Diamonds and Rust

Our Halloween performance this year is an absolute gem by Joan Baez. A ghost story "("Well I'll be damned, here comes your ghost again") that haunts your heart rather than your mind. This song appealed strongly to both of us. The supercharged emotion conveyed through a storm of many vivid details (like an imagist or concrete poem and it may well have started as one) each detail sparse and understated but diamond clear, the finger plucked heart not given to displays of emotion here shaken to its shattered core by the heartbreak recollected in tranquility; the hard glittering edges of naked female vulnerability; holding a mirror up to Dylan "You who are so good with words And at keeping things vague 'Cause I need some of that vagueness now It's all come back too clearly Yes, I loved you dearly And if you're offering me diamonds and rust I've already paid" giving a counter-voice to all those women though history objectified into a Mother Mary/Venus by the male wand. plus of course the throat-throbbing Baez vocal. Maz's first venture into finger plucking guitar.

Well, I'll be damned

Here comes your ghost again

But that's not unusual

It's just that the moon is full

And you happened to call

And here I sit

Hand on the telephone

Hearing a voice I'd known

A couple of light years ago

Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes

Were bluer than robin's eggs

My poetry was lousy you said

Where are you calling from?

A booth in the midwest

Ten years ago

I bought you some cufflinks

You brought me something

We both know what memories can bring

They bring diamonds and rust

Well, you burst on the scene

Already a legend

The unwashed phenomenon

The original vagabond

You strayed into my arms

And there you stayed

Temporarily lost at sea

The Madonna was yours for free

Yes, the girl on the half-shell

Could keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing

With brown leaves falling all around

And snow in your hair

Now you're smiling out the window

Of that crummy hotel

Over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds

Mingles and hangs in the air

Speaking strictly for me

We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me

You're not nostalgic

Then give me another word for it

You who are so good with words

And at keeping things vague

'Cause I need some of that vagueness now

It's all come back too clearly

Yes, I loved you dearly

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust

I've already paid

walk on the wild side full band version

The original film https://youtu.be/g_Fp0EceMpA was just the two live takes - guitar and vocal and the bass track - filmed consecutively and then spliced together. Those two live takes remain the basis of this performance but the full band, including Maz on the vocal chorus, is now overdubbed onto the sound of the original film. So you get the satisfaction of the immediacy plus the extra textures of the various overdubs. This whole thing wasn't planned- we heard an interview with Herbie Flowers who created the unique bass part on the original Transformer track (and also played tuba elsewhere on that beautifully soft touch album) and just wanted to see how he did it and how much of it we could pull off in our own way. It happened quite quickly at first but then a little slower as we kept hearing more stuff on the Lou Reed track that we wanted to recreate as a Peacock Tale.

The Worm That Didn't Count (for National Poetry Day)

Our contribution to National Poetry Day on the theme of 'counting'. A digital download of the studio audio will go live on Bandcamp on the day itself (Thursday Oct 3) and a link to that will also appear here.

The Worm That Didn't Count

i'm a creep,

a real crawler,

no backbone

at all, a

low humble

grinder, base

mouth full

of soil, a

wet, writhing

hyper-

sensed slave

to all, a

chill, faceless

horror, tightlipped,

toothless

scrawl, a

dim, brainless

shrinker from

harm, a cringing

coil, but a-

live!

and i can turn

To a snake in the grass, or in your bosom,

(Or under a garland of bright apple blossom)

Moving you deep in your bowels:

Subtly developed, sophisticated,

Staring through hooded lidless eyes

At a dense underworld, dimmed, deaf as Dis,

Feeling my sniff-flicking way with my tongue,

With a wriggle of ribs, swift-scaling the dust,

Dumb, unless rattled, when, breath caught, I hiss.

I'm

Puffed up with sluggish irritation,

Stitched in a dead skin, a splintered vision,

Excreted through rocks like fear, or birth,

Charmed by your writing arms, scared of sticks,

The dinosaur undead, too potent to handle,

Daemonic, divine, river written in the stars,

Smooth poison keeping Creation sweet,

The dragon. Get off my back or I'll strike you.

You've wanted me always, under your heel.

© Gareth Calway 1991