Pink Floyd Ilustrado: 1975 HQ

1975 HQ - Roy Harper

Publicación: Junio.

Productor: Peter Jenner.
Ingeniero: John Leckie.
Asistido por: Mark Vigars.
Grabación: Marzo de 1975.
Estudios: Abbey Road Studios, Londres.
David Bedford: Arreglos.
Discográfica U.K: Harvest Records.
N° de catalogo: SHSP 4046.
Discográfica U.S.A: Chrysalis Records.
N° de catalogo: CHR 1105.
Diseño de portada, fotografía: Hipgnosis.

Tracklist:

Lado 1.

01 The Game (Parts 1–5).
13:42
02 The Spirit Lives.
4:14
03 Grown Ups Are Just Silly Children.
2:55

Lado 2.

04 Referendum (Legend).
3:49
05 Forget Me Not.
2:24
06 Hallucinating Light.
6:24
07 When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease.
7:13

Tiempo total: 40:41 minutos.

Bonus tracks, C.D 1995:

08 The Spirit Lives (Early Mix, 23 March 1975).
09 When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease (Live in Exeter, 31 October 1977).
10 Hallucinating Light (7" Single version).

Todas las canciones escritas por: Roy Harper.

Vinyl Long Play - Edición U.K:

Discográfica: Harvest Records.

N° de catalogo: SHSP 4046.

Portada.

Contraportada.

Funda interior.

Etiquetas lados 1 y 2.

Compact Disc - Edición U.K 1995:

Discográfica: Science Friction.

N° de catalogo: HUCD019.

Portada.

Contraportada.

Disco.

Booklet.

Interior.

When An Old Cricketer Leaves The Crease.

Vinyl Long Play - Edición Promo U.S.A:

Discográfica: Chrysalis Records.

N° de catalogo: CHR 1105.

Portada.

Contraportada.

Etiquetas lados 1 y 2.

Roy Harper:

Voz, guitarra.

Músicos:

Chris Spedding: Guitarra.

Bill Bruford: Bateria.

Dave Cochran: Bajo.

David Gilmour: Guitarra (The Game).

John Paul Jones: Bajo (The Game).

Steve Broughton: Bateria (The Game).

Ray Warleigh: Saxofon.

The Grimethorpe Colliery Band: Metales (When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease).

Roy Harper & David Gilmour.

Letras:

The Game (Parts 1–5).

(Roy Harper)

There's an owl in the valley fixing his prey

He's not counting the tally

It's down to what comes up before the day

And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time

Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime

Oh civilisation.

I can fit into your puzzle but it's hardly, hardly ever a hold

And I'll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble

The habits I've got are more than 10.000 years old

And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals

Big brother is no place for us to slide

We cannot live by numbers or on laurels

And hardly on how far from death we hide.

And it's not a case of rampant paranoia

But just an age I'd love to see unborn

Not that I'd be missing playing Goya

More like I feel awkward passing on

Civilisation, civilisation down to my children

Without a question.

While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds

Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind

As two thirds of the population dine

On scraps in shadow lengthening with time

While propaganda spreads the same old theme

You is me and we can change the game, bullshit.

Oh but how many times have we written these lines

And delivered these signs and not made it happen

Walking the tightrope of taking our head off

Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising

And not realising that we've changed and left and we've gone.

And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly

The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye

No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love.

And right now, my darling, I'm lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us

So wherever you are and whenever I'm there is someplace we've got to be ours

Can we right-heartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ?

When we've had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future

These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure

Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour

But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour.

And I'd pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I'd be parting

With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in

But it makes no difference, where I am I'm in the game first hand

There are no certain answers and no time to understand

The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith

The goal's a changing paradise, a moment out of date

The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe

The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth.

And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell

He's the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well

Screaming : 'I'm the sponsor of a hell'

Voices like the sea inside a shell

Telling me I cannot stake a claim

Possession is a clue but not the game

So please leave this world as clean as when you came.

So please leave this world as clean as when you came

Please leave this world as clean as when you came

Please leave this world as clean as when you came.

The Spirit Lives.

(Roy Harper)

Where once were men are now but sheep

-a fiction and far cry

From planet earth's proud animal

-who would be you and I.

Alas, our forebears drank the cup of poisoned alibi

And made excuses far and wide,

and made God in the sky.

This boogaloo's now round the world

-bad trips for everyone.

No more the man of paradise

or the Celt of Albion.

They queue like burning moths to spread the all-time vicious lie.

You christians destroyed our tribe

-I'll fight you till I die.

And you can cut me down for what I said

But goodness lives where God is dead.

The history of religion is the history of the State

Incestuous exploiters of a catalogue of hate.

The man of peace was over-run by armies of the "Lord"

Who signed their names to any war

and sang to praise the sword.

The mission heads for outer space

the voices ring and swell

With aeons of self-righteousness

the senseless echoes knell

The words get much more meaningless

-even plainer to tell

That those who would pronounce this God

are those who make this hell.

And you can cut me down for what I said

But goodness lives where God is dead.

LOVE IS THE great triumph over christianity.

She made a fool of silly priests. She mocked authority.

She filled her bed with happiness.She gripped his loins for joy

And felt ecstatic agonies and screamed the sweetest cry.

Her children are the legacy of failure to be chained

An everasting mutiny of flowers where it rained.

They rise out of oppression

They speak with one accord.

The fountains breath- the spirit lives-

The future rests assured.

And to say that God is dead presupposes that

he was at some time alive.

Ooooo what a young fool I am.

Grown Ups Are Just Silly Children.

(Roy Harper)

Grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see

Baby, grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see.

I slung all the sewage from Christmas into it

And wrote on the side : 'Lots of love from big mum'

Whoever you are, whatever you're doing

Well you better not come

We're the third from the star but the way we've been going

You might find yourselves overrun.

Grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see

Baby, grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see.

Leaving my guts on the side of the car

Is Saturday night in a frame

Not looking for trouble, my baby's her double

I just can't remember her name

But I know her by touch and I love her so much

I got up and ran when I came.

'Cause grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see

Baby, grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see.

Grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see

Grown ups are just silly children, anybody can see.

Referendum (Legend).

(Roy Harper)

There was a man from Muddlebro' whose problems he lay down

Upon anothers doorstep in a distant stranger's town

But forgetting what he'd come for and in patronising tones

He gave them all his clothes and bread to stop their moans and groans.

'It's not your fault where you were born' – he said all condescending

'We cannot all be made like me with lots of true blue blending'

'But never mind, I'll pass the hat around our gracious nation'

The strangers held their laughter back, remembering their station.

Back home in the Heads of State, the people's memory woke

And yet the yapping didn't stop whoever rose and spoke

But in the fields potatoes flowered and gulls came with high tides

And men came back from cutting wood and gathering by firesides.

Forget Me Not.

(Roy Harper)

Can you remember, my love, the day we began ?

The grass in the meadow was long, the scribble lark sang

Forget-me-not, I love you, yes I do

Forget-me-not, I love you, through and through.

We're like the springtime together, we'll change and we won't

We'll have much more to say when we say it and much less when we don't

Forget-me-not, I love you, yes I do

Forget-me-not, I love you, through and through.

Soon the old winter will go

Watching the summertime grow

Forget-me-not, I love you, yes I do

Forget-me-not, I love you, through and through.

Aaaah …

I'll forget you not, forget you not.

Hallucinating Light.

(Roy Harper)

Locked in mortal combat as the future shadows loom

The guardian of my spirit fights his way across the room

To where the sick majority infest the myths of doom

But the lanterns of children hold firm in full bloom

And we'll walk a long long way

Oh, together.

Though we found ourselves that way

Long before we knew.

Ah, but you know the way its worked I feel that

when I laugh it's with your soul.

And when I cry..........................It's you

I ride inside the purple dawn collecting golden dew

That falls from citidels of dreams I shake whilst flying through

Creation's key seems just in reach, ah but then its overdue

But as darkness surrounds us I'm reaching for you.

Far across the universe the goblins of the night

Sometimes corner sunrise and keep it out of sight

And wandering the crossing minds, hallucinating light

Is the dream that I have of you holding me tight.

When an Old Cricketer Leaves the Crease.

(Roy Harper)

When the day is done and the ball has spun in the umpires pocket away

And all remains in the groundsman's pains for the rest of time and a day

There'll be one mad dog and his master, pushing for four with the spin

On a dusty pitch with two pounds six of willow wood in the sun.

When an old cricketer leaves the crease, you never know whether he's gone

If sometimes you're catching a fleeting glimpse of a twelfth man at silly Mid-on

And it could be Geoff and it could be John with a new ball sting in his tail

And it could be me and it could be thee and it could be the sting in the ale, sting in the ale.

When an old cricketer leaves the crease, well you never know whether he's gone

If sometimes you're catching a fleeting glimpse of a twelfth man at silly Mid-on

And it could be Geoff and it could be John with a new ball sting in his tail

And it could be me and it could be thee and it could be the sting in the ale, sting in the ale.

When the moment comes and the gathering stands and the clock turns back to reflect

On the years of grace as those footsteps trace for the last time out of the act

Well this way of life's recollection, the hallowed strip in the haze

The fabled men and the noonday sun are much more than just yarns of their days.

When an old cricketer leaves the crease, well you never know whether he's gone

If sometimes you're catching a fleeting glimpse of a twelfth man at silly Mid-on

And it could be Geoff and it could be John with a new ball sting in his tail

And it could be me and it could be thee and it could be the sting in the ale, the sting in the ale.

When an old cricketer leaves the crease, well you never know whether he's gone

If sometimes you're catching a fleeting glimpse of a twelfth man at silly Mid-on

And it could be Geoff and it could be John with a new ball sting in his tail

And it could be me and it could be thee.

Promo - Harvest Records.

Portada:

"En respuesta a caminar sobre el agua sólo me gustaría decir que el diseño de la portada del álbum para HQ fue dado completamente a Hipgnosis. Cuando me presentaron con el producto acabado me reí y lo puse en el acto. La imagen fue tomada por Po Powell en la isla de Skye. Todavía no he estado en la Isla de Skye."