39 posts tagged “audio”
The story behind the two songs - (A Cottage in the Country & Song for Baby Sam) Lyrics and audio are below.
Summer of 1974 I made a trip from Coventry to Norwich to visit Steve and Lyndie Brimstone. My father had come from Gt.Yarmouth so I took time out to visit my dad's family. I'd met Lyndie at Arts Umbrella in Coventry - she was studying to be an actress at Brookland's Annex drama college. We'd become close friends and shared the cottage at Shilton for about a year. Along way, while living in Birmingham summer 71 we collected Steve Brimstone (his father was the well known folk singer Derek Brimstone. Not surprisingly Steve was a great guitarist and good friend. By 1974 they had married and were living in Norwich. They rented a house in Gypsy Lane owned by Gypsy Dave (Donovan's manager). In the shed was a writing desk with Donovan Leitch written on the underside and a turtle shell mandolin. While there I explored Norwich and found an Indian Summer album in the second hand record store to my delight (a Coventry band for those who don't know).
I Steve had a copy of his father's new album Mrs Fisher which I enjoyed listening to. Mrs Fisher was my favourite, in two parts - the first in the form of a poem to Derek's clawpicking guitar and the second a song. This was one of Derek's own compositions. I wrote two songs during my week there. The first was a fingerpicking song A Cottage in the Country. Although in actual fact they divorced soon after, while there they were still considering getting a cottage in the country and being self-sufficient. Lyndie often wore long skirts and hand crocheted shawls and Steve had branch out from guitar to play mandolin and fiddle, wore a waste coat and had the feel of a country gent. I picked up on their life-style and wrote this song.
The second song was written for their son Sam who was still a baby at that time. I think it was a bit influenced by some of Woody Guthrie's kids songs. These are first rough recordings. I probably have better and more practised versions somewhere which I'll look out but these give an idea of the songs.
These are not on the new album.
A Cottage in the Country
I see you as an old lady
Sat serenely in your chair
The knitting is in your hand.
In the cradle rocks the bairn.
Though you are still touched by youth
All about you is so slow.
Just as if an old lady
And a rustic quaint.
Chorus
And Oh so slow the river flows
So (oh) slow - Oh...........
Your husband too like a country gent
with his waist coat, pipe and stick.
His head bowed down in a book
as a lazy clock, it does tick.
He with his old mandolin
and expensive violin
Harmonising with the breeze
Like a slow motion sneeze.
Chorus
And oh so slow the river flows
So oh slow oh....
Scrub a dub dub in an old wooden tub
Chop up the tree for fire wood.
Chop up the tree for me,
Chop up the tree for warmth and love.
Your hand tills the land
for food and for sale.
There's a goat in your garden
that gives milk in a pail.
An old wishing well and a chemical loo
A little wayout cottage just suits you.
Brown rice and veg and unleavened bread
You believe you are what you are fed.
Always on the sill lie apple pies
Away with the ring the Jackdaw flies.
A few miles away in a smoky old town
Hard to recall how time merry-goes-round
Outside in the lane, wrapped up in your shawl
Fruit and veg on sale on your stall.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
It's strange when you think that not long away
The bairn at your bosom will be making his way
Soon to be at the stage we are now
and we - the older generation.
Chorus
And oh so slow that river flows
So oh slow oh
SONG FOR BABY SAM
c. by Trev Teasdel Norwich 1974
Hello Sam, Eyes wide and beaming,
Smile that is gleaming - down.
Like a sun upon high
You are pie from the sky.
Give a sad little sigh
Sad little Sam - Smile, don't cry.
Hello Sam - face tender and chubby
Hands wet and grubby - yeah.
And "What's that mess on the floor?"
And "And mind your hand in the door"
And "What? Oh you want some more?"
Oh Sam, smile don't snore!
Bridge
With your mother so lovin' and all
You stand tall although you're so small
Hey Sam - chin up and smile -
Each day is a new toy to be explored
And Oh Growing up it takes such a while.
Oh Sam - Please don't look so bored.
Hello Sam - You're Daddy works hard
Hold you in high regard.
And "Oh don't you pull my hair!"
And "Oh, the world is so unfair"
but let's give a little sigh
And Sam - smile don't swear.
Back to the bridge..and finish.
Melissa's Garden Audio
Audio with this - warts an all! Rough demo on the Hi Fi double tracking my electro acoustic to add a bit of lead. I'm not
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MELISSA'S GARDEN |
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Tiger eyes
that mesmerise Fireflies of her thighs. |
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(Chorus I) Come on down to Melissa's Garden Love and light down in the garden. In the garden love is growing, She leads the way by the seeds she's sowing. |
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She's an
archimage from another age Runic spells fly off her page |
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Bridge.. You won't
believe what you see |
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The world you
see is on an odyssey |
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Chorus 2 Come on down
to Melissa's Garden |
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So leap-frog
with the underdog |
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Moonbeams on
the millstream Aug 1998 (N. Yorkshire) by Trev Teasdel) |
This track musically was composed by one of my keyboard players - Steve Ingledew c1993 (a Geordie lad living in Middlesbrough). No samples involved - he
Maybe I'll have a go now I've dug the track out again. Both Steve Ingledew and Steve Gillgallon whom I worked with in my Teesside period have a great facility for melody.
No words with this track therefore - but I love it as an instrumental.
I called it Paris Affair because it inspired my partner (at the time) Margaret to write a poem about travelling through Paris.
A ska styled number this time!
For those who follow the Hobo - Coventry music site - this was one of the last songs I wrote before leaving Coventry
With Someone Nice Like You
by Trev Teasdel
I torture myself, with pent up fears
I brood a lot
I brew tea for one
I ask myself “how come”
How come I just can’t face the pots
I tie myself right up in knots
Chorus
And I long to spend my time
And I long to spend my time
Yes I long to spend my time
With someone nice like you.
I smashed a cup washing up
I burnt the toast
I missed the post
And I ask myself “Whyfore”
Whyfore I haven’t fixed the drafty door
I’m frozen right through to the core
Chorus
And I long to spend my time
And I long to spend my time
Yes I long to spend my time
With someone nice like you.
Oh the nights are cold
Oh the nights are long
All I do, it comes out wrong
I wash my clothes but still they pong
How come I just can’t get it right?
Sadness got me in his long-range sights
To chorus..
Bridge
When I see a lover by your side
I turn my love lights low
Take my part in a melancholy show
Oh I just don’t know
Don’t know how to show I just don’t care
When my feeling set fire to my hair.
To Chorus.
By Trev Teasdel – 1980
THE ISOLATE by Trev Teasdel (1st verses written Coventry 1979 / rest of lyric and music Middlesbrough 1985)
Under lock and key
In a room where no one goes
He sheds the tears
no one else will see.
In the recess of his mind
where troubles often hide
He feels the sorrow
felt by him alone.
Bridge 1
His eyes do not betray
the hurt that rots his soul
and his lips are sworn to secrecy
(his lips are sworn to secrecy).
Chorus - but he says it's alright
Daylight follows night
He knows to hold on tight
One day it will come right.
In a folder 'neath the floor boards
in a room where no one goes
are the words he wrote
to songs he never sings.
In the silence of his solitude
so void and unbenign
we witness how
his dreams are growing wings.
Bridge 2
One day his key will turn
One day his door will open
You'll see his dreams take shape
in the world outside his mind
And when his heart is sure
When his vision's clear
You'll see his dreams take flight
in the room outside his mind...(To Chorus)
And his dreams are howling wolves
in the hopelessness of night
that beckon to
and herald in the light.
And his sorrow and his searching
are craftsmen of his dreams
chiselled in that ri n shred of life.
Bridge 3
His heart is pure and clear
like a stream that wanders free
He sees things as they ought to be.
And he climbs the stairs of life
with his visions running wild
and guides them as they grow
like a parent would a child.
..........
Before leaving Coventry in 1980 - I worked at Cashes (name tapes - textile firm) labouring while doing a couple of A levels in the evening. Two Tone had broken in Coventry and the music scene was lively again there. The workers in the factory took a fag break in between the official breaks in the toilets. I don't smoke but used to have a 'write' break instead. I locked my self in the cubicle and sketch out some words - on this occassion I imagined myself to be imprisioned in some godforsaken cell (it was an old factory) and probably reflected my state of mind working in this place and hoping to get out of it. Hence the first two verses. Later that year I moved to Teesside to begin a degree course, so yes I did escape! In 1985 working with my musician friends Steve Gillgallon and Stephen Ingledew, I finished the song. We tried several versions - acoustic and the versions here over dubbed on a double cassette (so the quality is not too hot. The final version (although no vocal on it) occured a year later in 1986 when we had bought better keyboards and an electic guitar. The top version is also on my My Space - Trev and Collective Unconscious.
Songs feature Trev Teasdel - acoustic or electric flanged guitar, keyboards / vocals
Steve Gillgallon bass guitar and keyboards / synth and arrangements
Stephen Ingledew on keyboards, bass synth and recordings.
I
wrote this in 1968 at 17 but rewrote it 1978 after reading feminist writers
like Juliet Mitchell, Sheila Rowbothem and more. Being a single parent,
it comes close to home now! I did this briefly with a Coventry band in 1980 - a Pentangle influenced band. The bassist was Selecter's roadie and we worked on a ska version of this although all of the musicians had gone folk rock. The band never got off the ground as Andy left to do Phd and I moved to Teesside to do a BA. I don't have any recordings of that version - this is just me and an acoustic guitar with the original draft of the song. This lyric was published in my 2nd
collection of poems and lyrics - Poet Reprobate
1985
MRS STRESS AND STRAIN
When the sun’s out shining
Are you always ironing?
Does Steven need new shoes?
And Mary have the lover’s blues?
As life all around gets tense
Do you ask yourself
‘where is the sense?’
Now the milkman hasn’t been
And the rooms aren’t very clean.
There’s bills to be paid
On your mind they’re all weighed
Prices rising higher
Your state is getting higher.
Chorus –
Mrs
Stress and Strain, To the kitchen sink you’re chained.
Worry haunts your life, And I can see you are the wife
Of
Mr Toil and Strife.
“A women’s works is never done”
and the housework isn’t fun
Who else would work as hard as you
Such long hours, no rest due.
The stresses and the strains you bear,
The children and the mothercare!
And the beat goes on, day by day,
The isolation wears your soul away.
There’s nothing to show for all your work
You can’t stop a room from gathering dirt!
You feel you’ve got no life left of your own,
A permanent fixture, a doorpost in your home.
And though you’ll never make ends meet,
The adverts entice you to compete
With the image of an all-mod-con
Trendy space age super mom.
Should profiteers always hold the trump cards?
You’ve been dealt a hand of jokers –
What a façade!
Who’s the one they fall back upon.
Sometimes slave means the same as mom.
They never see the other side of you
Only what they expect of you.
Pinned down in a domestic situation
With little pills to ease your aggravation.
Sit down, sit back, light up and sigh,
Does your position in society make you cry?
“How hard’s the fortune of all women kind,
they’re always in fetters, always confined.
Bound
down by parents until made wives
Slaves to their husbands the rest of their lives.”
Chorus
In 1983 as an undergraduate in Middlesbrough, I hosted Sunday music sessions with musician friend Steve Gillgallon
Steve Gillgallon - flanged bass, Colin Walker - keyboards Trev Teasdel - acoustic guitar / Vocals.
LADY OF DARKNESS (By Colin Walker)
Walking along a lonely shore
Lapped by waters of illusion
out of the mist she came to me
The timeless daughter of the ocean.
Where she came from, I don't know
Like magic out of nowhere
Here eyes glittered like diamonds
The moon shone in her hair.
Chorus -
Lady of Darkness
With Stars in her eyes
She can never love you
So don't believe her lies.
Lady of Darksness
You'll never find the key
To unlock her secrets
She blongs to the sea.
In silence we made love
Then she stood and took my hand
At midnight she said goodbye
and left me alone up on the sand.
At night I return to the shore
hoping to find her waiting there
but I'm certain deep in my heart
we'll never meet again this way.
Coda -
LADY OF DARKNESS
SHE CAN NEVER LOVE YOU
LADY OF DARKNESS
TO UNLOCK HER SECRETS.
BBC News Report on Victor Jara
VICTOR JARA
words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie
Victor Jara of
Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With
his songs and his guitar
His hands were gentle, his hands were
strong
Victor Jara was a peasant
He worked from a few years old
He
sat upon his father's plow
And watched the earth unfold
His hands were
gentle, his hands were strong
Now when the neighbors had a wedding
Or
one of their children died
His mother sang all night for them
With Victor
by her side
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
He grew up to
be a fighter
Against the people's wrongs
He listened to their grief and
joy
And turned them into songs
His hands were gentle, his hands were
strong
He sang about the copper miners
And those who worked the
land
He sang about the factory workers
And they knew he was their
man
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong Here's another version not buy me this time but Christy Moore
He campaigned for
Allende
Working night and day
He sang "Take hold of your brothers
hand
You know the future begins today"
His hands were gentle, his hands
were strong
Then the generals seized Chile
They arrested Victor
then
They caged him in a stadium
With five-thousand frightened men
His
hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Victor stood in the
stadium
His voice was brave and strong
And he sang for his fellow
prisoners
Till the guards cut short his song
His hands were gentle, his
hands were strong
They broke the bones in both his hands
They beat him
on the head
They tore him with electric shocks
And then they shot him
dead
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Now the Generals they rule Chile
and the British have their thanks
For they rule with Hawker Hunters
And they rule with Chieftain tanks
His hands were gentle, his hands were strong
Repeat first verse
Lyric was written in 1970 - when Coventry drummer Steve Harrison asked for some blues lyrics for a band that I think included Mojo Morgan - it was a traditional blues but a bluesy feel in the emotions. It's about, I think, procrastination - wishing for something and then being 'dazzled' or overwhelmed when the opportunity comes and blowing it, near as I can remember. I was going to do it with our little band in 1986 and recorded it as a basic idea playing acoustic guitar, analog synth bass and a very early little casio keyboard and multi tracked vocals and put through a digital delay more recently. We never did the track and the Cov band split up before anything could be used. So this is it's first wider hearing. Just an old demo track. The title was influenced by a Joni Mitchell song on Ladies of the Canyon which was current back then - "Morning Morgan Town". - Broadgate Gnome's comment reminded me that Leonard Cohen's Winter Lady was also an influence and the line Child of the Snow is a literary reference to Cohen - we used jam on Winter Lady in Coventry on the grass outside the Herbert Museum and Art Gallery back in the early 70's.
BELOW - NEW VIDEO PRODUCED BY THE GNOME LABEL OF BACK IN WINTER TOWN - THE SONG NOW FEATURES ON TREV'S NEW ALBUM - SONGS FROM THE COVENTRY UNDERGROUND ON THE GNOME LABEL
BACK IN WINTER TOWN
I persevered through
Persistent rain
Believing that the sun must shine.
Through the thunder clouds,
I kept my head
Wishing that the sun would shine.
I was isolated
by deep frozen snow
Believing that the sun would shine.
And the sun did shine,
and it shone so bright
that it dazzled me.
Chorus
And the rain came down
Now I’m back in
And the rain came down
Now I’m back in
(Bridge)
I'm a "child of the snow". I'm a "child of the snow". I'm a "Child of the snow"
I dug my way through fields of hurt
Believing I would find the key.
Through the gates of pain,
I kept my head
Believing I would find the key.
I was left alone,
In that nowhere zone
Believing that the key I'd find
And the key did shine
and it shone so bright
that it dazzled me.
Chorus
And the rain came down
Now I’m back in
And the rain came down
Now I’m back in .
(Bridge repeat)
Words 1970 Music 1986
By Trev Teasdel.
Written on on Teesside - I was working some songs out with fellow student Steve Gillgallon and need a new song. Opening the Observer supplement I saw a full page ad for an American credit card which showed an executive on a Jet, handing his credit card to the hostess with a caption to the effect of "There's limit to how far yu can go with the particular credit card being advertised. It was asking to have the rise taken out of it. The first audio has me on acoustic and vocals and Steve Gillgallon on acoustic lead. A later 1984 version has Steve also on bass guitar as well as lead. I had also developed words for the bridge in which the protagonist gets his cum-uppance!!
NO LIMIT (TO HOW FAR YOU CAN GO) by Trev Teasdel Feb 81
I met her on the Trans-Atlantic jet from New York
She was playing hostess to business diplomats.
She said "where do you come from?" I said "Mexico "
She said "There's no limit, to how far you can go,
Absolutely no limit to how far you can go "
I pulled out my credit card, a smile hit her lips
She had a spare folder, the card it did fit.
The plane it took off, flying high in the sky.
She said "There's no limit, to how high you can fly,
Absolutely no limit to how high you can fly"
BRIDGE
And then she walked in, wearing only her body.
She led him down the corridor and into the cock-pit.
Then she opened her folder, his eyes they bulged
And as she slid his card inside, she discovered
His credit limit had been exceeded.
And after we landed, with ground 'neath out feet
She followed my down the steps and into the street.
I said "Why do you follow?" She said "don't you know"
I said "There's a limit, to how far we can go,
And this is the limit to how far we can go"
Feb 1981 Middlesbrough
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