If Peter Sinfield’s portentous doom-laden lyrics had a frosty resonance in 1969, the fact that they seem even more relevant to the troubled world about us getting on for 50 years later, speaks to their universality. Away from such weighty ruminations, grown men, and the occasional woman, have been known to weep at the solemn march of the Mellotrons on this track as they make their way to the stately coda. A special moment.
If Peter Sinfield’s portentous doom-laden lyrics had a frosty resonance in 1969, the fact that they seem even more relevant to the troubled world about us getting on for 50 years later, speaks to their universality. Away from such weighty ruminations, grown men, and the occasional woman, have been known to weep at the solemn march of the Mellotrons...
Christmas is racing over the horizon rather too quickly for comfort. Strange how in early December (or is it early November?), I am always resistant to the notion that "christmas-comes-earlier-every-year", but even with the extended advance warning, I am never ready. In recent years, our family have attended the midnight mass in Salisbury Cathedral on Christmas Eve, which at least ensures that I wake up on the 25th remembering what day it is. Time to stop work, go present buying, and start imbibing heavily of the Christmas spirit.
By way of a clumsy sequitur, I have just uploaded the following chocolate box photo that I took of the Christmas tree outside of the Crimson gig at the Opera Garnier in Monte Carlo. It is now the cover for this year's DGM Christmas treat, courtesy of Robert and...