Gong - Master Builder

So I lost it for a year again - but what a busy year it has been. I do think I will talk a little bit more about that later, but today I will focus on Gong and their song Master Builder from the album You, which was released back in 1974.

My history with this song dates 15 years back, to the fall of 1994. That fall I was at Hustad Leir, and I have been writing about this in a couple of other postings as well. I thought I was going there for a 6 week preparative seminar on peaceful conflict resolution before I would be placed in service, hopefully in either Bergen, where I had a lot of friends, or in Trondheim, my hometown. However, that was not to be the case, as I was stationed at Hustad as part of the permanent staff there. The people who were selected to be permanent staff were either the ones too stoned to get placed anywhere or they were Jehova's Witnesses. There were a few other exceptions to that rule, but most of them were also in the extremely religious category.

So there I was, an atheistic teetotaler among stoners and witnesses. As far as I know, I was able to get along with everyone there, and I really liked people of both categories. Hanging out with the stoners there also provided me with a musical education - and that was what led me to Gong. I still remember sitting in one of the four-man rooms, late at night, with an old, worn out tape on the stereo, and when the song Master Builder started, the person owning the tape, whose name unfortunately escapes me (but he was from Nord Trøndelag and I can describe him without any problem) started pounding the air-drums frenetically around 1:20 into the song, ranting and raving about Pierre Moerlen, who was the 21/22 year old drummer who had just joined Gong when You was released.

Now, 15 years later, this song takes me back to that room, dark and smoke-filled (and I don't think that was all nicotine). But more than that, it is a song that gives me goosebumps still, especially when the drum kit enters the picture. The improvisations are solid, but it is the overall looseness and trippy feeling that makes the song for me. It starts with a chant that sounds like it can be from outer space, then the main riff starts quietly in the background before the drum kit helps bring it front and center. With music like this, who needs other recreational drugs?

Thank You For Hearing Me (Sinead O'Connor)

I remember watching Sinead O'Connor's video for Nothing Compares 2 U, the Prince-penned love song, in my grandparents' living room. They were the only ones in my family who had cable TV, and it included MTV, which I always found curious, being that the cable deal was negotiated with the association where they lived - and they lived in a retirement community at the time where there was no interest for MTV (I should note that cable TV in Norway was about picking channels you wanted at that time - there was no basic distinction between 'basic' and 'expanded' as main package deals. 

While I did like Nothing Compares 2 U and her entire 'I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got' album, I was not prepared to hear 'The Lion and the Cobra', which was her debut album. My very good friend Nina Skaaden (now Schefte) had the album and taped it for me (along with Let Love Rule by Lenny Kravitz, another stunning album). When I popped it in the tape deck and heard Troy for the first time, I was so completely blown away - in fact, I was so enamored by this cute Irish chick with her shaved head that I kept checking out her music even after releasing 'Am I Not Your Girl', an album of standards that was lackluster, to say the least.

Fast forward a few years to 1994. The Norwegian military is based on conscription, which means that all males must serve their country through military service. However, they do allow for conscientious objectors, and as I was (and still am) a pacifist, I was doing my civil service in place of military service. In order to get this approved, I had to be interviewed by the police (I remember a pretty arrogant police officer who certainly didn't appreciate a giant long-haired peace loving guy's perspectives) - and when it was approved, I had to do 16 months of civil service in place of the by then 9 months of military service that was required. 

I showed up at Hustad Leir, a camp that originally had been used for the internment of traitors after World War II (and that now has been turned back into a prison - it wouldn't be a major adjustment), in the summer of 1994, thinking that I was going to the civil service 'boot camp' that lasted six weeks and then find placement for the rest of the time. When I got there, I was in for a surprise. First it was the geography. When you look through the gates of the camp, you see a vertical mountainside. No vegetation, just rock. On the other side was the ocean. There was maybe a mile or so between the camp and the coastline, but you could still almost smell the saltyness of the water. And, to make things even worse, the mist often came rolling in from the sea - or the clouds were trapped by the mountain side and pressed downward, creating an eerie light reflected by the vegetation around the camp (I seem to remember mossy rock, but that may not be true) and sucked up by the dark mountain side. The other part of the surprise was that I was there to be part of their staff. That's right, sixteen months at this desolate place instead of the six weeks. 

My initial assignment was working in the kitchen. While I liked it, I did have another job in mind, and I soon got the opportunity to work in the library there. It was the perfect job for me, surrounded by books and music, with a snooker table and cable tv at my fingertips. The snooker table was heavily used, and it was while playing snooker late at night that Sinead O'Connor's next album was played over and over again. It was called 'Universal Mother', and it is a fairly unknown masterpiece. It spans spoken word set to music (Famine), an excellent cover version of All Apologies (although not as sore as Nirvana's Unplugged version, which was released around the same time), political lyrics (they are all over), and the closing track is this excellent little song called Thank You For Hearing Me. It is built around a programmed drum loop, then instruments are added (mainly programmed on a synthesizer), and the lyrics are sung like a chant with each of the following lines repeated four times:

Thank you for hearing me

Thank you for loving me

Thank you for seeing me

And not for leaving me

Thank you for staying with me

Thanks for not hurting me

You are gentle with me

Thanks for silence with me

The next verse has four different lines

Thank you for holding me

And saying "I could be"

Thank you for saying "baby"

Thank you for holding me

Then she sings the next line four times before finishing a verse that turns the meaning of the song upside down:

Thank you for helping me

Thank you for breaking my heart

Thank you for tearing me apart

Now I've a strong, strong heart

Thank you for breaking my heart

While it can be argued whether this song truly captures the spirit of Thanksgiving, it is nonetheless a spectacular song. She plays around with dynamics and instrumentation, but it is the same melody that is repeated over and over again. So simple, yet so complex - and it adds emphasis to the lyrics. Enjoy this live version of the song. Sinead actually has hair in this one - and she is almost cuter than she was without hair (for my infatuation with bald women, it is safe to assume that Gail Ann Dorsey will be discussed in a later posting - but that will have to wait).