Umberto Fiori
Henry Cow was a purely instrumental group at the beginning; when and why did you decide to use lyrics?
Well, there were already songs soon after I joined. We
did 2 of Fred's (with him singing) on the second John Peel show in, I
think, 1972. Then there was Tim's 9 Funerals on the Leg End LP. At this
time Fred and Tim both wrote their own texts. Otherwise, it's true we
didn't see songs as our strength, and they soon disappeared from our
repertoire. None of us was primarily a singer, though Fred, Tim, John
and Geoff all went on to sing in later projects of their own. So it
wasn't until we started to work with Slapphappy in 1974 that we began to
think again about the song form (especially Fred and I - a mutual
interest that led eventually to the Art Bears). It was in the middle of
the Slapphappy/Henry Cow period that Fred, who had not written anything
for a while, gave me a tape of a piece he thought could be a song and
asked if I'd write a text for it. This was the first time I had done
anything like that. This piece eventually became Beautiful as the Moon.
And of course, once Henry Cow asked Dagmar to join the group
permanently, songs inevitably crept back onto our agenda.
There was never any discussion of a text before it was
written. Discussion of texts only became an issue before we left to
record what was planned to be the fifth Henry Cow LP - and eventually
became Art Bears' HOPES AND FEARS. For this we were supposed to record
Tim's mammoth composition cheerfully then known as Erk Gah (it was
eventually recorded 18 years later as hold to the zero burn). Fred and
Lindsay were deeply unhappy with Tim's texts. So unhappy in fact that
they insisted we shouldn't use them. They called a group meeting a week
before we were due to leave for the studio in Switzerland, which ended
in my being asked to write new words for the whole piece. Of course this
was impossible. And, from my point of view at the time, not really
desirable. Instead, I wrote a number of shorter texts and suggested we
make an LP of songs. Most of the music and further texts were written en
route to - and in - the studio. But, when we got back to London, this
time it was Tim who called the meeting, to say that the result wasn't
really 'Henry Cow' - that musically, it wasn't the way the group should
go. The meeting ended with the group deciding - slowly - to disband. Two
long pieces by Tim and Lindsay were kept for the next 'Cow' record and
the rest the group agreed Fred and I could release (since in fact more
or less all the compositions were ours). We recorded 3 more songs to
make up the time and the Art Bears were born.
Two other lyrics I remember engendering discussion were
Joan (on Hopes and Fears) which the feminist faction of the group was
very unhappy about - and were only eventually accepted because Dagmar
strongly defended them - and Albion Awake! (on The World As It Is Today,
to which Dagmar strongly objected because they were too violent. Which
is why the piece only appears on the record in instrumental form.
What function do you think lyrics have in rock music in general and - more specifically- in Henry Cow-Art Bears music?
Function ? My own texts are the only ones I can answer
for. And there is no single answer. For me, different texts have
different functions: narrative, atmosphere, affect, theatre - but they
are all, in the first place, literary functions, related to storytelling
and drama. I write to speak, and verbal precision is important to me,
as is meaning - though I do accept that nonsense texts are not so
unusual in rock and are perfectly valid, having musical and gestural
rather than semantic value. One could equally cite scat singing in Jazz,
where the voice suppresses its aspect of language-giver altogether and
concentrates purely on it's attributes as singing instrument. Rock,
Punk, Metal and Rap texts may also be used primarily to communicate
attitude and swagger, where words bear an iconic rather than a coherent
or literal meaning.
Broadly, however, I think of song as a species of
speech, generally with a non instrumental purpose (I mean instrumental
in sense of being used to get something done).
My own text are first and always concerned with content -
and that means also, form. So that, on The World As it is Today I tried
to write directly unambiguous political words (my own task to avoid
copying Brecht) while on the new Science Group CD the texts are somewhat
technical and deliberately ambiguous and opaque. For Domestic Stories I
made a kind of an argument, in the form of a cycle tightly related to
three mythical women; A Face We All Know is a narrative (psychodrama),
Hopes and Fears is all in the first person while Winter Songs is wholly
abstracted and descriptive. In fact each record essays a new form or
sets itself some new problem. Also, when writing I try to think very
concretely of the singer and the grain of their voice. I wrote very much
for the sound of Dagmar's or Christoph's delivery, and of their accents
in English, and their affective geste.
Sometimes I hear a text as a small play or drama,
requiring a singer to act - to adopt a role (Dagmar was good at that) -
and sometimes texts need to be neutral and unemotional, to manipulate a
singer through their internal complexity rather than their overt content
(for instance the singer may have to find a way to deliver a text that
does not close it's interpretative possibilities by expressing one of
them). In general I have to say I write less and less for expressive
singing. If the emotion is in the text there is no need to underline it.
But that is not a rule; different songs call for different strategies.
In a case like I tried to reach you, emotion is absolutely demanded -
but an emotion that goes against the emotion of the text (which
otherwise would be trivial). I think I write texts that need to be in a
state of tension with their settings - and ideally, in tension with
themselves in order to work. And I like a text which, when read on the
page seems un-singable. Such texts make life more interesting for
composers, I hope, since they appear structurally as problems while
still being clear as to content.
Did your lyrics come first, then music, or did you write words on the basis of a melody?
At first, for me, the music came first, but after that
it was always the text. Composers seem to prefer it that way. A text
gives them plenty of limitations to work with, (especially my texts I
think, which have a lot of internal structure). I guess it's easier to
be second to work - the ball is already in play.
What are your literary roots and influences?
The usual canon - from Greek mythology and the Bible
through William Blake, WB Yeats and TS Eliot. I was particularly
inspired by the work of Gerard Manley Hopkins and Lawrence Ferlenghetti.
I stole shamelessly from Shakespeare (all those final rhyming
couplets). Of songwriters I would have to cite Dylan of course, though I
never tried to emulate him (he was a singer-songwriter while I was
writing texts on the page). But I loved the way Dylan would veer into
uncloseable linguistic forms ('Someone called for an ambulance and one
was sent; somebody got lucky, but it was an accident). I think
unconsciously I took a lot from Alfred Jarry too (describing commonplace
things in unexpected or transfigured ways). On News from Babel
particularly but in many other places too, I return obliquely and often
to the ideas of critic and writer George Steiner.
I noticed you avoid the term
'lyrics' and you seem to prefer 'text'; may I ask you the reason of your
choice? What's the difference, in general, between the two terms in
anglo-american rock culture (historically, and in their ordinary use)?
There must be some connotation I'm not able to catch.
That's an interesting question - I suppose I think in
part about priority; when the music is written first, or at the same
time as the text, I instinctively think of the words as lyrics. However,
I usually write words intended to be sung, and think of them as song
texts in the absence of any music. So, to me they are texts, which will
later be set. I can't say if Anglo-American rock culture would follow me
in this. And of course, a listener can't know by listening whether the
music or the text came first. It would be a question then, whether there
is some experiential difference that distinguishes 'text' from 'lyric'
in this case. I suspect there is. It would be a structural question of
the way the music and the words relate to one another. And also, I
suppose, one can say a good lyric may read badly, but a good text always
reads well - even if, when set poorly, it does not sing.
When I asked what function lyrics (texts) have in rock
music, my question was in the spirit of Simon Frith's: "Why do songs
have words?". Possible answers: rock has a text just because there's a
voice and the voice must sing 'something' (anything); rock has a text
because words 'explain' or 'clarify' or 'illustrate' the sense of music,
its 'message' etc. etc.
Hmm. I don't really identify with either position. And a
critical orientation - to do with the text as text - is entirely
absent. I feel happier with the Wittgenstinian idea of a family of
associated forms than with a clearly definable category. Rock songs
belong in general to the family 'songs'. It's a family where the words
may occupy all stations between being of primary importance (as a kind
of storytelling, where the music just adds colour or emotional support)
and of being merely incidental (as is arguably the case in a fair amount
of commercial music). In general, however, I think words have meanings
and songs carry meanings and singers are expressing meanings, even where
the meaning - as is so common at present - is essentially an inchoate
expression of 'attitude'. I doubt if even these words explain, clarify
or illustrate the music. Songs are more hybrids - things that exist in
two worlds at once - than conspiracies where one aspect backs the other
up.
You say your texts have 'a lot of complex internal structure'. What kind of structure? How do you organise them, formally?
I simply mean that they have strong internal rhythms
(determined by alliteration and, more often, vowel sounds) that cut
across the formal stresses and syllabic structure. Also that meanings
emerge from omissions and suggestion and association that are not on the
surface of the text. I am always thinking of at least two things at
once when I write. It helps me to focus if I have continually to satisfy
two imperatives, one overt and one covert. In a way the covert is a
control for the overt. But yes, 'a lot of complex internal structure' is
rather overstating something fairly commonplace.
Could you tell me more about 'Winter Songs' and 'Hopes and Fears' genesis? (sources, concept, composition, etc.)
Hopes was mostly written on the run, Henry Cow had an LP
to record and no material - having decided at the last minute not to do
what we had planned to do (see Q1). So I proposed a song record as the
only thing that I could realistically help produce at such short notice -
but also, I admit, because it was a long held ambition of mine. What's
more, I did think it would be an interesting and unlikely project for
the - at that juncture - symphonic-epic Henry Cow. I had no guiding idea
of the overall content of the LP until I had to write the extra songs
with Fred to complete the record. Then I looked for a common thread and
reinforced it with the final texts (the thread was labyrinths and first
person affective voices). Though much of the work was done in a single
burst, there were also bits and pieces gathered from previous work; it
was not a completely integrated process. The following year, when Fred
and I came to make a real Art Bears LP from scratch, I determined to
start with a clear idea from the outset, and ended up basing the texts
on the carvings from the stylobate of Amiens Cathedral (and a few
related carvings from the same period and culture elsewhere). Firstly,
because medieval culture and the iconic way of seeing the world is so
estranged from ours. Secondly, because I have a strong feeling for that
era's symbolic language, and for allegorical and metaphorical
explication. Thirdly, because the carvings are frozen moments and their
dynamic and tension and meaning has to spring from the precision and
ambiguity of the moments chosen: nothing is explained - but dynamic
relationships are invoked - it is precisely the muteness in these
carvings that makes them speak. And fourthly, because it imposed a
discipline on me, a constraint, a problem to solve, and produced ideas
by closing off possibilities.
And of course the pictures could be printed and thus add
an extra dimension of signification to be worked against (as opposed to
being reinforced). I wanted to work with the idea that some essential
link was missing. When I sent the completed texts to Fred he set them
all in a single bout of work. Then we met at the Studio, Fred played
what he had (it was the first time Dagmar or I had it) and we began
immediately to record. Most of Hopes, as a Henry Cow LP, had been
recorded in a conventional way: we learned the songs and played them
live, all together, keeping, and maybe adding to the best versions. When
it came to making the extra songs, Fred and I decided to adopt a
different procedure, which we retained for the making of all the other
Art Bears records: first we put down a click track, then the key chord
structure, then the vocal melody as a guide for Dagmar. She would take
this away to another room and learn it with the words, while Fred and I
continued to build up the track, adding only what we thought was
essential, one thing at a time. We had one rule - also deriving,
negatively, from our experiences in Henry Cow: no discussions. If
someone had an idea, we would immediately put it to tape. Then we'd
listen and decide whether to keep, abandon or modify it. This made for
very fast and easy work. The voice we added as early as possible, so
that the rest of the music could work around it. The drums were usually
put on last. Also we got the sounds we wanted at the recording rather
the mixing stage, thanks to the extraordinary abilities and
sensibilities of our engineer Etienne Conod. Finally, when we had to
make musical and sonic decisions we worked a lot from the pictures,
developing a kind of visual metaphorical shorthand to describe effects
we wanted to achieve (pertinent to this, there is an interesting
analysis of 'First things First' in an unpublished thesis, and I recall
giving some talks a long time ago about this work-method with concrete
examples). The entire album represented a single burst of highly
concentrated energy (we hardly slept during it's making) taking 12 days
from first piano run throughs to the boxing of the final mixes.
As for sources:
Hopes was made in a piecemeal way and
only took shape as I began to discern the thread that led to the next
text. I researched the history and mythology of mazes and labyrinths -
and curiously the way I followed the trail of the texts as they arose
was not dissimilar to finding a way through a labyrinth. More or less
all the songs being in the first person, expressing individual 'hopes
and fears' formed my second 'subject'. Research for this was hardly
necessary, though I adopted the kind of subjective projection technique
(not to 'express myself - which I think I find a rather meaningless idea
- but to express some 'other') which any writer of fiction or drama
must adopt. The labyrinths were variously internal, urban and
mythological, another 'family'.
For Winter Songs, I took the idea of writing seemingly
plain descriptions of medieval carvings, mostly taken from the stylobate
of Amiens Cathedral which, while remaining faithful to the carvings and
to the iconography that informed them, also expressed some aspect of
the loss of the world they portrayed and which portrayed them - and the
dislocations endemic to contemporary life. Primary sources were an
unpublished thesis by Francesc X Puerto, numerous books on symbolic
iconography, Fulcanelli's Mystere des Cathedrals, Treatises on the
Labours of the Months, Chambers' The Mediaeval Stage and R.D. Laing's
Sanity, Madness and the Family.
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