This song has already featured at a couple of blogs linked to this one and been posted on social media by friends but, at the risk of repetition, I'm posting it here today as well. 'Cello Song has long been one of my favourite Nick Drake songs- the finger picked folk guitar, the gorgeous, weightless, melancholy of the cello, the busy, subtle hand drums and Nick's voice, as if recorded not long after waking up. Back in November, in the lead up to the first anniversary of Isaac's death, I was struck by the lyrics which seemed so apt and took on new meaning for me.
'Strange face, with your eyesSo pale and sincereUnderneath you know wellYou have nothing to fearFor the dreams that came to you when so youngTold of a lifeWhere spring is sprung
You would seem so frailIn the cold of the nightWhen the armies of emotionGo out to fightBut while the earth sinks to its graveYou sail to the skyOn the crest of a wave
So forget this cruel worldWhere I belongI'll just sit and waitAnd sing my songAnd if one day you should see me in the crowdLend a hand and lift meTo your place in the cloud'
Fontaines DC have covered 'Cello Song for a forthcoming album of covers, The Endless Coloured Ways, along with twenty- nine other artists. Fontaines DC grab hold of the song and don't let go, stamping their own identity on it while retaining the spirit and essence of Nick's original. In their hands, with twin clanging guitars and layers of feedback, rat- a- tat- tat drumming, thumping bass and Grian Chatten's unmistakeable Dublin vocals, 'Cello Song switches effortlessly from melancholic late 60s English folk to gritty back street 21st century indie- punk rock. The sweeping cellos are still there, the bridge between the two. It's rewritten the song for me (and they've rewritten the lyrics partly too, cutting pasting parts of the second and third verses into one), rewired it into something new, still emotionally charged but with a different, more insistent, more menacing edge. It's a wonderful reinterpretation, exactly how a cover version should be done.
Things feel hard again. Grief comes and goes in unpredictable arcs and waves. I know it isn't very long at all since Isaac died- a little over fifteen months- but there's been yet another shift in things recently, with the old one step forwards, two steps back as standard. The acceptance that things have changed forever is one I'm trying to get to grips with. With it comes the realisation that it's not just that there's no going back to the world as it was before he died, it's also that there's no going back to the person I was before he died. This has changed me/ us forever. The person I am now has this ball of grief and loss built in. Some days it's a dull aching sadness. Some days it's a knot of anxiety in the stomach and chest. Some days it's a weight, a heaviness I'm lugging around with me. Some days it's raw and painful again. Some days it erupts unexpectedly, a burst of frustration or anger (or the opposite, a resigned shrug and a fuck it to a situation I maybe should care more about). It may change as the months and years go by, the grief and loss becoming more bearable- not lessening, just more liveable with- but it's there for good. That's a big thing to take on board I think- I am not who I was.
7 comments:
Wow, that is a marvellous and unexpected rendition. Totally agree that it's exactly how a cover version should be done - refreshingly different, bringing something new yet still as meaningful. Somehow I'd never paid so much attention to the lyrics on hearing the original either, they are beautiful.
But so sorry to hear things feel especially hard again for you. As ever, you articulate everything so incredibly well, I admire you so much, and the change you feel about who you are makes a lot of sense. I'm imagining that how it becomes more liveable with and bearable is what you have to focus on now, keeping on moving in the right direction, arming yourself with all the coping strategies you need; I feel sure you will, you're amazing, resilient, strong, compassionate, beautiful human beings. Sending lots of love and warm wishes your way x
Lovely words as always Adam. You are spot on about not being the same person. Our lives are shaped around the ones we love and the experiences we have. I bet the change in you from 18 to 21, from 21 to 30 and so on made you a different person. But this is more, much more. This is the worst experience you could ever go through, and you show such courage, by carrying on with your life, and by writing so succinctly about it here. Take comfort from the fact that, although you feel changed and a prisoner to grief, you are a richer person,for being Isaac's dad and showing him such love. Take care, try not to be too hard on yourself and much love
Good cover.
Sorry to hear about this Adam. I am so full of admiration, and so constantly stunned, by how you are able to articulate what must be the most primal of human emotions, physical manifestations included. No idea how you keep strong but it sounds entirely reasonable that you're not the same person. All we can do is just urge you to remember that this little bit of t' internet is always in your corner.
Thank you all of you for your support. You all know how to strike the right tone and say the right things, which isn't easy. Thank you.
I could see that being stretched out into an ALFOS tune, or if not there, accommodated in a disco for sweet and tender hooligans somewhere.
I usually end up reading your blog on a work break, on my phone which stubbornly refuses to let me post comments most of the time. So, I'm posting instead in the early hours before the rest of the family awake and the headlong rush into the day begins.
This one stopped me in my tracks yesterday, the song and it's (wonderful) cover, the poignancy of the lyrics and what they meant to you before and after and your ongoing reflections about Isaac and life in the here and now. It's a tough read but only in the sense that I often wonder at your ability to articulate so well and, to be honest, doubt that I would be able to do the same.
I'm with the others in the admiration, respect and support for you, I'm glad that you can find some comfort from this.
Waking up this morning and listening to the music again, the world outside my window is covered in a thick layer of snow. Seems appropriate somehow.
Love and best wishes to you and your family, Adam.
There is a raw honesty about how you share your grief that is incredibly moving. It touches me so deeply because it articulates the journey of grief in a way I've found so difficult to express openly. Yes it changes us forever, which for me left me rudderless for the first 3 years. There is a loneliness to grief which often leaves me in an emotional wilderness coming face to face with the bracing winds of grief. Keep writing, Adam. It helps me reach out in the loneliness. Xx love to you all xx
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