Organ Pipes

The diaphragm is the engine room of the voice, and singers breathe in a way more familiar to people who meditate or do yoga. Very seldom will you observe the shoulders of a good singer rise up when he takes a breath; indeed, taking breath may be almost imperceptible.

Brain Swap

I started to read the excellent biography of Blake by Peter Ackroyd. I think it is one of the best of his books, the other being London: The Biography. I got the feeling that Ackroyd was almost channelling the spirit of Blake to rise from the pages and speak directly to the reader. I certainly went to bed with the strangest dreams, and I started to wonder if I had in some way fallen under the spell of the difficult, curmudgeonly but otherworldly Blake. Now was the time to hurl myself into the cauldron of creation that was The Chemical Wedding.

Most of the album was heavily influenced by Blake – not just in a literal sense, but in a spiritual one. Blake was almost certainly an alchemist or member of a group relating to the occult or magical philosophy. At the same time, I was struck by his two characters ‘Los’ and ‘Urizen’. Los (or Sol backwards) was creative and doomed forever to have his head buried in a bucket of fire, symbolising the torture of the endlessly creative soul. Urizen was the cold repository of logic, chained to a rock, dismal and brooding. To me they seemed like characters in Blake’s subconscious, acting out the drama in his soul, expressed as art and poetry. I had some inkling of what it felt like to love the creativity but be held back by the grim realities of the commercial and the fear of change. I could relate to Blake. I rented a small apartment in Santa Monica and filled the walls with Blake prints. I thought I might drive myself slightly mad with designing the words to the album. I was stepping in and out of a drug-free dream state. Back in the studio, Roy was busy brushing up on his mandolin playing. I had decided to rewrite Blake’s poem

Source:  Dickinson, Bruce. What Does This Button Do?: The No.1 Sunday Times Bestselling Autobiography. HarperCollins Publishers. Kindle Edition. 

Infinite Dreams

Infinite dreams, I can't deny them
Infinity is hard to comprehend
I couldn't hear those screams
Even in my wildest dreams
Suffocation waking in a sweat
Scared to fall asleep again
In case the dream begins again

Someone chasing, I cannot move
Standing rigid, a nightmare's statue
What a dream, when will it end and will I transcend?
Restless sleep, the mind's in turmoil
One nightmare ends, another fertile
It's getting to me so scared to sleep
But scared to wake now, in too deep

Even though it's reached new heights
I'd rather like the restless nights
It makes me wonder, makes me think
There's more to this, I'm on the brink
It's not the fear of what's beyond
It's just that I might not respond
I have an interest, almost craving
But would I like to get too far in?

Can't be all coincidence
Too many things are evident
You tell me you're an unbeliever
Spiritualist?
Well me, I'm neither
Wouldn't you like to know the truth
Of what's out there to have the proof?
And find out just which side you're on
Where would you end?
In Heaven or in Hell?

Help me
Help me to find my true self without seeing the future
Save me
Save me from torturing myself even within my dreams, ow!

There's got to be just more to it than this
Or tell me why do we exist
I'd like to think that when I die
I'd get a chance, another time
And to return and live again
Reincarnate, play the game
Again and again and again and again