I hadn't listened to Kate Bush's album
The Dreaming in years, but Cag's posting of the lyrics for "Suspended In Gaffa" (a couple of pages back) sent me scrambling for the CD. I was hit once again by this music's uniqueness.
The Dreaming is an astounding, gleeful, haunting cacophony of sound, the like of which I had never heard before or since. I recall having had a nightmare inspired by "Pull Out The Pin." The whole album is a strangely beautiful, seductive nightmare. Its gasps, yells, distorted voices, muffled chants and whatnot tell me something nasty is going on, but I'm never quite sure what. The grotesquery in this music is just a marvel to behold.
(That's some verbiage, huh?)
The last song, "Get Out Of My House," is the nuttiest, in an album filled with inspired nuttiness:
("Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw!")
When you left, the door was
(slamming!)
You paused in the doorway
(slamming!)
As though a thought stole you away.
(slamming!)
I watched the world pull you away.
(Lock it!)
So I run into the hall,
(Lock it!)
Into the corridor.
(Lock it!)
There's a door in the house
(slamming).
I hear the lift descending.
(slamming!)
I hear it hit the landing,
(slamming!)
See the hackles on the cat
(standing).
With my key I
(lock it).
With my key I
(lock it up).
With my key I
(lock it).
With my key I
(lock it up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Won't letcha in for love, nor money.
("Let me in!")
My home, my joy.
I'm barred and bolted and I
(Won't let you in).
(Get out of my house!)
No stranger's feet
Will enter me.
(Get out of my house!)
I wash the panes,
(Get out of my house!)
I clean the stains away.
(Get out of my house!)
This house is as old as I am.
(Slamming.)
This house knows all I have done.
(Slamming.)
They come with their weather hanging 'round them,
(Slamming.)
But can't knock my door down!
(Slamming.)
With my key I
(lock it).
With my key I
(lock it).
This house is full of m-m-my mess.
(Slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-mistakes.
(Slamming.)
This house is full of m-m-madness.
(Slamming.)
This house is full of, full of, full of fight!
(Slam it.)
With my keeper I
(clean up).
With my keeper I
(clean it all up).
With my keeper I
(clean up).
With my keeper I
(clean it all up).
I am the concierge chez-moi, honey.
Won't letcha in for love, nor money.
("It's cold out here!")
My home, my joy.
I'm barred and bolted and I
(Get out of my house!)
(Won't let you in).
(Get out of my house!)
No stranger's feet
(Get out of my house!)
Will enter me.
(Get out of my house!)
I wash the panes.
(Get out of my house!)
I clean the stains.
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
Won't enter me.
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
Yeah! Won't let you in!
(Get out of my house!)
(Get out of my house!)
"Let me in!
"Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the memories!
Woman let me in!
Let me bring in the Devil Dreams!"
I will not let you in!
Don't you bring back the reveries.
I turn into a bird,
Carry further than the word is heard.
"Woman let me in!
I turn into the wind.
I blow you a cold kiss,
Stronger than the song's hit."
I will not let you in.
I face towards the wind.
I change into the Mule.
"I change into the Mule."
Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw-hee-haw...
"Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw!"
You listen to this song, and you go: "What...the...hell...was that...??"
But I love it! Sheer lunacy. I think it has some pretty disturbing imagery. The Devil? A woman changing into a Mule? Maybe this is some literary reference, but I have no clue. I'm just a simple mind, overwhelmed by the brilliance of Kate.
And I thank Cag for spurring me to re-discover a classic album after a long absence from my playlist.