Tuesday, July 05, 2005
"Man of the World"
Some songs are robust; strong, well-built, made to endure plenty of abuse and repetition. Then there are those that stick around for a while, do what they're supposed to for a while, until the software is corrupted or the microchip inside melts, and they're gone. And lastly, there are those songs made from materials so fine, so well-wrought that they have to stay under glass, temperature-controlled, or they'll simply collapse under their own weight. Thinking about that, I realise you could also say the same thing about the writers of such songs. In this case, Peter Green, whose health just seemed to buckle under the strain of, well, being Peter Green? Or was it writing songs such as this? Either way, this is a fragile web of a song, spun out of air and gossamer, conjured out of nothing. You can almost hear the walls creaking, the foundations eroding, as this song of loneliness unravels its tale. This is almost too painful to listen to; one man's mind gently casting adrift.