After having been asked to leave the group by Robert Fripp, Sinfield continued to be active in the progressive rock scene. He produced Roxy Music's first album Roxy Music, and later recorded a solo album, Still, in 1973. The album was later reissued on CD with additional tracks as Stillusion. He then turned up providing lyrics for fellow Crimson alumnus Greg Lake in Emerson, Lake and Palmer, as well as others like Italian progressive rock group PFM and former Procol Harum singer/pianist Gary Brooker.
Latterly, he has worked in the pop music field. For example, he wrote the lyrics to "The Land of Make Believe" by Bucks Fizz and "Think Twice" for Celine Dion. He has also written lyrics for another Crimson alumnus, David Cross.
Sinfield's best known work is the lyrics for the "atheist" Christmas song "I Believe in Father Christmas" by Greg Lake in 1977 which has now become a Christmas standard.
The Night People
Peter Sinfield Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
Extinguish the last fuse of day
Through black rain-wet streets rush bleary-eyed cars
Stuffed with revellers drunk and blasé
In Soho stained waiters bang dustbins around,
Commissionaires yawn into tweed,
As empty and echo hose yesterday down
Sallow dudes with spotlight eyes
Pour laughter sauce on ice
Velvet dolls with brandied smiles
Lean close with mouths of dice
The tunnel band plays studded drums
And spits electric spears
As the dancers kick like marionettes
Through the smokescreen atmospheres
Dance on pale harlequins of night
Lest you scratch your gilded fears
The paint peeling tea stall by Charing Cross bridge
Attracts lonely moths to its lamps
In corners of archways on a benches oak ridge
Lie newspapered wine-softened tramps;
Pushed on by policemen and queueing for soup
Evading the world's outstretched glove,
But one pain they share with the jewelled ghost troupe
Both searching for some kind of love
Gargoyles chewing on dead cigars
Stack chips in crystal halls
Sequinned starlets scent their breasts
Till the single finger calls
Rhinestoned strippers strut and peel
For the cochineal stockade
The gangster roars his crew applauds
At the punter's fun parade;
All worshiping the jaws of night
Where the piper is never paid
Champagned freaks in denim shirts
Snort energy in spoons
Laughing girls ask zodiac signs
But their eyes sing lonely tunes
It's four o'clock the wine is flat
The coffee has long gone cold,
The rustlers pay their last respects
Then drive away blindfold…
Dead the hollow dreams of night
Turn grey dissolve… dissolve…
Leaves dervish dance on the coiled wind of dawn
Whisper… The curtain lifts… Day
News vans and lorries with oranges roar
From Fleet Street to Ealing Broadway
The first bus with charladies stops in the Strand
Milk vans and post vans cruise by
At Euston commuters, shop girls and striped suiters,
Are jostling and milling, cars hooting, brakes shrilling…
Peter Sinfield's "The Night People" is a complex, multi-layered poem that depicts the night-time in Soho, a neighbourhood in central London, from different perspectives. The song's opening lines convey a sense of time's fleeting nature; the blue neon clocks move past the stars, marking the end of the day. The streets are empty, save for the bleary-eyed cars full of revellers; the night people are about to emerge. The lyrics then introduce a broad cast of nocturnal characters, from waiters, commissionaires, and "sallow dudes" to "velvet dolls" and "rhinestoned strippers." The song emphasises the artificiality of the nightclubs, the garish makeup and costumes, and the mechanical movements of the dancers, which the singer compares to "marionettes." The lyrics juxtapose this artificiality with the painful reality of the night, alluding to the lonely, impoverished people who search for love in forgotten corners of the neighbourhood.
The song's final stanzas depict the dawn breaking over the city as the night people slowly retreat. The lyrical tone shifts from excitement to melancholy, emphasising the transience and ephemerality of the night world. The song closes with the image of leaves "dervish-dancing" in the wind, a metaphor for the transience of life, before the curtain lifts on another day.
Line by Line Meaning
Blue neon clock fingers sneaking past the stars
Night has fallen and time is ticking away.
Extinguish the last fuse of day
The last remnants of daylight are disappearing.
Through black rain-wet streets rush bleary-eyed cars
Drunk partygoers are driving quickly through the rainy streets of the city.
Stuffed with revellers drunk and blasé
The cars are filled with people who are numb to the world around them due to their intoxication.
In Soho stained waiters bang dustbins around,
The restaurant workers are cleaning up after a busy night in Soho.
Commissionaires yawn into tweed,
The doormen are tired and ready to go home.
As empty and echo hose yesterday down
The stillness of the night allows memories of the past to permeate the atmosphere.
The night people slide inbetween
Those who come out during the night, such as revellers and club-goers, are occupying the void created by the departure of others.
Sallow dudes with spotlight eyes
Men with sunken eyes who are searching for something.
Pour laughter sauce on ice
They are attempting to cover up their sadness with a veneer of humor.
Velvet dolls with brandied smiles
Women with fake, forced smiles and an air of sophistication.
Lean close with mouths of dice
They are taking a gamble with their lives, pursuing pleasure at all costs.
The tunnel band plays studded drums
The band is playing with energy and force.
And spits electric spears
They are generating an electric atmosphere that hits listeners like sharp weapons.
As the dancers kick like marionettes
The dancers move in an almost robotic fashion, responding to the beat of the music.
Through the smokescreen atmospheres
The air is thick with smoke from cigarettes and other substances.
Dance on pale harlequins of night
Continue to live frivolously under the cover of night.
Lest you scratch your gilded fears
Carry on blindly in order to avoid having to confront one's fears and anxieties.
The paint peeling tea stall by Charing Cross bridge
There is an old, rundown tea shop near Charing Cross bridge.
Attracts lonely moths to its lamps
People who are feeling dejected and isolated are drawn to this place for comfort.
In corners of archways on a benches oak ridge
People are sitting on benches in the archways, trying to find shelter from the rain.
Lie newspapered wine-softened tramps;
Homeless men are sleeping on the benches, intoxicated from drinking wine.
Pushed on by policemen and queueing for soup
The homeless men are being moved along by police, and are waiting in line for food.
Evading the world's outstretched glove,
They are trying to find ways to survive and stay off of the street.
But one pain they share with the jewelled ghost troupe
Even though they are living very different lives, the wealthy and the homeless share a common pain of loneliness and feeling unfulfilled.
Both searching for some kind of love
Everyone is trying to find the love and acceptance that they so desperately need.
Gargoyles chewing on dead cigars
A grotesque, otherworldly image of people indulging in excess.
Stack chips in crystal halls
These people are gambling in luxurious surroundings.
Sequinned starlets scent their breasts
Women are putting on bold displays of sexuality, to grab the attention of the men around them.
Till the single finger calls
They continue gambling obstinately until the sound indicates that it's time to stop.
Rhinestoned strippers strut and peel
Exotic dancers in scantily clad outfits are performing for a crowd.
For the cochineal stockade
The audience is trapped by their own desire for indulgence.
The gangster roars his crew applauds
Even dangerous people derive pleasure from the debauchery.
At the punter's fun parade;
Everyone is having a good time, even if it's all meaningless.
All worshiping the jaws of night
Everyone is completely consumed by the pleasures of the night, forgetting the outside world.
Where the piper is never paid
The pleasures are fleeting and insubstantial, and can never truly be paid for.
Champagned freaks in denim shirts
People from all walks of life are in attendance, all united in their desire for pleasure.
Snort energy in spoons
They are consuming drugs as a way to fuel their desire for pleasure.
Laughing girls ask zodiac signs
Even in this world of pleasure, people are still searching for deeper meaning and connection.
But their eyes sing lonely tunes
Despite all the revelry, people are still searching for a sense of connection and belonging.
It's four o'clock the wine is flat
The night is almost over, and even the alcohol has lost its effect.
The coffee has long gone cold,
The stimulation of the caffeine is no longer working.
The rustlers pay their last respects
People are finally starting to leave, bidding the night farewell as it comes to a close.
Then drive away blindfold…
People leave without a clear idea of what comes next, uncertain about the future and their own lives.
Dead the hollow dreams of night
All the pleasures and indulgences of the night are now gone, leaving behind feelings of emptiness and disillusionment.
Turn grey dissolve… dissolve…
These feelings are starting to fade away, and the world is beginning to return to normal.
Leaves dervish dance on the coiled wind of dawn
New life is starting with the coming of dawn, with the leaves of the trees dancing in the wind.
Whisper… The curtain lifts… Day
There is a sense of rebirth, as the new day begins with a whisper of hope and promise.
News vans and lorries with oranges roar
The hustle and bustle of the city starts up again, with the sounds of traffic filling the streets.
From Fleet Street to Ealing Broadway
The entire city is reawakening after the long night.
The first bus with charladies stops in the Strand
Even the most mundane aspects of life, like buses and clean-up crews, are beginning their day.
Milk vans and post vans cruise by
The necessities of life, like milk and mail, are being delivered to people's doorsteps.
At Euston commuters, shop girls and striped suiters,
People are starting their morning commutes and going about their daily business.
Are jostling and milling, cars hooting, brakes shrilling…
The sounds of urban life are returning in full force, signaling that a new day has arrived.
Contributed by Alexis V. Suggest a correction in the comments below.