.... in red and black
Welcome to phantasmagoria in red and black. Michael here. You many be wondering about the title of this blog: Phantasmagoria in red and black? Well, the answer is simple, really - I love the word PHANTASMAGORIA, arising from its connection with American singer songwriter and guitarist Tim Buckley's exquisite song Phantasmagoria in Two, which I always refer to as Phantasmagoria in Blue due to its melancholy mood and connection with another artist of incredible sensitivity and emotion who wrote a song called Way to Blue.
The song features Buckley's incredibly moving vocalisation, the rich textures of his twelve-string guitar playing, and the mournful electric guitar of Lee Underwood.
I first heard Phantasmagoria in Two one cold, dark and misty night many, many years ago, at the turn of the new millennium, introduced to it by a friend, Ariane Lewis.
She had invited me over to listen to some music, discuss politics and a cup of tea. Ariane and I shared an interest in the plight of Tibet, and she had been studying Tibetan Buddhism for a number of years. Once the tea was served, we sat down on an expansive lounge, with the room lit only by moonlight falling in through some large, floor to ceiling glass windows. The night was still, late spring, and silent. I would hear no other sound apart from the music of her choice. She said, as she inserted a CD into the machine, "I'll play you some Tim....." I sat there enchanted by her ethereal presence - younger than me, but older and so, so much wiser, in a way I could not fathom. Was it due to previous lives? Yes, no doubt in my mind. Had she lived before, or just achieved so much in her relatively short 21 years on this earth at that point in time? The answer was probably: Both.
That night I was ready to take it all in, undistracted by the world around, and focused by the meditative stillness of her presence and the location, snuggled under a mountain covered in dense green foliage. It was one of those magic nights where nothing else existed except the moment, the place, and the music.
Phantasmagoria in Two came on and we sat there in complete silence, listening. She looked at me, at my reaction, and my complete focus on what I was hearing. I think I began to smile, or, at least I felt a strange joy come over me, for this song was a pure expression of love, like I had never heard or felt before. At the time it struck me as incredibly moving, mystical and magical. Just like her. It was a simple acoustic song, with some electric guitar in the background as the recording was from a live concert in London on Monday, 7 October 1968. The words were the key, weaving a strange mood, and most especially the phrase: And everywhere there's rain, my love. Simply guitar (acoustic and electric) and voice, and a plaintive plea from the heart for love - to experience love, its pain and joy, to have and to lose, to share or simply know it, perhaps alone when love was lost. It now reminds me of Nick Drake's exquisite Strange Meeting II, a song she also introduced me to, either that night or shortly thereafter. It is one of the most fragile and beautiful songs I have ever heard....
During the brief time that we knew each other, Ariane spoke often of Nick and Tim. Those two songs - connected by the words Two / II - have stayed with me ever since, though the one who introduced me to both of them has gone, lost to cancer at the tragic, pop star age of 27. Whenever I hear Phantasmagoria in Two, it takes me back to that first hearing; that first sitting with her, under the moonlight, and sharing the music she knew and loved. She passed that love and emotion on to me, and for that I am eternally grateful. It is as though the melancholy of the lives of Tim and Nick - both dying early from drug overdoses - was to pass on to her, and to us.... To Tim, to Nick, and to that well of feeling and emotion that they both opened up in me - a feeling of sheer ecstasy, natural, real and sublime - to them, and to her, it is clear that the music, the words, and the performances will remain forever with me. How could one not want to repeat it, revel in it, and know it over and over.
Phantasmagoria in Two
If a fiddler played you a song, my love
And if I gave you a wheel
Would you spin for my heart and loneliness
Would you spin for my love.
If I gave up all of my pride for you
And only loved you for now
Would you hide my fears and never say
"Tomorrow I must go."
Everywhere there's rain my love
Everywhere there's fear.
If you tell me a lie, I'll cry for you
Or tell me of sin and I'll laugh
If you tell me of all the pain you've had
I'll never smile again.
Everywhere there's rain my love
And everywhere there's fear.
I can plainly see that our paths have changed
Our sands are shifting around
Need I beg to you for one more day
To find our lonely love.
Everywhere there's rain my love
And everywhere there's fear.
Phantasmagoria in Two is one of those classic, heartfelt, modern songs that moves you in a physical and intensely emotional level. Another one for me is Neil Young's energetic and electric Love and Only Love from Weld....
There is also The Beatles' - or rather, George Harrison's - While My Guitar Gently Weeps off the White Album. Along with Young, they rock, and unlike the introspective Phantasmagoria in Two and Strange Meeting II, they are rather joyous. Just as the Tim Buckley, Nick Drake and Neil Young songs cited are live, so it is with the latter, especially the incredible performance by Tom Petty and musicians including Prince at a George Harrison memorial concert in 2004.
Which brings us back to red and black, or not. Why? Red and black in combination are my favourite colours. I like them in t-shirts, posters, cars and motorbikes, works of art, you name it. It is a combination which fits well together, though it does have a 'dark' side to it - a side that I do not necessarily connect with, at least on the conscious level. The most obvious use being by Hitler with the Nazi swastika - an emblem of incredible evil, but, as a Buddhist icon, also one of extreme compassion! Nevertheless, when I think of red and black I think of something cool, artistic and good. One of my favourite movie posters utilised that palette. It is the little known 1959 Russian movie Фуртуна - Furtuna / Fortune.
I love that poster. The simplicity of the colour choice - red, black and a brownish grey; the iconic nature of the images - two post WWII freedom fighters; the stark nature of the art - like a woodblock print. Red and black.... beautiful.
Which brings me to blogging and this blog. Blogging. .... I have been blogging for years, ever since the dim, dark, distant days of MySpace, some two decades ago - remember that? But it is all gone now, all those ravings about The Lord of the Rings and falling in and out of love, and all those things in life that we pour into social media - a diary of the modern era, though public, exposed and uncontrolled. We are victims of the freedom it offers, but addicted nevertheless. But now I blog about real stuff, real research, and real nerdy elements of import. Stuff that will survive me when I throw off this mortal coil and pass over into the Undying Lands. But then I thought the same re MySpace, and that was ALL wiped clean from the servers in the late 2010s by some uncaring, non-archiving bureaucrat - or should that be technocrat? Whatever! A lesson in impermanence there for us all. So this blog site will contain ramblings, research, rumblings and reviews. Blaaa.....
WHO: Michael O
WHAT: archivist, researcher, aspie
WHEN: In the Presence
WHY: Because I can't stop
WHAT???? Who knows.....
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Last updated: 14 August 2023
Michael Organ, Australia
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