Laleña is a song by Donovan, that was released as single a-side by Epic Records (USA). It
Laleña is a song by Donovan, that was released as single a-side by Epic Records (USA). It went to #33 in the Billboard charts and #31 in Cash Box - . It has been covered by Deep Purple on their 1969 album Deep Purple.
Musicians featured are: Harold McNair on flute, Bobby Orr on drums, Danny Thompson on bass with the Royal Philharmonic strings. Arrangement by John Cameron.
Not quite the same without the flute, but I don't play the flute so what am I supposed to do about that, go out and kidnap a flute player or something!! jeeeeeeez!!!!! ;)
Am, Em, Am, Em, F, G, C, E
although I don't think this is strictly what donovan plays
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Added: 1 month ago
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This one is for my dear Mother on the occasion of her 60th Birthday - Happy Birthday Mum!!
This one is for my dear Mother on the occasion of her 60th Birthday - Happy Birthday Mum!! xxxxx
As Trevor Dann says, mothers are pretty influential in our lives:
"Some critics have detected the influence of Molly Drake in this gently strummed song about the richest part of central London. But it also sounds like Waterloo Sunset and Penny Lane, songs from an era when English life seemed somehow quaint and lovable. Nick recorded the best version, included on Made to Love Magic, on Robert Kirby's reel to reel Ferrograph in 1968, but the Sound Techniques verison from October that year is notable for the amusing passage where Nick forgets the words and giggles." (Trevor Dann, Darker then the Deepest Sea)
This song has a fairly light hearted feel to it but the lyrics hint at Nick's pain and alienation - ie. 'full of fame but lacking love', 'beauty here is cold as ice', 'down below but on your own'.
Although Nick was from a very affluent family the weatlh of Mayfair seemed strange to him, the difference between rural and urban wealth maybe?
There also seems a conflict between the streets of Mayfair and the sun, moon, rain, stars and trees that Nick perhaps yearns for when in the city?
That's my two cents worth anyhow.. the journey continues!! :)
Mayfair strange in the morning light,
Mayfair strange in the summer night,
Mayfair strangest in the afternoon.
Mayfair stretching far above,
full of fame but lacking love,
Could it be we see the Mayfair moon?
Mayfair strange across the park,
In the day or in the dark,
There's no need to walk or even run.
Mayfair faces clean and nice,
But beauty here is cold as ice,
Could it be we see the Mayfair sun?
Mayfair strange at every hour,
Hidden frowns with mystic power,
Starry heights and golden throne,
Down below you're on you're own.
Mayfair strange for passers-by,
Sights of wonder for the eye,
Could it be they'll pass by again?
Mayfair calling far and near,
For even trees are wealthy here,
Could it be we hear the Mayfair rain?
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Added: 1 month ago
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The moon in the room
The moon in my room
Shines so brightly
I've become the stars
Ha
The moon in the room
The moon in my room
Shines so brightly
I've become the stars
Haunting silver
Shadows linger
Returned from afar
Just like those distant suns
All that you'd become is gone
Walls and ceiling
Gleam with moon beams
Glancing anthracite
Tallow candle
Snow imagined
Spiritualised
Just like those distant suns
All that you'd become is gone
Heaven waits no longer for this
Gift of silver sight
Magic moonshine
Quiet aspect
dim coal fire light
You've come back to me
Sitting quietly
Like Ghost light in the chair
Or were you always here with me?
From Nathaniel Hawthorne's Scarlet Letter:
"... late at night, I sat in the deserted parlour, lighted only by the glimmering coal-fire and the moon, striving to picture forth imaginary scenes, which, the next day, might flow out on the brightening page in many-hued description.
If the imaginative faculty refused to act at such an hour, it might well be deemed a hopeless case. Moonlight, in a familiar room, falling so white upon the carpet, and showing all its figures so distinctly--making every object so minutely visible, yet so unlike a morning or noontide visibility--is a medium the most suitable for a romance-writer to get acquainted with his illusive guests. There is the little domestic scenery of the well-known apartment; the chairs, with each its separate individuality; the centre-table, sustaining a work-basket, a volume or two, and an extinguished lamp; the sofa; the book-case; the picture on the wall--all these details, so completely seen, are so spiritualised by the unusual light, that they seem to lose their actual substance, and become things of intellect. Nothing is too small or too trifling to undergo this change, and acquire dignity thereby. A child's shoe; the doll, seated in her little wicker carriage; the hobby-horse--whatever, in a word, has been used or played with during the day is now invested with a quality of strangeness and remoteness, though still almost as vividly present as by daylight. Thus, therefore, the floor of our familiar room has become a neutral territory, somewhere between the real world and fairy-land, where the Actual and the Imaginary may meet, and each imbue itself with the nature of the other. Ghosts might enter here without affrighting us. It would be too much in keeping with the scene to excite surprise, were we to look about us and discover a form, beloved, but gone hence, now sitting quietly in a streak of this magic moonshine, with an aspect that would make us doubt whether it had returned from afar, or had never once stirred from our fireside.
The somewhat dim coal fire has an essential Influence in producing the effect which I would describe. It throws its unobtrusive tinge throughout the room, with a faint ruddiness upon the walls and ceiling, and a reflected gleam upon the polish of the furniture. This warmer light mingles itself with the cold spirituality of the moon-beams, and communicates, as it were, a heart and sensibilities of human tenderness to the forms which fancy summons tip. It converts them from snow-images into men and women. Glancing at the looking-glass, we behold--deep within its haunted verge--the smouldering glow of the half-extinguished anthracite, the white moon-beams on the floor, and a repetition of all the gleam and shadow of the picture, with one remove further from the actual, and nearer to the imaginative. Then, at such an hour, and with this scene before him, if a man, sitting all alone, cannot dream strange things, and make them look like truth, he need never try to write romances.
But, for myself, during the whole of my Custom-House experience, moonlight and sunshine, and the glow of firelight, were just alike in my regard; and neither of them was of one whit more avail than the twinkle of a tallow-candle. An entire class of susceptibilities, and a gift connected with them--of no great richness or value, but the best I had--was gone from me."
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Added: 1 month ago
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I came up with this little ditty after watching this interview with Ray Lamontagne:
htt
I came up with this little ditty after watching this interview with Ray Lamontagne:
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xj1IQZfznsQ
His seems such a beautiful soul, softly spoken and humble and letting his emotions speak through his music so wonderfully.
Anyways, thanks Ray for your music.
Check out this for info about Ray:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray_LaMontagne
and if you do anything today please watch this truly incredible performance of 'trouble':
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=eZY-5-cIkiY&feature=related
Ray sold his VW van to buy himself an old guitar, a Martin D35.. this decision changed his life. So here is my humble tribute to him on my old Martin D35.
Hardly Begun
You are so quiet
So soft, seem afraid
You've had a hard time
It's there in your face
Don't worry now friend
You are here you are safe
For we both know too well
The pull of that place
For you, you are so young
You, you are hardly begun
Don't you see
You travelled all over
Never knew where you were
No landmarks to guide you
No map to refer
From Nashua to Wilton
Utah to LA
Freewheeling, train tracks
But what could you say?
For you, you were so young
You, you had hardly begun
To be
But rest here a while now
And sing please for me
Let your troubles be over
Let your worries be free
And dwell not inside you
The darkness you see
Let pain not diminish
The man you could be
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Added: 1 month ago
Views: 473
I wanted to do another version of this song in a different tuning (EADGAE) to my other cov
I wanted to do another version of this song in a different tuning (EADGAE) to my other cover of it, plus I just like playing it cos it's a blooooomin' amazing song innit!
please note, song ends after 2 and a half minutes - don't quite know why it has added on 4 minutes!
"Recorded in November 1968, this is one of Nick's earliest and simplest compositions, dating from the summer of 1967 and his trip to Morocco. The lyrics, not least the references to silver spoons and coloured lights, suggest the influence of LSD and other drugs, which he was starting to take around the same time" (from Darker Than The Deepest Sea - The Search For Nick Drake - Trevor Dann)
I just love the lyric 'will you worship moons in winter's night' - stunning imagery - got to be one of my all time favourite lyrics!
Who has dressed you in strange clothes of sand
Who has taken you far from my land
Who has said that my sayings were wrong
And who will say that I stayed much too long?
Clothes of sand have covered your face
Given you meaning but taken my place
So make your way on down to the sea
Something has taken you so far from me.
Does it now seem worth all the colour of skies
To see the earth through painted eyes
To look through panes of shaded glass
See the stains of winter's grass.
Can you now return to from where you came
Try to burn your changing name
Or with silver spoons and coloured light
Will you worship moons in winter's night.
Clothes of sand have covered your face
Given you meaning but taken my place
So make your way on down to the sea
Something has taken you so far from me.
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Added: 1 month ago
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Inspired by an episode of my favourite programme, Northern Exposure, and based on Marilyn
Inspired by an episode of my favourite programme, Northern Exposure, and based on Marilyn Whirlwind's 'Legend of the Eagle'
Episode 5.6, "Birds of a Feather"
On the rock at the cliff
"The eagle wasn't always the eagle.
The eagle, before he became the eagle, was Ukatangi, the talker.
Ukatangi talked and talked. It talked so much, it heard only itself.
Not the river, not the wind, not even the wolf.
The raven came and said, "The wolf is hungry. If you stop talking, you will hear him. The wind, too.
And when you hear the wind, you will fly."
So he stopped talking.
And became it's nature, the eagle.
The eagle soared, and it's flight said all it needed to say."
Ukatangi talked
For that was all it knew
Heard only its voice
Nothing else got through
It couldn't hear the birds
Or the rivers flow
Or the sound of rain
Or the winds that blow
So lonely bird fly over me
And let your flight say all you need
Then the raven came
And said the wolf is near
And if the talker stopped
The wolf he'd hear
So the talker stopped
And he heard the wolf
He changed into himself
heard the wind too
So lonely bird fly over me
And let your flight say all you need
You're the eagle now
Your nature true
You know the wind once more
It blows for you
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Added: 2 months ago
Views: 239
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