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As an immortal seal of the greatness of the Pentangle stand (also) the famous words published by Tony Wilson in Melody Maker, which remind us how - despite how (over)used a word like "unique" is in the musical field - what these five Britons proposed was truly something INIMITABLE. And using a metaphor that I would never tire of repeating, he said that the music of the Five-Pointed Star resembles a SUNSET - of which you can grasp the colors, yes, sketch a cold list. But it is far more difficult to convey, in words, the overall impression.
Think of a William Turner canvas: is the power emanating from it in the individual nuances, or rather in the visual impact of the image in its entirety? Try translating this sensation from the language of colors to that of notes: the result is that inexplicable and perfect alchemy that was the sound of the Pentangle.
A double bass player with a jazz background: Danny Thompson. A frontier musician, always ready to challenge the fine line between drummer and "percussionist" in the broad sense: Terry Cox. Two Luminaries of the Acoustic Guitar, omnivorous researchers and explorers of musical universes far away, in space as well as in time: John Renbourn and Bert Jansch. And... an angel: Jacqui McShee.
Here it is, the perfect formula. The closure of the pentagon. The untouchable equilibrium that hides behind the magic of the Sound.
"Sweet Child," in its internal bipartition between live recordings and studio performances, is the Album that expresses this magic in its fullness. Not the absolute Masterpiece, maybe. But certainly, the most complete record. The one where nothing is missing and everything is in its place. It was '68, a pivotal year: the British Blues was taking on an increasingly "heavy" physiognomy, the volumes of the amplifiers were rising, and by the end of that same year, the most famous Zeppelin in the history of Rock would have taken flight, already sky-high. And while Led Zeppelin was aiming for the sky, the Pentangle (and the Fairport Convention, for their part, passing through Californian psychedelia) stayed on the ground and claimed a strong connection with roots, whether those of Albion folklore or the purest Delta Blues and, despite the variety of inspirations, everything in their music recomposed itself under a single, unmistakable, stylistic cipher. And citing Led Zeppelin as an ideal counterpoint is not mere convention: everyone knows how much Jimmy Page owed to Bert Jansch's lesson, beyond the (all too well-known) CASE of "Black Mountain Side".
But telling the story of "Sweet Child" actually means telling a multitude of stories (those narrated by the songs) and repositioning the pieces of an impressive mosaic in which the jazz of Charles Mingus (the variation for double bass of "Haitian Fight Song" performed by Danny Thompson), children's Christmas songs (since this was "Watch The Stars", before John Renbourn and Jacqui McShee married their Voices to create the gentle folk melody you hear in the live part) and Italian dances exhumed from the sands of time coexist: in "Three Dances" (indeed), the transition from one dance to another is emphasized by the silence of the instruments and the clamor of the audience, as if the '68 audience had suddenly transformed into the court of a 14th-century lordship, and "La Rotta" finds its place, no less than a 14th-century cadence.
Telling the Story of this Record also means encountering excruciating pain, that evoked by Jacqui's Voice kneeling while intoning a spiritual like "No More My Lord" to the notes of Bert's guitar - "tell me where my Lord is, and I will never look away from Him again..."; or rediscovering a rare gem like "Turn My Money Green," a blues from the '20s stained with the most bitter irony that exists. And getting lost in the frenzy of "Market Song," in front of the stalls of a miraculous market of abundance ("sweet apples, sweet oranges - I hear the merchants shouting - come and buy some!"), and with the sudden mirage of wandering through the streets of a London still enclosed within its medieval walls. And again, enjoying the fluid and crystalline dialogue of Bert and John's Guitars on the theme of the famous "Goodbye Pork Pie Hat," "Mingus-like" as well, or on an instrumental "No Exit," thus capturing one of the distinctive traits of the "Pentangle Sound." In Jansch and Renbourn's musical lexicon, there was no distance separating folk tradition and jazz jam-session.
But also being surprised in recognizing "The Time Has Come" among the other songs re-proposed on stage and being able to at least MENTION, on this page, Her Highness of English Folk Anne Briggs, who was the author and publicly thanked Bert for a tribute made to her from the heart. Shivering at the tremors of a dark-ballad from author like "A Woman Like You" conceived by Jansch on an ambiguous story of black magic and ancient love spells. Getting enchanted by listening to an increasingly heavenly Jacqui, performing a cappella the ancient Scottish air "So Early In The Spring," a performance so impeccable it allows no comments. Or sitting down and being moved by the story told in "Bruton Town," which in the manner of a Boccaccian novella unravels the tale of the unhappy passion between a farmer's daughter and her servant, suspended between a gruesome murder-ballad and dreamlike visions worthy of the highest Romantic literature.
I could stop here, the variety of worlds evoked so far would allow it. And yet "remains" (so to speak) the studio part. And here as well the same balance between "traditionals" and high-school originals, between improvisation ("In Time," "Three Part Thing," and "Hole In My Coal" based on a theme by Ewan McColl - a classic opportunity for final, well-calibrated virtuosity) and ancient stories to bring back to life. "The Trees They Do Grow High" is known to many, if only thanks to the Italian version by our Branduardi ("Gli alberi sono alti"), yet on this 18th-century ballad - and on its journey through the centuries - entire books could be written. It is the bizarre and tragic story of a marriage between a fourteen-year-old and a woman 10 years older than him, "interpreted" by McShee ("at 14, he was a married man; at 15, the father of a child; at 16, the grass was green on his grave: death had interrupted his growth" - in Branduardi the age of the two is freely re-interpreted...).
And there is space for love songs like the title-track - but love anything but platonic, and above all... far from a happy ending ("I Loved A Lass" - well known in Sandy Denny's feminine version, but with the different title "The False Bride" - it goes "I loved a lass and now she is rewarding me, for my love... so much so that she is about to marry another!"). And again - fishing from the rest of a repertoire that does not allow for blemishes - "Sovay," here masterfully performed by Jacqui on a dense web of guitars and double bass (the story of a bandit's woman), and "I've Got A Feeling," built on the same chord sequence of Miles Davis's "All Blues."
The many, wonderful universes of the galaxy illuminated by the Five-Pointed Star.
In memory of Bert Jansch (1943-2011).
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
03 Turn Your Money Green (02:16)
If you'll be my baby, I will turn your green money green
If you'll be my baby, I will turn your green money green
I'll show you more money baby, than Rockefeller ever seen
If you'll be my baby, you can be my boss
I'll stick closer to you than Jesus to the cross
If you'll be my baby, sure can be my boss
I'll stick closer to you baby than Jesus to the cross
If you don't believe I'm sinking, look what a hole I'm in
If you don't believe I love you, look what a fool I been
Baby don't believe I love you? Just look what a fool I been
Don't believe I love you, baby, just look what a fool I been
Baby, if the river was whiskey and I was a duck
I'd dive to the bottom and I never would come up
Baby, if the river was whiskey and I was a duck, duck, duck
I'd dive to the bottom and I never would come up
Please tell me baby, who's been telling you
Who's been telling you everything ol' Furry do?
Please tell me baby who's been telling you
Who's been telling you every thing ol' Furry do?
Baby, somebody been telling you everything ol' Furry do
05 A Woman Like You (04:00)
I don't believe I have seen
A woman like you anywhere
And I must admit that I can't see
My making you into a dream
But if I had a magic wand to wave
I'd send a dove to catch your love
And I'd send a blackbird to steal your heart
And a broken heart won't cure my endless search, little girl
I'm going to fix a magic spell to weave on you little girl
L for the long grass to catch you in
O for the orange that sweetens sin
V for this very moment
E for thee
I'd rather wait and die
A thousand times little girl
Than take a woman into
the heart of my soul
And if I catch you sleeping all unawares
I'll carry you off to my secret lair
There I'll bind your heart to my very soul
I don't believe I have seen
A woman like you anywhere
And I must admit I can't see
May making you into a dream
And if I had a magic wand to wave
I'd send a dove to catch your love
And I'd send a blackbird to steal your heart
08 Watch the Stars (03:03)
Watch the star see how they roam
Watch the star see how they roam
You know the stars roam down
At the setting of the sun
Watch the star see how they roam
Watch the wind see how it blows
Watch the wind see how it blows
You know the wind shall blows
When the sun goes down
Watch the wind see how it blows
Watch the moons see how it glows
Watch the moons see how it glows
You know the moon is gonna glow
When when the sun goes down
Watch the moons see how it glows
Watch the star see how they roam
Watch the star see how they roam
You know the star roam down
At the setting of the sun
Watch the star see how they roam
See how they roam
See how they roam
12 Bruton Town (05:31)
In Bruton town there lived a farmer,
Who had two sons and one daughter dear.
By day and night they were contriving
To fill their parents' heart with fear.
He told his secrets to no other,
But unto her brother this he said:
'I think our servant courts our sister.
I think they has a great mind to wed.
I'll put an end to all their courtship.
I'll send him silent to his grave.'
They asked him to go a-hunting,
Without any fear or strife,
And these two bold and wicked villains,
They took away this young man's life.
And in the ditch there was no water,
Where only bush and briars grew.
They could not hide the blood of slaughter,
So in the ditch his body they threw.
When they returned home from hunting,
She asked for her servant-man.
"I ask because I see you whisper,
So brothers tell me if you can."
"O sister, you do offend me,
Because you so examine me.
We've lost him where we've been a-hunting.
No more of him we could not see."
As she lay dreaming on her pillow,
She thought she saw her heart's delight;
By her bed side as she lay weeping,
He was dressed all in his bloody coat.
"Don't weep for me, my dearest jewel,
Don't weep for me nor care nor pine,
For your two brothers killed me so cruel-
In such a place you may me find."
As she rose early the very next morning,
With heavy sigh and bitter groan,
The only love that she admired,
She found in the ditch where he was thrown.
Three days and nights she did sit by him,
And her poor heart was filled with woe,
Till cruel hunger crept upon her,
And home she was obliged to go.
18 In Your Mind (02:14)
Some like through the morning cloud
(in your mind)
I can see
sparrows wake and shake
from sleep
(in your mind)
beneath the sun
Often...
(in your mind)
beneath the sun
there is nor the signal...
(in your mind)
always quiet
Over there you could be mad
(in your mind)
like a fool
searching for the true and why
(in your mind)
your are loved
With no one to take your hand
(in your mind)
you are afraid
time to rest and the reason where
(in your mind)
In your mind
20 The Trees They Do Grow High (03:48)
Trees they grow high and
the leaves they do grow green
Many is the time my true love I seen
Many an hour I've watched him all alone
He's young but he's daily growing
Father, dear Father,
You've done me great wrong
You've married me to a boy who is too young
I am twice twelve and he is but fourteen
He's young but he's daily growing
Daughter, dear Daughter,
I've done you no wrong
I've married you to a brave lord's son
He'll be a man to you when I am dead and gone
He's young but he's daily growing
Father, dear Father,
If you see fit
We'll send my love to college for another year yet
Tie blue ribbons all around his head
To let the ladies know that he's married
One day I was looking o'er my father's castle wall
Saw'r all the boys a playin' with a ball
My own true love was the flower of them all
He's young but he's daily growing
At the age of fourteen he was a married man
Age of fifteen the father of a son
Age of sixteen on his grave the grass was green
Cruel death had put an end to his growing
I'll make my love a shroud of holland so fine
Every stitch I put in it the tears come trickling down
Once I had a true love but now I've ne'er one
But I'll watch o'er his son while he's growing...
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