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.
Funda interior.
Etiquetas lados 1 y 2.
Compact Disc - Edición U.K 1995:
Discográfica: Science Friction.
N° de catalogo: HUCD019.
Portada.
Contraportada.
Disco.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Booklet.
Interior.
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
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."
- Roy Harper, 1977 Stormcock Internet mailing list.
Video:
Álbum.
Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HQ_(album)
Discogs: https://www.discogs.com/Roy-Harper-HQ/master/53143
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