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Rating: Evening is about to arrive once again, another day has passed. The light fades but at the same time it strengthens, it asserts itself. The sunset is like a final and powerful statement of one who does not want to pass, of one who knows they must die and then rise again with the same strength, the same intensity: light is its symbol. A figure can be seen, indistinctly, standing on the tower of their solitude; their face seems young, incredulous and lost, their dark dress is touched only by a few reflections of this evening light that like their soul affirms the power of pain in the face of death. Around them the desert; this arid land of Judea, infinite like their question and their hope. At a certain point, the figure lowers their head, seems to look down beneath them; their attitude is not of searching but of reflection, of meditation. They have made a choice, followed a guide, loved, learned, doubted and once again loved. Now their guide is dead, killed, left in indifference, in derision, in the triumph of those who hated without reason. Faith wavers, petty and indifferent humanity takes over. Before coming here to take refuge, the woman renounced her guide: in front of the world she concealed her choices; she rejected, she doubted, she betrayed that part of herself which once gave her the strength to resist, to live and to survive. Pain brings despair, doubt, dismay: inside herself the woman still feels the piercing, blinding sun of the afternoon; she still feels in her eyes His gaze, the strength and dignity of eyes that will fade for a holy and innocent death.
However, a question keeps repeating inside her: where are You, my guide, my path? Why have men triumphed over you? She is looking for a sign; everything that has happened is just the product of a tired imagination, a dream, You are here with us and we will continue to try to model our life on yours.
From up here I see my land, the sky; they have taught us that everything is a sign of your power. Up here I have come to take refuge from pain and death. Doubt grips me: where are you my Lord? Do you really exist or is everything just a product of my mind?
I have renounced you because my doubt has become fear and the fear panic: men seemed stronger than you.
Now I look to the earth because I do not dare look to the sky; it would be like facing your gaze again. This sky envelops me but does not suffocate me. Yes, I am restless, emptied, but I do not intend to fail my choices; I will not go back: I have renounced you, perhaps I will renounce you again if the fear of loneliness and the inability to do without men becomes stronger than the faithfulness to our pact. I will continue my journey wondering if this sky, this sunset and those that will come like these are not the signs I am seeking, the signs of Your existence, of what You yourself have told us: after the sunset and death, resurrection and life.
Thank you Nick
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Into My Arms (04:15)
I don't believe in an interventionist God
But I know, darling, that you do
But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him
Not to intervene when it came to you
Not to touch a hair on your head
To leave you as you are
And if He felt He had to direct you
Then direct you into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms
And I don't believe in the existence of angels
But looking at you I wonder if that's true
But if I did I would summon them together
And ask them to watch over you
To each burn a candle for you
To make bright and clear your path
And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love
And guide you into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms
But I believe in Love
And I know that you do too
And I believe in some kind of path
That we can walk down, me and you
So keep your candles burning
And make her journey bright and pure
That she will keep returning
Always and evermore
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms, O Lord
Into my arms
04 Brompton Oratory (04:06)
Up those stone steps I climb
Hail this joyful day's return
Into its great shadowed vault I go
Hail the Pentecostal morn
The reading is from Luke 24
Where Christ returns to his loved ones
I look at the stone apostles
Think that it's alright for some
And I wish that I was made of stone
So that I would not have to see
A beauty impossible to define
A beauty impossible to believe
A beauty impossible to endure
The blood imparted in little sips
The smell of you still on my hands
As I bring the cup up to my lips
No God up in the sky
No devil beneath the sea
Could do the job that you did, baby
Of bringing me to my knees
Outside I sit on the stone steps
With nothing much to do
Forlorn and exhausted, baby
By the absence of you
11 Far From Me (05:33)
For you dear, I was born
For you I was raised up
For you I've lived and for you I will die
For you I am dying now
You were my mad little lover
In a world where everybody fucks everybody else over
You who are so far from me
Far from me
So far from me
Way across some cold neurotic sea
Far from me
I would talk to you of all matter of things
With a smile you would reply
Then the sun would leave your pretty face
And you'd retreat from the front of your eyes
I keep hearing that you're doing best
I hope your heart beats happy in your infant breast
You are so far from me
Far from me
Far from me
There is no knowledge but i know it
There's nothing to learn from that vacant voice
That sails to me across the line
From the ridiculous to the sublime
It's good to hear you're doing so well
But really can't you find somebody else that you can ring and tell
Did you ever
Care for me?
Were you ever
There for me?
So far from me
You told me you'd stick by me
Through the thick and through the thin
Those were your very words
My fair-weather friend
You were my brave-hearted lover
At the first taste of trouble went running back to mother
So far from me
Far from me
Suspended in your bleak and fishless sea
Far from me
Far from me
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Other reviews
By vv
"The Boatman’s Call is one of the most intimate, delicate and bitter albums, a love story, its end, and a quest for a God to quell suffering."
"The beauty of the tracks, their hybrid of sweetness and bitterness, has often been my companion on melancholic evenings."
