Εκδόθηκε το 1983
Έν έτει 1983, το progressive rock περνούσε μία απο τις δυσκολότερες φάσεις της ιστορίας του.Τα συγκροτήματα-μεγαθήρια της δεκαετίας του 70 έβγαζαν τους χειρότερους δίσκους της καριέρας τους, και το progressive εκπροσωπούταν αξιοπρεπώς απο μπάντες του underground χώρου.Η εμφάνιση των Marillion με το εκπληκτικό ντεμπούτο τους ήταν καταλυτική για το ιδίωμα.Σαφώς επηρρεασμένοι από Genesis εποχής Peter Gabriel, οι Marillion μαγεύουν με την μουσική τους η οποία είναι σκοτεινή, ατμοσφαιρική, αλλά και τεχνική με έντονη την αίσθηση της μελωδίας.Οι στίχοι του Fish ,τού οποίου η κύρια επιρροή είναι ο Peter Gabriel τόσο στον τρόπο ερμηνείας των κομματιών όσο και στην σκηνική παρουσία,είναι θεατρικοί,δραματικοί και εντελώς προσωπικοί.Το Script είναι ένα καταπληκτικό album που θα συναρπάσει όποιον αναζητά πραγματική ποιοτική μουσική, πράγμα που δυστυχώς σπανίζει στις μέρες μας...
Line Up:
Fish: Vocals
Mark Kelly: Keyboards
Mik Pointer: Drums, Percussion
Steve Rothery: Guitars
Pete Trewavas: Bass Guitar
Λίστα τραγουδιών και στίχοι:
1. Script For A Jester's Tear
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts,
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you, too late to restage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far, to go,too late to play, the game is over
The game is over
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts the game is over, over
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts the game is over
Too late to say I love you, too late to restage the play
The game is over
I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with a twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song, to write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream, to exorcise this silent scream
A scream that's borne from sorrow
I never did write that love song, the words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection, did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
Promised wedding now a wake
The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why?
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the Jester that showed you tears, the script for tears
So I'll hold my peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the siren's
Song has gone solo in the game, I've gone solo in the game
But the game is over
Can you still say you love me
2. He Knows You Know
Light switch, yellow fever, crawling up your bathroom wall
Singing psychedelic praises to the depths of the china bowl
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have listen to the priest at the confession,
When he offered you the sacred bread
He knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He knows, you know, but he's got problems
Fast feed, crystal fever, sworming through a fractured mind
Chilling needles freeze emotion, the blind shall lead the blind
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
When you're conscience whispered, the vein lines stiffened,
You were walking with the dead
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He's got experience, he's got experience, he knows, you know
But he's got problems, problems, problems
He knows....slash wrists, scarlet fever,
Crawl under your bedroom door
Pumping arteries ooze their problems,
Through the gap that the razor tore
You've got venom in your stomach,
You've got poison in your head
You should have listened to your analyst's questions
When you lay on his leather bed
He knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He knows, you know, but he's got problems
Blank eyes, purple fever,
Streaming through the frosted panes
You've learned your lesson far too late
From the links in a chemist chain
You've got venom in your stomach,
You've got poison in your head
You should have stayed at home and talked with father,
Listen to the lies he fed
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
But he's got problems
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He's got experience, he's got experience, he knows, you know
You know, you know, you know
3. The Web
The rain auditions at my window, it's symphony echoes in my womb
My gaze scans the walls of this apartment
to rectify the confines of my tomb
I'm the cyclops in the tenement, I'm the soul without the cause
Crying midst my rubber plants, ignoring beckoning doors,
Clippings from ancient newspapers he scattered across the floor
Stained by the wine from a shattered glass,
Meaningless words, yellowed by time, faded photos exposing pain,
Celluloid leeches bleeding my mind you've finished playing hangman,
You've cast the fateful dice, advise, advise, advise me,
This shroud will not suffice
Attempting to discard these clinging memories,
I only serve to wallow in our past
I fabricate the weave with my excuses,
It's strands I hope and pray shall last
Oh please do last
The flytrap needs the insect, ivy caresses the wall
Needles make love to the junkies, sirens seduce with their call
Confidence has deserted me, with you it has forsaken me
Confused and rejected, despised and alone,
I kiss isolation on it's fevered brow, security clutching me,
Obscurity threatening me, your reasons were so obvious
As my friends have qualified, I only laughed away your tears,
But even jesters cry
I realise I hold the key to freedom,
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions,
the changes have to be made
I realise I hold the key to freedom,
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions,
The changes have to be made
Now I leave you the past has had it's say
You're all but forgotten, a mote in my heart
Decisions have been made, decisions have been made
I've conquered my fears the flaming shroud
4. Garden Party
Garden party held today,
Invites call the debs to play
Social climbers polish ladders,
Wayward sons again have fathers
Edgy eggs and queuing cumbers,
Rudely wakened from their slumber
Time has come again for slaughter
On the lawns by still Cam waters
Champagne corks are firing at the sun again
Swooping swallows chased by violins again
Straafed by Strauss they sulk in crumbling eaves again
Aperitifes consumed en masse
Display their owners on the grass
Couples loiter in the cloisters,
Social leeches quoting Chaucer
Doctor's son a parson's daughter
Where why not and should they oughta
Please don't lie upon the grass,
Unless accompanied by a fellow
May I be so bold to suggest Othello
Punting on the Cam is jolly fun they say
Beagling on the downs Oh please do come they say
Rugger is the tops, a game for men they say
I'm punting, I'm beagling, I'm wining, reclining, I'm rucking, I'm f**king
So welcome, it's a party
Angie chalks another blue, mother smiles she did it too
Chitters chat and gossips lash, posers pose pressmen flash
Smiles polluted with false charm, locking on to Royal arms,
Society columns now ensured, returns to mingle with the crowds
Oh what a crowd
5. Chelsea Monday
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Living in her cellophane world in glitter town
Awaiting the prince in his white Capri
Dynamic young tarzan courts the bedsit queen
She's playing the actress in this bedroom scene
She's learning her lines from glossy magazines
Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams
Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen
Patience my tinsel angel,
Patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you,
You'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday
Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of London
Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland
Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles
Would she dare recite soliliquies at the risk of start applause
She'll pray for endless Sundays as she enters saffron sunsets
Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn,
Fulfilled and yet forgotten the St. Tropez mirage
Fragrance aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose
Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday
[ "Hello John, did you see The Standard about four hours ago?
Fished a young chick out of The Old Father
Blond hair, blue eyes. She said she wanted to be an actress or something
Nobody knows where she came from, where she was going
Funny thing was she had a smile on her face
She was smiling, what a waste" ]
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town
Of Chelsea Monday
6. Forgotten Sons
Armalite, street lights, nightsights
Searching the roofs for a sniper, viper, fighter
Death in the shadows he'll maim you, he'll wound you, he'll kill you
For a long forgotten cause, on not so foreign shores,
Boy's baptised in wars
Morphine, chill stream, bad dream
Serving as numbers on dogtags, flakrags, sandbags
Your girl has married your best friend, loves end poisen pen
Your flesh will always creep, tossing turning sleep
The wounds that burn so deep
Your mother sits at the edge of the world
When the cameras start to roll
Panoramic viewpoints ressurect the killing fold
Your father drains another beer he's one of the few that cares
Crawling behind a saracens hull from the safety of his living
Room chair - forgotten sons, forgotten sons, forgotten sons
And so I patrol the valley in the shadow of the tricolor
I must fear evil for I am but mortal and mortals can only die
Asking questions, pleading answers from the nameless
Faceless watchers that stalk the carpeted corridors of Whitehall
Who order desecration, mutilation, verbal masturbation
In their guarded bureaucratic wombs
Minister, minister care for your children, order them not
Into damnation to eliminate those who would trespass
Against you, for whose is the kingdom the power and the glory,
Forever and ever amen - halt who goes there,
Death, Approach' friend
You're just another coffin on it's way down the emerald aisle
Where the children's stony glances mourn your death in a terrorist's smile
The bombers arm places fiery gifts on the supermarket shelves,
Alleys sing with shrapnel detonate in a temporary hell
Forgotten sons
From the dole queue to the regiment a profession in a flash
But remember Monday's signings when from door to door you dash
On the news a nation mourns you unknown soldier, count the cost
For a second you'll be famous but labelled posthumous
Forgotten Sons, forgotten sons
Peace on earth and mercy mild, mother brown has lost her child
Just another forgotten son
Αξιολόγηση: 9.5/10
Έν έτει 1983, το progressive rock περνούσε μία απο τις δυσκολότερες φάσεις της ιστορίας του.Τα συγκροτήματα-μεγαθήρια της δεκαετίας του 70 έβγαζαν τους χειρότερους δίσκους της καριέρας τους, και το progressive εκπροσωπούταν αξιοπρεπώς απο μπάντες του underground χώρου.Η εμφάνιση των Marillion με το εκπληκτικό ντεμπούτο τους ήταν καταλυτική για το ιδίωμα.Σαφώς επηρρεασμένοι από Genesis εποχής Peter Gabriel, οι Marillion μαγεύουν με την μουσική τους η οποία είναι σκοτεινή, ατμοσφαιρική, αλλά και τεχνική με έντονη την αίσθηση της μελωδίας.Οι στίχοι του Fish ,τού οποίου η κύρια επιρροή είναι ο Peter Gabriel τόσο στον τρόπο ερμηνείας των κομματιών όσο και στην σκηνική παρουσία,είναι θεατρικοί,δραματικοί και εντελώς προσωπικοί.Το Script είναι ένα καταπληκτικό album που θα συναρπάσει όποιον αναζητά πραγματική ποιοτική μουσική, πράγμα που δυστυχώς σπανίζει στις μέρες μας...
Line Up:
Fish: Vocals
Mark Kelly: Keyboards
Mik Pointer: Drums, Percussion
Steve Rothery: Guitars
Pete Trewavas: Bass Guitar
Λίστα τραγουδιών και στίχοι:
1. Script For A Jester's Tear
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken hearts,
One more experience, one more entry in a diary, self penned
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
Too late to say I love you, too late to restage the play
Abandoning the relics in my playground of yesterday
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
I'm losing on the swings, I'm losing on the roundabouts
Too much, too soon, too far, to go,too late to play, the game is over
The game is over
So here I am once more in the playground of the broken heart
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts the game is over, over
Yet another emotional suicide overdosed on sentiment and pride
I'm losing on the swings, losing on the roundabouts the game is over
Too late to say I love you, too late to restage the play
The game is over
I act the role in classic style of a martyr carved with a twisted smile
To bleed the lyric for this song, to write the rites to right my wrongs
An epitaph to a broken dream, to exorcise this silent scream
A scream that's borne from sorrow
I never did write that love song, the words just never seemed to flow
Now sad in reflection, did I gaze through perfection
And examine the shadows on the other side of the morning
And examine the shadows on the other side of morning
Promised wedding now a wake
The fool escaped from paradise will look over his shoulder and cry
Sit and chew on daffodils and struggle to answer why?
As you grow up and leave the playground
Where you kissed your prince and found your frog
Remember the Jester that showed you tears, the script for tears
So I'll hold my peace forever when you wear your bridal gown
In the silence of my shame the mute that sang the siren's
Song has gone solo in the game, I've gone solo in the game
But the game is over
Can you still say you love me
2. He Knows You Know
Light switch, yellow fever, crawling up your bathroom wall
Singing psychedelic praises to the depths of the china bowl
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
You should have listen to the priest at the confession,
When he offered you the sacred bread
He knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He knows, you know, but he's got problems
Fast feed, crystal fever, sworming through a fractured mind
Chilling needles freeze emotion, the blind shall lead the blind
You've got venom in your stomach, you've got poison in your head
When you're conscience whispered, the vein lines stiffened,
You were walking with the dead
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He's got experience, he's got experience, he knows, you know
But he's got problems, problems, problems
He knows....slash wrists, scarlet fever,
Crawl under your bedroom door
Pumping arteries ooze their problems,
Through the gap that the razor tore
You've got venom in your stomach,
You've got poison in your head
You should have listened to your analyst's questions
When you lay on his leather bed
He knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He knows, you know, but he's got problems
Blank eyes, purple fever,
Streaming through the frosted panes
You've learned your lesson far too late
From the links in a chemist chain
You've got venom in your stomach,
You've got poison in your head
You should have stayed at home and talked with father,
Listen to the lies he fed
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
But he's got problems
He knows, you know, he knows, you know, he knows, you know,
He's got experience, he's got experience, he knows, you know
You know, you know, you know
3. The Web
The rain auditions at my window, it's symphony echoes in my womb
My gaze scans the walls of this apartment
to rectify the confines of my tomb
I'm the cyclops in the tenement, I'm the soul without the cause
Crying midst my rubber plants, ignoring beckoning doors,
Clippings from ancient newspapers he scattered across the floor
Stained by the wine from a shattered glass,
Meaningless words, yellowed by time, faded photos exposing pain,
Celluloid leeches bleeding my mind you've finished playing hangman,
You've cast the fateful dice, advise, advise, advise me,
This shroud will not suffice
Attempting to discard these clinging memories,
I only serve to wallow in our past
I fabricate the weave with my excuses,
It's strands I hope and pray shall last
Oh please do last
The flytrap needs the insect, ivy caresses the wall
Needles make love to the junkies, sirens seduce with their call
Confidence has deserted me, with you it has forsaken me
Confused and rejected, despised and alone,
I kiss isolation on it's fevered brow, security clutching me,
Obscurity threatening me, your reasons were so obvious
As my friends have qualified, I only laughed away your tears,
But even jesters cry
I realise I hold the key to freedom,
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions,
the changes have to be made
I realise I hold the key to freedom,
I cannot let my life be ruled by threads
The time has come to make decisions,
The changes have to be made
Now I leave you the past has had it's say
You're all but forgotten, a mote in my heart
Decisions have been made, decisions have been made
I've conquered my fears the flaming shroud
4. Garden Party
Garden party held today,
Invites call the debs to play
Social climbers polish ladders,
Wayward sons again have fathers
Edgy eggs and queuing cumbers,
Rudely wakened from their slumber
Time has come again for slaughter
On the lawns by still Cam waters
Champagne corks are firing at the sun again
Swooping swallows chased by violins again
Straafed by Strauss they sulk in crumbling eaves again
Aperitifes consumed en masse
Display their owners on the grass
Couples loiter in the cloisters,
Social leeches quoting Chaucer
Doctor's son a parson's daughter
Where why not and should they oughta
Please don't lie upon the grass,
Unless accompanied by a fellow
May I be so bold to suggest Othello
Punting on the Cam is jolly fun they say
Beagling on the downs Oh please do come they say
Rugger is the tops, a game for men they say
I'm punting, I'm beagling, I'm wining, reclining, I'm rucking, I'm f**king
So welcome, it's a party
Angie chalks another blue, mother smiles she did it too
Chitters chat and gossips lash, posers pose pressmen flash
Smiles polluted with false charm, locking on to Royal arms,
Society columns now ensured, returns to mingle with the crowds
Oh what a crowd
5. Chelsea Monday
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Living in her cellophane world in glitter town
Awaiting the prince in his white Capri
Dynamic young tarzan courts the bedsit queen
She's playing the actress in this bedroom scene
She's learning her lines from glossy magazines
Stringing all her pearls from her childhood dreams
Auditioning for the leading role on the silver screen
Patience my tinsel angel,
Patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you,
You'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday
Drifting with her incense in the labyrinth of London
Playing games with faces in the neon wonderland
Perform to scattered shadows on the shattered cobbled aisles
Would she dare recite soliliquies at the risk of start applause
She'll pray for endless Sundays as she enters saffron sunsets
Conjure phantom lovers from the tattered shreds of dawn,
Fulfilled and yet forgotten the St. Tropez mirage
Fragrance aphrodisiac, the withered tuberose
Patience my tinsel angel, patience my perfumed child
One day they'll really love you, you'll charm them with that smile
But for now it's just another Chelsea Monday
[ "Hello John, did you see The Standard about four hours ago?
Fished a young chick out of The Old Father
Blond hair, blue eyes. She said she wanted to be an actress or something
Nobody knows where she came from, where she was going
Funny thing was she had a smile on her face
She was smiling, what a waste" ]
Catalogue princess, apprentice seductress
Buried in her cellophane world in glitter town
Of Chelsea Monday
6. Forgotten Sons
Armalite, street lights, nightsights
Searching the roofs for a sniper, viper, fighter
Death in the shadows he'll maim you, he'll wound you, he'll kill you
For a long forgotten cause, on not so foreign shores,
Boy's baptised in wars
Morphine, chill stream, bad dream
Serving as numbers on dogtags, flakrags, sandbags
Your girl has married your best friend, loves end poisen pen
Your flesh will always creep, tossing turning sleep
The wounds that burn so deep
Your mother sits at the edge of the world
When the cameras start to roll
Panoramic viewpoints ressurect the killing fold
Your father drains another beer he's one of the few that cares
Crawling behind a saracens hull from the safety of his living
Room chair - forgotten sons, forgotten sons, forgotten sons
And so I patrol the valley in the shadow of the tricolor
I must fear evil for I am but mortal and mortals can only die
Asking questions, pleading answers from the nameless
Faceless watchers that stalk the carpeted corridors of Whitehall
Who order desecration, mutilation, verbal masturbation
In their guarded bureaucratic wombs
Minister, minister care for your children, order them not
Into damnation to eliminate those who would trespass
Against you, for whose is the kingdom the power and the glory,
Forever and ever amen - halt who goes there,
Death, Approach' friend
You're just another coffin on it's way down the emerald aisle
Where the children's stony glances mourn your death in a terrorist's smile
The bombers arm places fiery gifts on the supermarket shelves,
Alleys sing with shrapnel detonate in a temporary hell
Forgotten sons
From the dole queue to the regiment a profession in a flash
But remember Monday's signings when from door to door you dash
On the news a nation mourns you unknown soldier, count the cost
For a second you'll be famous but labelled posthumous
Forgotten Sons, forgotten sons
Peace on earth and mercy mild, mother brown has lost her child
Just another forgotten son
Αξιολόγηση: 9.5/10
1 σχόλιο:
Απλά ο ΔΙΣΚΟΣ!!Τι να πώ?Ακαταμάχητο-Συγκλονιστικό Αλμπούμ.Συγχαρητήρια στους δημιουργούς αυτού του blog.Αξιολόγηση (10/10).
Δημοσίευση σχολίου