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Rhythm of the Stones
Rowan Berries
These two tracks were the best results of some sessions I recorded in a home studio over the summer of 2003. I play all instruments,
with the exception of percussion, which was handled by one Richard Knight. Thanks must also go to him and Quentin Whitaker
for engineering and production.
However, my proudest musical moments occurred during my stint as occassional guitarist in now sadly defunct, Bradford based
Grateful Dead tribute band Laffin' Bones between 2001 and 2003. The following quote (taken from their website - still up and
accessible through the links page) sees their bassist, Peter, passing judgement on my contribution in his own inimitable fashion.
I was touched.
"On a bit-of-a-bummer note, the two people who professed to be the keenest to join the ad hoc Uncle John's Band on Jerry's
Day were conspicuous by their absence at Mac's. Grr!!
Thank Goodness, then, that the DeadHead generation of the future, in the shape of our mate Kai, isn't as lily-livered. He
brung his guitar and sat in on a few, sculpting some very intricate filigree with a round turn and two half hitches to strengthen
the gusset, and decorated the proceedings in his usual deft yet understated way, a trait not readily found in many 'seasoned'
players, it seems.
He . . . he knows . . . . he knows how . . . he knows when . . . he knows what . . . and he will no doubt bring untold pleasure
to many others in the years ahead. And he was nervous in case he messed us up!"
Anyway, here's some lyrics for the MP3s. Just because...
RHYTHM OF THE STONES
The stones seethe, the rain drums in time
Being lies dead or is dying
The sun-starved shadows sublime
The valleys sink and the mountains climb
Sedge shiver all around the frozen lake
With the sound of solace crying
The levee of the sky is fit to break
The banished gods stir and wake
And a cold wind blows over the bones
Singing with the rhythm of the stones
A curlew cries but the sound just dies away
Crow-black clouds cross the swelling skies
Like ravens bent but flying
The frowning rock stares with fearful eyes
Stone is stubborn but still the rain tries
And turning out in the turbid gyre
The mournful moon is prying
The untamed wind will never tire
In the crucible of earth and fire
And a cold wind blows over the bones
Singing with the rhythm of the stones
A curlew cries but the sound just dies away
ROWAN BERRIES
The twisted root of the sycamore tree
It rises up and reaches out for me
From the forest floor and the jackdaws caw
Through the patter of the rain
Through fallen branches and through fallen leaves
And through fallen man the ivy weaves
It creeps and twines its twisting vines
Back on itself again
And the sap is rising in flux, in flow
And something teems in the soil below
But the life it begets swiftly forgets
Of the seasons on the wane
And sleeping in a hollow beneath the boughs of a rowan tree
I dreamt a dream of distant worlds from which I never would be free
And waking to the sight of dancing rowan berries like flame
I heard the trees whispering my name
And then I knew that I was not the same
And rotting amongst the autumn dew
A fallen trunk breeds a life anew
As a sapling clings to the life its brings
Whilst slowly mouldering away
In the darkness I hear the forest breathe
The river laugh and the moorlands seethe
And the wind is singing of a new beginning
That the trees echo as they sway
And all the paths I take are lying
As the last embers of the day are dying
For now I am finding that the forests are binding
But I do not wish to stay
And sleeping in a hollow beneath the boughs of a rowan tree
I dreamt a dream of distant worlds from which I never would be free
And waking to the sight of dancing rowan berries like flame
I heard the trees whispering my name
And then I knew that I was not the same
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