SFF Song of the Week
Recent visitors to the Orbit website may have read a blog by ace editor DongWon Song extolling the virtues of this site's SFF Song of the Week slot. There have been, I will have to concede, some wonderful song choices over the last few months from assorted eminent writers plus one film/TV producer. To check the back catalogue, just drift your eyes across to the left, under Debatable Archives.
Today's choice is from a writer who is a hero of mine - master of noir nastiness - creator of hitman hero Avery Cates. Yes it's the wonderful Jeff Somers. Jeff and I have become e-buddies over the last few months; I admire him and his work hugely. And, thanks to those great guys at Orbit, Jeff and I are currently cooking up a joint venture together, which looks set fair to be a marriage made in heaven. More of that anon...
Over to you Jeff...
Jeff Somers writes:
Queen “'39”
One of my fave songs overall, and a rare folky-rock song that tells a
story. A sad, shattering story ("For my life's still ahead, pity me.)
OMFG, it makes me weep every. time. I. hear. it.) of time dilation and
dying earth, which is my favorite type. I was actually unaware of it for
an embarrassingly long time despite being quite devoted to much of
Queen's catalog; I came across it in a random Googling of something or
other and my life has been different ever since. I hear it's quite a
fave for buskers to play on the streets of London, though that's hearsay.
What I love about the song, too, is that it has a short-story
sensibility, telling the story and then hitting you with the crushing
final line - no epilogue, no repeat of the chorus, just that chilling
thud and you're left sitting there, tears streaming down your face,
bottle of courage clutched in one hand. Er, I assume. It's never
happened to me, of course, as I laugh in the face of danger and
soul-chilling emotionally charged songs of dark SF.
The fact that Brian May is an honest-to-god Astrophysicist just makes
this all the better.
In the year of thirty-nine
Assembled here the volunteers
In the days when lands were few
Here the ship sailed out into the blue and sunny morn
The sweetest sight ever seen
And the night followed day
And the story tellers say
That the score brave souls inside
For many a lonely day
Sailed across the milky seas
Ne'er looked back never feared never cried
Don't you hear my call
Though you're many years away
Don't you hear me calling you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I'll take your hand
In the land that our grand-children knew
In the year of thirty-nine
Came a ship in from the blue
The volunteers came home that day
And they bring good news
Of a world so newly born
Though their hearts so heavily weigh
For the earth is old and grey
little darlin' well away
But my love this cannot be
Oh so many years have gone
Though i'm older but a year
Your mother's eyes from your eyes cry to me
Don't you hear my call
Though you're many years away
Don't you hear me calling you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I'll take your hand
In the land that our grand-children knew
Don't you hear my call
Though you're many years away
Don't you hear me calling you
All your letters in the sand
Cannot heal me like your hand
For my life's still ahead, pity me.
Here's a song choice from the king of noir action SF, one of my favourite writers on today's scene, the fabulous Richard Morgan.
Over to you Richard...
Richard Morgan writes:
Song of the Week: Beat the Devil's Tattoo.
I'm far enough into my forties now that I can't pretend I'm a young man anymore, and I've been waiting for this album like a sixteen year old. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club are - no hype - the finest rock band in the world. They define exactly the edgy mix of soul and power that rock music delivers whenever it gets loose of market defined trends and complacent power chord pomp. For every blasting, feedback howling track in BRMC's armoury, there's a plaintive, lyrically defined acoustic ballad to match - and as often as not you'll find those two contrasts co-existing in the same song. References to the Jesus and Mary Chain are inevitable, but for me the best point of comparison is the Rolling Stones circa Beggars' Banquet and Let it Bleed - it's the same dark energy, the same virtuoso guitar work, the same re-working of blues heritage, and the same subtle political and cultural echo chamber. Black Rebel Motorcycle Club provided me with the soundtrack to both Black Man/Thirteen and The Steel Remains, and this title track from their upcoming release showcases every reason why. Listen here:
I'm still reeling from the Knob Head jokes (see post below) but now to raise our game.
Here's a song I LOVE, chosen by the gifted Emma Adams, screenwriter and stage dramatist. Over to you Em:
Emma Adams writes:
Carpenters – Calling Occupants Of Interplanetary Craft
Thought One – Karen Carpenter, you’re really weird but I think I love you.
So while I’m happy to admit to my big love for Suzie Quattro in her rock and roller jump suits, I have never been able to bring myself to admit my secret-weird-soft-spot crush for Karen Carpenter. Until now that is. Because, there is something very very wrong with Karen isn’t there? Her terrifying blank, too cute all American grin. Her skinny, get a meal boneyness and of course her really really strange hair and terrible frocks… But still, I find I can forgive her all of this because of two things. Her total cool ass drumming and her absolutely amazing beautiful voice. A voice that is instantly recognisable in a way that only a handful of voices are. And no matter how bubblegum light the lyrics are, she conveys great warmth and tenderness when she sings. There I’ve said it. I’m out of my Carpenter Closet. Karen Carpenter may not exactly rock but she gently sways my world.
Thought Two – I’m so glad that the Carpenter’s believed recording this strange song was a good idea. It probably wasn’t, but nevertheless it gives me hope.
It’s not so much a song as a series of pompous musical postures that get more and more ridiculous as it goes along. It is to my mind a fantastic example of pop genius gone mad and for this reason alone I take great delight in it. For me the descending Beatlesy orchestration at the end is just fantastic. It’s the bit I wait for. And it always makes me smile.
Thought Three – The CIA refer to unintended misfortunes coming out of ‘well meant’ foreign policy moves as ‘Blowback’. I wish Karen had known this before she went into the recording studio.
You will have noticed by now that the lyrics of this song are very bad. But when I listen to it, I can’t help worrying that they could create a consequence far worse than mere aesthetic unpleasantness, promoting as they do a dangerous untruth. To be specific, Karen on several occasions directly addresses Aliens, reassuring them in no uncertain terms that:
“We are your friends”.
Now let's be clear. I don’t think for a minute that lovely, skinny, mixed up Karen was actively lying when she sang these words. She had a lot of issues in her life. But we also know that sometimes those who have the best intentions can create the most harm.
I can’t help worrying what could happen if Aliens actually heard this song.
Will they know that humans when encountering new civilisations always announce “We are your friends” just before embarking on a big stealing, killing frenzy?
I can only hope that they are more clued up about human history than Karen was.
In your mind you have capacities you know
To telepath messages through the vast unknown
Please close your eyes and concentrate
With every thought you think
Upon the recitation we're about to sing
Calling occupants of interplanetary craft
Calling occupants of interplanetary most extraordinary craft
Calling occupants of interplanetary craft
Calling occupants of interplanetary craft
Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft
You've been observing our earth
And we'd like to make a contact with you
We are your friends
Calling occupants of interplanetary craft
Calling occupants of interplanetary ultra-emissaries
We've been observing your earth
And one night we'll make a contact with you
We are your friends
Calling occupants of interplanetary quite extraordinary craft
And please come in peace, we beseech you
Only a landing will teach them
Our earth may never survive
So do come, we beg you
Please interstellar policeman
Oh won't you give us a sign
Give us a sign that we've reached you
With your mind you have ability to form
And transmit thought energy far beyond the norm
You close your eyes, you concentrate
Together that's the way
To send the message
We declare world contact day
Repeat (*)
Calling occupants
Calling occupants
Calling occupants of interplanetary, anti-adversary craft
We are your friends
Here's an awesome choice from Orbit author Jesse Bullington, a polymath (ie he's very brainy) and a delightful guy. His first novel The Sad Tale of the Brothers Grossbart is a stunner, and utterly original.
Jesse Bullington writes:
Metal and fantasy have long been confederates but few bands have fused the two as successfully as Bal-Sagoth. They take their name from a story by Conan creator Robert E. Howard and their creative cues from him, as well as H.P. Lovecraft, Clark Ashton Smith, and other pulp favorites, but rather than simply regurgitating the works and words of their heroes Bal-Sagoth has gone on to create their own complex SFF mythology that allows them to explore the farthest reaches of the cosmos as well as the forgotten empires of the earth. Further differentiating themselves from other bands, each album by Bal-Sagoth is an epic collection of tales, not a random assortment of songs...and when I say epic, I mean it: how else do you describe a record titled Starfire Burning Upon the Ice-Veiled Throne of Ultima Thule? What's more, a single album is often not sufficient to contain the glorious legends in their entierty and so a single tale will span several albums--the heroic archaeologist Caleb Blackthorne III appears on two albums, and those dread Guardians of the Astral Gate feature prominently on five. In selecting a single song from their body of work I decided on "Arcana Antediluvia" because in many ways it captures the essence of the band while still standing alone, so that the novice may appreciate the tale without foreknowledge of the mythology at hand--though a sequel track on an upcoming album is rumored...
[Act I: The Argosy on the Eldritch Sea]
[The Antediluvian Oracle:]
And so it was written, that rage would carry him like a howling wind, leaving only frozen corpses,
Their bones rattling in hollow armour, to tell their tale in his wake.
[The Black Mariner:]
Behold, my blackened, grim and gory axe, the searing glow of trenchant steel.
I'll notch another widow to my haft, and wreak red vengeance 'cross the waves.
Tales of black-sailed argosies, bedeviled by base treachery!
[The Antediluvian Oracle:]
His gaze is as fire, his words are as spear-points, his voice is as thunder, his touch as the plague!
[The Black Mariner:]
Storm-prow cleaving, dragon rending, nighted deeps far, far below,
Hail-scur scouring, sea devouring, sunken realm's ethereal glow.
[The Antediluvian Oracle:]
And one night, there came a storm, a storm with searing red winds.
Fire and steel rode within it, and vengeance writ in thunder and blood!
[The Black Mariner:]
Down sixty fathoms, from stygian coral-clad tombs, the pitiless abyssal sea disgorges its shambling mold-mottled dead,
Dank innards blackly acoil with nests of slithering things!
Ghosts aglide upon the eldritch seas, unfathomed voyage to ascendancy,
Traitorous blood, the surf roils red, churning crimson, thrice-cursed dead.
[The Antediluvian Oracle:]
'Tis enough that men might dream of being kings without aspiring to the power of gods.
At the SFX Summer of Reading event at Waterstone's Piccaddilly on Monday I was able to catch up with the utterly delightful and multi-talented Stephen Hunt. Stephen's series of steampunk novels set in and around the Kingdom of the Jackals are going from strength to strength - for more on those, see here. He's also of course founder and presiding genius of the splendid SF Crowsnest.
Stephen Hunt writes:
As a child of the 1970s (and the 80s), the quote ‘The past is a
foreign country: they do things differently there’ was, I venture,
never so appropriate. It was pre-internet, pre-video recorder, pre-PC,
pre-mobile phone, heck, it was just about pre-everything. Teens and
tweens didn’t spend seven hours solid with their eyes locked on the
screen of a DS or playing MMOGs, or texting, or happy slapping, or,
for that matter, scoring free music tracks using P2P software.
We did have hoodies, but they were called parkas and made you look
like Kenny from South Park, never a good look at the best of times,
even then.
But we had other consolations.
Hot summers and jumpers for goal posts, perhaps? No. Dungeons and
Dragons had just crept into the UK’s model shops alongside all the
Airfix kits and Hornby railway sets, disco was sweeping the country,
and the Vietnam war was just winding down, as, regularly, was the
electricity, when rolling strikes turned the country’s lights out.
Ah, indeed, the bookshops had maybe half a shelf of fantasy & science
fiction books (Poul Anderson, Robert Silverberg, James Blish, E. Doc
Smith, Philip Jose Farmer, Isaac Asimov, Brian Aldiss, Gordon Dickson,
Tolkien, Clifford D. Simak, Arthur C. Clarke and a few other
stalwarts), and for a decent selection of comic-books you could only
go to ‘Dark They Were, and Golden-Eyed’ in London’s Soho. Yes, slap
bang alongside all the sex shops – scoring SFF was a lot like scoring
porn in those halcyon days, and equally sniffed at.
Them were the days. And alongside Thunderbirds, Space 1999 and Doctor
Who (some things never change), we also had the consolations of a
bunch of lycra-wearing leotard-clad lovelies prancing about our newly
colour TV set with its three solitary channels. Yes, Hot Gossip. A
dance group that appeared on The Kenny Everett Television Show and Top
of the Pops, along with some strange new concept called the music
video.
As a burgeoning fan of the female form (we lived in the world of Gene
Hunt, so being politically correct was de rigueur), Sarah Brightman –
before Andrew Lloyd Webber sunk his supine claws into her soul –
cleverly managed to combine two of my favourite interests: girls
poured into their skin suits and science fiction. A feat not repeated
until Erin Gray slinked into the TV series Buck Rogers in the 25th
Century.
Beautiful raven-locked Sarah Brightman, who thumped out a 1978 single
written by Jeff Calvert and Max West of ‘Typically Tropical’ fame (who
also wrote Barbados, covered by the Vengaboys in 1999 as We're Going
to Ibiza.).
So, pop fans, tone up, prepare for a blast of static electricity as
you slip into your cat suit, because you are now clear to go
hyperspace on the disco dance floor with…
Sarah Brightman and Hot Gossip: I Lost My Heart to a Starship Trooper.
(Editor's note: The best version of this is on YouTube and can't be embedded, so copy this link into your browser....Lyrics are below. Phil.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vE6YR9QbrqI
Or try this Star Trek version which is hilarious:
Speaker 1:
Arcaida
X-ray X-ray delta niner niner zero
This is Starfleet Control
You are clear to go hyperspace
Acknowledge
Speaker 2:
Affirmative, Star Comm
We have situation gold
Speaker 1:
Niner niner zero, roger
You're looking good for trans-light
Sarah singing:
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Oh...
Hey, Captain Strange, won't you be my lover
You're the best thing that I've ever discovered
Flash Gordon's left me, he's gone to the stars
An evil Darth Vader has me banished to Mars
Tell me, Captain Strange, do you feel my devotion
Or are you like a droid, devoid of emotion
Encounters one and two are not enough for me
What my body needs is close encounter three
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Flashing lights in hyperspace
Fighting for the Federation
Hand in hand we'll conquer space
Listen, Captain Strange, what's our destination
The scanners seem to indicate a small deviation
Static on the comm - it's Starfleet Command
Requesting your position, it's their final demand
You're intentions are known, they've found out at last
So if you're gonna take me, please make it fast
Touch me, feel me, do what you will
I want to feel that galactic thrill
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Flashing lights in hyperspace
Fighting for the Federation
Hand in hand we'll conquer space
Speaker 1:
Niner niner zero
This is Star Comm
We got a problem
On your vector
Request status check
Over
Sarah singing:
Oh, baby...
Speaker 3:
Arcadia
This is Strategy Control
You have course deviation
At five mark six
Acknowledge
Sarah singing:
I love you...
Speaker 1:
Arcadia
We show condition red
Confirm
Sarah singing:
Love me...
Speaker 3:
What's going on out there
Sarah singing:
Oh...
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Flashing lights in hyperspace
Fighting for the Federation
Hand in hand we'll conquer space
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Oh...
Space suit is lying on control room floor
Pulse rate increasing as the heat factor soars
Take me, make me feel the force
Ignore the computers, we're locked on course
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Flashing lights in hyperspace
Fighting for the Federation
Hand in hand we'll conquer space
I lost my heart to a starship trooper
Flashing lights in hyperspace
Fighting for the Federation
Hand in hand we'll conquer space
Speaker 1, while Sarah sings the previous lines repeatedly:
Niner niner zero
This is Star Comm
Be advised
You have serious vector deviation
I repeat: serious vector deviation
Arcadia
Niner niner zero
Do you copy
This is Starfleet Control
To all ships in sector five
Be advised
Arcadia
Niner niner zero
Is off course
All ships squawk ident
Starship Arcadia
This is Starfleet Control
Squawk ident
I repeat: squawk ident.
Over to you Lee...
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff,
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. Oh
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
Together they would travel on a boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff's gigantic tail,
Noble kings and princes would bow whene'er they came,
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name. Oh!
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
A dragon lives forever but not so little boys
Painted wings and giants' rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.
His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain,
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave,
So Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave. Oh!
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee,
Puff, the magic dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honah Lee.
I have a great soft spot for Jon Courtenay Grimwood. Partly because he was one of the first people to write nice comments about Debatable Space; mainly because he's one of the coolest, shrewdest, most wryly observational writers of modern SF you can hope to find.
And this is a wonderful and extremely spooky song choice.
Jon Courtenay Grimwood writes:
Marquee Moon by Television
Some songs stay with you because they remind you of a time, a friend or a lover. A few songs hook simply with their strangeness
For me, Marquee Moon was one of those.
I bought it in 1977, long before I saw Television or Tom Verlaine on stage. And decades before I saw him support Patti Smith at London’s Festival Hall. A gig where half the journalists and fans in the front rows looked exactly as I remembered them - just older, and fatter and balder.
This song doesn’t remind me of anyone or anything. But my memory of hearing it for the first time and realising I hadn’t the faintest fucking clue what it meant - but that didn’t matter - still sends a shiver down my spine.
Lightning, graveyards, rain, Cadillacs.
A ghost dragged back to the cemetary. Who knows.?
All the ingredients of the dark side of the American dream locked into one song. An epic ten-minute rock-guitar heart for the album of the same name. All anyone seems to agree is that, not only does Marquee Moon means whatever you want it to mean, it means it with a fierce intensity.
You give the listener (the reader, the viewer) the words. They bring their own emotion, reading and interpretation to the work. It’s a lesson for songwriters, novelists and artists everywhere.
Television came out of the New York CBGB scene that produced the Ramones. Yet their sound couldn’t be more different. The interlocking interplay of Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd’s guitars, Fred Smith’s bass lines and Billy Ficca’s drums, the elliptic self-referencing lyrics that mean so much or nothing at all, split fans and critics. (Being called the Grateful Dead of Punk probably wasn’t meant as a compliment.) But there’s no doubt that much post-punk wouldn’t have happened without them.
I used the strangeness of this track in Stamping Butterflies; a novel set in an analogue of Guantanimo Bay, and a Chinese empire in space; in which the two main characters, Prisoner Zero and the emperor are dreaming each other. And an echo of my being hooked back in 1977 found its way into a key scene.
‘A madman wants to kill me and no one can tell me why. The Republicans are targeting my son’s girlfriend. My wife thinks I need a trip to the vet. The coffee around here tastes like dishwater. Apart from that everything’s fine.’
The black woman smiled. ‘I’ve just called in the transcript of the very first interrogation, the one when he was first asked why he tried to shoot you.’
‘And what was his answer?’
‘He was listening to the rain…’
‘What?’
‘That’s what he said. He was listening to the rain. We’re not talking conspiracy here. We’re talking lone nutter. That’s what Ed doesn’t want widely known. Conspiracy plays better.’
‘And what was he hearing?’
Paula looked puzzled, then understood. ‘Who knows?’ she said. ‘Something else, I guess…’
I remember
how the darkness doubled
I recall
lightning struck itself.
I was listening
listening to the rain
I was hearing
hearing something else.
Life in the hive puckered up my night,
the kiss of death, the embrace of life.
There I stand neath the Marquee Moon Just waiting,
Hesitating...
I ain't waiting
I spoke to a man
down at the tracks.
I asked him
how he don't go mad.
He said "Look here junior, don't you be so happy.
And for Heaven's sake, don't you be so sad."
Well a Cadillac
it pulled out of the graveyard.
Pulled up to me
all they said get in.
Then the Cadillac
it puttered back into the graveyard.
And me,
I got out again.
Screenwriter and blogger Adrian Reynolds has been a regular visitor to this site, and contributed a fabulous guest blog about Spider-Man not so long back. I asked Adrian to come up with an SFF Song of the Week, and he came up with this amazing choice.
Adrian Reynolds writes:
There've been a few of these SFF songs now, and one name is conspicuous by its absence. The band I'm thinking of did one album with a gatefold sleeve that folded out into a warrior's shield, of all things. They frequently sing about spaceships, and their live shows feature a wealth of original and plundered sf imagery. OK, so they've not troubled the charts much, but they're still remembered fondly for a single about a marvellous device that helps its owner ride through space and time -- a Silver Machine.
The band is Hawkwind of course. They didn't just dabble in science fiction -- they lived it. Early on, the band were based in Ladbroke Grove, where they got to know another Notting Hill resident in the form of Michael Moorcock. It's the stale aroma of science fantasy paperbacks and bearded writers that probably keeps people at bay from Hawkwind -- Half Man Half Biscuit nailed popular response with their lyric "Mention the Lord of the Rings once again/And I'll more than likely kill you/Moorcock Moorcock Michael Moorcock/You fervently moan."
Stick with them though, and Hawkwind -- particularly early Hawkwind -- reward attention. To my ears there's not a lot to distinguish between some of their music and that of celebrated German hipsters Can. Only, where Can's electrifying primitivism was produced by musicians who had jazz chops and classical training, Hawkwind's was the result of giving electricity to primitives. The results were intermittently brilliant, particularly on the celebrated Space Ritual tour of 1973, which is where this Michael Moorcock penned piece comes from. Sonic Attack is an interlude in the chaos of their show, delivered by Robert Calvert with a backing you could either describe as musique concrete, or what happens when drug-addled loons are given primitive synthesisers. Put on your loon pants, light up a joss stick, and enjoy...
In case of Sonic Attack on your district, follow these rules.....
If you are making love it is imperative to bring all bodies to orgasm
simultaneously
Do not waste time blocking your ears.
Do not waste time seeking a soundproof shelter.
Try to get as far away from the sonic source as possible,
but do not panic.....
Use your wheels. It is what they are for.
Small babies may be placed inside the special cocoons,
which should be left if possible, in a shelter.
Do not attempt to use your own limbs.
If no wheels are available, metal, not organic, limbs
should be employed whenever possible.....
Remember, in the case of Sonic Attack, Survival means every man for himself.
Statistically more people survive if they think only of themselves.
Do not attempt to rescue friends, relatives, loved ones.
You have only a few seconds to escape.
Use those seconds sensibly or you will inevitably die.
Do not panic.
Think only of yourself....
These are the first signs of Sonic Attack:
You will notice small objects, such as ornaments, oscillating.
You will notice a vibration in your diaphragm.
You will hear a distant hissing in your ears.
You will feel dizzy.
You will feel the need to vomit.
There will be bleeding from orifices.
There will be an ache in the pelvic region.
You may be subject to fits of hysterical shouting, or even laughter.
These are all sign of imminent Sonic destruction.
Your only real protection is flight.
If you are less than ten years old, then remain in your shelter and use
your cocoon.
But remember:
You can help no-one else, No-one else, No-one else......
Here's a choice from Archie Tait, TV and film producer, film distributor, cineaste, and general good guy. Archie wrote an amazing guest blog about SF movies on this site a while back - which has proved to be one of our most popular guest items, despite the fact it's LONG.
Archie Tait writes:
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is the title track of The Flaming Lips' tenth album, released in 2002. Split into two parts, it is the third (and fourth) of the three linked songs that open the album.
The first song, Fight Test, sets the tone - this is Psychedelic Power-Pop by grown-ups, very beaty, very Sunshine. It's a melancholic reflection on Cat Stevens' 1970 song Father and Son: its heritage indicates a clear point-of-entry for those old enough to recall the original, and it's a throat-tugger.
I'd have chosen Fight Test itself for this slot, except it's only recognisable as a Science Fiction song in retrospect (though once that connection is made, it becomes even more powerful). It's a reflection on violence - is it ever right to fight? Though Fight Test is a song about love lost for the lack of commitment, it is also a reflection on violent resistance - that sometimes it's not only right, it's necessary to fight.
The next two songs reveal that Fight Test is also an introduction to the idea of violent resistance against the Pink Robots, resistance for humanity.
The second song, One More Robot / Sympathy 3000-21, introduces the robots - 'One more robot learns to be something / More than a machine...' This song is sympathetic to the robot's desire to love, and compares to human uncertainty about the condition of love, the robot's uncertainty whether what it feels is love, or just an artificial simulacrum.
Now we come to Yoshimi. The narrator (the boy who revised his opinion about non-violence, also the man uncertain whether his definition of love and humanity is any different from a robot's) now relies on the girl Yoshimi to protect him from the robots, and to destroy them.
The Flaming Lips have been around for a long time, in pop terms - since 1984. Like Roxy Music, they have become a pop group for grown-ups. Roxy always had Bryan Ferry's reflective melancholia and diverse culturals referents, anchored by Paul Thompson's resolute yet inventive drum-beat. The Lips pull similarly diverse influences together without revealing the joins, anchored by drummer Steven Drozd's utter dedication to the beat, producing music that simultaneously excites and intrigues. Wayne Coyne's lyrics are allusive, often based in science metaphors. The Flaming Lips incorporate California Sunshine Pop and psychedelia (they are from Oklahoma). They can transform from driving rhythm to anthemic operatics and back again, mid-song. They have a one-handed drummer. Their 1997 album Zaireeka is a four-disc set, all four discs to be played simultaneously.
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots is a nostalgic reminder of 8os anime, those big-eyed, glistening, primary-coloured teenagers who saved the world from monsters, aliens and robots, before the genre 'grew up' with Akira and Urotsukidoji - Legend of the Overfiend. It asks whether a mature man, who has lost the compass of his own humanity, can be saved by an innocent cartoon. The 'story' ends after just three songs. It is barely more than a narrative premise; it has no development, no climax and no resolution. By refusing to elaborate, to pin itself down, a ludicrous conjecture is rendered haunting, and touching. Allusive, repetitive, precise, it echoes in our memory like other such 'mystery' songs with unfinished narratives - The Jaynetts' Sally Go Round the Roses, Jerry Jeff Walker's Mr Bojangles, Bobbie Gentry's Ode to Billy Joe.
The Flaming Lips have Science Fiction form: their previous albums feature songs like What is the Light? (An Untested Hypothesis Suggesting That the Chemical (In Our Brains) by Which We Are Able to Experience the Sensation of Being in Love Is the Same Chemical That Caused the 'Big Bang' That Was the Birth of the Accelerating Universe (Soft Bulletin 1999); and Riding to Work in the Year 2025 (You're Invisible Now) (Zaireeka 1997). Their most recent album is a re-make of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon. According to Wikipedia, Aaron Sorkin is working on a Broadway musical version of Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots.
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
The name is Yoshimi
She's a black belt in karate
Working for the city
She has to discipline her body
'Cause she knows that it's demanding
To defeat those evil machines
I know she can beat them
Oh Yoshimi, they don't believe me
But you won't let those robots eat me
Yoshimi, they don't believe me
But you won't let those robots defeat me
Those evil-natured robots
They're programmed to destroy us
She's gotta be strong to fight them
So she's taking lots of vitamins
'Cause she knows that it'd be tragic
If those evil robots win
I know she can beat them.
Oh Yoshimi, they don't believe me
But you won't let those robots defeat me
Yoshimi, they don't believe me
But you won't let those robots eat me.
Fight Test
The test begins NOW
I thought I was smart,
I thought I was right
I thought it was better not to fight
I thought there was a virtue
In always being cool.
So when it came time to fight
I thought: I'll just step aside
And that time would prove you wrong
And that you would be the fool.
I don't know where the sunbeams end
And the starlight begins
It's all a mystery
Oh to fight is to defend
If it's not now, then tell me when
Would be the time that you would stand up
And be a man
For to lose, I could accept
But to surrender? I just wept
And regretted this moment -
Oh, that I, I was the fool.
I don't know where the sun-beams end
And the starlight begins
It's all a mystery
And I don't know how a man decides what's right
For his own life - It's just a mystery.
'Cause I'm a man, not a boy
And there are things you can't avoid
You face them when you're not prepared
To face them
If I could, I would
But you're with him now
It'd do no good
I should have fought him
But instead I let him
I let him take it.
I don't know where the sunbeams end
And the star light begins
It's all a mystery.
And I don't know how a man decides
What's right for his own life -
It's a mystery.
I recently had an email reminding me that the splendid Sci-Fi London Festival is coming up soon (end of April, beginning of May), organised by Louis Savy and Robert Grant. Robert is a charismatic chap who I met and got to know at last year's Octoberfest in Greenwich; and all this reminded me that Robert has chosen a fabulous SFF Song of the Week and, er - here it is:
Robert Grant writes:
'Where’s Captain Kirk' by SpizzEnergi (Rough Trade RTS04. 1979)
When Philip first extended the invite to choose SFF Song of the Week the immediate temptation was to reach across the huge back catalogue of some old prog-rock band like Hawkwind, ELP or Genesis or maybe something newer like Coheed & Cambria or Tool but two things stopped us: 1) they're a bit too obvious and 2) they're a bit po-faced and exclusive and for those reasons wouldn't really represent what SCI-FI-LONDON is all about.
But this, this is more us. It's a fabulous pop song, great fun, with real energy. Sure, it's a bit rough around the edges but from the opening guitar riff to the last shout of the chorus you cannot help tapping your feet, singing along and having a great time whether you want to or not. We used it for the festival sting two years ago and every time it played, the audience - no matter how many times they'd heard it - jigged in their seats and sang along showing exactly why it was named Single Of The Week by Melody Maker, why it remained at No.1 on the newly created UK Indie Chart for over two months and in the top 50 for the entire year and why John Peel called it the best Star Trek song ever in his BBC1 programme on the music of Star Trek.
Mojo magazine included it in their list of the best punk rock singles of all time and while it's been covered by a number of artists, most famously by R.E.M., and it's been remixed and re-imagined a fair number of times over the years as well, the original is still, and will always be, the best and when you're at this years SCI-FI-LONDON in May, whack it on the nearest juke box and you just might see a fat bloke dance!
I was beamed aboard the starship Enterprise
What I felt what I saw was a total surprise
I looked around and wondered can this be
Or is this the start of my insanity
Oh but it's true
As we went warp factor 2
And I met all of the crew
Where's Captain Kirk?
I went to the bridge and we were tossed about
In the storm of the vortex I was hit with a doubt
I saw in a dream in a memory of mine
Was it you was it me who was in all the time?
Spock pulled me through
As we went warp factor 2
And someone I saw I knew
Who's Captain Kirk?
So when I awoke from the dangers of space
I looked and I saw a familiar face
The time warp in space made a change in me
For I was the captain and the captain was me
Yes it's so true
As we went warp factor 2
The changes I had been through
As Captain Kirk
I'm Captain Kirk
Mike Carey is an inspiration to all lovers of comic books and fantasy. His credits range from X-Men comics to Constantine epics, to magnificent original graphic novels like God Save the Queen. As a novelist he has created a highly original protagonist, free lance exorcist Felix Castor, who walks the streets of London vanquishing and exorcising evil, er, sometimes with the use of a tin whistle. Mike's also one of the nicest guys in SF.
I love his choice for today - my generation too! - but this particular song it's WAY too long to feature on this blog, or even on YouTube. So I feature an excerpt, with a link for you to buy the album if you want to hear more.
Mike Carey writes:
Supper’s Ready Part 2
In Supper's Ready (from their 1972 album, Foxtrot), Genesis created a sprawling sci-fi epic and played it out in the space of a suite of songs whose combined length is more than twenty minutes. Beginning with a first inkling of disaster to come when the narrator sees something alien and inexplicable in his lover's face, it escalates through total war, millenarian cults, extreme body modification and finally the end of the world - although we're not sure whether this is devastation or redemption.
The lyrics are elliptical, and it's never possible to paraphrase exactly what's going on, but the orchestration of emotion throughout is amazing, as is the bravura finish, which swipes the imagery of the Book of Revelations and puts it through its paces - so that when we come full circle to the announcement that "supper's ready", it's the supper of the king of kings, announced by the angel who stands in the sun. Pretentious? Maybe. But back in 1974 (which was when I discovered the album) that didn't put me off at all. I just loved it for the insane head-trip it was. Moreover, it paved the way for the greater glories of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway two years later - The Lamia, Lilywhite Lilith, The Colony of Slippermen et al.
Yes, kids, that's how old I am. I remember when Genesis weren't boring...
Lovers' Leap
Walking across the sitting-room, I turn the television off.
Sitting beside you, I look into your eyes.
As the sound of motor cars fades in the night time,
I swear I saw your face change, it didn't seem quite right.
...And it's hello babe with your guardian eyes so blue
Hey my baby don't you know our love is true.
Coming closer with our eyes, a distance falls around our bodies.
Out in the garden, the moon seems very bright,
Six saintly shrouded men move across the lawn slowly.
The seventh walks in front with a cross held high in hand.
...And it's hello babe your supper's waiting for you.
Hey my baby, don't you know our love is true.
I've been so far from here,
Far from your warm arms.
It's good to feel you again,
It's been a long long time. Hasn't it?
The Guaranteed Eternal Sanctuary Man
I know a farmer who looks after the farm.
With water clear, he cares for all his harvest.
I know a fireman who looks after the fire.
Can't you see he's fooled you all.
Yes, he's here again, can't you see he's fooled you all.
Share his peace,
Sign the lease.
He's a supersonic scientist,
He's the guaranteed eternal sanctuary man.
Look, look into my mouth he cries,
And all the children lost down many paths,
I bet my life you'll walk inside
Hand in hand,
gland in gland
With a spoonful of miracle,
He's the guaranteed eternal sanctuary.
We will rock you, rock you little snake,
We will keep you sad and warm.
Ikhnaton And Itsacon And Their Band Of Merry Men
Wearing feelings on our faces while our faces took a rest,
We walked across the fields to see the children of the West,
But we saw a host of dark skinned warriors
standing still below the ground,
Waiting for battle.
The fight's begun, they've been released.
Killing foe for peace...bang, bang, bang. Bang, bang, bang...
And they're giving me a wonderful potion,
'Cos I cannot contain my emotion.
And even though I'm feeling good,
Something tells me I'd better activate my prayer capsule.
Today's a day to celebrate, the foe have met their fate.
The order for rejoicing and dancing has come from our warlord.
How Dare I Be So Beautiful?
Wandering in the chaos the battle has left,
We climb up the mountain of human flesh,
To a plateau of green grass, and green trees full of life.
A young figure sits still by a pool,
He's been stamped "Human Bacon" by some butchery tool.
(He is you)
Social Security took care of this lad.
We watch in reverence, as Narcissus is turned to a flower.
A flower?
Willow Farm
If you go down to Willow Farm,
to look for butterflies, flutterbyes, gutterflies
Open your eyes, it's full of surprise, everyone lies,
like the fox on the rocks,
and the musical box.
Yes, there's Mum & Dad, and good and bad,
and everyone's happy to be here.
There's Winston Churchill dressed in drag,
he used to be a British flag, plastic bag, what a drag.
The frog was a prince, the prince was a brick, the brick was an egg,
the egg was a bird.
(Fly away you sweet little thing, they're hard on your tail)
Hadn't you heard?
(They're going to change you into a human being!)
Yahoo, we're happy as fish and gorgeous as geese,
and wonderfully clean in the morning.
We've got everything, we're growing everything,
We've got some in
We've got some out
We've got some wild things floating about
Everyone, we're changing everyone,
you name them all,
We've had them here,
And the real stars are still to appear.
ALL CHANGE!
Feel your body melt;
Mum to mud to mad to dad
Dad diddley office, Dad diddley office,
You're all full of ball.
Dad to dam to dum to mum
Mum diddley washing, Mum diddley washing,
You're all full of ball.
Let me hear you lies, we're living this up to the eyes.
Ooee-ooee-ooee-oowaa
Momma I want you now.
And as you listen to my voice
To look for hidden doors, tidy floors, more applause.
You've been here all the time,
Like it or not, like what you got,
You're under the soil (the soil, the soil),
Yes, deep in the soil (the soil, the soil, the soil, the soil!).
So we'll end with a whistle and end with a bang
and all of us fit in our places.
Apocalypse In 9/8 (Co-Starring the delicious talents of Gabble Ratchet)
With the guards of Magog, swarming around,
The Pied Piper takes his children underground.
Dragons coming out of the sea,
Shimmering silver head of wisdom looking at me.
He brings down the fire from the skies,
You can tell he's doing well by the look in human eyes.
Better not compromise.
It won't be easy.
666 is no longer alone,
He's getting out the marrow in your back bone,
And the seven trumpets blowing sweet rock and roll,
Gonna blow right down inside your soul.
Pythagoras with the looking glass reflects the full moon,
In blood, he's writing the lyrics of a HIP brand new tune.
And it's hey babe, with your guardian eyes so blue,
Hey my baby, don't you know our love is true,
I've been so far from here,
Far from your loving arms,
Now I'm back again, and babe it's gonna work out fine.
As Sure As Eggs Is Eggs (Aching Men's Feet)
Can't you feel our souls ignite
Shedding ever changing colours, in the darkness of the fading night,
Like the river joins the ocean, as the germ in a seed grows
We have finally been freed to get back home.
There's an angel standing in the sun, and he's crying with a loud voice,
"This is the supper of the mighty One",
The Lord of Lords,
King of Kings,
Has returned to lead His children home,
To take them to the new Jerusalem.
Download from Amazon here.
This week's song comes from my fellow Orbit author Mike Cobley, author of widescreen SF epics Seed of Earth and The Orphaned World, numerous short stories, and the Shadowkings trilogy. Mike and I shared a magazine feature recently when a British weekend magazine published a list of presents suitable for gadget fiends...and we both got our books on the shelves, next to some utterly ridiculous gadgets.
Mike Cobley writes:
Last century, at about the 4/5ths mark, I had just been sorrowfully yet firmly ejected from Strathclyde University (BSc Production Engineering & Beer Bar Lager), having failed to pass the 2nd year exams. Such are the twists and turns of life's twisty turny laundry chute. However, I had got involved with the entertainments department at Strathclyde Students Union, persuading 1st the internal radio station to let me have a stab at playing records and, like, being a DJ, man! before becoming an official Ents crew member (in as much as any of us reprobates were, like, official). This was 1979, so it was a pre-digital and inherently grimy world of discos and gigs and guzzling tins of lager (free to Ents staff, heh heh) and smoking Benson & Hedges (this was before my body staged a revolt about a decade later). So anyway, amongst the very many now-classic choons and toetappers that passed across the twin decks (usually a Citronic Mk2 with Garrard turntables) was - Space Station No 5, as sung by Sammy Hagar, from the live album 'Loud and Clear'.
The song originally appeared on Montrose's self-titled album, out in 1973. But when I first heard it, about 1980, this was of course years and years before Babylon 5 was even so much as a twinkle in JM Straczynski's eye. But listening to it again soon after B5 hit the screens it struck me as the natural, if unofficial, theme song for the series. The original album version is cool in its way, but the live version just completely tears loose, hammers along with a breathless urgency. Entirely fantastic.
Start, with the sun
And move on out
The future's in the skies above
The heavens unfold
And a new star is born
Space and time makin' love
Chorus:
Oh what a time we had
Living on the ground
I've moved to station Number 5
See you next time around,
Next time around
As far you want, as close as you need
It's all in the mind, you know
This old world hasn't really seen it's day
It's here, time to go
Chorus
Remember when it was so clear
We were young, but the memory still remains
To pick fruit from a tree
Fish from the seas
Now nothing's left here, but the stains
Well I can't cry no more
Can only be glad
There's other places we can be
If the time suits you right
I'm leaving tonight
Come fly away
With me!
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah
Oh, yeah
Start, with the sun
And move on out
The future's in the skies above
The heavens unfold
A new star is born
Space and time makin' love
Chorus
It's a busy week this week on Debatable Spaces...further down the page, the great Basterds debate still rages...and tomorrow we have a guest blog from screenwriter and co-founder of the Red Planet Prize, Danny Stack. And today:
It's this! A delightful, fall-around-on-the-floor laughing song choice from Stuart Angell McGregor, screenwriter and blogger, who is a regular contributor to this site's TV and Movie and Book Zones. (Look out for his marvellous analysis of The X-Files, a wonderfully comprehensive and witty account of the classic show.)
Stuart Angell McGregor writes:
Years after Laika - the perky and bright-eyed soviet space dog - barked his last and burned up a hero in earth's atmosphere, Gerry Anderson created Fireball XL5, a children's show in which goggle-eyed space puppet Colonel Steve Zodiac patrolled the stars in the eponymous super rocket.
XL5 was a fun, wobbly-stringed, space western with only one really exceptional element to call its own: 'Fireball', the theme that swung proudly over the show's closing credits. Fireball wasn't so much crooned, more sensually exuded from the pores of chocolate-voiced Australian Don Spencer.
XL5 began in '62, and ended a year later, the exact time that American astronauts Alan Sheppard and ol' John Glenn were freewheeling, for the first time, way up there, in machines held together with little more than pure hope and bubblegum.
And, ultimately, that's what holds Spencer's Fireball together, too - not that cool retro sound you can imagine spooling easy and smooth from the glossy speakers of some Kubrickian space station - but hope, the dreams of small men wanting to touch, wanting to be, something far bigger.
When I was a mere slip of a thing, my Dad would sing me to sleep with his own garbled and half-remembered version of this song. And though he could never quite carry the tune far enough, and forever fiddled with the tips of his cigarette yellow fingers, that glorious and hopeful chorus always managed to come out just right.
'My heart would be a fireball
A fireball
Every time I gaze into your
Starry eyes'
Amazing, no?
Now, there's nothing left to do but pass the space martins, and dance.
I wish I was a spaceman,
the fastest guy alive
I'd fly you ‘round the universe.
In Fireball XL5.
Way out in space together.
Conquerors of the sky.
My heart would be a fireball.
A fireball.
Every time I gaze into your starry eyes.
We’d take a path to Jupiter and maybe very soon.
We’d cruise along the Milky Way and land upon the Moon.
To a wonderland of stardust.
We’ll zoom our way to mars.
My heart would be a fireball.
A fireball.
And you would be my Venus of the stars.
But though I’m not a spaceman
Famous and renowned
I’m just a guy that’s down to earth
With both feet on the ground
It’s all imagination
I’ll never reach the stars
My heart is still a fireball
A fireball
Every time I gaze into your starry eyes
Soon after I first became a published Orbit author, I shared a book reading session at Alt Fiction in Derby with Stephen Hunt and Brian Ruckley - two delightful and highly gifted authors.
And today's SFF Song of the Week is from Brian - who writes compelling heroic epic fantasy among other things, and who sets his books in a godless universe so bleak and violent that's a surprise to find what a pleasant man he really is. Look out for his first three books - Winterbirth, Bloodheir, and Fall of Thanes.
Brian Ruckley writes:
Here’s some musical fantasy from a creator who was himself a unique, larger than life, vaguely numinous presence in the last quarter of the 20th century: Freddie Mercury. Lots of Queen’s songs have a slightly science fictional or fantastical vibe – elaborate concoctions fuelled by a shifting, vivid, sometimes surreal imagination – but The Seven Seas of Rhye is a rather different beast.
This is explicitly epic, secondary world fantasy fiction done as a brief, grandiose rock song. Rhye and its seas existed, but only in the minds of Freddie Mercury and his sister, who dreamed it up together when they were children. Others might settle for imaginary friends; they invented a whole world, and stories to inhabit it. Rhye is the setting for several early Queen songs (including the brilliantly titled Ogre Battle, which sounds like it ought to be a D&D soundtrack), but The Seven Seas of Rhye is the (modest) hit that immortalized it. And with lyrics like these:
Be gone with you, you shod and shady senators
Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries
I challenge the mighty titan and his troubadours
And with a smile I'll take you to the seven seas of Rhye
Doesn’t it sound as though there’s a hell of a book in there somewhere?
Fear me you lords and lady preachers
I descend upon your Earth from the skies
I command your very souls you unbelievers
Bring before me what is mine, the seven seas of Rhye
Can you hear me you peers and privy counsellors
I stand before you naked to the eyes
I will destroy any man who dares abuse my trust
I swear that you'll be mine, the seven seas of Rhye
Sister, I live and lie for you
Mister, do and I'll die
You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you forever
Storm the master-marathon, I'll fly through
By flash and thunder-fire I'll survive, I'll survive, I'll survive I'll survive, I'll survive
Then I'll defy the laws of nature and come out alive
Then I’ll get you
Be gone with you, you shod and shady senators
Give out the good, leave out the bad evil cries
I challenge the mighty titan and his troubadours
And with a smile I'll take you to the seven seas of Rhye
I shared a panel last October at the Sci-Fi London Festival in Greenwich with the delightful Paul Raven, a writer, blogger, webguy and music critic, who has chosen a wonderfully evocative piece for this week. Paul is:
Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of Futurismic - near-future science fiction webzine
Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of The Dreaded Press - rock music reviews webzine
Publicist and PR officer for PS Publishing - the UK's foremost boutique genre publisher
Paul clearly has several doppelgangers to get all that done, and one of them wrote this:
Paul Raven writes:
Heavy rock and science fiction have a relationship that goes way back, long before I was even born... though, truth be told, both fields of endeavour had a habit of showing one another in the worst possible light. Or maybe that's just hindsight, my own generational lenses distorting what went before like a fun-house mirror, making serious statements into figures of fun through the heat-haze of time?
But I digress... I have a tendency to ramble, you see. Perhaps that's why I'm so fond of sprawling epic music? Sure, I like a short sharp blast of punk energy or heavy metal power as much as the next man, but given the choice I'll always pick the long tunes with the slow build – the tunes with dynamics, atmosphere, and a certain mind-expanding hugeness. Music with space, in other words, whether that space be inner or outer (or both). Few bands fit the bill quite as well as Mancunian three-piece Amplifier, whose lyrics often reflect the science fictional feel of their music.
And no song by Amplifier fits the bill better than “UFOs”. Like most of their songs, “UFOs” has no distinct narrative or story, but the lyrics and the music combined do something that very few musicians have ever managed for me – they evoke sensawunda. Remember that first addictive experience with science fiction when you were young? That first time you put down a book with the feeling that you'd had your head expanded to more ably contain the ideas and vistas it handed you? That first time you realised how small a thing you really are, in a universe so inconceivably immense? That's sensawunda, at least by my definition, and no matter how many times I listen to “UFOs” I get that same feeling of inner expansion, as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like missiles preparing to launch, and my heart skips erratic like an irregular quasar thumping out its mysterious message from a million million million years in the past.
But enough of my chatter – let's let the band do the talking. Two things to note: firstly, “UFOs” is not a pop song, or even a 'regular' rock song in format. There is no instant hook, no verse-chorus-verse-bridge-verse-chorus-coda structure. It's a slow builder, a journey, a trip – so give it time to grow. The pay-off is worth it, I promise you.
Secondly, there's no 'proper' video – Amplifier are too small a band to have videos for their more obscure album tracks – but the beauty of their style is that you can (and should) provide your own, projecting what you hear onto the deep black screen of your own closed eyelids. So set aside eight minutes, crank the volume as loud as you can without distressing your neighbours, press play, and then sit back with your eyes closed. “We'll all be waiting for you here.”
Oh, have you heard the news from outer space?
It seems that somewhere in the ancient dunes
of silver moons, like giant spoons lie dusty tombs
of Martian men in U-boat pens...
and they will come to kill us all.
'Cause our plastic factories
and our catastrophic theories
are all we have / we live our lives from paper bags, and
I know better than you know -
I'll kill you 'cause you drive too slow!
Aggressive instincts will do us in, yeah...
just give us the chance for us to prove it ourselves.
(Don't you know that all machines sink?
Do you know they sing as they think?
Although their bodies are electric...
Don't you know that all machines think?)
So we laid back and we watched space revolve
the bodies of astronauts long cold
blinking like lonely satellites...
Where we left vapour trails through cotton skies -
come on, let's scratch the heavens one last time!
'Cause we're all sinking in the sunshine
and though you'd love to stay,
well, you said you must be on your way
to where the rainbows and UFOs
fall ten at a time
in a shower of glitter and gold...
… we'll all be waiting for you here.
Note from Phil: Paul suggested closing your eyes, but I like to listen to the track while looking at this:
Here's a truly fabulous song choice from urban fantasy author Nicole Peeler, whose debut novel Tempest Rising is a witty and sensual thriller about a selkie in New England. Nicole is a Professor in her spare time (!), but wears her learning lightly. I love selkies, and have spent a lot of time in Scotland where they mostly live. And I always thought that selkies would kick the asses of vampires and werewolves; and so it proves.
Nicole Peeler writes:
Hello! Nicole Peeler, here. For those (ten) of you who know me, you know that I write for Orbit books, much like Philip. Only I write the dreaded . . . urban fantasy! Now, I am well aware that there is an element of more hard core sci-fi/fantasy readers who think urban fantasy consists of a bunch of women dressed like leather daddies running around with swords, alternately decapitating monsters and bonking vampires.
And, admittedly, this description is often accurate.
That said, I write a slightly different kind of urban fantasy. I write UF that’s based on my love of mythology, and one of my all-time favorite myths is that of the selkie. The very first time I read a selkie myth--I think I was twelve--I was transfixed. And not only with the beautiful selkie maiden, but especially with the idea of the half human children she inevitably leaves behind after finding her seal skin and returning to the sea.
Ultimately, these selkie legends are very much ones of victimization. The selkie maid is victimized when her skin is stolen; the human husband is victimized when his wife leaves him (and sometimes, if rarely, he doesn’t understand why because he never understood the import of the skin he’d found); and the children are victimized by losing their mother.
Which leads me to Feist, and her song, “Sea Lion Woman.” In many ways, this song is the delicious, grrrrl power, feminist answer to the selkie myth. For unlike her selkie cousin, the seal woman, Feist’s “Sea Lion Woman” is anything but a victim. Just drinking a cup of tea, she makes a rooster crow!
And you know what else they call a rooster. . .
I imagine Feist’s sea lion woman as the Black Widow version of my beloved selkie myth. The seal woman takes off her skin, and some man comes and steals it. The sea lion woman, however, takes off her skin, dons some pretty dresses and she does the calling, hoping the men who answer know what to do. And the ones who don’t? They get a knife in the back.
Those sea lion women are fierce, yo.
Sea lion woman
She drink coffee
Sea lion woman
She drink tea
And a rooster crows
Sea lion woman
She drink coffee
She drink tea
And a rooster crows
Sea lion woman
Dressed in red
Smile at the man
When you wake up in his bed
Sea lion woman
Dressed in black
Wink at the man
Then stab him in his back
Sea lion woman
She drink coffee
She drink tea
And a rooster crows
Sea lion woman
Dressed in white
Marry the man
And you'll spend a long sweet life
Sea lion woman
Dressed in green
Silver lining and golden seams
Sea lion woman
Dressed in blue
Call on the man
And hope he knows what he can do
Sea lion...
Sea lion woman
She drink coffee
She drink tea
And a rooster crows
Sea lion woman
She drink coffee
She drink tea
And a rooster crows
Sea lion woman
Dressed in the blue
Call on the man
And hope he knows what he can do
Sea lion woman
Dressed in red
Smile at the man
When you wake up in his bed
Sea lion woman....
Here's this week's song choice from Alastair Reynolds. Alastair - author of Revelation Space, Chasm City, House of Suns and many more wonderful books - is, in the view of many of us, pretty much the definitive modern science fiction writer, brimming with ideas and also with humanity. He's also Welsh. ('ray!)
Alastair's SFF Song of the Week is Wings by the Fall, a tale of time travel and time paradoxes.
Alastair Reynolds writes:
I've loved The Fall for about twenty years. I don't think there's any one particular period of their music that I like more than another but "Wings" is undoubtedly one of my all-time favorites. It's from the early Brix era, when the group's music was starting to becone slightly more poppy, or as poppy as it's ever going to get given Smith's unique vocal approach, the relentlessly lo-fi production and the ever present emphasis on repetition. "Wings" pretty much encapsulates everything that's great about the group, though. It's got a fantastically catchy riff, mind-bending sci-fi time-travel lyrics, and as always there's some great dead-pan humour. "I paid them off with stuffing from my wings", indeed. And the video is superb.
Day by day.
The moon gains on me.
Day by day.
The moon gains on me.
Purchased pair of flabby wings.
I took to doing some hovering.
Here is a list of incorrect things.
Hovered mid-air outside a study.
An academic needed his chin,
Sent in the dust of some cheap magazines.
His academic rust, could not burn them up.
Recruited some gremlins.
To get me clear of the airline routes.
I paid them off with stuffing from my wings.
They had some fun with those cheapo airline snobs.
The stuffing loss made me hit a timelock.
I ended up in the eighteen sixties.
I’ve been there for one hundred and twenty five years.
A small alteration of the past. can turn time into space.
Ended up under ardwick bridge.
With some veterans from the u.s. civil war.
They were under irish patronage.
We shot dead a stupid sergeant,
But I got hit in the crossfire.
The lucky hit made me hit a time lock.
But, when I got back.
The place I made the purchase, no longer exists
I’d erased it under the bridge.
Day by day.
The moon came towards me
By such things.
The moon came towards me.
So now I sleep in ditches.
And hide away from nosey kids.
The wings rot and feather under me.
The wings rot and curl right under me.
A small alteration of the past.
Can turn time into space.
Small touches can alter more than a mere decade.
In this weekly Wednesday slot, expect great song choices from our resident BJs (blogjays), including Alastair Reynolds, Nicole Peeler, Lilith Saintcrow, and many more.
This week there's a great song choice from Tony Ballantyne, the wickedly inventive and thoroughly delightful author of The Robot Wars and The Recursion Trilogy. It's Experiment IV, by Kate Bush.
Tony Ballantyne writes:
Listen to the song and you realise this is an SF short story just waiting to be written. Try and write it (and I have done) and you realise you’re never going to do it as succinctly as Kate Bush manages. “From the painful sounds of mothers, to the terrifying screams…” This is how to make a sound that could kill someone.
Watch the video and you see actors Peter Vaughan, Richard Vernon, Dawn French and Hugh Laurie bring a whole new dimension to the story. Finally there’s Kate Bush herself doing her Raiders of the Lost Ark routine as she turns from angel temptress to demon nightmare as the sound is played to its helpless victim. Wonderful!
SF and Kate Bush. Throw in an accordion and you’d have my best night in ever.
We were working secretly
For the military.
Our experiment in sound,
Was nearly ready to begin.
We only know in theory
What we are doing:
Music made for pleasure,
Music made to thrill.
It was music we were making here until
They told us
All they wanted
Was a sound that could kill someone
From a distance.
So we go ahead,
And the meters are over in the red.
It's a mistake in the making.
From the painful cry of mothers,
To the terrifying scream,
We recorded it and put it into our machine.
Then they told us
All they wanted
Was a sound that could kill someone
From a distance.
So we go ahead,
And the meters are over in the red.
It's a mistake in the making.
It could feel like falling in love.
It could feel so bad.
But it could feel so good.
It could sing you to sleep
?"I'll bet my mum's gonna give me a little toy instrument!"?
But that dream is your enemy.
We won't be there to be blamed.
We won't be there to snitch.
I just pray that someone there
Can hit the switch.
But they told us
All they wanted
Was a sound that could kill someone
From a distance.
So we go ahead,
And the meters are over in the red.
It's a mistake we've made.
Hmm hmm hmm, hmm hmm hmm.
And the public are warned to stay off.
I was watching Kerrang the other day, as one does when there's an urgent deadline looming. And I found myself watching and hugely enjoying a video of Muse performing Supermassive Black Hole.
It made me think about how many rock songs have explicitly SF and Fantasy content. There's Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun, Bowie's Space Oddity, Gorillaz' Every Planet That We Reach is Dead (though I don't quite get the lyrics), Genesis's Lilywhite Lilith and Automatic's Monster (both fantasy!), Blue Oyster Cult's Astronomy, Bonnie Tyler's Faster than the Speed of Light (does that count?) and a whole host of others.
This is clearly a subject that requires serious academic study, but rather than getting off my arse and doing that, I'm simply going to nominate my own personal favourite SFF song - from dinosaur rockers Deep Purple, whose song Space Truckin' has enough SF content for a movie.
And over the next few weeks, I'm going to ask some friends to nominate their own suggestions for best SFF Song of the Week. So far I've got song choices from Tony Ballantyne, Alastair Reynolds, TV producer Archie Tait and several others. Watch this space...
Here's Purple. Beware, this is 10 minutes of 1970s virtuosic and very loud insanity. Lyrics follow the clip.
We had a lot of luck on Venus
We always had a ball on Mars
Meeting all the groovey people
We've rocked the Milky Way so far
We're dancing around the Borealis
We're space truckin' round the the stars
Come on let's go Space Truckin'
Remember when we did the moonshot
And Pony Trekker led the way
We'd move to the Canaveral moonstop
And everynaut would dance and sway
We got music in our solar system
We're space truckin' round the stars
Come on let's go Space Truckin'
The fireball that we rode was moving
But now we've got a new machine
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah the freaks said
Man those cats can really swing
They got music in their solar system
They've rocked around the Milky Way
They dance around the Borealis
They're Space Truckin' everyday
Come on!