SOUNDTRACK: FELT-“Hours of Darkness Have changed My Mind” (1985).
In Stuart David’s book, In The All-Night Café, he lists the songs on a mixtape that Stuart Murdoch gave to him when they first met.
Although I’ve been a fan of Belle & Sebastian for a long time, I knew almost none of the songs on this mixtape. So, much like Stuart David, I’m listening to them for the first time trying to see how they inspire Stuart Murdoch.
In the book, David writes how much he does not like “rock,” especially music based around bluesy rock. Most of these songs, accordingly, do not do that. In fact, most of these songs are (unsurprisingly) soft and delicate.
Felt is another band I’ve never heard of. This is especially surprising since they were together for over ten years. Much like with The Blue Aeroplanes, this song has a kind of spoken vocal delivery–although it’s more akin to Lou Reed’s sing-speaking than say a spoken delivery.
The band emphasized jangly guitars and this song has a very old fashioned organ solo (which must have been especially jarring in the 1980s indie rock scene.
The mixture of organ and guitar and lead singer (the mononymed) Lawrence’s very British delivery really make this band stand out. This song has a chorus melody that is quite subtle and you need to listen a few times before it grabs you. In fact, the first song on the album Forever Breathes the Lonely Word, “Rain of Crystal Spires” is much more immediate and catchy and relishes that VU feel.
[READ: January 21, 2021] “The Old Man in the Piazza”
I enjoyed the way this story seemed to be about one thing but turned into something much bigger, much grander.
Every day at four o’clock an old man goes to the piazza. He sits at the cafe and orders a coffee. At 6PM he orders a beer and a sandwich. At 8PM he shuffles home–no one knows where he lives.
During those four hours he watches the piazza as it gets busier and nouisier and people start to argue very intensely.
The arguments are varied and loud. They range from the teleological, to the eschatological to the mundane. Anything that there is to argue about, the people in the piazza will argue about it. They will honk horns and rev engines just to prove their points.
The piazza has been like this–“ever since the end of the so called time of the ‘yes.'”
About forty years ago it was made illegal to argue. Everyone was obliged to agree all the time–regardless of the proposition, one was to nod and agree. The language itself was altered. The word no was no longer permitted only “yes” or “for sure” or “absolutely.”
Then things get more abstract.
The language, however, sulked. She came to sit by herself in a corner of the piazza and often shook her head mournfully. She and the old man never acknowledged one another.
Ah, so now history isn’t about the old man, but it is about the problem with disallowing dissent. But that’s not exactly it either, because the man stays central.
During the time of yes he had asked out women. He knew they couldn’t say no, and yet they found ways around it. They would say that they were having their hair done every day for the foreseeable future.
But after five years of yes, their language couldn’t take any more, and she uttered a piercing shriek. Once it happened, all words were unleashed. People started saying “Crap” or “get lost” or “go fuck yourself.” And thus begat the age of argumentation.
At first the old man missed the silence But then he grew accustomed to an actually maybe enjoyed the divisiveness. Then one day a couple could take it no longer. They said that their disagreement was unsolvable so they asked him to solve it. Should they vacation in a restful island or an adventurous country. They couldn’t decide.
He said that in these times of stress, they should go for the relaxing island. They immediately disagreed and decided to go to the adventurous country.
They returned a few weeks later full of praise at his decision. The said they always did the opposite of what people suggested and it alway worked out for them. Word quickly spread about the wise old man and soon people were coming to him every day with their problems.
He began passing judgment on everything. People would line up outside of the piazza for hours awaiting his decisions. He had never had renown before.
And the language now realized people care less about the beautiful and complex language and more about what is correct or incorrect.
The language is uninterested in the man’s verdicts. She finds his cheap verdicts distasteful. It also transpires that sometimes the man makes verdicts based on the character of the questionnaires rather than the validity of their arguments–he is becoming a judge of people not just ideas. He may be leading the language into a new version of the “yes” in which other words may becomes off limits.
And then, having had enough of this, one days she rises and shrieks again.
I really enjoyed the way this bounced between the personal and the profound.
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