INTO THE LABYRINTH 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.
10. 11.
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Y ulunga ( s p i r i t d a n c e ) T he U biquitous M r L ovegrove T he W ind that S hakes the B arley T he C arnival is O ver A riadne S aldek T owards T he W ithin T ell M e A bout the F orest (you once called home)
T he S pider’s S tratage m E mmeleia H ow F ortunate the M an with N one
INTO THE LABYRINTH
“ The Wind that Shakes the Barley” is dedicated to the memor y of Maureen Cooper P E R F O R M E D B Y L I S A G E R R A R D & B R E N D A N P E R RY E N G I N E E R E D A N D P R O D U C E D B Y B R E N D A N P E R RY AT Q U I V V Y C H U R C H R E - M A ST E R E D AT M O B I L E F I D E L I T Y S O U N D L A B B Y N E A L H A R R I S W I T H S U P E R V I S I O N B Y S H AW N R . B R I T TO N FRONT COVER IMAGE “HANDS OF THE WORLD” A P H O TO G R A P H B Y TO U H A M I E N N A D R E . C O P Y R I G H T B Y TO U H A M I E N N A D R E B O O K L E T I M A G E S B Y K E N K AVA N A G H D E S I G N B Y C H R I S B I G G A N D B R E N D A N P E R RY WRITTEN BY DEAD CAN DANCE. PUBLISHED BY UNIVERSAL MUSIC PUBLISHING / MOMENTUM 3. E X C E P T “ T H E W I N D T H AT S H A K E S T H E B A R L E Y ” W O R D S A N D M U S I C : D R R O B E RT D W Y E R J O Y C E TRADITIONAL. ARRANGEMENT: DEAD CAN DANCE. UNIVERSAL MUSIC PUBLISHING / MOMENTUM 3. “ H O W F O RT U N AT E T H E M A N W I T H N O N E ” M U S I C : D E A D C A N D A N C E , W O R D S : B E RTO L T B R E C H T (translation: john willett). U N I V E R S A L M U S I C P U B L I S H I N G / M O M E N T U M 3 / ST E FA N S . B R E C H T . P 1993 4AD
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The Ubiquitous mr Lovegrove I thought that you knew it all... Well you've seen it ten times before. I thought that you had it down with both your feet on the g round. I love slow, slow but deep. Feig ned affections wash over me. Dream on my dear and renounce temporal obligations. Dream on my dear... it's a sleep from which you may not awaken. You build me up then you knock me down. You play the fool while I play the clown. We keep time to the beat of an old slave dr um. You raise my hopes then you raise the odds You tell me that I dream too much. Now I'm ser ving time in disillusionment. I don't believe you anymore... I don't believe you. I thought that I knew it all... I'd seen all the sig ns before. I thought that you were the one... in darkness my heart was won. You build me up then you knock me down. You play the fool while I play the clown. We keep time to the beat of an old slave dr um. You raise my hopes then you raise the odds. You tell me that I dream too much Now I'm ser ving time in a domestic g raveyard. I don't believe you anymore... I don't believe you. Never let it be said I was untr ue, I never found a home inside of you. Never let it be said I was untr ue - I gave you all my time.
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The Carnival is Over
T h e Wi n d t h a t S h a k e s t h e B a r l e y I sat within the valley g reen I sat me with my tr ue love. My sad heart strove the two between The old love and the new love. The old for her, the new That made me think of Ireland dearly While soft of the wind blew down the glade and shook the golden barley. ‘ Twas hard the woeful words to frame To break the ties that bound us. But harder still to bear the shame of foreig n chains around us. And so I said, “ The mountain glen I’ll meet at mor ning early And I’ll join the bold united men,” While soft winds shook the barley. ‘ Twas sad I kissed away her tears My fond arm round her flinging. When a foe, man’s shot burst on our ears From out the wild woods ringing A bullet pierced my tr ue love’s side In lifes young spring so early. And on my breast in blood she died While soft winds shook the barley
Outside The storm clouds gathering, moved silently along the dusty boulevard. Where flowers tur ning crane their fragile necks. So they can in tur n reach up and kiss the sky. They are driven by a strange desire. Unseen by the human eye, someone is calling. I remember when you held my hand and In the park we would play when the circus came to town. L ook! Over here. Outside The circus gathering, moved silently along the rainswept boulevard. The procession moved on the shouting is over. The fabulous freaks are leaving town. They are driven by a strange desire. Unseen by the human eye. The carinval is over. We sat and watched as the moon rose again for the ver y first time.
But blood for blood without remorse I’ve ta ’en at Oulart Hollow. I’ve lain my tr ue love’s clay like corpse Where I full soon must follow. Around her g rave I’ve wandered drear Noon, night and mor ning early. With breaking heart when e’er I hear The wind that shakes the barley.
Saldek
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To wa r d s t h e Wi t h i n
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STA G E S E T B Y J O H N S H E R W I N
How Fortunate the Man with None
Tell Me About The Forest (you once called home)
You saw sagacious Soloman You know what came of him, To him complexities seemed plain. He cursed the hour that gave birth to him And saw that ever ything was vain. How g reat and wise was Soloman. The world however did not wait But soon obser ved what followed on. It ’s wisdom that had brought him this state. How fortunate the man with none.
Farewell now my sister. Up ahead there lies your road. Your conscience walks beside you. It's the best friend you will ever know. The past is now your future, It bears witness to your soul. Make sure that the love you offer up does not fall on barren soil. For the wind cries of late In the whispering g rass. Our way of life is held In the spinning wheels of chance.
You saw courageous Caesar next You know what he became, They deified him in his life Then had him murdered just the same. And as they raised the fatal knife How loud he cried: you too my son! The world however did not wait But soon obser ved what followed on. It ’s courage that had brought him to that state. How fortunate the man with none.
I believe in the ways of an older law. When we used to dance to a different dr um, and we are changing our ways. Yes we are taking on different roads. Tell me more about the forest that you once called home. For the wind cries of late in the whispering leaves, and the sun will tur n to waste the heavens we build above.
You heard of honest Socrates The man who never lied: They weren’t so g rateful as you’d think Instead the r ulers fixed to have him tried And handed him the poisoned drink. How honest was the people’s noble son. The world however did not wait But soon obser ved what followed on. It ’s honesty that brought him to that state. How fortunate the man with none.
Father teach your children to treat our mother well. If we give her back her diamonds she will offer up her pearl. But I'm not bitter, no I'm sur viving. To face the world, to raise the future. So why don't you tell me, come on and tell me. About the world you left behind. Come on and tell me.
Here you can see respectable folk Keeping to God ’s own laws. So far he hasn’t taken heed. You who sit safe and warm indoors Help to relieve our bitter need. How virtuously we had begun. The world however did not wait But soon obsereved what followed on. It ’s fear of god that brought us to that state. How fortunate the man with none.
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‘ H O W F O RT U N AT E T H E M A N W I T H N O N E ’
C 1940, 1968, 1980 BRECHT MUSIC CO.
C 1993 BRECHT MUSIC CO./ UNIVERSAL MUSIC PUBLISHING / MOMENTUM 3
The 1993 release saw the leaders of Dead Can Dance, Brendan Perry and Lisa Gerrard. embark on more individual personal paths. While Into the Labyrinth, their first U.S. release of all-new material, was considered a commercial breakthrough (it was 4AD’s best-selling record at a million copies worldwide, and counting!), it is also their most divided. They both wrote songs independent of one another – on separate continents. Up to that point, the band’s releases had been hot commodities in U.S. import bins and their only available American release, the compilation A Passage in Time, had sold well over 100,000 copies. This album was written and performed by Brendan and Lisa with the exception of ‘The Wind That Shakes the Barley’ (words and music by Dr. Robert Dwyer Joyce), and ‘How Fortunate the Man With None’ (words by Bertolt Brecht from the play, Mother Courage). The album was engineered and produced by Brendan at his Quivvy Church studio in Ireland. Brendan and Lisa, whose contrasting vocal styles (his medieval croon, her shimmering purity) were set against a curio shop of musical inspiration that spanned everything from the 12th to the 20th Century, from Gregorian chants, to Scott Walker. Dead Can dance was also featured in the soundtrack to the film Baraka, the 70mm epic made by Ron Fricke and Mark Magidson. The film included ‘The Host of Seraphim’ from the group’s 1988 album, The Serpent’s Egg.
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C 2008 4 A D w w w. 4 ad . c o m