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Rating:
The quintessential painful event, the end of a relationship; the quintessential painful voice, that of Peter Hammill; the artist, composer par excellence, still Peter Hammill. If it is true - and trust me, it is true - that the context (emotional, cultural, etc.) affects the quality of an album, then this Over was a masterpiece even before it was materially an album. After all, a great album (like a great book, a great film, a great painting) is born if there is something to express, to narrate, to pour into notes, words, gestures, images.
The beginning is vehement and aggressive with the Godbluffish "Cryin' Wolf." Nostalgia, suffering arises in tracks like "Autumn," tracks that, in my opinion, are the most beautiful of the work; a bit like in the previous album, where I prefer the beautiful classical ballads over the very innovative aggressive and pre-punk pieces. But let's close our parenthesis on Nadir and return to this: Time Heals is a long, very "variable" piece that, even in the boldest moments, denotes an underlying discomfort. A bit like those movies where tragedy arrives right after the moment of greatest joy and carefreeness, to use a (rather ugly) metaphor to understand each other. But the masterpieces within the masterpiece are the intensely orchestral "This Side Of The Looking Glass" and the long "Lost And Found." Beautiful, also very intense is Betrayed, in a triumph of strings, an instrument for which I admit I've always had a soft spot.
Over is the ultimate expression of the Manchester artist, Over is a record that has always existed (how many works exist on the theme?) that was just waiting to find the right artist to crystallize it in the best form in which it could be conceived, and that is Peter Hammill, as few are skilled with human torment and feelings (and here he taught with the generator, see "H to He Who Am The Only One" and "Pawn Hearts") as well as - naturally - a composer, musician, first-rate singer, Author of many other masterpieces both before and after.
An observation: the cover is, in my opinion, wonderful. Our Peter stands out on a melancholic window, overlooking a melancholic and cold landscape, alone with his guitar, his only remaining companion and right hand, the instrument of his art, the palette with which he has painted his masterpiece. This review, which incidentally tries, but miserably fails, to pay homage to the album, is at most a less direct but (I hope) more incisive way to say to you, dear DeBaserian and non-DeBaserian readers: listen to it, please.
Dedicated to Hjhhjij, never too oppressive in urging me to listen to this great artist (since I enjoy involving dear users like me, in reviews)
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
02 Autumn (04:15)
So here we are, alone -
our children have grown up and moved away.
living their own lives, they say...
it all seems very strange to me.
I don't understand their ways:
our children amaze me all the time
and I often wonder why they make me feel
so sad and suddenly old.
Now we're left with an empty home,
from our nest all the birds have flown for foreign skies.
We're discarded, of no further use,
though we gave our kids all our youth and all our lives -
we really tried.
Now there's only my wife and me;
we used to have a family - now that's gone
and only memories linger on...
it all seems very wrong to me.
To our sorrows they were quite deaf
and as soon as they could they left us to our tears.
We always tried to teach what was good -
yes, we gave our kids all we could through all the years.
So here we are at last;
the time has gone so fast and so have my dreams.
I simply don't know what it all means,
this pointless passage through the night,
this autumn-time, this walk upon the water....
I wonder how long
it will be till this song
is sung by our own sons and daughters?
06 Betrayed (04:44)
When I began I was full of altruistic dreams,
believed in princes and princesses, kings and queens -
now I find they're all human inside,
all bitterness and pride,
so why shouldn't I be like that too?
It seems that I've forgotten all I tried so hard to learn;
it seems there's not an ounce of love or trust
anywhere in the world.
Friends - they're all harbouring knives
to embed in your back out of revenge, or spite,
or indifference, or lack of other things to do -
in the end just who's going to be a friend for you
when they kick you in the guts just as your hand holds out the pearl?
It seems that there is nothing left but
hatred and lust in the world.
I don't give a damn anymore - I've only wound up betrayed.
It's all been absolutely worthless -
all the efforts I've made to be gentle and kind
are repaid with contempt,
degraded by sympathy and worthless kindness
and love that isn't meant.
I'm through with joy and company, I've done with pretty words,
betrayed - there's no hiding-place
anywhere in the world.
I've nothing left to fight for except making my passion heard -
I don't believe in anything
anywhere in the world.
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