Thinking Voyager 2 Type Things

Isn't that a great title for a song? Just about anything could be lurking behind a title like that. I'm much too young to really know what Voyager 2 was about and I must admit that I don't know who Brendan Behan was either, so to me a title like that is like an unopened book.

And in a way - so is the song. A simple melody, repeating itself over and over again, lulling, meditative, trancey almost. This is the breath - this is the kiss - this is the moment that we come alive. To me the song is like waking up on a lazy Sunday morning, slowly crossing the line from dream to reality, always slipping back into slumber-land, feeling very happy, content and at easy with the day that lies ahead.

Big Romantic Stuff

On the other side is like a little later on that same Sunday. Breakfast eaten, kitchen cleaned, the sun is just coming round this side of the house and I might be thinking about what to do and where to go on a day like today. (You did not expect me to write anything but a totally subjective review, did you?!)

The song's got this gentle swing that just makes me think, 'Well, after all, isn't this world quite beautiful?! Shell never give it up - She's gonna hold on to that Big Romantic Stuff - And accordions and violins take her back in time - When the only explanation was a kiss and love and life.

 Crucified Me

I wouldn't be surprised if this is another song that just happened. The whole song is based around Bob playing the guitar - and he does it very well indeed -singing most intensively.  As long as I know (of) Bob, his lyrics have always been a mystery to me. I can call myself lucky to know some of the stories behind some of the songs but often I don't really understand what he's going on about.

A while ago I was reading Nick Cave's book And The Ass Saw The Angle. I hated the story because it was so gross and gory but I adored the style the book was written in. I read somewhere that Nick Cave spent ages writing this book. He was in Berlin at that time, squatting with a friend. His bed was on a kind of loft and while writing this book, he dragged a lorry-load of reference books up there. He spent ages in archives and libraries, collecting ancient dictionaries and anything that would include words not used in today's English. Consequently I never understood what I was reading, but the sound of those words was so beautiful, I eventually started reading the book to myself aloud. I read the whole book aloud to myself and adored it, not really minding anymore if what I was reading made any sense or not. Bob's lyrics sometimes do the same to me. I'm sure I could work out the contents to some of the songs, but, does it really matter? Aren't the words to a song sometimes merely like another instrument, another facet to a musical concept? Decide for yourselves.

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