between the potatoes and parsley


Some more ‘euphoric nihilism’ : )

It’s there in the resigned I’ve-had-enough-of-it-all-tone.

It’s there in the way the strings erupt gloriously upwards, mixed much too loud.

(not sure if it’s there in the saxophone solo – but then again I have a real problem with saxophones (don’t ask))

I find a strain of delicious ambiguity in everything in this song – are they telling him something he doesn’t know, or he doesn’t know if they are telling him something?
Planting yourself in the garden – also like burying yourself (lasting relations with a maggot indeed).

I used to enjoy playing this at 5am at that point in the party where everyone has stopped drinking champagne from mugs and dancing on the table and is instead beginning to slump, aiming for a comfort zone of some kind. Noone else enjoyed it of course, just me.

I don’t know too much about Bill Fay, I only picked up on him when the self titled 1970 album this is from was rediscovered reissued and mojo-fied a few years back. I couldn’t get into it apart from this track. “Garden Song” is just too huge and awesome and mysterious – there is no room for any more Bill Fay in my brain.


posted by magic


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