Sad victim of the overground Talisman I wear against my heart She knows she’s not the first to shed some light on me She knows she may well be the last
I’ve heard some rumours of a world outside Beyond the circle of her arms Strange legend of a race for time Make-believe world of false alarms
Who are we? Who are you to tell us? Who are we? Who are you to tell us Take a look at yourselves
I met Dave Kenyon at South Hill Park, Bracknell in the early 70s. We kicked some stuff around in the studio there – I don’t have any tapes at this point – and he had a fragment of a song (basically the last part of this lyric and a tune IIRC). I worked on it later in the form that eventually got recorded here, roughly, but I lost touch with him before that. If you’re out there, Dave, get in touch!
2nd demo complete with overdubbed fake banjo and sitar for extra colour. (Actually a Variax 300 imitating a Gibson Mastertone and a Coral Sitar.)
Backup:
Words traditional, somewhat arranged by me. Tune is mine.
The unaccompanied version below is much older.
This is a traditional ballad (Child 68). Nick Cave recorded a version of an American variant called Henry Lee. So Wikipedia tells me. I was never a Bad Seeds follower…
I don’t usually rewrite traditional songs, and I honestly can’t remember where I found these words (though I suspect that they’re from the US), but I liked the way they pared down most of the elements of the story without completely losing the supernatural aspect, and I don’t think I tweaked them very much. I didn’t have a tune, so I wrote one. I haven’t sung it in decades, but I suddenly remembered it when I was working up another song of mine that uses a variation of the same tune.
Demo unaccompanied (earlier) version:
Young Hunting (arr. and adapted Harley)
Light down, light down my own true love
And stay with me the night
For I have a bed and a fireside too
And a candle that burns so bright.
I can’t light down and I won’t light down
Nor spend the night with thee
For I have a love and a true true love
Would think so ill of me
But he’s bent down from his saddle
To kiss her snowy white cheek
She’s stolen the dagger from out of his belt
And plunged it into him so deep
She’s taken him by his long yellow hair
And the maid’s taken him by the feet
They’ve plunged him into that deep doleful well
Full 20 fathoms deep
And as she’s turned her round to go home
She’s heard some pretty bird sing
Go home, go home you cruel girl
And weep and mourn for him
Fly down, fly down you pretty bird
Fly down and go home with me
And your cage will be made of the glittering gold
And the perch of the best ivory
I can’t fly down and I won’t fly down
And I’ll not go home with thee
For you have slain your own true love
And I’m feared you’ll murder me
I wish I had my bent horn bow
And drawn with a silken string
I surely would shoot that cruel bird
As sits in the briars and sings
I wish you had your bent horn bow
And drawn with a silken string
I surely would fly from vine to vine
And always you’d hear me sing
Another pass at a song I’ve previously posted on this site. I came across an alternative version I’d forgotten. I didn’t like the vocal much, but I did like the synth and guitars, so I’ve done a little splicing and remixing, though the vocal needs redoing. To be honest, I’m not altogether sure how I feel about the poem, but it does have a certain power, and may fit into another project.
Backup copy:
An older version with much better vocal:
And a backup:
Another of my settings of Housman’s poems, this time one from Last Poems.
This 1917 poem refers to the British Expeditionary Force, which German propagandists referred to as ‘mercenaries’ because at the outbreak of war, Britain’s army consisted of professional soldiers rather than conscripts or the later volunteers of ‘Kitchener’s Army‘. The BEF was practically wiped out by 1916.
A poem by Hugh MacDiarmid, ‘Another Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries’ takes a very different view, regarding the BEF as ‘professional murderers’.
The setting by Geoffrey Burgon sung by Gillian McPherson on the soundtrack to the Dogs of War is much more dramatic, and very effective (even though some might doubt whether the poem is entirely appropriate in terms of this particular novel and movie). This is much simpler and fits a song cycle I have in mind better. Still, I might rethink that.
Here’s the Housman poem:
Epitaph on an Army of Mercenaries
These, in the day when heaven was falling,
The hour when earth’s foundations fled,
Followed their mercenary calling,
And took their wages, and are dead.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended;
They stood, and earth’s foundations stay;
What God abandoned, these defended,
And saved the sum of things for pay.
My entry for the July 2020 Trad2Mad competition for unaccompanied singers. I’m not altogether sure why I do these, unless it’s enjoyment at the pretence of being a singer. Anyway, this is a song I wrote in the 60s when I was still at school and had just discovered folk music. (The 3rd verse was actually added a decade or so later, and I’m still not sure whether it belongs there stylistically, but I sang it here anyway, though it was a last moment decision.) Nowadays, I often sing it with guitar (sometimes using the first verse as a chorus), but I originally intended it to be sung unaccompanied. Probably because I wasn’t much of a guitarist…
Audio capture, mastered to raise the volume slightly:
Backup copy:
Accompanied version:
[/audio]
Backup:
Rain, the gentle rain that hung upon the grass
The autumn rain that touched the fields so early
When the summer sun returns will you hold me once again
In your arms, among the fields of golden barley?
Summer was a burning wind that raised a bitter crop
That came and went so swiftly and unfairly
And then the autum rain put a rust upon my heart
Left alone among the fields of golden barley
(Optional)
A pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
A bitter song of summer love gone from me
When the summer sun returns will you hold me in your arms
Once again, among the fields of golden barley?
(Optional alternative 3rd verse)
A pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
A bitter song of summer love gone from me
A pale song, a bitter song to hold within my mind
Left alone among the fields of golden barley
I don’t actually feel that video is my natural home. I get frustrated by the rough patches in my live videos, and I don’t have the resources or the skills to put together a professional non-live video. Still, there are a few videos up now where a reasonable audio version has been combined with some appropriate photos, and (a few) people seem to like them. I’ve added them to a page on this site here as part of my ongoing tidy of the site, and if I do any more, that’s where I’ll add them. But here are the ones that are there already.
[Tracks 1 and 2, words and music (c) David Harley. Tracks 3 and 4, music (c) David Harley. Track 5, words by David Harley based on an article by Ron Nurse; music by David Harley.]
[All vocals and instruments by David Harley. Photographs and artwork (c) David and/or Judith Harley.]
Wrekin – a song about Shropshire, with particular reference to the section of the Marches Line that runs through it. Much more information here.
This was my first attempt at a (very basic) Youtube video using a high-strung guitar. Now captured to audio and mastered to raise the volume.
Captured to audio and remastered:
Backup:
Audio version recorded for Ian Semple’s radio show on CoastFM, but in the end we didn’t use it. Normally-strung guitar but in DADGAD tuning.
Backup:
Original version. Another make-it-up-as-you-go-along jobbie. The words had actually been following me around for a few months, but it wasn’t till I started playing about with a Csus2 tuning (CGCGCD) that it clicked. Retained for purely historical reasons, since I’m now likelier to play it in DADGAD.
Backup:
Words and music copyright David Harley, 2017.
I don’t need this jangle
In my nerves
And in my head
I don’t need
These lonely hours
Here in my weary bed
But I can’t sleep
I can’t turn her off
I can’t get her out of my head
The night hours
Are bleeding away
Till the light runs away with my time
The shadow fades
And I’m so afraid
My words are refusing to rhyme
But I can’t shut her up
I can’t shut her off
I can’t get her out of my mind
I can’t shut her up
I can’t shut her down
I can’t get her out of my head
I can’t pick her up
I can’t put her down
I can’t get her into my bed
I can’t find the path
I can’t do the math
I can’t get it into my head
And I can’t break it down
I can’t break it up
I can’t get you out of my head
Having post links to a video and a couple of alternative versions of this blues-y thing, I discovered a couple of completely different versions lurking on a USB drive.
One version where I unleashed my trusty Les Paul. Haven’t done that for a long while…
Backup version:
And a slide version. Too slow for my taste now, but some nice slide-y moments.
Here’s an audio version captured from the video and mastered to raise the levels slightly:
Backup copy:
A much older (1980s), slower version:
Backup copy:
You can’t cage a butterfly / not unless you break his wings
You can’t cage a butterfly / unless you break his wings
You can cage a songbird / but you can’t make him sing
I went over the hill / and I heard some flyer blow
I went over the hill / and I heard that midnight flyer blow
I’ve been too long in the city / time to grab my grip and go
You think I’m fooling / but, honey, it’s a fact
You think I’m fooling / but, honey, it’s a fact
You had a good old mule / but you just broke his back
This is rather different to most of my songs, but then it does go back to the early 70s. I’ve probably never sung it in public, but I came across the words today and thought it was worth posting.
I might bluegrassize it at some point.
Since we first met I’ve loved and lost at least a dozen times
Till one day I discovered I love you
I don’t know if you could love me, I haven’t dared to ask
But all the same, in case one day you do
I don’t walk under ladders, I throw salt across my shoulder
And as for lucky charms, I have a few
I look both ways crossing one-way streets with all my fingers crossed
I don’t take chances since I fell for you
I counted on your friendship in a world of time and changes
Till I realized I was no longer free
It seems that I was meant to love you, and I mean to stay intact
In case one day you find you’ve need of me
So I keep one eye on my horoscope and one ear to the phone
In hopes that you might call me some sweet day
I keep both eyes peeled for black cats and I touch wood when I can
Hoarding every bit of luck that comes my way
This demo was recorded back in the 80s, and the voice was in better shape.
Backup:
More recent version, which is actually not bad (and less ambient noise):
or (backup):
Down to the River: copyright David Harley, 1981
Another example of the sort of song I never write. I’m not really sure where this one came from.
I won’t go down to the river / anyway not yet
There’s too much to do and the water’s cold / and I don’t want my feet wet
I don’t want my feet wet
I won’t go down to the river / I guess I really should
But the sand’s so warm between my toes / and you know it feels so good
I know it does me good
Come on down to the river / it can’t do you harm
You’ve got to learn sometime to sink or swim / and the sun will keep you warm
The sun will keep you warm
I won’t go down to the river / you know I can’t go down
The water’s so still, the sides so steep / I’m scared that I might drown
So scared that I might drown
Come on down to the river / the road’s so hard and rough
If you keep your head and your hands are clean / surely you can’t drown in love?
You can’t drown in love
I can’t go down to the river / I surely can’t go down
My soul is parched but my body aches / and I just know I’ll drown
I know I’ll surely drown
Come on down to the river / it tastes so sweet and cold
Come on down before it gets too late / and wash the mud out of your soul
The mud out of your soul
We’ve got to get on down to the river / we have to learn to trust
Got to wash away all the doubt and fear / before the whole damn’ world dries up
Before the world dries up
Wheal Alice Music 