Hit rather heavily by a bout of flu, I find myself confined indoors for most of this week, and have to give any clubs a miss for the time being. Which includes Kash Point tonight, much to my chagrin.
Snuffling and coughing, I remember that it’s time to set the world to rights with another instalment of the Scarlet’s Well Mp3 Singles Club.
This rather beautiful, jaunty uptempo track is as good at relieving cold symptoms as anything Mr Beecham might muster. Titled Big Dipper On The Spearman’s Floor, it’s sung by some of the motley Hesperus crew walking back to Mousseron from the Underworld… via the sea bed. The Spearman being the sea god Neptune, the Big Dipper being the constellation of The Plough.
Bid takes lead vocals on this one, and it features a rather gorgeous E-Bow-like soaring instrumental break.
Link:
Like the previous mp3, it’s taken from the album The Dream Spider Of The Laughing Horse, released on May 3rd on Siesta Records.
In the current issue of Q Magazine, Franz Ferdinand’s Alex suggests a track listing for the ideal Art-Rock CD compilation. He includes The Monochrome Set’s “He’s Frank”, written by Bid circa 1978, and played by me at the club Stay Beautiful when I DJ’d there. From the same songwriter twenty-six years on, “Big Dipper…” may not be Rock enough for some, but it’s definitely Art. And I know what I like.
More info: http://www.scarletswell.co.uk/
Big Dipper On The Spearman’s Floor
Can you see the Dipper, the twinkle of the Dipper
Look up to the ceiling of the vasty deep
It points the way to where we’ll find our sleep
If you hear a fiddle, the scraping of a fiddle
Coming from the hull of a passing yawl
It’s just a jolly, praying for us all
I hear my love a-singing far away
Calling me back to my door
And till I tread my earth
I’ll march the Spearman’s floor
Don’t be caught a-slacking, talking to the mermaids
Don’t be making sports for the rays to play
You’ll fall behind and surely lose your way
You may meet a mako, lurking in the darkness
He may ask to join you for a little while
Don’t answer, lest you want to see him smile
I hear my love a-singing far away
Calling me back to my door
And till I tread my earth
I’ll march the Spearman’s floor
Can you see the fishes, the spangle of the fishes
Casting inky shadows across our heads
They point the way to where we’ll find our beds
If you hear a tinkle, a merry little tinkle
Coming from the deck of a sunken sloop
It’s just the verger, counting out his loot
I hear my love a-singing far away
Calling me back to my door
And till I tread my earth
I’ll march the Spearman’s floor
