Peter Hammill – PH7 – 1979

Some artists have always been difficult to categorize into one or another musical trend. Label theorists, conspiracists by nature, have a particular, morbid tendency to attribute any trend to this or that artist, to this or that album. I can understand some difficulties in "placing" in real time, but I am also utterly convinced of the extreme ease and lightness with which labels are thrown around retrospectively. Hammill was given an immense gift by nature: the ability to sing anything in the most splendid way imaginable, this versatility has made him the target of every possible label, from progressive to punk, from singer-songwriter to psychedelic dreamer, from avant-garde experimenter to gentle balladeer. And gosh, if we look, it all fits. His monumental career in the '70s gave us immense works, milestones of every genre, both with Van Der Graaf and in his solo career. And that spectacular decade, for Hammill, concludes with this PH7, an electric, electronic, and visionary springboard that will allow him to open the new decade with that other masterpiece "A Black Box." As often happens in his career, this time too he closes himself in the studio alone, begins to record all the material written in the previous weeks, prepares all the guitar, keyboard, and percussion bases (few, very few) and sings over everything. To complete the work, he only calls David Jackson for the sax and flute parts in three tracks and Graham Smith for the violins in four tracks. Said so, it might seem like an extremely intimate and sparse work; instead, the melodic and experimental strength of the album and, of course, Hammill's voice, elevate it to truly remarkable sonic richness.
Since "Nadir's Big Change" 1974/1975, Hammill has accustomed us to more concise and synthetic tracks, occasionally returning to some rare longer track and two suites, but those are different stories and PH7 also maintains the timing of the eleven tracks, each lasting a few minutes. Moreover, in those years, the need for a leading track became predominant, a 45 rpm to hit the charts and possibly make a video. The label loudly demands and puts pressure on Hammill, who does what he can and comes up with "Careering," it’s not what he hoped for, but it manages to bring the artist to Top of the Pops and similar shows in Europe, like Discoring in Italy. A rundown of the tracks highlights the pastel tones of the acoustic opener "My Favourite" which flows briefly with truly admirable melodic fluidity. "Mirror Images" is one of the most important tracks on the album and perhaps of Hammill's entire solo career, already presented live at the temporary epitaph of Van Der Graaf, that splendid, essential, and unique "Vital" of 1977, endowed with an intimate, profound text and a poignant melody. "Not For Keith" is a moving and touching dedication to the recently deceased Keith Ellis, bassist of VDGG's debut album "The Aerosol Grey Machine." More on the experimental side, with the incorporation of electronic effects, the end of "Imperial Walls" and the start of "Mr X (Gets Tense)" unfold. More rich and articulated is "The Old School Tie." A touch of dark melancholy grips the listener again in "Time For a Change", the only track on the album and one of the very few in his career not directly written by Hammill, yet a track with spine-chilling vocals.
As in every Hammill album, there is no sterile administration of talent and cold application of the script dictated by sheer skill. Hammill never forgets to keep tight to that line that makes conscience and emotion speak. And I love him.
Sioulette p.a.p.

Tracklist Lyrics and Samples

01   My Favourite (02:52)

02   Careering (04:06)

03   Porton Down (03:41)

04   Mirror Images (03:51)

05   Handicap and Equality (03:56)

06   Not for Keith (02:25)

07   The Old School Tie (05:07)

08   Time for a Change (03:15)

09   Imperial Walls (04:16)

10   Mr. X (Gets Tense) (05:13)

11   Faculty X (04:58)

Hope by and by, hope by and by –
motes in the eye, portcullis is shut...
a skull isn't much
of a c-c-castle to live in
when I know that the change is going to come,
the change has got to come.

Explosions in the brain attest to it.
evolution down the drain –
let all the rest do it.
Oh yeah, the only result
is cumulative drek.
It won't be the drug,
it won't be the sex,
it's got to be the Faculty X.

Looking for a method, I play a straight bat,
throw away the chances to slip.
Yeah, you talk about the average –
I don't care about that
and my words are only giving me lip
when I know that the change has got to come,
the change has got to come,
or what am I living for?
Or why am I here?
I'm running, I give in more,
far away from the near.

Go meta-physical world,
the sign that protects.
It wasn't the last,
it won't be the next,
it's Faculty X.

Reading seers, sages, prophets, obscurantist tracts,
draining the elixir to the dregs;
active yeast in the bottom is on the attack
and it leaves me without any legs to stand on.

Still I hope that the change will come.

Meanwhile I don't know,
I think I'll have to go,
go for the governing body
my consciousness elects.
It won't be so clear,
it won't be direct,
it's all that I fear,
it's all I suspect
and I'll disappear in Faculty X.

I pluck all these characters out of thin air,
I push them down into the lungs;
I infuse them with meaning as much as I dare.

Stretch out for the shoreline and wait for the wave...

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