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Observer Participant

by Rick Wilson

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1.
COUNTING OFF TIME Counting off time as we sit and wait Counting off the bars until the middle eight Counting off time like the three score years and ten That used to be life’s measurement in the days of way back when When you spend so much time counting It’s easy to get lost And then you have to start again And duly count the cost Whether counting up or counting down We’re always in between The memory of what’s just gone past And what’s yet to be seen The numbers are dancing in front of my eyes They won’t stay still for long enough to try them on for size They tell me they’re the future and sharply on the rise In the ever growing clamour that we have to digitise Help me see it through I’m counting on you The numbers game is slippery And my grip needs to be true Whether counting my blessings or counting you out Control is sometimes hard to find as those digits run about Counting, accounting, falling off and remounting Unbalanced on the balance sheet I’m tempted to duck out and maybe just go walkabout I’m tempted to retreat The king is in his counting house, the pauper’s on the street But their time is ticking over with the same insistent beat Yes, the king is in his counting house, the pauper can’t compete But their time is ticking over with the same insistent beat.
2.
PULL THE STRANDS TOGETHER I’m making a jigsaw but the pieces don’t fit The colours aren’t matching and the patterns don’t knit I’m painting a picture that’s not coloured in I’m searching for detail but where to begin? I’m playing with fragments, I’m scratching a mark But really, I’m just wandering around in the dark I’m short of ingredients to make a full meal I need binding agents so the taste can reveal The full flavoured buffet before just suggested That now on my plate it sits here undigested Pull the strands together, edit out the dross Match the clues running up and down with the ones that run across Follow the finance, check past form And the chances are you’ll be getting warm Then warmer still until such time That you can interpret this pantomime.
3.
A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS (for Helen) A penny for your thoughts though they’re not yours to give They come as guests and visitors and don’t have long to live Distraction spirits them away And in their place some new ones play A penny for your thoughts though they’re not yours at all But they come in uninvited, intending to enthrall To divert, to convert and lead you to think But the moment is lost just as soon as you blink A penny for your thoughts but the focus is elsewhere I’ll never know for certain if you had anything to share.
4.
HERE IS A PLACE Here is a place that overwhelms my soul This feeling of wonder is hard to control I stand stock still and look at it I doff my hat and I submit My eyes create inventions, the granite animates After freezing, cracking and dissolving, I see images it creates A creature’s head, the shape of a bird A warriors helmet, all are inferred I feel the need to fill them with significance But really, it’s just random architecture Nevertheless I’m in the ecstasy of landscape, it overwhelms my soul I’m in the ecstasy of landscape, it’s hard to control.
5.
Push 04:46
PUSH I wonder what we’re made of when push comes to shove Do we draw down some strength from the heavens above Can we summon some power from deep inside Or any such tactics to act as our guide I wonder what we’re made of when we are pulled down low And we’re dropped without a climbing rope with nowhere to go The darkness is surrounding and closing off sight And the only voice that’s speaking says ‘let there be some light’ I wonder what we’re made of when we’re too involved to see That the universe doesn’t just revolve around me Will this blindness soon be ended, will the penny start to drop Will a revelation manifest from the bottom to the top I wonder what we’re made of when push comes to shove We can only see the battle with a healthy dose of love.
6.
CUT AND PASTE Directions from pastures of privilege just won’t cut the mustard these days We’ve grown used to suspect past behaviour and the patterns that this power plays But we’ve doubted the wisdom of knowledge from the mouths of the deeply surveyed And prefer our own homegrown conjectures to arm our own crusade And to gather bits and pieces from a wide remit of sources And build a case, try out and replace as we regiment our forces And grow a silky variant in spite of paradoxes Design a tie-dyed spreadsheet and fill in the tick boxes And cut and paste according to taste to measure the spec with both high and low tech To make it fit for purpose to suit the addressee To make it fit for purpose whatever that might be A fledgling fabrication, a DIY pathway But I wonder what someone like John Ruskin would say Or Morris or Tolstoy or Frank Lloyd Wright Or any free thinkers who had some insight Would they dismiss such gestures as shallow conceit As un-joined up thinking that’s just incomplete? Or green light these motions as singular choices Of thinking individuals with independent voices.
7.
TROMPE L’OREILLE A strange rhythmic sound emerged through the air A chirring, a whirring vibration was there Like rapid mechanics It grew louder then softer It’s speed seemed to waver A thin thread of sound A hemi semiquaver Presenting dynamics Always just about to stop but never quite ceasing It’s soft introspection and gentle increasing I went nearer, it paused I retreated, it grew Embedded deep inside the silence Sometimes masked by a passing breeze as it blew amongst the branches of trees It seemed at times to come from my brain with signals as subtle as vapours of rain Very close and intimate but far off and illusive The capture of a passing voice, singular, exclusive But soon it was fading Forgotten, hard to recall Did I really hear anything at all?
8.
AN ABSTRACT TAKE It was Ludwig Wittgenstein who said that words confine the great design And no matter how experience has spread and swirled The limits of my language are the limits of my world But I’ll undercut the statement before and suggest this idea for you to explore Some things they leave me speechless in their power and their awe And touch emotions deeply as they row in from offshore And even change your thinking from what it was before It’s not the words I need to find as they will put restrictions on the mind I’d be happy with an abstract take even though sometimes it might be opaque it acts as counterbalance when words play tyrant’s games and stands beyond the requirement of the need to call things names Sometimes I hear an echo of a saying set in song ‘Who feels it knows it’ was the call It’s much more right than wrong.
9.
FIND ME A HORSE Show me the door, I’ve a need to cut loose Staying here more will be of no use Find me a horse that can ride these rages Plot me a course I can steer in short stages Take me to somewhere that offers some hope Drop me a lifeline and throw down some rope Find me the front, or even the rear Get me to the exit, I’m out of here.
10.
LET COME WHAT MAY Out in the raw I’m walking I’m tracking a trail not talking But turning over this and that Accepting, rejecting at the drop of a hat Impressions coming fast, some correct, some distorted One minute confused, the next minute, sorted Out in the raw, what the hell for Is it roaming or homing, what is in store? I can’t say, I can’t say, so let come what may And maybe you can’t tell a beech from a birch But the canopy of nature is such a broad church And though the knowledge of the stars is definitely not mine I can still look up and marvel at the beauty of pure design And though I’m plagued by the brain within and I’m plagued by the rain without I’m uplifted to heights undreamt of My mind has been cleared of all doubt Uncertainty shifted My spirits uplifted Come what may, come what may I’ll carry on walking along this right of way Come what may, come what may I’ll carry on walking without further delay.
11.
Muse 03:48
Sometimes you just play too hard to get Sometimes you won’t be tied down If I play my pitch in the Latin quarter You’re on the other side of town And your silence seems so absolute To clearly notify That my hopes must be held in mid-stream And my plans are on stand by You’re elusive of course, unknown And make no promises where things might go Together or alone But all can be so different at the sounding of a note That then gives birth to something else and sets the game afloat And pieces come together and lines to coalesce And unlikely forms are unified that you could never second guess But you’re elusive of course, unknown And make no promises where things might go Together or alone.
12.
THE NETTLE AND THE THORN Choose your subject, paint a canvas over elongated time Give it due reflection to fit a paradigm Then paint it over, block it out Consign it to history with no lingering doubt The past world is no more, the next world’s not been born We’re stuck between the old and new, between the nettle and the thorn We wait with ambiguity and look for rights of way That avoid the easy avenues of false prophets and foul play Those voices of deception with slogans stark and loud That promise a deliverance to the large expectant crowd We’re looking to learn from mistakes of the past And fashion a future that might just hold fast From inspiring liaisons new life can be born And give us room to operate between the nettle and the thorn But here at the crossroad we take nothing for sure As false dawns are common and joy premature Be careful what you wish for when agendas are confused What is granted straight away can later be refused We must avoid the prospect of a strategy stillborn And believe there’s fertile grounds to live between the nettle and the thorn
13.
THE SEVEN SWORDS OF INDIFFERENCE Beware, the seven swords of indifference that greet the unwary The blades may be blunt but still a little scary More than a little but not too much Rejection with the lightest touch And you’re outside where the winter winds blow Looking for a lighted window Where admission might be bargained for Or at least to gain directions to get in by the back door Is it so warm inside? Only by admittance can you possibly decide To go/ To stay? Or to shout foul play? This is your conundrum for today.
14.
NEITHER HEADS NOR TAILS The spiritual life needs a belch with a beer To balance the living a life that’s austere The sensual life you can demystify With a hard bed, rough blanket and a cold night sky Holy, holy. Holy, it’s not all chant and pray Or elevating thoughts towards a judgment day It’s tempered by the gritty spoils that form in lands of waste And when the dealer shuffles you a hand not to your taste The spiritual life needs a belch with a beer So, order a drink for both hermit and seer This physical life is illusion we know But we’ll still raise a toast to above and below We’ll swim in cold water and we’ll sing in the rain We’ll balance our behaviour, we’ll indulge, we’ll abstain We’ll shift the weight of being as we lie across the scales Not one side or the other, not either heads or tails But rather centred upright with arms as counterweights And open to such movements as the moment generates.

about

I'm very happy that you have made it this far to listen to what i've been doing. This collection is a varied one but I think you may find some unifying and common elements that spread throughout. The instrumentation is more extensive than ever and, once again, I am indebted to the listed musicians who brought their singular talents to work on these pieces. One unlisted contributor is the grasshopper warbler featured in Trompe l'Oreille.

The songs are a mixture of things I'm looking at from a distance, outside in, and those that work on me from close quarters, inside out. Hence I am both observer and participant.

credits

released October 20, 2023

Rick Wilson : drum kit, piano, keyboards, djembe, chanda, mbira, kalimba, bongos, shakers, tone bars, cymbals, hang pan, xylophone, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, melodica, galvanised dustbin, gauche, claves, clap sticks, bicycle wheel, samples, voices.

Roxane Smith : Voices

Niall Ross : Tenor Saxophone, Soprano Saxophone

Anne Wood : Violin, Viola, Bass Guitar

Gary Foote : Double Bass

Shankara Andy Bole : Electric Guitar, Bouzouki


Mastered at RMS London by Andy Le Vien

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Rick Wilson UK

Born and educated in London, Rick started messing around with drums in his mid teens.
He embarked on a career with rock bands including The Work before diversifying his experiences with musicians from other traditions, linking music with story and other art forms. Rick not only performs and teaches but composes, designs soundscapes and installations and
runs music sessions as psychiatric therapy.
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