Peter SinfieldコミュのStill

詩人であるピ−タ−．シンフィ−ルド唯一のソロアルバムで、彼自身のボ−カルも危なっかしくはありますがグレッグ．レイク先生の指導の下、何とか無難に纏めています

そして、ゲストミュ−ジシャンにはロバ−ト．フリップを除く新旧大勢のクリムゾンファミリ−が参加！
レイクの参加は勿論納得しますが、あれだけ険悪なム−ドだったのに、アルバム『アイランド』時のメンバ−(例えば、イアン．ウォ−レス等)も参加してるのはシンフィ−ルドの人柄のせい？？

歌詞については、素晴らしいの一言なのですが、クリムゾン時のようなダ−クなイメ−ジではなく、それはメロディ−においても同じことが言えます。

その後のクリムゾンの音楽性と比較すると、フリップとシンフィ−ルドの決別は起こるべきして起きたのかも？？

◆The Song of the Sea Goat

The sea goat casts Aquarian runes through beads of mirrored tears,
Suave pirates words of apricot crawl out of your veneer
Anoint your eyes with Midas' oil and make it still appear
Alladin's lamp is glowing bright transmuting panacea;
To fill your souls with sugared holes.
"Oh can't you hear" sang the sea goat "the nonsense makes me numb."
"It's near it's clear" sang the sea goat "we live to overcome,
The madman's voice and his nowhere choice,
The pain that drains like an endless day of rain."

The sea goat reads the flight of birds and writes upon the sand;
Gold waterfalls of autumn wheat slip through a pointing hand
Whose fingers stiff with sentences still beckon to the band
To play the "Best Foot Forward March" and deafen all the land.
With hollow words, it's so absurd!
"Take your stand" sang the sea goat "the night goes on and on."
"Unwrap your plans" sang the sea goat "tell everyone you've gone
To touch the earth and to see the birth
The smile, the style down an unspun mile of life."

It fills the air! It fills the air!
The song of the sea goat shaking in the domes
The song of the sea goat as endlessly he roams,
Between the sunset's crimson veil
On smooth grey streets where the drunkard spins his tale.

The sea goat sips and hurls his glass along the smoke-filled road
Where shuttered snakes of brakeless trains run aching with their load
Of spring-eyed, tonguetied, wooldyed lads who kiss the L-shaped goad
Which soon will smear their uniforms with blood, whitewash & woad.
Damn iron minded, gold braid blinded, officers and gentlemen!
"God!" sang the sea goat "is always on both sides."
"Change" sang the sea goat "is constant as the tides
"And this play" sang the sea goat "is strangely synthesised
When your part of a cast where the first comes last
Where the east goes west and the sun is burning out

And your part of a cast . . . . . ."


◆Under the Sky

Smile at the smiling man
Tear in your eye
Dance in the morning sun
Under the sky.

High in the hawthorne tree
Bee and butterfly
Seek fortune in the leaves
Under the sky.

Follow the road that winds up to the sky,
There's no reason do not wonder why.

Dappled green summer glades
Where swallows fly
And laughing children play
Under the sky.

Smile at the smiling man
Tear in your eye
Love in the morning sun
Under the sky.

Follow the road that winds up to the sky,
There's no reason do not wonder why.

Soft on a mossy bank
Silently lie
Everything's everything
Under the sky.

Everything's everything under the sky . .


◆Will it be you (Will you stay by me)

Who'll give me comfort when the moon rides in the pines
Who'll be my pillow when the bitter north wind whines
Who'll lie beside me as the evening fire declines
Will it be you, will you stay by me?

Who'll give me shelter from the wolves of discontent
Who'll be my silence till the grumbling storm is spent
Who'll shine my armour for the next day's tournament
Will it be you, will you stay by me?

Or should I look for another
Or spend my days in a cave or on a shelf
With only life as my brother
And find my way by myself?

Who'll bring me water when my engine overheats
Who'll bring me ointment when the highway frets my feet
From disappointment's showers where can I retreat
Can I come to you, will you stay by me?

Or should I look for another
Or spend my days in a cave or on a shelf
With only life as my brother
And find my way by myself?

Who'll give me comfort when the moon rides in the pines
Who'll be my pillow when the bitter north wind whines
Who'll lie beside me as the evening fire declines
Will it be you, will you stay by me, will you stay by me
Will you stay by me, will you stay by me?
Oh of course you will.


◆Wholefood Boogie

I want to bite a rosy apple
That's not painted waxed or DDT'd.
I'd dig a plate of russian buckwheat
With a steaming sauce of sesame seed.
Just cook me miso soup for breakfast
Throw your fishy fingers back in the sea
'Cos I'm a funky macro-eater life is sweeter
Eating naturally.

I've got no taste for stricken chicken
From an ultraviolet prison cell.
I couldn't face your shaving cream cake
Or your test tube flavoured caramel.
Don't serve me "BOILA BAGGA DINNA"
When I've shown you what I eat is me
And I'm a weird organic diner life is finer
Eating naturally.

Whole food that's what I need
A bowl of grain, the taste of seed,
Whole food every day to live the natural funky way.

You're so acute about pollution
Have you ever really looked at your food
It's sickly, sweetened, poisoned, flavoured,
Coloured, processed . . . . . God! if only you knew
That there's a funky way of eating
Keeps you randy, dandy, happy and free
Go on, go score yourself a banquet
Straight from nature, not from some factory.

Whole food etc. etc.


◆Still

Still I wonder how it is to be a stream,
From a dark well constant flowing,
Winding seawards over ancient mossy wheels
Yet feel no need of knowing?
Still I wonder how it is to be a tree,
Circled servant to the seasons,
Only drink on sky and rake the winter wind
And need no seal of reasons?

Still I wonder why I wonder why I'm here
All my words just the shaft of my flail
As I race o'er this beautiful sphere
Like a dog who his chasing his . . .
Tailors and tinkers, princes and Incas,
Sailors and sinkers, before me and like me . . .

Still I wonder how it is to be a bird,
Singing each dawns sweet effusions;
Flying far away when all the world has stirred
Yet seek no vain conclusions . . . . . .

Still I wonder if I passed some time ago
As a bird, or a stream, or a tree?
To mount up high you first must sink down low
Like the changeable tides of the
Caesars and Pharoahs, prophets and heroes,
Poets and hobos, before me and after me all the
Painters and dancers, mountainside chancers,
Merchants and gamblers, bankers and ramblers,
Winners and losers, angels and boozers,
Beatles and Bolans, raindrops and oceans,
Kings, pawns and deacons, fainthearts and beacons,
Caesars and Pharoahs . . . . . .


◆Envelopes of Yesterday

I feel like a rusty key I don't fit any door
You stole my cloudy castles but you didn't say what for.
You said I didn't have the eyes to paint out in the street
Without a standard martyr's hat and neon sloganned feet.
To eat, it seems, I needed you for crumbs your need was me.
We cheered and passed the sanguine flask till the ice
man made me see
At five o'clock you could never wash your printer's stain away;
So I count you lost and your words I've tossed
In the bleary envelopes of yesterday.

I feel like a tumbling kite there's no hand on my reel.
I dived aboard your star-bright ship to find you'd left the wheel
To hunt some upstart passengers who had gambled with their fare
Then trumpeted the hull with holes and laughing gone by air.
Whilst most of us who stayed aboard slipped brandy to the crew
John Purser locked his iron box and pointed at the queue.
Still working out the price of time no echoes will we lay;
So I've burnt the till and I've thrown the bills
In the weary envelopes of yesterday.

I need to suck the breasts of time and freeze her milk in ink
To juggle cruets full of dreams and balance on the brink.
Don't blame me if my smoke and steam obscured your rutted track,
I only meant to startle you not offer you my back
To ride upon and overload with your jars of unbaked clay.
You can find your guide to the pulpit ride
in the dreary envelopes of yesterday.

I'm upside down I'm an empty town my eyes are full of ghost
Of dusty windowed certainty and spider-webbed almost.
I love, I hate this rock and roll the ladies and the lights
Ate all my flowers long ago but the roots came through all right.
Whilst now my toast is the crossroads post, I hear just out of sight,
That the Black Pick's found his Chaldean lamp
After years in a concentration camp.
But I fear he's still out on the ice
With his bagpipe mouth and his cup of crimson speiss.

Still, I've fulfilled a host of dreams for that I'll cry hurray
But it won't be long till I cast this song
In the jet-edged envelopes......


◆The Piper

Beneath the tinsel twilight skies
A changeling child with cinnamon eyes
Wends his way to a secret glade
and plays his pipe in a serenade.

In and out of the spectral trees
Between the starlight burnished leaves,
He strolls the speckled toadstool way
to join th elfin court in play.
The brown owl hoots upon the oak
The foxes howl and the green frogs croak
As through the wood to a marvelous moon
He blows the notes of an elfin tune.

Towards the moss-weed bridge he goes
Where burble-pebble water flows,
Across the meadow up the hill
And on the wind I hear him still . . .


◆A House of Hopes and Dreams

Across the floor lie broken bowls of pride
Unlatch the door and scratch holes in the night
She'll be there someday, tides turn, winds change
You know, Oh you know.

A house of hopes and dreams I built one too
Drunk on gypsy violins like you
Ran naked through the flames and burnt like you.

Unbuttoned times when two laid down as one
Eyes on eyes where catherine wheels spun.
Now every stale day is a haywire highway
Alone, so alone.

A house of hopes and dreams I built one too
Danced upon the tables just like you
Swam the sea of dreams and drowned like you.

The cave of tears you choked and almost cried
Emotions horse's roped and staked inside.
Never could show her but somehow hoped to know her
Again, again, again to build
A house of hopes and dreams upon
a pack of painted cards;
To build a house of hopes and dreams
with bricks of loaded dice;
To build a house of hopes and dreams
with roulette wheels for stairs;
To build a house of hopes and dreams
Secured and bound with love,
With love, with love, with love, with love
Build strong and sure with love . . . . . .


◆The Night People

Blue neon clock fingers sneaking past the stars
Extinguish the last fuse of day.
Through black rain-wet streets rush bleary-eyed cars
Stuffed with revellers drunk and blas・

In Soho stained waiters bang dustbins around,
Commissionaires yawn into tweed,
As empty and echo hose yesterday down
The night people slide inbetween.

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 . . . . . .