Al Stewart

[madshutterbug]

If you've not heard his work, you really should track down Al Stewart. There's a great deal to like about his lyrics if nothing else; it is epic in the sense that it's always telling a tale, in rhythm and rhyme.

The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border

This doesn't even count the guitar riffs. I heard fatfred say this about another artist recently: it's not just the notes he does play, it's the space, the silence between those notes. I discovered Mr. Stewart through a shipmate back in the Federally Subsidised Tourist days. Didn't purchase any of his albums then... no, wait maybe I did. If so, it's vinyl. LP. Not quite ancient technology. *G* Recently picked up three CD's to add to the library.

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time

It makes for a nice way to ease out of a day when I put more nails in that box.

Comments

[madshutterbug.livejournal.com]

Weekends are always nail-less. That's just the Box which is, 'The past 30 have been grand, Hospital, but you may now pay me not to come here any more.'

See, Hospital has a program: Retire on (say) Friday, and come to work on (say) Monday. Receive your retirement check, and your paycheck, and continue to contribute to your final retirement. Great program for retaining skills and experience. But if something, something very particular, doesn't change and fairly soon, it's gonna be that Box.