This album, as many of the preceding albums of this, Matt Johnson’s terrific band, have blown me away. You might even say they have detonated a mind bomb. Father has remonstrated me for failing to mention that Matt Johnson was a member of Marc and the Mambas, the group Marc Almond formed after Soft Cell. So there you have it. Dusk is an evocative, dark, and self reflecting album which shines a light on some tough injustices in the world through the prism of Johnson himself. Johnny Marr, from the Smiths, plays guitar on this album.
It ends a great trilogy of records (including 1986’s Infected and 1989’s Mind Bomb) that showed The The mastermind Matt Johnson perfecting his personal musical vision while accumulating the right musicians to pull the whole thing off. Of those three, Infected (like far too many ’80s albums) sounds the most dated. The beat-driven dissonance of Mind Bomb fares better, but for the most part, Dusk sounds like it could have been released today. Pop Matters
The first track, True Happiness This Way Lies, is oddly Christian in its reflection. It starts with a pseudo stand up comedy routine, followed by agonised vocals and culminates in Johnson postulating that the only way to be happy in life is free yourself from desires. This is what the Church teaches in many ways. Chastity being one way in which we can remove an aspect of our pre-marital lives which blinds us to other qualities of our potential partner, for example. But more on that in a later post, or perhaps not.
The following tracks, in particular the third, fourth and sixth (Dogs of Lust, This Is the Night and Helpline Operator) tell stories of the seedy underbelly of London but also individual within the city. The subject matter is their illicit desires and exposing them for what they are, and in a way seeking to cure the listener of the very same desires. Love is Stronger than Death is one of the album’s triumphs. Singing with painful emotion, Johnson describes how the beauty of love can transcend even the dread of mortality. Again this is a Christian sentiment. The idea that one can love beyond death has been explored innumerable times, for example in this wonderful poem by Elisabeth Browning.
Undoubtedly ‘Dusk’ can be marked down as a retreat in terms of some of Johnson’s usual ambitions; compared to its predecessors the lyrics aren’t nearly as political and the arrangements are generally less elaborate, though this is counterbalanced by the new artistic opportunities the fresh format affords. The traditional instrumentation allows for greater light and shade, the production feels warmer and Johnson lets the intimacy shine through in his vocals. The lyrics here are less interested in the politics of states and nations instead choosing to focus on the politics of individuals within society, uncovering the hidden drives and desires that manipulate us all. The album title ‘Dusk’ could quite easily have been replaced with ‘Lust’ for this is a work practically dripping with illicit passions and sexual loathing. Sputnik
The penultimate song Bluer Than Midnight frightened me somewhat. The final words of the track intimating that Johnson is more stimulated by fear than love were rather harrowing. As though by antidote, the last track, Lonely Planet, is about accepting one’s lot and ends with “the world’s too big, and life’s too short, to be alone”.
A wonderful, fulsome and devastating album which is likely The The’s best work.
W. B. Yeats, (13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939), was an Irish poet and writer, and one of the leading literary figures of the last century. He is a key figure behind the Irish Literary Revival. In December 1923, Yeats was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, “for his always inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of a whole nation”. From my research, I believe When You Are Old was published in 1893, when Yeats was not very old. It was written as a love poem to an Irish revolutionary who stole his heart, Maud Gonne. She refused to marry him despite several proposals. See the poem below:
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
The phrase ‘full of sleep’ is quite horrifying to me. It implies a stage in one’s old age when they are so tired and close to death that they are almost sleep walking into death. Now, death is not necessarily something to be afraid of, especially not for a practicing Catholic. But this stage of life where one is exhausted is quite worrisome for someone with a modicum of vitality, at the time of writing. The first two lines invite Maude to read this poem while she is within a few weeks of death and comfortable by the fire, possibly dozing off.
The next two lines invite Maude to remember her youth, indeed dream of it. The dark shadows signify pessimism and depression, perhaps.
The second stanza in my view casts aspersions at Maude for dumping Yeats. It implies that the man she went on to marry was a false lover. Perhaps, those who loved her falsely enjoyed her beauty over the substance of her character. This is confirmed in the second half of this stanza when Yeats points out, helpfully, that he loved her wandering and/or searching soul
The last stanza reminds me of the beginning of Revelation 12, where the writer (ostensibly St John), describes the Virgin Mary in Heaven.
A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head.
Yeats is berating his ex love interest in the spiciest form yet, goading her for wasting an entire life because she has not spent it with him, even implying she is going to hell as he, Mr Right, ends up in heaven. Overall, a lovely poem! There is a lot of sass, a lot of projection and a lot of power here.
Welcome to the March 2022 edition of Five Favourites. See below my choices for this month
Black and White – The Stranglers (1978)
The four members of the Stranglers are looking quite morose on this cover. You will be glad to know that the B side of Tank, when it was released on vinyl, has the original singer, Dionne Warwick, on it. This is the same with the vinyl itself. I love this cover and so too does Mr Nick, who remarked on it when I showed him the vinyl.
London Calling – The Clash (1979)
British photographer Penny Smith took this iconic photograph. You can see an excellent article on the cover here. I was fascinated to read that she does not like the photograph of the lead singer, Paul Simonon, smashing his good bass guitar, as it is out of focus. This was the case, because she was backing away from him so as not to get hit!
The The – Soul Mining (1983)
This was album of the month last month and with good reason. The cover feels very much like how you will feel when listening to it. It speaks to the shocking soul searching of the lead singer, whom my father reliably informs me was in Marc and the Mambas. It is a difficult album and indeed a dark one. The cover speaks volumes.
Stop Making Sense – Talking Heads (1984)
The Big Suit. Need I say more? This cover contains one of the more iconic jackets in music history. I believe the suit is either in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame or some fashion museum. This album is out of this world but the cover is pretty awesome too.
Night Flight to Venus – Boney M (1978)
For my last cover I have chosen the excellent Night Flight to Venus. Imagine four be-tutued Germans coming at you, at speed, while holding on to a rope. Is there anything more horrifying? Yes: their other album covers.
Van Gogh painted this arresting painting in the last few weeks of his life. He did a series of paintings of wheat fields around Auvers, of which Theresa May would be proud. This one, Wheatfield Under Thunderclouds, is quite arresting and took me by surprise.
In these landscapes he tried to express ‘sadness, extreme loneliness’. But the overwhelming emotions that Van Gogh experienced in nature were also positive. He wrote to his brother Theo, ‘I’d almost believe that these canvases will tell you what I can’t say in words, what I consider healthy and fortifying about the countryside.’
The elongated format of Wheatfields under Thunderclouds is unusual. It emphasizes the grandeur of the landscape, as does the simple composition: two horizontal planes. Van Gogh Museum
This is a simple painting, covering two horizontal plains. It is painted with simple, visible brush strokes, yet I find it quite striking. The emotion in this piece is palpable. The movement of the clouds, both light and dark is haunting. It is advancing towards you as you are watching. You can almost see the curtain of rain in the distance. The wheat in the field is almost moving and you can see the wind taking the three in the bottom right.
There is something very moving in this painting, there is a brooding, almost menacing quality to it. The painting reflects what Van Gogh must have felt in the closing weeks of his life, a kind of loneliness and despair, but at the same time in his own words, it is meant to show us the restorative qualities of the countryside. In all, a fascinating work in the later period of Van Gogh’s life.
Another metaphysical Catholic poem? Why, yes of course! Although, my dearest Charlotte tells me that he was in fact first Catholic, then reneged the faith (his family were recusant), then became Anglican priest and apostatised, which is rather shocking to me. That word has rather negative connotations for me since I watched the 2016 Scorsese film Silence. See below John Donne’s striking rebuke of Death personified:
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so; For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. Thou’art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy’or charms can make us sleep as well And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
This poem uses the literary tactic of Apostrophe (not apostasy), which addresses a subject who cannot respond. Here, Donne addresses Death directly, as a person, and takes him down a peg. In the first two lines we see Death’s reputation as being full of pride and mighty. Donne tells us that this is in fact not the case. The second two lines follow suit, telling Death that he does not not in fact have the power to overthrow us, that Death itself has no power to kill, so we should not be afraid of it. Even St Paul knew this, as Charlotte pointed out to me as we were walking to Mass, in the first letter of St Paul to the Corinthians:
When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come to pass: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” Where, O Death, is your victory? Where, O Death, is your sting?”
1 Corinthians 15:55
The next four lines show death as akin to falling asleep, further degrading Death personified and encouraging the reader to be less frightened. Donne goes on to explain that the good die soonest in order to experience this peaceful rest and go with death to their eternal resting place.
There’s really no point in doing anything in life because it’s all over in the blink of an eye. The next thing you know, rigor mortis sets in. Oh, how the good die young.
Mr Gustave, The Grand Budapest Hotel
(excellent article on the nonsense poetry int he film here)
Lines 9-10 see Donne taunting Death saying that he is impotent without the foolish acts of man. Without chancers and fate, Death would not have a purpose, in essence. Donne makes fun of Death’s friends, poison war and sickness, to further degrade him. Lines 11-12 continue in the vein of lines 7 and 8, stating that Death brings only a short sleep and that poppies (drugs) can do the same. Why should we be afraid of a little sleep?
The final two lines are evidence of Donne’s faith. One short sleep and we, like Christ, awake into eternal life. Therefore, Death is robbed of all his power and indeed shall die. This notion of eternal life is one of the central tenets of the Christian faith. It helps the faithful live their life to the fullest in the hope of eternal glory. This concept is one I have been wrestling with for some time but can see is wonderfully calming when understood. Donne saw this almost 400 years ago and I have found great comfort in his writings. I can only hope you will, also.
