it
She's dressed in rags of moleskin
And wears a crown of rowan berries on her brow

And I follow, follow, follow
The gypsy faerie queen
We exist, exist, exist
In the twilight in-between

She bears a blackthorn staff
To help her in her walking
I only listen to her sing
But I never hear her talking
Anymore
Though once she did
Though once she did

And I follow, follow, follow
My gypsy faerie queen

We exist, exist, exist
In the twilight in-between

And I follow, follow, follow
My gypsy faerie queen

We exist, exist, exist
In the country in-between

Me and my gypsy queen

•→ [1946-2025] … RIP

÷            ÷            ÷                        ÷            ÷            ÷

¤  Sandy Denny    [1947-1978]

Well, come-a little baby let’s jump the broomstick 
Come on let’s tie a knot . . .
Sister don’t like it, your brother don’t like it
Your father don’t like it, your mother don’t like it
Come-a little baby let’s jump the broomstick
Come on let’s tie a knot

Well, I’m goin’ to Alabama back from Texarkana 
Goin’ all round the world . . .

Your sister don’t like it, my brother don’t like_
Your father don’t_ and my mother don’t like it
Come-a little baby let’s jump the broomstick
Come on let’s tie a knot

Come-a little baby, don’t mean maybe 
Come-a let’s settle down . . .
Your sister don’t like it, your brother don’t like it
My father don’t like it, my mother don’t
Come-a little baby let’s jump the broomstick
Come on let’s tie a knot

∇   Live at BBC  ⇓  1971

01. The North Star Grassman And The Ravens ⇐

They stood upon the deck as the ship went out to sea
The wind it took the sails and left the land a memory
All upon the shore for to wonder why the sailor goes
All to close their eyes and wonder what the sailor knows
That is you to they – That is how they think you are
Never on the land but sailing by the north star …

To the tower and to the ravens and the tale that hopes they’ll never leave
What if they should go? We always dread to think of them
I wonder if they flew one day and no one ever knew they’d gone
To circle over ships at sea claiming yet another son
That is you to me – That is where I think you are
Never on the land but gone to find the north star

02. Late November  ⇐

The wine it was drunk, the ship it was sunk,
The shot it was dead, all the sorrows were drowned.
The birds they were clouds, the brides and the shrouds
And as we drew south the mist it came down.

The wooded ravine to the wandering stream,
The serpent he moved, but no-one would say.
The depths of the waters, the bridge which distraught us
And brought to me thoughts of the ill-fated day.

The temples were filled with the strangest of creatures
One played it by ear on the banks of the sea.
That one was found but the others they went under.
The tears which are shed, they won’t come from me.

The pilot he flew all across the sky and woke me.
He flew solo on the mercury sea.
The dream it came back, all about the tall brown people,
The sacred young herd on the phosphorus sand.

Written and composed by Richard Thompson and Dave Swarbrick, from Fairport Convention‘s inspired album, «Liege & Lief» (1969), often credited as the first major «British folk rock» album, and voted Most Influential Folk Album of All Time in 2006.

Their lead-singer, and Trevor Lucas’ wife, Sandy Denny, born Alexandra Elene Maclean Denny, is still remembered as one of the best voices ever heard in Britain.

Within the fire and out upon the sea, Crazy Man Michael was walking.
He met with a raven with eyes black as coals, and shortly they were a-talking

 

“Your future, your future, I would tell to you – Your future, you often have asked me.
Your true love will die by your own right hand and Crazy Man Michael will cursed be.”

 

Michael he ranted and Michael he raved, and beat at the four winds with his fists-o.
He laughed and he cried, he shouted and he swore, for his mad mind had trapped him with a kiss-o.

 

“You speak with an evil, you speak with a hate – You speak for the devil that haunts me
For is she not the fairest in all the broad land – Your sorcerer’s words are to taunt me.”

 

He took out his dagger of fire and of steel, and struck down the raven through the heart-o.
The bird fluttered long and the sky it did spin, and the cold earth did wonder and start-o.

 

“Oh, where is the raven that I struck down dead, that here did lie on the ground-o?
I see but my true love with a wound so red, where her lover’s heart it did pound-o.

 

”Crazy Man Michael, he wanders and walks, and talks to the night and the day-o.
But his eyes they are sane and his speech it is clear and he longs to be far away-o.

 

Michael he whistles the simplest of tunes, and asks of the wild wolves their pardon.
For his true love is flown into every flower grown, and he must be keeper of the garden.

  ♦   ‘Farewell Farewell’   ↓

Farewell, farewell to you who’d hear
You lonely travellers all.
The cold North winds will blow again
The winding road does call.

And you will never return to see your bruised and beaten sons?
Oh, I would, I would if welcome I were
For they loathe me ev’ryone.

And will you never cut the cloth or drink the light to be?
And can you never swear a year to anyone but me?

No I will never cut the cloth or drink the light to be,
But I’ll swear a year to one who lies asleep alongside of me.

•→ Sandy Denny/Fotheringay ⇒‘Wild Mountain Thyme’ ⇔ [lyrics]

F C   ↓  ‘Fotheringay’  ←

Mary, Queen of Scots, was imprisoned for 21 years in the castle of Fotheringhay by Queen Elizabeth I for conspiring to overthrow Elizabeth and was executed in 1587. Sandy Denny’s song concentrates more on the long imprisonment rather than the sensational execution.

∞  ‘The Battle of Evermore’    ⇐  w/ Led Zep

Queen of Light took her bow, and then she turned to go,

The Prince of Peace embraced the gloom, and walked the night alone.

Oh, dance in the dark of night – Sing to the morning light.

The dark Lord rides in force tonight, and time will tell us all.

Oh, throw down your plow and hoe –  Rest not to lock your homes.

Side by side we wait the might of the darkest of them all.

 

I hear the horses’ thunder down in the valley below,

I’m waiting for the angels of Avalon, waiting for the eastern glow.

The apples of the valley hold the seeds of happiness,

The ground is rich from tender care –  Repay, do not forget, no, no.

Dance in the dark of night, sing to the morning light.

The apples turn to brown and black, the tyrant’s face is red.

Oh the war is common cry – Pick up you swords and fly.

The sky is filled with good and bad that mortals never know.

 

Oh, well, the night is long the beads of time pass slow,

Tired eyes on the sunrise, waiting for the eastern glow.

The pain of war cannot exceed the woe of aftermath,

The drums will shake the castle wall, the ring wraiths ride in black,

Ride on…

Sing as you raise your bow, shoot straighter than before.

No comfort has the fire at night that lights the face so cold.

Oh dance in the dark of night – Sing to the morning light.

The magic runes are writ in gold to bring the balance back.

Bring it back.

At last the sun is shining – The clouds of blue roll by,

With flames from the dragon of darkness, the sunlight blinds his eyes.

Bring it back . . .

 

∇  Richard Thompson:  ‘Blackleg Miner’  [2006] – An English folk song, of unknown authorship, written somewhere between the late 1800s and early 1900s. The term «blackleg» is older slang meaning «scab». There was a great hostility among the unionized miners towards anyone who chose to cross their striking lines  ⇓

It’s in the evening after dark when the blackleg miner goes to work,
With his moleskin pants and dirty shirt – There goes the blackleg miner . . .

Well, he grabs his duds and down he goes to hew the coal that lies below,
There’s not a woman in this town row will look at the blackleg miner.

Oh, Delaval is a terrible place – They rub wet clay in the blackleg’s face,
And around the heaps they run a footrace to catch the blackleg miner.

And even down near the Seghill mine, across the way they stretch a line
To catch the throat, to break the spine of the dirty blackleg miner.

They grabbed his duds, his picks as well, and they hoy them down the pit of hell,
So off you go, we pay you well – You dirty blackleg miner.

So join the union while you may – Don’t wait ‘til your dying day
For that may not be far away, You dirty blackleg miner

• Steeleye Span ↑ [«Back In Line»_1986]