With an extensive solo career spanning dozens of albums, Peter Hammill is certainly more than just the front-man and leader of Van Der Graaf Generator (VdGG). His literate, soul-examining lyrics and his often-anguished vocal delivery make his music perhaps an acquired taste, but his uncompromising artistic vision has shone since his first release, Fool's Mate, back in 1971.
Stylistically, he has forged his own path, touching on progressive rock, punk (before it was even called that), electronic experimentation, intimate singer-songwriter settings, and even opera/musical theatre (with his adaptation of Poe's The Fall of the House of Usher).
Hammill's solo career has coexisted with VdGG's activities. The band was offered a contract by Mercury Records in 1968, that only Hammill signed. When VdGG broke up in 1969 he wanted to record his first solo-album. In the summer of 1969 Hammill had a residency at The Lyceum and played weekly solo-concerts there. Eventually the intended solo-album was released under the VdGG-banner as their first album (The Aerosol Grey Machine). Hammill's first official solo-album was Fool's Mate (1971), containing songs from the early (1967/68) VdGG-days.
When VdGG broke up again in August 1972, Hammill resumed his solo-career. Songs that were intended for VdGG, now ended up on his solo-albums, notably "(In The) Black Room (Including 'The Tower')" (on Chameleon in the Shadow of the Night) and "A Louse Is Not A Home" (on The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage). This to some extent makes it difficult to separate Hammill's solo work during the 1970s from his work with the band (for the majority of both his solo-songs and the band's songs he is credited as the sole songwriter, and some of his solo albums feature all the members of Van der Graaf Generator). In general, however, solo Hammill is concerned with more personal matters, while the band's songs deal with broader themes.
Hammill's Nadir's Big Chance (1975} was a great change from the preceding album, In Camera. Whilst In Camera is characterized by extremely intense and complex songs and even has some musique concrete on it, Nadir's Big Chance is notable for its anticipation of punk rock. In a 1977 radio interview, John Lydon of the Sex Pistols played two tracks from the album and expressed his admiration for Hammill in glowing terms: "Peter Hammill's great. A true original. I've just liked him for years. If you listen to him, his solo albums, I'm damn sure David Bowie copied a lot out of that geezer. The credit he deserves, just has not been given to him. I love all his stuff"
Over (1977) contains very personal songs about the break-up of a long-term relationship.
Hammill's first solo-album after the 1978 break-up of Van der Graaf was The Future Now. With the next albums, pH7 and A Black Box, the sound got more compact, more new wave. On those albums, Hammill played the drums himself. What followed was 'the K-group'. In later years Hammill would sometimes refer to the band as a "beat group". The K-group consisted of Hammill himself on guitars and piano, with John Ellis on lead guitar, Nic Potter on bass, and Guy Evans on drums and percussion. They recorded the albums Enter K and Patience.
Hammill's early records, like the VdGG albums, were released on Charisma Records. He parted company with them after pH7 (1979), and then released albums on a number of small labels. A Black Box came out on S-Type, a label run by Hammill and his manager Gail Colson. Enter K and Patience appeared on Naive, Skin and Margin on Foundry and In A Foreign Town, Out of Water and Room Temperature: Live on Enigma Records. In 1992 he formed his own label, Fie!, on which all his albums since Fireships have been released. The label's logo is the Greek letter phi (Φ), a pun on PH-I. Ever since the 1970s he has also had his own home recording studio, appropriately called Sofa Sound (his website was later named after the studio).
Musically, Hammill's work ranges from short simple riff-based songs to highly complex lengthy pieces. Mainly because of his refusal to make anything resembling middle-of-the-road music, and the general absence of any smooth or glamorous sounds in his music, there is much debate amongst his admirers whether Hammill is to be considered a part of the so-called progressive rock scene. In many interviews however Hammill himself has stated that he does not want to be put in the progressive rock music label, or any music label at all.
His output is prolific. Many different styles of music appear in his work, among them artful complexity (for instance Chameleon in the Shadow of the Night), avant-garde electronic experiments (Loops & Reels), opera (The Fall of the House of Usher), solo keyboard accompaniment (And Close As This), solo guitar accompaniment (Clutch), improvisation (Spur of the Moment), film music (Sonix), band recordings (Enter K), and slow, melancholic balladry (None of the Above).
Hammill survived a heart attack in December 2003, less than 48 hours after having finished the recording of Incoherence. In 2005, Hammill announced the reformation of Van der Graaf Generator. In 2004 they had recorded a new album, Present, which was released in April 2005, and from May until November 2005 played a series of well received concerts.
Between 2005 and 2007 Hammill has overseen the remastering of almost all of his pre-Fie! releases, and has also started similar work on his more recent catalogue. The last of the Charisma remasters was released in September 2007.
Hammill's solo-career did not end because of the VdGG-reunion. He released his new album Singularity in December 2006. It was the first solo-album he completed after his heart attack, and for a large part it deals with matters of life and (sudden) death.
In 2007 several gigs by Van der Graaf Generator as a trio (minus David Jackson) have taken place in Britain and the rest of Europe, and their new album Trisector was released in March 2008. Hammill's new solo album, Thin Air came out 8th June 2009. Hammill and the band are touring extensively in USA, Japan and Europe these days.
A Louse Is Not a Home
Peter Hammill Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror :
Splintered glass distorts my face,
And though the light is strong and strange
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
I draw my murky meanings there,
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror mid the drapes of the landing :
Split image, labored understanding ----
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home ....
I've lived in houses composed of glass
Where every movement is charted,
But now the monitor screens are dark
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
They spin out faith, hope and reason ----
But are they meet and just, or only dust
gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling that there's
Someone else there :
The faceless watcher makes me uneasy,
I can feel him through the floorboards,
and His presence is creepy ----
He informs me that I shall be expelled ....
What is that but out of and into :
I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the nature
that I am inside ....
I've lived in houses of brick and lead
Where all emotion is sacred,
And if you want to devour the fruit
You must first sniff at the fragrance
And lay your body before the shrine
With poems and posies and papers ----
Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it, so my friends
all say,
But I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
Some of them are snails and carry houses
on their backs;
Others live in monuments which, one day,
will be racks --
I keep my home in place with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
But I still feel there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
Keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits
in my hall;
He ravages my library and taps the telephone --
I've never actually seen Him,
But I know He's in my home
And if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe -- er -- I think --
Well, I don't know ......
I only live in one room at a time,
But all of the walls are ears, all the windows, eyes :
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
And I am boning out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
Unearthly silence is broken :
The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I can see a face I know ----
Could this be the guy who never shows
The cracked mirror what he's feeling,
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where
he's kneeling :
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"
All you people looking for your houses,
Don't throw your weight around, you might
break your glasses
And if you do, you know you just can't see
And then how are you to find the dawning
of the day?
--- Day is just a word I use to keep the dark
at bay,
And people are imaginary, nothing else exists
Except the room I'm sitting in,
And, of course, the all-pervading mist ---
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real ....
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
In the confines of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think ..... "
The lyrics of Peter Hammill's song A Louse Is Not a Home paint a picture of the singer's struggles with his own mind and the environment he lives in. The first verse sets the tone for the song's eerie and uncertain atmosphere, with the singer feeling like he could disappear at any moment. The mention of a line snaking down his mirror and distorted reflection alludes to the idea of fractured identity and a sense of being disconnected from oneself. The singer finds comfort in his imagination, which leads him to a castle in the clouds where he can draw meaning.
The second verse delves deeper into the singer's sense of displacement, with him describing living in houses made of glass where every movement is charted. This could be interpreted as the feeling of being watched or constantly evaluated. However, the singer also grapples with the idea of whether his words hold any weight, or whether they are merely dust gathering about his chair. This sense of uncertainty and lack of control over his own existence is heightened by the presence of a faceless watcher, who makes him uneasy and informs him that he will be expelled. The singer is left unsure about what lies beyond the door, and whether the nature of the place he is in aligns with his own nature.
The final verse sees the singer questioning the concept of home and what it truly means, ultimately concluding that it is what you make it. The use of metaphor to describe the homes of others, such as snails carrying houses on their backs or buildings that will one day be racks, highlights the singer's sense of being different and not quite fitting in with those around him. While he may keep his home in place with sellotape and tin-tacks, the presence of the mysterious force that cracks mirrors and moves walls leaves him feeling vulnerable and uncertain. The singer expresses the desire to leave or change his current situation, but also worries that this might lead him to maybe his life away in the confines of his silent house.
Overall, the lyrics to A Louse Is Not a Home convey a sense of fear, uncertainty, and displacement, with the singer grappling with his own identity, the nature of his environment, and the concept of home itself.
Line by Line Meaning
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
This place can be filled with fear and sadness.
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
At times I feel like I'm fading away or already gone.
There's a line snaking down my mirror :
A crack runs through my mirror, distorting my reflection.
Splintered glass distorts my face,
The broken mirror distorts my appearance.
And though the light is strong and strange
Despite the brightness and unfamiliarity of the light
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
It fails to illuminate the hidden and gloomy areas of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
In my imagination, there is a grand and isolated castle in the sky.
I draw my murky meanings there,
I find vague and ambiguous interpretations in that castle.
But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
Misfortune is imminent.
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
Despair is ever-present in the darkness.
A cracked mirror mid the drapes of the landing :
In the hallway, there is a broken mirror among the curtains.
Split image, labored understanding ----
A fragmented reflection, struggling to comprehend.
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home ....
I am seeking a place to conceal my true self.
I've lived in houses composed of glass
I have dwelled in transparent dwellings.
Where every movement is charted,
Where every action is monitored and recorded.
But now the monitor screens are dark
The surveillance screens are no longer functioning.
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
I cannot determine if there are unseen observers.
My words are spiders upon the page,
My words crawl and weave intricate webs on the page.
They spin out faith, hope and reason ----
They construct narratives of belief, optimism, and logic.
But are they meet and just, or only dust
But are they fitting and fair, or simply worthless.
gathering about my chair?
Accumulating around my seat?
Sometimes I get the feeling that there's someone else there :
Occasionally, I sense the presence of another being.
The faceless watcher makes me uneasy,
The anonymous observer unsettles me.
I can feel him through the floorboards, and His presence is creepy ----
I sense him beneath the floor, and his existence is eerie.
He informs me that I shall be expelled ....
He informs me of my impending eviction.
What is that but out of and into :
What is it except a transition from one state to another:
I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I am unaware of what lies beyond the door I would enter.
I don't know the nature of the nature that I am inside ....
I do not comprehend the essence of my own being.
I've lived in houses of brick and lead
I have resided in solid and heavy residences.
Where all emotion is sacred,
Where every feeling is regarded as holy.
And if you want to devour the fruit
And if you desire to consume the fruit
You must first sniff at the fragrance
You must initially savor the aroma
And lay your body before the shrine
And prostrate your body in front of the sacred place
With poems and posies and papers ----
With poetry, flowers, and written documents ----
Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
Or, if you understand the trickery, you will have to decide
To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
Whether to remain as a monk or depart as a wanderer.
What is this place you call home?
What is the true nature of the place you consider home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it a sermon or a disclosure of secrets?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it the vessel you employ as a safeguard?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it truly just a place where you can reside?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a set of guidelines or a didactic speech?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Is it a punishment inflicted by your guardian?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Is the idol flawed despite its reverence?
Home is what you make it, so my friends all say,
According to my friends, home is what you create.
But I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
However, I seldom witness their abodes in these gloomy times.
Some of them are snails and carry houses on their backs;
Some of them are like snails, carrying their dwellings with them;
Others live in monuments which, one day, will be racks --
Others dwell in structures that will eventually become ruins --
I keep my home in place with sellotape and tin-tacks,
I patch up and secure my home with adhesive tape and thumbtacks,
But I still feel there's some other Force here :
Yet, I still sense the presence of another Force here:
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
The one who shatters mirrors and shifts the walls
Keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits in my hall;
Continually gazes through the narrow openings of the portraits in my hallway;
He ravages my library and taps the telephone --
He devastates my library and taps into my telephone --
I've never actually seen Him,
I have never truly laid eyes upon Him,
But I know He's in my home
But I am certain He resides in my home
And if he goes away,
And if He were to depart,
I can't stay here either.
I would no longer be able to remain in this place.
I believe -- er -- I think --
I believe -- um -- I suppose --
Well, I don't know ......
Well, I am uncertain ......
I only live in one room at a time,
I can only exist in one room at a time
But all of the walls are ears, all the windows, eyes :
Yet, all the walls serve as listeners, and all the windows function as observers:
Everything else is foreign,
Everything else is unfamiliar,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
'Home' is my mantra without words:
Mmmmmaah!
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
Provide it with an opportunity!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am encircled by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a sanctuary of life,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
I am a recluse, I am a worker-bee,
And I am boning out a place to be.
And I am hollowing out a space for my existence.
With secret garlands about my head
Adorned with hidden wreaths around my head
Unearthly silence is broken :
Supernatural silence is shattered:
The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
The room is darkening, and in the harsh light
I can see a face I know ----
I can discern a familiar face ----
Could this be the guy who never shows
Perhaps, this is the person who never reveals
The cracked mirror what he's feeling,
To the broken mirror what he truly feels,
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where he's kneeling :
Only mutters prayers to the floor where he is prostrate:
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"
"Home is synonymous with my own being!"
All you people looking for your houses,
To all of you searching for your homes,
Don't throw your weight around, you might break your glasses
Do not exert too much force, as you may shatter your spectacles
And if you do, you know you just can't see
And if you do, you understand that you will lose your sight
And then how are you to find the dawning of the day?
And then how will you discover the beginning of a new day?
--- Day is just a word I use to keep the dark at bay,
--- Day is merely a term I employ to keep the darkness away,
And people are imaginary, nothing else exists
And people are figments of imagination, nothing else exists
Except the room I'm sitting in,
Except the room where I am seated,
And, of course, the all-pervading mist ---
And, naturally, the ever-present mist ---
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real ....
At times, I question if even that is genuine ....
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Perhaps I should rid this place of parasites;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I should remove this irritating intruder;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
Perhaps I will keep postponing my life
In the confines of this silent house.
Within the restrictions of this quiet dwelling.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
This place can be filled with fear and sadness.
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think .....
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: PETER HAMMILL
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
Maria Diaz
Sometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sad,
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror,
Splintered glass distorts my face
And though the light is strong and strange
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds;
I draw my murky meanings there
But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landing:
Split image, labored understanding...
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home.
I've lived in houses composed of glass
Where every movement is charted
But now the monitor screens are dark
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
They spin out faith, hope and reason -
But are they meet and just, or only dust
Gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling
That there's someone else there:
The faceless watcher makes me uneasy;
I can feel him through the floorboards,
And His presence is creepy.
He informs me that I shall be expelled.
What is that but out of and into?
I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the nature
That I am inside...
I've lived in houses of brick and lead
Where all emotion is sacred
And if you want to devour the fruit
You must first sniff at the fragrance
And lay your body before the shrine
With poems and posies and papers
Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it,
So my friends all say,
But I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
Some of them are snails
And carry houses on their backs;
Others live in monuments
Which, one day, will be racks.
I keep my home in place
With sellotape and tin-tacks;
But I still feel there's some other Force here...
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
Keeps staring through
The eye-slits of the portraits in my hall.
He ravages my library and taps the telephone.
I've never actually seen Him,
But I know He's in my home
And if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe...er...I think...
Well, I don't know.....
I only live in one room at a time,
But all of the walls are ears and all the windows, eyes.
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
And I am boring out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
Unearthly silence is broke,
The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I see a face I know.
Could this be the guy who never shows
The cracked mirror what he's feeling,
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where
He's kneeling:
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"?
All you people looking for your houses,
Don't throw your weight around,
You might break your glasses
And if you do, you know you just can't see,
And then how are you to find
The dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use
To keep the dark at bay
And people are imaginary, nothing else exists
Except the room I'm sitting in,
And, of course, the all-pervading mist -
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real.
Maybe I should de-louse this place,
Maybe I should de-place this louse,
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
In the confines of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here, sometimes it's very sad,
Sometimes I think I'll disappear,sometimes I think.... I...
vdgg
@VdGGmouse Well, maybe I should go back and relisten to the Butthole Surfers. I had a friend into them, and I was busy liking the Melvins at the time, and so they seemed like uninspired imitations. (It doesn't do to listen to a band expecting them to be something else!); I think actually one of the bassist is now occasionally playing in the Melvins, or did one one album. I still dig "Pepper" of course. I think I liked them more than Mr Bungle (overall), because they seemed more "into" what they were doing and less merely eclectic. I think I also managed to be annoyed that Sweet Loaf "ripped off" Sweet Leaf ... like, "Hello, it's an homage, not a rip off". Sonically, I think you're more or less right that I should have dug them more. Not sure what happened.
Okay, so I should suggest a couple of albums, hm? Let me know if you already know these; I can definitely get more "obscure" ... But the first choice is easy:
Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, "Of Natural History". You can get a really good sense of it, listening to the first three songs [Hymn to the Morning Star, the Donkey-Headed Adversary of Humanity Opens the Book, and Phthisis] . (here is the whole thing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3liWOr8LWuU), but the video for Hymn to the Morning Star (a charming paean to the infant Satan): should not be missed: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD_5Tp7W-Gg
Of course, thinking of SGM reminds me of Thinking Plague - Early Plague Years (especially "Warheads")
As I mentioned, there are only a couple of songs by Nevermore I don't like, but the mood of earlier compared to later albums can be pretty stark. (Like Metallica, there's a movement from "raw" towards "progressive" music). Nevertheless, I tend to lean toward the peak "raw" album by them, Enemies of Reality. However, if you find yourself going, "Well, okay" a very different mood is "Sentient Number 6": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Im2c2BmFXtM
Bladerunner is ... well, sapient robots is a very "deep" theme for me, and Sentient Number 6 is one of two songs by Nevermore covering that theme. I find it very poignant. (Notice how the line, "I know I'll never rate / your heaven / changes over its repetition). Classic robot uprising :) Another favorite song in this less "raw" mood is "The Day You Built the Wall" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0-bNR2UCy0
Meanwhile, on Enemies of Reality, a couple things to point out. Unlike your typical "druggie" rock star metal singer, the lead singer definitely has more affinity for LSD than alcohol or heroin. And, musically, notice how frequently Loomis switches riffs; he rarely hangs out on something for very long, which helps to keep the "boring grind" tendency of faster, more aggressive metal from becoming just tedious. I won't be surprised if you find the singer off-putting; he can definitely be a stumbling block for people. Also, especially not how beautifully Loomis integrates his solos into whatever bridge-riff he is soloing over. If you can stand it, listen from the beginning to "I, Voyager." Just to be clear, this is very much in a particular aggressive mood. Lastly, be sure to listen to the "remastered" version, here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWXWdgHiQxU&list=PLYwfYGziz-_2lStpxmBqEN8aAKbrcnctK
Obviously, I dig metal. A really excellent, quasi-progressive metal album is Voivod's Dimension Hatross. Hardly anyone knows it anymore. Just as Metallica's Master of Puppets and And Justice for All are the two "pivot" albums between sheer aggression and more "progressive" compositions, Voivod's Dimension Hatross is the "progressive" counterpart to their previous "Killing Technology". I remember both as quite awesome. (I very much dislike their earlier and later stuff, and, again, it can be easy to dislike the lyricist.) It's definitely more of the off-time-signature parts of the compositions than the tone or the vocals that attract me. But, it's more obscure.
Have you heard Diamanda Galas before?
I know I'm supposed to be recommending whole albums. The band YOB does long-form doom metal, and I'll give you an album but a whole album is a commitment. There's especially one song I want to share, from the album "Atma" (the song "Atma"). It has a surprise in it which I think you might like. Here's the whole album (don't listen to other versions; the upload is terrible): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hj2tB4Mz2-4&list=RDHj2tB4Mz2-4&start_radio=1
That's not necessarily perfect itself, but it's less awful. Also, when recommending a song, I really notice when there's "noodling" at the front before it starts ... it's like, "Jeeze, get on with it already." I think if you were to listen to an entire album, I'd recommend "The Great Cessation" (although it also has a 31 minute long self-indulgent mess. The other songs are monstrously good though. You can obviously connect "Atma" to "Incommudro: Hymn to the Atman" (although not musically, only in scope). The temptation at the front part of the song will be to miss the various variations the guitarist throws in, but it around minute 6 when the part that tears me open starts :) Literally, enlightening. (See if you recognise the voice.) Truly spiritual music.
Taking you one more step down this rabbit hole, the band Khanus I only know from Odium Nostrum's YouTube channel. Once again, dubious metal vocals, but one song in particular I'm recommending from their album Flammarion called "Secular Spiritual Existence": Once again, spiritual music. (I do particularly like the whole album as well; their cover of Darkthrone's "Serpent's Harvest" is unrecognisably 12 trillion times better than the original, for instance.) Like "Atma," "Secular Spiritual Existence" takes a moment to get to the part that really lights me up; you'll know it, because there's a delicious bass line and some very silly lyrics, but then musically it all takes off. here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ta9lmApG5l4&t=1666s
Okay, I didn't do it on purpose, but the above all have in common head-trips and "spiritual themes". So now, quite on purpose, I have to give you "The Sign of an Open Eye". I dig the black metal band Gorgoroth, but this particular song doesn't sound like the rest of their catalogue: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=73Za2PVVDcI
I should give you DIamanda Galas' "Litanies of Satan" just to obviously "round this out" (it's a 20' long piece). But I'll save her for another time.
Yrret Ksif
[Verse display and official Hammill lyrics / revised Sept 2020]
Sometimes it's very scary here
Sometimes it's very sad,
Sometimes I think I'll disappear
Betimes* I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror,
Splintered glass distorts my face
And though the light is strong and strange
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds;
Yes and I draw my murky meanings there
But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror 'mid the drapes of the landing:
Split image, labored understanding...
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home.
I've lived in houses composed of glass
Where every movement is charted
But now the monitor screens are dark
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
They spin out faith, hope and reason -
But are they meet and just*, or only dust
Gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling
That there's someone else there:
The faceless watcher he makes me uneasy;
I can feel him through the floorboards,
And His presence is creepy.
He informs me that I shall be
Expelled.
What is that but out of and into?
Don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
Don't know the nature of the nature
That I am inside ....
I've lived in houses of brick and nick
Where all emotion is sacred
And if you want to devour the fruit
You must first emerse the fragrance
And lay your body before the shrine
With poems and posies and papers
Or, if you catch the ruse, you'll have to choose
To stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating
At the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it,
So my friends all say,
Don't you know I rarely see their homes
In these dark days.
Some of them are snails
And carry houses on their backs;
Others live in ornaments
Which, one day, will be racks.
I keep my home in place
with sellotape and tin-tacks;
But I still feel
There's some other Force here....
Who cracks the mirrors
And moves the walls
Keeps staring through
The eye-slits of the portraits in my hall.
He ravages my library
And taps my telephone.
I've never actually seen Him,
But I know He's in my home
And if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe...er ...I think...
Well, I don't know ......
I only live in one room at a time,
Here all the walls are ears
And all the windows, eyes.
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant:
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
And I am boring out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
Unearthly silence is broken
The room is growing dark,
And in the stark light
I see a face I know.
Could this be the guy who never shows
Cracked mirror what he's feeling,
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground
Where he's kneeling:
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"?
All you people looking for your houses,
Don't throw your weight around,
You might break your glasses
And if you do, you know you just can't see,
And then how are you to find
The dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use
To keep the dark at bay
People are imaginary, nothing else exists
Except the room I'm sitting in,
And, of course, the all-pervading mist -
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real.
Maybe I should de-louse this place,
Maybe I should de-place this louse,
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
In the confines of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here,
Sometimes it's very sad,
Sometimes I think I'll disappear,
Sometimes I think .....
I?
I?
I?
<>
+ based on Hammil's official Sofa Sound lyrics and the Charisma recorded version
*"betimes" = before the usual or expected time, early [Google online dictionary]
replaced by "Sometimes" in 1974 live performances
* "meet and just" = legal term for "appropriate and fair" [Word Refernce com]
Manpet Epetrop
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror :
splintered glass distorts my face,
and though the light is strong and strange
it can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
I draw my murky meanings there,
but seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
and in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror mid the drapes of the landing :
split image, labored understanding ----
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home ....
I've lived in houses composed of glass
where every movement is charted,
but now the monitor screens are dark
and I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
they spin out faith, hope and reason ----
but are they meet and just, or only dust
gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling that there's
someone else there :
The faceless watcher makes me uneasy,
I can feel him through the floorboards,
and His presence is creepy ----
He informs me that I shall be expelled ....
What is that but out of and into :
I don't know the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the nature
that I am inside ....
I've lived in houses of brick and lead
where all emotion is sacred,
and if you want to devour the fruit
you must first sniff at the fragrance
and lay your body before the shrine
with poems and posies and papers ----
or, if you spot the ruse, you'll have to choose
to stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it, so my friends
all say,
but I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
Some of them are snails and carry houses
on their backs;
others live in monuments which, one day,
will be racks --
I keep my home in place with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I still feel there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits
in my hall;
He ravages my library and taps the telephone --
I've never actually seen Him,
but I know He's in my home
and if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe -- er -- I think --
well, I don't know ......
I only live in one room at a time,
but all of the walls are ears, all the windows, eyes :
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
and I am boning out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
unearthly silence is broken :
the room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I can see a face I know ----
could this be the guy who never shows
the cracked mirror what he's feeling,
merely mumbles prayers to the ground where
he's kneeling :
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"
All you people looking for your houses,
don't throw your weight around, you might
break your glasses
and if you do, you know you just can't see
and then how are you to find the dawning
of the day?
--- Day is just a word I use to keep the dark
at bay,
and people are imaginary, nothing else exists
except the room I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the all-pervading mist ---
sometimes I wonder if even that's real ....
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
in the confines of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think ..... "
Cr8Tron
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my mirror :
Splintered glass distorts my face,
And though the light is strong and strange
It can't illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
I draw my murky meanings there,
But seven years' dark luck is just around the corner
And in the shadows lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror mid the drapes of the landing :
Split image, labored understanding ----
I'm only trying to find a place to hide my home ....
I've lived in houses composed of glass
Where every movement is charted,
But now the monitor screens are dark
And I can't tell if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders upon the page,
They spin out faith, hope and reason ----
But are they meet and just, or only dust
gathering about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling that there's
Someone else there :
Cr8Tron
@VdGGmouse Damn, just seeing this! I suppose that this reply sorta implies what I'm currently listening to (at least at this very moment 😂)... I was about to email this song's link to my professor friend in England, who I was saying I used to play shows with, and who sounds a lot like Hammill (even though he's never heard any of his stuff). I thought it might be a good idea to make sure he has the lyrics handy, and was about to copy/paste them before suddenly noticing your comment (that's here from apparently 9 months ago!! 🤦♂️)
At any rate, thanks for the "new" list! I very well might've already listened to some of those tracks you mention... But I wouldn't, by any means, mind hearing them again, if that's the case. I wanna say that particularly Gog/Magog might've been one I had already heard? I just remember browsing through at least 2 or 3 of the essential VdGG albums, and thinking I gotta make it a point to keep working towards a comprehensive familiarity of the VdGG/Hammill catalogue. So far, Godbluff is probably the VdGG album that's gotten my attention the most.
As for what I've been playing lately, I just can't stop listening to iQ's latest album Resistance... Especially after the shutdown, when the unintentionally-prophetic lyrics began unfolding into our current reality--and then even moreso, after the riots started happening later! 😮 Finding it a bit profound, to say the least... Which begs the question; Is iQ part of the conspiracy? 😜
I've also been revisiting a lot of discographies from a bunch of the classic bands/artists, after writing this program I named "The Album Ranker". It's a rather straightforward program in Java, through which I've been creating a database of various bands'/artists' discographies as TSV files. Once an artist's or band's complete catalog is run though the program, the user interface then involves rating every track off every album, in order to get the album ranking results. Based on track lengths, it basically calculates how much you enjoy/unenjoy an album each second on average.
So far, here are all the catalogs I've managed to format and add to the database:
The Beatles
Led Zeppelin
The Jimi Hendrix Experience
The Moody Blues
Pink Floyd
The Who
*King Crimson
*Genesis
*Yes
*ELP
Jethro Tull
*Gentle Giant
Rush
Peter Gabriel
*iQ
Gryphon
Porcupine Tree
Opeth
*Metallica
*Megadeth
*Guns N' Roses
These that are asterisked are the ones I've gone through and punched in all my track ratings for so far. And I'm in the process of doing it right now for The Beatles. A friend of mine tried it on The Beatles, as well as Led Zeppelin and Jimi Hendrix (each of whom I'd want to have all the music queued up from for reference, before trying to rate them myself). The results are rather interesting, as there always seems to be an album or two that are relatively lower or higher than expected. Maybe I'll get the VdGG/Hammill catalogs in there next, and then we could have me punch in your track ratings for them. 😉
Cr8Tron
--- Day is just a word I use to keep the dark
at bay,
And people are imaginary, nothing else exists
Except the room I'm sitting in,
And, of course, the all-pervading mist ---
Sometimes I wonder if even that's real ....
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away
In the confines of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
Sometimes I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think ..... "
Cr8Tron
I only live in one room at a time,
But all of the walls are ears, and all the windows, eyes :
Everything else is foreign,
'Home' is my wordless chant :
Mmmmmaah!
Give it a chance!
I am surrounded by flesh and bone,
I am a temple of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
And I am boning out a place to be.
With secret garlands about my head
Unearthly silence is broken :
The room is growing dark, and in the stark light
I see a face I know ----
Could this be the guy who never shows
The cracked mirror what he's feeling,
Merely mumbles prayers to the ground where
he's kneeling :
"Home is home is home is home is home is home is me!"
All you people looking for your houses,
Don't throw your weight around, you might
break your glasses
And if you do, you know you just can't see
And then how are you to find the dawning
of the day?
Cr8Tron
Some of them are snails and carry houses
on their backs;
Others live in monuments which, one day,
will be racks --
I keep my home in place with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
But I still feel there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the walls
Keeps staring through the eye-slits of the portraits
in my hall;
He ravages my library and taps the telephone --
I've never actually seen Him,
But I know He's in my home
And if he goes away,
I can't stay here either.
I believe -- er -- I think --
Well, I don't know ......
Michael Nicholls
The lyrics in this song are simply astounding. How about making Hammill a poet laureate as well as Dylan?
Colin Tinker
He has a degree in English Literature so his lyrics will be good.
Léon FAIVRE
for me far away before dylan
Carsten Weise
I've neither thought about it - but in fact Peter would have earned it so much more. Where do we need to start?
Matt R
This song is the single greatest piece of music I've ever heard. Period.
Guyin Apocket
The only thing critiqueable are the electronic drum pads. They are irritating in this context to me.
Enzo Galli
Masterpiece!! Genius Peter Hammill!!
vdgg
@Flying Spaguett Monster The Comet, the Course, the Tail are just as worthy lyrics, as well as Childlike Faith in Childhood's End.
But certainly yes and yes and yes.
AlbertoVO5
So many thoughts about this song over the years but in the end it pretty much comes down to what you wrote. And I replied here before but just read your comment again. Amen brother.
Flying Spaguett Monster
Matt I agree, utterly amazing.The lyrics are second to none.Hammill is a genius!!