Peter Hammill - Out Of Water 1990

  1. Evidently Goldfish
  2. Not The Man
  3. No Moon In The Water
  4. Out Oyster
  5. Something About Ysabel's Dance
  6. Green Fingers
  7. On The Surface
  8. A Way Out


    EVIDENTLY GOLDFISH

    Check the honesty of what's on offer,
    true detective or a fake fakir?
    All the evidence is circumstantial -
        as mud the evidence is clear.
    Paranormal the investigation -
    where do things go when they disappear?
    All the evidence has been trumped up...
        as mud the evidence is clear,
        I think we're into something here,
        I think we're into something...
        I don't know but
        maybe we're all goldfish
            in the mental sphere.
    
    Evidently goldfish
        never questioning enviroment
    Self-evidently goldfish
        we swim in circular experience;
    
    Church of logical deliberation,
    school of accidental wheels in gear....
    Surface knowledge is a serious matter,
    a little consciousness is dangerous, dear;
        all the evidence must be summed up -
        as mud the evidence is clear,
        I think we're into something,
        I don't know but maybe
        we're all goldfish in the mental sphere.
    
    Evidently goldfish
        never question their enviroment;
    Self-evidently goldfish
        we swim in circular experience;
    Evidently goldfish
        round and round and round and round
            within our conciousness
            in the mental sphere.
    
    As mud the evident is clear.

    NOT THE MAN

    There are so many questions,
    there are so many doubts -
    this is auto-suggestion
        your spirit is giving out.
    If I offered my reasons
    would you give me a break?
    Now it's all open season,
        no sense of quit and take.
    
    You see I'm not the man I was....
    
    But of I'm not the man
    that you took me to be
    do I fade from your dreams,
    disappear from your memory?
    Look at me:
    if I'm not the man I was
        then who was he?
    
    There can be no returning
    to the scene of the crime...
    For perfection you're yearning:
    some romance, some foreign chime!
    Is the memory explicit
    under strict rule of thumb?
    It was always implicit,
        this character I've become.
    
    But if I'm not the man
    that you took me to be
    do I fade from your dreams,
    disappear from your memory?
    I remember it well,
    I can guess what went wrong...
    you believe all these words
    in the popular songs...
    but if I'm not the man
    that you took me to be,
    did I walk in your dreams?
    I've no idea who that person could be.
    
    Look at me:
    if I'm not the man I was
        then who is he?

    NO MOON IN THE WATER

    So
    if it's just so then
    where is it now when
    I find the moment
    uncertain?
    
    Broken water pail -
    no moon in the water,
    try to hold it now.
    
    So
    I want to hold on
    reflections all gone,
    no ego - so.
    
    Broken water pail -
    no moon in the water,
    try to hold it now,
    broken water pail,
    hold me in the moment,
    no more ego now.
    
    I would
    drink the drags of daylight,
    break the bread of consciousness
    and dream:
    dream day for night,
    nightfall around us,
    waking, dreaming,
    awake to the dream.
    
    Broken water pail -
    no moon in the water,
    try to hold it now,
    hold me in the moment,
    no more ego now,
    no moon in the water,
    no more ego now.

    OUT OYSTER

    This one's authentic,
    son of a gun,
    a soundtrack from China
    in the universal tongue....
    
    The world is our oyster
    to plunder at will
    though the palats is jaded
    by all but the thrill
    of fish out of water,
    life in the raw...
    Without understanding
    of what life's worth fighting for.
    
    Out of universal language
    some stuff never translates -
    the reports come in clusters
    but for words it's too late...
    Six o'clock entertainment,
    tears of anguish and rage...
    in the zoos of the media
    the spirit of moment is caged.
    
    There's only one language
    the whole world comprehends,
    there's only one message
    as the darkness descends...
    do you still have a question
    or do you retract?
    There's a whole world of difference
    between the observer and the act.
    
    They're playing world music
    in Tiananmen Square.
    They're playing world music
    in Tiananmen Square.
    The whistle of bullets in the air.

    SOMETHING ABOUT YSABEL'S DANCE

    In the new hotel on Fiesta Night
    the staff are bored;
    Donna Ysabel dances, zombie-like,
    the guests applaud....
    The colour is local,
    the tourists are tanned
    the natives are restless
        and everything's second hand.
    
    Places disappear, but the names endure
    as alibis;
    memory's hazy here, no one's really sure
    of how time flies....
    Well drunk the bass player
    cries into his beer - 
    are Yzabel's mother
        or Yzabel dancing here?
    
    After hours all the couriers are in the bar
    round the corner
    with the drivers in a game of cards...
    In bursts Ysabel, her hair let loose,
    her limbs set free;
    on the tabletops she's dancing to a memory -
    conversations stops and every eye 
    is turned to see...
        something about Ysabel's dance.
    
    It's a shrinking world, it's a fun-packed cruise,
    a museum trip:
    skirt the native girl, check the rabid dog,
    rejoin the ship.
    There's no Charlie Mingus,
    his Tijnena's gone...
    This smile for the camera
        is all just a tourist con.
    
    But after hours all the couriers and drivers know
    of a cantina where there's every chance
    that she might show, and maybe Ysabel
    will dance the dance for real again,
    her mother's footsteps, vice and virtue,
    lust and love and pain.
    There's something here
    the anthropologists dare not explain,
        something about Ysabel's dance.

    GREEN FINGERS

    He'll be young forever if he keeps this up...
    So the bedroom playboy's never going to grow up.
        The heart is a secret garden
        to which there are no short cuts.
    
    Only green young fingers make the garden bloom;
    for the serious young man now is always too soon -
        The heart is a secret garden,
        the head is a darkened room.
    
    Close your eyes...
    how does it feel to be in love?
       ...Much too difficult, you shove
        green fingers into gloves.
    
    Get those fingers dirty - now you're getting warm;
    blood those hands with passion,
    turn your face to the storm.
        The heart is a bed of roses,
        The heart is a bed of thorns.
    
    Bleed, green finger, bleed.
    
    Some future memory stirs...
    someone's always getting burned
    if intensity holds true.
    If it's real to be in love
    how does it feel to be in love?
       ...Green fingers stripped of gloves.

    ON THE SURFACE

    On the surface
    phosphones gleaming;
    deep down
    we carry on dreaming.
    
    On the surface
    compass and charts checked;
    deep down the current run
        in a shining vortex,
        in a swirling vortex.
    
    On the surface
    oil troubled water
    sails set the seas on fire
    to the farthest quarter....
    Are we dreaming?
    Dream deep of childhood,
    dream deep of future days -
        it'll all come good,
            deep dreaming.
    
        It'll all come good,
            deep dreaming.
        It'll all come good,
        it'll all rise to the surface,
            deep dreaming.

    A WAY OUT

    Out of joint, out of true, out of love,
    out of the blue, out of order, out of orbit,
    out of control,
    out of touch, out of line, out of sync
    and out of time, out of gas, out of tread,
    out of road.
    
    Out of date, out of stock, out of use -
    out, out dammed spot!
    You want out, you want out of it for good.
    Out of the running, out of the game,
    out on your feet, clear out of range,
    out of context, out of contact,
    out of the woods.
    
    Out, out, looking for a way out,
    no straws are left to cling to;
    out, out, going for the fade-out...
          but what do you fade into?
    
    Out on the town, out for laughs,
    out of service, out to grass,
    out of mourning, our of purdah,
    out of bail,
    out of kilter, out grace,
    out to get out of this place,
    out of this world, out and out
    beyond the plae.
    
    Right out of character, out of sympathy,
    so far out upon a limb
          you're out of your tree....
    
    Out of breath, out of tune, out of your head
    and out of view, down and out,
    out for the count, or is it just for revenge?
    Out of sight, out of mind, leave it out,
    leave it behind out of reach
    of all family, all friends
    
    Out, out, going for the bale-out,
    no parachute above you.
    Out, out, you'll not feel the fall-out
       ...I wish I'd said "I love you".
    
    (Enigma 7 73540-2 1990)
    Evidently Goldfish # Not the Man No Moon in the Water + Our Oyster # Something About Ysabel's Dance * Green Fingers + On the Surface # A Way Out Produced by PETER HAMMILL except "Ysabel" by PH/DAVID LORD Engineered by PH/DAVID LORD Recorded at SOFA SOUND/TERRA INCOGNITA Mixed at CRESCENT STUDIOS/TERRA INCOGNITA Jan - Aug 1989 All songs by PETER HAMMILL Published by STATIC MUSIC LTD. All instruments and voices by PH except: Guitars # - FURY Saxophones + - DAVID JACKSON Basses + - NIC POTTER Violin * - STUART GORDON


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