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Anthony Phillips

WhiteWinter

5/5

Magnifique album de soft-pop.
Comme toujours avec Ant, et pour n’importe quel genre qu’il a employé tout au long de son oeuvre, les mélodies sont au rendez-vous.

Pas révolutionnaire ni vraiment marquant, mais très agréable, à écouter la nuit au coin du feu car lui aussi (je pense à “Wind & Wuthering” et d’autres) est plein de couleurs hivernales.

Seul défaut pour de très nombreuses personnes : le chant.
En effet, Ant a pas mal de difficultés, particulièrement pour monter dans les aïgus (et ce sera toujours le cas, mais personnellement ça ne me choque pas)

C’est son seul album sur lequel on ne retrouve pas d’instrumental, uniquement quelques passages de ce type au cours des longues chansons.

Au niveau de l’équipe, Ant est bien entouré : Michael Giles (ex-King Crimson), John G. Perry (ex-Caravan), Mel Collins (ex-King Crimson, Camel…)

Par contre, Ant est un sacré farceur !
Si vous voyez des noms tels que “The Vicar” et “Vic Stench” sur ses autres albums comme sur celui-ci, ne vous y trompez pas, c’est bien lui !!

Tracklist

August saw a contest fit for Kings
From far and wide they came to trade their swings
Little grubs with stone-age clubs
And tanners’ sons with foxes gloves
They came to face the stiffest course since Tring

Harold took an eight-iron at the first
Hoped the hedge whilst Tostig chipped and cursed
Sliced into a sticky patch and, playing out,
He’d met his match
When lettuce leaves had made the crowd disperse.

So, we’re all as we lie
We’re all as we’re lying.
No, don’t tell me it’s time,
It’s all in the timing.

Getting wiser, so much wiser, introspected ostraciser,
Drinking up with no holes barred to play.

Daphne lay beside the Silent Pool,
When suddenly the air began to cool
Otto heard it, running back,
And tried to stop the thudding crack
As Luther strode up, crying “Winter Rules”.

“Holy Mackerel”, cried the Papal Prince,
“You’re out of bounds I’m really quite convinced”.
Luther drew his driver but the Pope pulled out a fiver
And they halved the hole on points of sacraments

So, we’re all as we lie
We’re all as we’re lying.
No, don’t tell me it’s time,
It’s all in the timing.

Getting wiser, so much wiser, Seven Sisters sympathiser
Drinking up with no holes left to play.

The hour of confrontation now was nigh
As Plato and Justinian were tied,
Locked in mortal combat firing vulture after wombat
Their supremacy now could not be denied.

The Seventeenth lay waiting for the pair
As both advanced with silent, ashen stares
But there they stood, incredulous,
The distance reading “Nebulous”
And “Best of luck, Buzz Aldrin beat you there”.

So, we’re all as we lie
We’re all as we’re lying.
No, don’t tell me it’s time,
It’s all in the timing.

So, we’re all as we lie
We’re all as we’re lying.
No, don’t tell me it’s time,
Or else I’ll be crying.

I hear the birds come greet me in my morning
They sing the songs of love in tongues of ages past.
And all the while a vision is unfolding,
The Moorhen pipes at me, “don’t sleep the day away”.

And so with cautious steps I tread
A measured path through vale and rook,
And many signs you’d want to take me with you.

And I go down to the Landing.
Heron’s Flood flows on storm-clothed
As the harbour lights guide the wanderers home.

I see the sun come greet me in his dawning,
He holds the seed of life within his aged hands.
And, in the sky, a vast procession streaming,
Royal banners held aloft to mark the halcyon time.

And so I walk in meadows below,
Amongst the springs and weevil-gall,
In myriad throngs the grass will take me with you.

And I climb up to the Hawk’s Throne,
Cragshorn lies at Umbrian
And the marram-slopes span the sapient sky.

I feel the night come bidding me his greeting,
He draws a glowing veil upon a sleepy world.
And in the sky the stars roll through the heavens,
Below, the new-hatched dove stares wondrously above.

And so to Esma I am come
To forge a passageway through time
And all, too soon, you’d come to take me with you.

And I strike north to the veld-plains,
Dorn Ridge melts in snow-gold.
As the Moorhen
Pipes the pinkery moon.

Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you.
Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you.

Every little thing she’s wanted
Every little thing she’s had to get
Every single thing she’s squandered
Every single thing she’s had to let.

Moonshooter, as free as ebbing tide
Moonshooter, no gaping cracks to hide
Some at the windows
Some at the lights –

Carry on shooting your moons…
Maybe we’ll come back soon
Yes we will come back soon.

Florida is where you’ll find her
Lazing in the sticky summer sun
Living in a dying city
Waiting for the travelling troupes to come

Moonshooter, as free as ebbing tide
Moonshooter, no gaping cracks to hide
Some at the windows
Some at the lights –

Carry on shooting your moons…
Maybe we’ll come back soon
Yes we will come back soon.

Moonshooter, as free as ebbing tide
Moonshooter, no gaping cracks to hide
Some at the windows
Some at the lights –

Carry on shooting your moons…
Maybe we’ll come back soon
Yes we will come back soon
Yes I will come back soon

Four thousand monks in a maelstrom
All crying out for release.
Three cheers for old Mother Hailsham
She’s sticking to her beliefs.

A hundred ships took to the high seas
Intent on sailing the world.
They might have known that a rainy sky
Would scatter swine before pearls.

One by One, the Centaur is breaking its chains
And, after all, we’re blood and flesh and pain.
Cover it up high, cover it up low
Cerebus stirring,
Finally learning,
Lamplighters’ torches extinguish
The flames of our fate.

Six sturdy Bold held the Tiber
Across the stakes they did swarm.
And in a chance he was leaving
Throughout his watch he was warning their guards.

I met a man on a spreading kite
Who set his course for the sun.
But when I asked him what he’d found up there
He said he’d just been for fun.

Hour by hour the jigsaw is piecing together
In fear and dread, we wait the final act,
Gathering up high, gathering up low,
See how the earth quakes
Watch as the crust breaks
Beating the air as the hot wind
Comes my way.

A million men marched on Memphis,
To pay respects to their King
But when they came to Fort Lauderville,
They found they all had to sing –
So we’re getting so much wiser, it’s so much fun.

Flashing meteors follows
Comets climb in starling numbers,
And the saucers slip by upon the Milky Way.

Marking time, counting sheep on Venus,
Stranded here on Ether
I couldn’t get me feet into a windbreak today.

Pulling Faces and swapping places
Grab the Bull by the horns
But I still seem to be torn
From the Plough I have
Seen the Earth rise
And the Bear sailed away….

Correlating clusters
Destination undecided
As the Virgan Voice cries, “Proceed to Orion”

Lighting years with Aurora’s Beacon
Banished here for treason
They didn’t give a reason for this sentence in space.

Pulling Faces and swapping places
Grab the Bull by the horns
But still I seem to be torn
From the Pole I have
Seen the Crab rise
And the Fish flew away…

Pulling Faces in empty places
And now at last we’re forewarned
And though the Bull’s lost his horns –
After years of trekking
Through the Starglow,
It’s the End of the Universe.

Regrets, yes I have many
But none so great as spurning your love,
For how sweet, how sweet your love would be
As fierce as fire, as tender as dew.

So let the rain fall
Crashing on me
And blind my eyes
For the love I can’t feel.

Take a sound, don’t you wait, don’t be hurried
Make a sign, don’t be late, don’t you worry now.

Sometimes, I would have you close to me
And take the path that leads to the sea.
In the dark our eyes would meet at last
And on your lips, the words I must flee.

So let the rain fall
Crashing on me
And blind my eyes
For the love I can’t feel.

Take a sound, don’t you wait, don’t be hurried
Make a sign, don’t be late, don’t you worry now.

So let the rain fall
Crashing on me
And blind my eyes
For the love I can’t feel.

Pulling out while the doubts loom above me
Shouting out in the dark for you to love me
Cutting life from the hopes of an outstretched hand

Regrets, our secret cemeteries,
Where loves and loss are silently lain,
The dream is fading faster now,
And soon you’ll slip beyond my recall.

Hear, a West Wind calling,
I hear it calling my name,
Snow, on Greenland falling,
The ice is melting away.

Sitting in a greenhouse painted green,
None to picked and none to be seen:
Standing in a harbour soaking rain,
Why must the sky bring rain back again?

Wake, an angel talking,
She’s asking, “black, white or nun?”
Drake, from Plymouth streaking,
He skinks the galleons with his guns.

Climbing up a creeper chasing flies,
Unzip their wings and look in their eyes:
Standing on a steeple stitching time,
Time to be saved and time to be nine.

Footsteps in a blizzard point the way to go
Heads of marble snowmen,
Miles and miles from home.

Sleeping on an Interstellar Plane

Sitting in a greenhouse painted green
None to be picked and none to be seen
Sleeping on an Interstellar Plane
Will we return to find it again?

Find a way to distinguish patterns
In the thread of the living,
Pick a path through the rough and tumble
Look within without misgiving.
Darkness falls on December,
Gathered in, we recall.

Wait, don’t let it wear you down
Call me, and I’ll be right round, come what
May never wears a frown. So call me –

And we’ll treat the world as on wedding-days
On and on through the Paperchase.

Pitch a ball across a dusky courtyard
See the shadows slink away;
Toss a coin into a feckless fountain
And – brittle hope – it’s your lucky day!
Winter finds us together
Heaven knows our design.

Wait, don’t let it wear you down
Call me, and I’ll be right round, come what
May never wears a frown. So call me –

And we’ll treat the world as on wedding-days
On and on through the Paperchase.

I dreamed I was an Otter
In sheltered leats I lay
They I heard a sound I feared
And then I saw their coats
All smeared in blood
I knew my fate –
Nowhere to hide.

I dreamed I was a Red Stag,
In pastures grazing
And then I heard a hunting-horn
Ringing out its song –
The Song of Death
We know so well
How can I tell?

For I, I am the Sun
I am the Moon
I am the Stars up above
Now what are they doing to my little friends?
I make everything and it all dies in the end.

I dreamed I was a Big Bear,
Bespectacled and brown
And then I saw two shafts of fire
Shooting through the sky –
I heard no more
Save drops of rain,
I cannot explain…

I dreamed I was a Grey Seal,
My clubs for suckling
And then they came with sticks and clubs
And beat away my brains –
I heard no more
Save children’s cries
Helpless to die.

For I, I am the Sun
I am the Moon
I am the Stars up above
Now what are they doing to my little friends?
I make everything and it all dies in the end.

Out at night, I saw a squirrel
Lying in a ditch beneath a great elm tree.
Grey and weak, his tiny eyes revealed
The secret of this vigil strange and free.
Hour after hour he pursued,
Weaker and weaker you grew

Squirrel, friend, I see you lying and there’s
Nothing I can do to bring you back.
Grey and weak, your tiny eyes don’t understand
The strangeness of this pain you feel.
All through the night you will lie,
Each moment death’s hour draws nigh.

Silently, your hooded brothers lay you down
To sleep forever into time.
Peace, at last, has come upon you
As a Mother’s fading whispers to her child.

Hour after hour I pursued,
Though you are gone I will still remember you.

Infos générales

Sorti en mai 1978

Anthony Phillips : chant et harmonica
Michael Giles : batterie
John G. Perry : basse
The Vicar : guitares et claviers
Jeremy Gilbert : claviers (7), harpe (9)
Mel Collins : sax soprano (1), flûte (2)
Rupert Hine : percussions, choeurs
Perkin Alambeck : synthétiseur (2)
Humbert Ruse et Vic Stench : batterie et basse sur “Greenhouse”
Rodent Rabble : “clips”, “claps” et “crampons”
Orchestre sur “Regrets” conduit par Gilbert Biberjan

Produit par Rupert Hine

octopus92

5/5

Sorti en 1977, la gestation du premier album solo de Anthony Phillips (Ant pour les intimes) remonte en fait en 1973.

Les deux longues pièces instrumentales sont signées Phillips-Rutherford car il s’agissait bien initialement d’un album du duo et ils en assuraient seuls la totalité des instruments.
A base de guitares acoustiques, elles sont variées et extrêmement riches en tissitures sonores (emploi de flûtes et orchestre de chambre).

Les trois titres chantés (un par Ant accompagné seul au piano, un par Phil Collins seul et un autre en duo) sont également fabuleusement réussis, très proches de l’esprit du Genesis du début.

Le résultat final est un album champêtre, très beau, où l’enchevêtrement des instruments est parfaitement mis en valeur (le meilleur exemple étant le titre de clôture “Sleepfall” tout en douceur et apesanteur)

Un album à posséder absolument pour tous les fans du Genesis de la période 1970-1972 et qui prouve à quel point l’influence de Ant est resté longtemps dans Genesis, même après son départ.

Le nouvelle version avec son remastérisé de 2007 possède sur le CD supplémentaire le premier “single” enregistré avec Phil Collins au chant en 1973 (“Silver song”) et non distribué pour d’obscures raisons commerciales.

Tracklist

(instrumental)

Look, see how the world goes round,
Look, see how the day goes on,
You, it won’t stop to help you
Me, it won’t stop to help me.
All the time a wind is blowing
Where it’s blowing next we don’t know…


Look, some spend their days in slumber,
Look, someone is weary toiling,
Home, be my guest and come back home.
Come, you’ll be better off at home.
All the time someone is dying,
Where he’s dying next we don’t know…


I sit in the sunset
Watching God’s evening,
Receding so gently now
Into the Westlands.
I think I’m at peace now
But of nothing am I certain
Only which way will the wind blow next time?


You, you might never have been saved
Ah, well you might not have been so brave,
Time would have shown the parting waves
And you slipping under Autumn’s gaze
And now I know that nothing is what it ever seems.


I sit in the sunset
Watching God’s evening,
Receding so gently now
Into the Westlands.
I think I’m at peace now
But of nothing am I certain
Only which way will the wind blow next time?

“Rest your head my love;
Rest your tired limbs;
Leave your mind at peace, at peace, at peace,
What are you thinking now?”

“Thinking of a girl
As golden as the sun
She loved me not like you, like you, like you”
“Pray do you love me more?”

“It’s hard to say for sure,
A child, sixteen, was I
Both virgins did we buy, we buy, we buy”
“You loved her more than me”.

“She left me one dark night
She took my heart for free
I’ve seen her not since then, since then, since then,
God if I saw her now.”

“All the World’s a stage,”
A friend of mine, he sometimes said,
And though he tried to show the way,
They only care about his name.
 
“Love is for the Fool,”
A blind old man, he always said,
But of it’s joys he sometimes spoke
And then it seemed, he could see.
 
“Life is for the Strong,”
A travelling monk, he told me once
But of the weak, he never spoke
Though their cries beat on his ears.
 
I stood my gun in hand
The swallow flew to meet his love
And as they touched, I shot him down
But now it’s me that can’t fly.


See, the days grown long
Winter comes upon us
Like a storm at sea.
And the will to live
Seems a little thin sometimes
When those you love are
Lost beneath the snowfall.

“Give and you will live”,
Said a man who lived
In a funny way.
So we share our cup
With the thirsty fawn of life
Who leaves us on the
Highway without water.

Master of Time, take me back through the years.
Master of Time, let me try once again
And I will give more, oh how I’ll try,
And with this, a new life I’ll buy.

Hush! The marsh-duck cries,
Far away, she knows
That her love will be,
And she nestles down,
Sobbing still, she dries her eyes,
Knowing that the world
Will cry the rest out.

Where did beauty go?
Seek it here, there
But it’s slipped away.
And when they come to lay me down,
I will take your memory too,
They’ll know that in my final hour,
I loved you.

Master of Time, take me back through the years.
Master of Time, let me try once again
And I will give more, oh how I’ll try,
And with this, a new life I’ll buy.

Infos générales

Sorti en mars 1977

Anthony Phillips : guitares acoustiques 6 et 12 cordes, guitare classique, guitares electriques 6 et 12 cordes, basses, dulcimer, bouzouki, synthetiseurs, mellotron, harmonium, piano, orgue, celeste, pin piano, batterie, glockenspiel, timbales, cloches et carillions, gong, chant sur “Collections”
Mike Rutherford : guitares acoustiques 12 et 6 cordes, guitares classiques, guitares electriques 6 et 12 cordes, basses, orgue, batterie, timbales, glockenspiel, cymbales, cloches
Phil Collins : chant sur “Which way the wind blows ?” et “God, if I saw her now”
Rob Phillips : hautbois (6, 9)
Lazo Momulovitch : hautbois, cor anglais (3, 6)
John Hackett : flûtes (4, 8, 9)
Will Sleath : flûte, flûte baroque, “recorders”, piccolo (3)
Jack Lancaster : flûtes, lyricon (9)
Charlie Martin : violoncelle (5, 6)
Kirk Trevor : violoncelle (5, 6)
Nick Hayley (et amis) : violons (6)
Martin Westlake : timpani (3, 5, 6) (et merci à Brendan et Viv)
Tom Newman : “hecklephone” et “bulk eraser”
Viv Mc Cauliffe : chant sur “God, if I saw her now”
Orchestre de Send Barns et Barge Rabble conduits par Jeremy Gilbert
Ralph Bernascorne : soloiste

Produit par Simon Heyworth, Mike Rutherford et Anthony Phillips.