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Rating:
There is a scene in The Green Mile (a beautiful film based on a story by Stephen King) where a large black man with paranormal powers heals the prison warden's wife of an "incurable disease" simply by "sucking out" the illness to transfer it momentarily into himself and then, later in the film, into the body of a particularly "unpleasant" prison guard.
Now, let's pretend that something like this could also be done with two simple albums of songs and an imaginary healer could remove all the malaise from one, Fool's Mate, to pour it all into another, Pawn Heart, perhaps we might have an idea of what this album represents compared to the (almost unanimously considered) masterpiece of VDGG.
Fool's Mate is generally as serene (although often melancholic) as Pawn Heart is desperately torn and rebellious.
The songs are usually "normal", sometimes "naive" (Candle, Happy), other times "completely carefree", and to this category certainly belongs, both musically and lyrically, the Barrett-esque Sunshine (the worst of the bunch, even though it features the guitar of His Majesty Robert Fripp, who also showcases his frippertronics at the end of the album).
However, there are some significant exceptions. For example, I think of Birds, with its healthy dose of pantheism and dark movement, or Summer Song in the Autumn, with a part of the lyrics that reads:
You look out at the water
Calling you over the wind
Then you throw aside your handbag
and slowly walk right in
And tomorrow you will be
in yesterday's news
which may even recall the piano ballads and spoken words of Tom Waits from the Bone Machine era (try, to believe it, comparing the text above with that of The Ocean Doesn't Want Me Today).
There are tracks like Re-Awakening and Solitude (the first a pop-rock full of tempo changes with a beautiful piano intro/interlude and a final choral part involving all the "generators", Fripp, and even Paul Whitehead, the most famous cover artist for prog records; the second a folk piece, like Child, with singing reminiscent of Tim Buckley) with lyrics indebted to themes of escape from reality and self-indulgent and lyrical melancholy so dear to that great poet W. B Yeats.
And then there's Vision, also in the title, Yeats-inspired (The Vision is a work by the Irishman), perhaps Peter Hammill's most beautiful piano ballad (forgive me Man-erg and House With No Door).
In short, in my humble opinion, an underrated album (perhaps even by Hammill himself), with a very strong 70s sound.
Finally, a last note on the album's title. Until a few days ago, being the good superficial person I usually am, I was convinced that the title of this album meant "The Fool's Companion", a bit like playmate means play companion (or, more pleasantly, Playboy bunny), flatmate, apartment companion, etc, etc.
In truth, about half an hour ago, I discovered (thanks to Wikipedia) that a Fool's Mate is nothing but the fastest checkmate possible in the game of chess (the cover should perhaps have been a clue for a poor non-native English speaker...).
In short, "checkmate for the novice".
Who the novice might be is not known to me; I hope it's not myself.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Imperial Zeppelin (03:38)
Pack your bags, we're leaving
earth, where hate is seething,
nothing's worth believing.
There's no time, make up your mind!
Imperial Zeppelin....
Quick, the engines are turning,
cabin lights are burning,
now there's no returning.
We'll have love a mile above...
Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin!
We, the undersigned, being of sound mind,
hereby do declare:
'We henceforth pledge ourselves unto the power
of the Upper Air.'
Doesn't that sound simply super,
Zeppelin visions of the future?
Of course we all know very well
it wouldn't work, but what the hell -
every dice deserves a throw,
and when we get back home below
we can say we had a go!
Overboard we are throwing
seeds of love we are sowing,
hope to God they're growing.
Flying high across the sky:
Imperial Zeppelin!
We will try to do some good,
I don't know why we really should,
I only wish that we could!
Down below they'll see and know all about
Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin, Imperial Zeppelin!
(Chris Judge Smith/PH)
05 Vision (03:15)
I have a vision of you, locked inside my head;
it creeps upon my mind, and warms me in my bed.
A vision shimering, shifting
moving in false firelight;
a vision of a vision,
protecting me from fear at night,
as the seasons roll on, and my love stays strong.
I don't know where you end, and where it is that I begin.
I simply open my mind and the memories flood on in.
I remember waking up with your arms around me;
I remember losing myself
and finding that you'd found me,
as the seasons rolled on, and my love stayed strong.
Be my child, be my lover,
swallow me up in your fire-glow.
Take my tongue, take my torment,
take my hand and don't let go.
Let me live in your life,
for you make it all seem to matter.
Let me die in your arms,
so the vision may never shatter.
The seasons roll on;
my love stays strong.
06 Re-awakening (03:57)
If you catch me running along by the sea,
with bare feet in the sand,
then you'll know I am dreaming my life out
in a way you won't understand.
I'm slipping right out of your mind, this I know,
and I accept the fact lazily,
for I must go into the next field,
where grass is green and I'll find peace.
Let me sleep,
let me dream.
let me be!
Re-awakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child and so I know
the best way to go is slow.
Sometimes, when skies are cloud-grey,
and trouble's hanging heavy on your mind,
I advise you: curl up, slide away and
dream your life out, as I am.
And I'm slipping right out of your mind, this I know,
and I accept the fact lazily,
for I must go into the next field,
where grass is green and I'll find peace.
Let me sleep,
let me dream.
let me be!
Re-awakening isn't easy when you're tired.
Don't push me: I was taught self-expression
when I was a child, and so I see
the best way to be's asleep.
Re-awakening isn't easy when you're tired.
12 I Once Wrote Some Poems (02:45)
I once wrote some poems of stillness and silence,
standing by rivers of reflected light;
my thoughts were on being loved and yet unloved, too –
I surrendered to the warmth of the night.
And now I feel like dying,
and if the water were still here,
it would hold me close.
I once wrote a poem while walking on gravestones,
as cobbles, rain and tears lashed down my face;
I then felt my whole world was fading
as memories jostled and fell into place.
And now I feel like dying,
and the pain of old fires still burns.
I never wrote poems when I bit my knuckles
and Death started slipping into my mouth...
but that was really a long time ago,
and I'm not writing poems now.
And though I don't feel quite like dying,
there is something deep inside me
softly crying.
And though I don't feel quite like dying
there is something deep inside me softly....
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