I will continue to dig in the dust to bring to the light forgotten and invaluable gems, be assured.
This time it is the operatic singer and composer of Van Der Graaf (Generator) from its 1974 album, "In Camera", with a powerful and disturbing lyric.
They say we are endowed with Free Will -*
At least that justifies our need for indecision.
But between our insticts and the lust to kill
We bow our heads in submission.
They say that no man is an island
But then they say our castles are our homes;
It's felt the choice is ours, between peace and violence...
Oh, yes, we choose, alone?
While the comet spreads its tail across the sky
It nowhere near defines the course it flies,
Nor does it find its own direction.
Though the path of the comet be sure,
Its constitution is not
So its meaning is possibly more
Than the tracing of a tail
In one brief shot at glory.
Love and peace and individuality,
So order and society are man-made?
War and hate and dark depravity,
Or are we slaves?
Channeling aggressive energies,
The Death Wish and the Will to survive,
Into finding and preserving enemies,
Is that the only way we know that we're alive?
In the slaughterhouse all corpses smell the same,
Whether queens or pawns or innocents at the game;
In the cemetery a uniform cloaks the graves
Except for outward pomp and circumstance.
There is a time set in the calendar
When all reason seems barely enough
To sustain all the shooting stars:
Times are rough.
I'm waiting for something to happen here,
It feels as though it's long overdue...
Maybe a restatement of yesteryear
Or something entirely new.
And the knowledge that we gain in part
Always leads us closer to the very start,
And to the founding questions:
How can I tell that the road signed to hell
Doesn't lead up to heaven?
What can I say when, in some obscure way,
I am my own direction?
It is one of the unwritten laws of record collecting that some of the most passionately sought LPs are often among the most disappointing albums ever made, the kind of things that you would never even give houseroom to, if they weren't essential to the collection. Among connoisseurs of the British Vertigo label, an avid army who've been known to offer limbs in exchange for certain objects of high-priced desire,Ben's eponymous debut album certainly falls into that sordid category. Cut wholly in the jazz-rock shadow of labelmates Nucleus, Ben offers a shade over 38 minutes worth of aimless noodling, interspersed with flashes of soulless riffing, and crowned by drummer David Sheen's dry, dull (but mercifully underemployed) vocal. Musically, it's clear that Ben know their stuff -- technicians might well sit back and marvel at the band's actual playing abilities. But the nearly side-long suite "The Influence" simply wanders along without ever justifying the presence of the seven sub-movements that divide it up, while side two's opening, "Christmas Execution," never lives up to what is, after all, an extremely intriguing title, even if it does sound a bit Christmassy in places. Reissues on Repertoire in 1991 and Akarma in 2003 have done much to discourage all but the most avid vinyl fetishists from seeking out the original swirl-label version of this album. But, even at a reasonable price, it remains a distinctly disappointing release.
