“Down by the Salley Gardens” Cover by the Rankin Family
Down by the salley gardens my love and I did meet;
She passed the salley gardens with little snow-white feet.
She bid me take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree;
But I, being young and foolish, with her would not agree.
In a field by the river my love and I did stand,
And on my leaning shoulder she laid her snow-white hand.
She bid me take life easy, as the grass grows on the weirs;
But I was young and foolish, and now am full of tears.
This poem by W. B. Yeats has its origin in an old Irish song, according to Jaffares*: Yeats apparently dug it out of a buried memory involving a peasant woman in the village of Ballysodare. The poem’s original title was “An Old Song Re-Sung” (Jaffares, 12). My very first introduction to this poem was through song. I typed “W. B. Yeats music” into YouTube and came up with this song: given how many people have covered the song over the years it has swiftly found itself embedded in “traditional” Irish culture, despite the fact it only came into the Irish people’s common consciousness with Yeats’s publication (see Jaffares). This poem, with its origin in music in the first place, is extremely adaptable to music, and thus fits with Professor Ophir’s observation that Yeats wished poetry to maintain an allusion to its roots in song. The repeating phrases, such as “snow-white,” “she bid me take life easy,” and “young and foolish,” give the poem a refrain-like quality. I absolutely love the theme of unrequited love in this poem: the view we get is from the perspective of the restless one, and not the one mourning for lost love. There are two beautiful images for “taking life easy”: the leaves that grow on the trees and the grass growing on the weir. The first brings in the fact that the lovers are in the “salley” gardens, or willow grove, so the young woman is drawing attention to the trees that surround them. The second image is stronger, I think, because the grass grows on the weir despite the fact the water is rushing by. The young woman, then, is urging her love to grow and flourish where he is planted, and let life move by around him. But he is “young and foolish,” and restless, I imagine, so he leaves love be. Now he is full of regret.
As for the Rankin Family’s cover of this song, I think it is extremely well done. They have only to open their mouths and one thinks of the “old country” from which Yeats originates. The comments below their version indicate that even those from Ireland were “fooled” by their authentic sound. Try this one: “Me ma loved your performances, and never knew you were Canadian! Just assumed you ‘Were from the oul' country because you were so good!’ Fair play tae ye! And God bless ye!”
*Jeffares, Alexander Norman. A New Commentary on the Poems by W. B. Yeats. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1984. (pp.12-13). Google Books. Web. 27 Jan. 2010.
Robin Anderson
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
The Sorrow of Love
I must confess that I hoped to find a ridiculous version of one of Yeats’s poems. So I searched for “Yeats metal,” and I was not disappointed. Of note was a poorly recorded, absolutely absurd metal version of “The Song of Wandering Aengus,” complete with leather and black lipstick, and a much better quality but equally ill-suited opera version of “Byzantium” (although why an opera version showed up when I searched for “Yeats metal” is beyond me). Ultimately I decided to review a version of “The Sorrow of Love” by a band called Agalloch because I think the music reflects the poem in some interesting ways.
Knowing the text of the poem would be useful in understanding my review:
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;
Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all that lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man's image and his cry.
First, the music echoes the melancholic and haunting tone of the poem. Just before the singing (chanting?) begins, a symbol crash (1:14) momentarily shatters the mood created by the previous minute of music in the same way the “brawling of a sparrow” shatters the stillness of night. During the first verse, the singer’s “cry” is “blotted out” by the music and a heavy use of reverb. In the second verse, the singer’s voice arises -- like the mournful girl -- out of the fog of music and reverb to utter the prophecy of the doom. The third verse is sung like the first, but instead of the singer’s cry being blotted out, the music fades out for the final line, allowing man’s composed cry to be heard.
Do I like this version? Hard to say. Listening to it several times while composing this review, it is kind of catchy in a lulling, repetitive, monk-like-chant kind of way. I do appreciate what seems to be an attempt to engage with the text of the poem. For better or worse, when I read the poem now I can’t escape the droning rhythm of this version.
Knowing the text of the poem would be useful in understanding my review:
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves,
The brilliant moon and all the milky sky,
And all that famous harmony of leaves,
Had blotted out man's image and his cry.
A girl arose that had red mournful lips
And seemed the greatness of the world in tears,
Doomed like Odysseus and the labouring ships
And proud as Priam murdered with his peers;
Arose, and on the instant clamorous eaves,
A climbing moon upon an empty sky,
And all that lamentation of the leaves,
Could but compose man's image and his cry.
First, the music echoes the melancholic and haunting tone of the poem. Just before the singing (chanting?) begins, a symbol crash (1:14) momentarily shatters the mood created by the previous minute of music in the same way the “brawling of a sparrow” shatters the stillness of night. During the first verse, the singer’s “cry” is “blotted out” by the music and a heavy use of reverb. In the second verse, the singer’s voice arises -- like the mournful girl -- out of the fog of music and reverb to utter the prophecy of the doom. The third verse is sung like the first, but instead of the singer’s cry being blotted out, the music fades out for the final line, allowing man’s composed cry to be heard.
Do I like this version? Hard to say. Listening to it several times while composing this review, it is kind of catchy in a lulling, repetitive, monk-like-chant kind of way. I do appreciate what seems to be an attempt to engage with the text of the poem. For better or worse, when I read the poem now I can’t escape the droning rhythm of this version.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Second Coming
This is a reading of "The Second Coming" by W.B. Yeats.
The reader's solemnity and the gravity of his voice load every word with meaning and understated emotional intensity. His rhythm feels natural and appropriate to the poem, instead of following the (occasionally broken) iambic pentameter. You can try and read it for yourself in the singsong rhythm of iambic pentameter, but it sounds distinctly unnatural due to the wording. Yeats himself may have been more rigid; his hypnotic readings of his own poems sound chanted, as if they were spells or invocations. You can hear a recording of Yeats discussing and reading his own poetry here.
Yeats wrote "The Second Coming" in 1919, believing that the world was approaching a terrible and apocalyptic time. Its title references the Second Coming of Christ, but the poem does not treat this concept rapturously- it is filled with an ominous sense of foreboding, of inevitable doom and the end of an age. Yeats had a well developed system of symbolism, and believed in universally meaningful symbols held in a collective unconscious that he called "Spiritus Mundi." This is similar to Carl Jung's archetypes, but Yeats went further still. He also believed that history, of individuals as well as humanity and civilization, worked in a spiraling system of "gyres," contrary forces that weaken or strengthen inversely to each other. The Second Coming was supposed to occur as one gyre reached its apex and the other its nadir, which also marked the shift from the Age of Pisces to the Age of Aquarius. The "twenty centuries of stony sleep" likely refers to the astrological cycle of ages, approximately 26,000 years long.
The imagery of "The Second Coming" is strange and disturbing; the spiral of the gyre, the falcon on its own, the "blood-dimmed tide" drowning innocence, and the outright declaration of anarchy all reference a loss of control. The image of the Sphinx slouching towards Bethlehem through the desert with its "gaze bland and pitiless as the sun" suggests a deeply malevolent creature, certainly not a benevolent messiah.
A sense of inevitability seems to pervade the reader's voice, and he takes on the same bleak tone that the poem naturally carries. Brief, almost imperceptible pauses on key words and a harsher, more broken rhythym in places (such as the line "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last") hammer the poem into the listener's mind. The rhythm and tone of this particular reading are perfectly suited for the content and phrasing of the poem.
I'd like to mention that this is the same person that read "A Dialogue of Self and Soul" in one of the reviews below. His channel on YouTube is "SpokenVerse" and he has used "Tom O'Bedlam" as a pseudonym. The choice of name is interesting; you can see for yourself.
As an interesting aside, the anonymous reader had almost abandoned his project of daily poetry readings due to YouTube taking down one of his videos. Here's the story from Roger Ebert.
The reader's solemnity and the gravity of his voice load every word with meaning and understated emotional intensity. His rhythm feels natural and appropriate to the poem, instead of following the (occasionally broken) iambic pentameter. You can try and read it for yourself in the singsong rhythm of iambic pentameter, but it sounds distinctly unnatural due to the wording. Yeats himself may have been more rigid; his hypnotic readings of his own poems sound chanted, as if they were spells or invocations. You can hear a recording of Yeats discussing and reading his own poetry here.
Yeats wrote "The Second Coming" in 1919, believing that the world was approaching a terrible and apocalyptic time. Its title references the Second Coming of Christ, but the poem does not treat this concept rapturously- it is filled with an ominous sense of foreboding, of inevitable doom and the end of an age. Yeats had a well developed system of symbolism, and believed in universally meaningful symbols held in a collective unconscious that he called "Spiritus Mundi." This is similar to Carl Jung's archetypes, but Yeats went further still. He also believed that history, of individuals as well as humanity and civilization, worked in a spiraling system of "gyres," contrary forces that weaken or strengthen inversely to each other. The Second Coming was supposed to occur as one gyre reached its apex and the other its nadir, which also marked the shift from the Age of Pisces to the Age of Aquarius. The "twenty centuries of stony sleep" likely refers to the astrological cycle of ages, approximately 26,000 years long.
The imagery of "The Second Coming" is strange and disturbing; the spiral of the gyre, the falcon on its own, the "blood-dimmed tide" drowning innocence, and the outright declaration of anarchy all reference a loss of control. The image of the Sphinx slouching towards Bethlehem through the desert with its "gaze bland and pitiless as the sun" suggests a deeply malevolent creature, certainly not a benevolent messiah.
A sense of inevitability seems to pervade the reader's voice, and he takes on the same bleak tone that the poem naturally carries. Brief, almost imperceptible pauses on key words and a harsher, more broken rhythym in places (such as the line "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last") hammer the poem into the listener's mind. The rhythm and tone of this particular reading are perfectly suited for the content and phrasing of the poem.
I'd like to mention that this is the same person that read "A Dialogue of Self and Soul" in one of the reviews below. His channel on YouTube is "SpokenVerse" and he has used "Tom O'Bedlam" as a pseudonym. The choice of name is interesting; you can see for yourself.
As an interesting aside, the anonymous reader had almost abandoned his project of daily poetry readings due to YouTube taking down one of his videos. Here's the story from Roger Ebert.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
"Let The Earth Bear Witness" review
"Let The Earth Bear Witness" is performed by Mike Scott, frontman for the band: The Waterboys. The song, which takes it's words from W.B Yeats, is a powerfully displayed message of how groups of people from around the world can rise together at times throughout history for a common cause. Originally performed at the National Library of Dublin in June of 2009, Scott is able to reach a deeper level with the listener through the acoustic performance, as well as his concerned sounding vocals. The song was later accompanied by a video which was assembled by Scott, which contains images of freedom fighters in Iran who are standing up for their rights and freedoms. These violent images work well with Yeats' writing, as Yeats himself was writing about similar circumstances in Ireland, over a century earlier. The words by Yeats, combined with the powerful images of violence and displays of peace, as well as the performance by The Waterboys presents a strong message in a way which truly affects the viewer.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
"A Dialogue of Self and Soul"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VHVqvFeOdo
This poem was written by Yeats in his old age. The reader has a delightful voice - old, slightly gruff, and in perfect time and clarity to soak in the depth of the poem. Yeats is remembering the distress that youth placed upon him yet still wishing he could live it all again and take back the foolish actions of his love life. The intelligence of the soul is obviously greater in comparison to Yeats' self. In the closing of the poem, though, the self has obviously reached a greater level of intelligence. The final three lines are my favourite "We must laugh and we must sing, / We are blest by everything, / Everything we look upon is blest." Although Yeats' love was lost, these lines are the perfect chorus for lovers.
In poking around the web for Yeats readings I came to an easy conclusion that all of his poems are meant to be read with an eerie edge. They are all very creepy and I prefer the sound of them contained in my head! "A Dialogue of Self and Soul" comes full circle from a depressing start in life, to an enlightened old man, wishing to relive his past only to forgive himself for his wrong turns.
This poem was written by Yeats in his old age. The reader has a delightful voice - old, slightly gruff, and in perfect time and clarity to soak in the depth of the poem. Yeats is remembering the distress that youth placed upon him yet still wishing he could live it all again and take back the foolish actions of his love life. The intelligence of the soul is obviously greater in comparison to Yeats' self. In the closing of the poem, though, the self has obviously reached a greater level of intelligence. The final three lines are my favourite "We must laugh and we must sing, / We are blest by everything, / Everything we look upon is blest." Although Yeats' love was lost, these lines are the perfect chorus for lovers.
In poking around the web for Yeats readings I came to an easy conclusion that all of his poems are meant to be read with an eerie edge. They are all very creepy and I prefer the sound of them contained in my head! "A Dialogue of Self and Soul" comes full circle from a depressing start in life, to an enlightened old man, wishing to relive his past only to forgive himself for his wrong turns.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
"The Stolen Child" Review
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9hnUYV06t4
Anya Yalin’s reading of “The Stolen Child” by W.B. Yeats - with video by Virtual World of Second Life - is a chilling presentation of Yeats’ poem. The poem addresses the legend that children who do not behave will get swept away by little faery creatures - never to see their parents again. Anya Yalin’s voice is hauntingly creepy as she softly murmurs the words of the poem. Her voice matches the haunting nature of the poem - echoing a young child’s biggest worry at bedtime. The video is also a fitting accompaniment to the poem, with its sullen images and unsettling musical clips and sound effects. The child’s laughter in the background is especially effective. A sound that is usually happy and carefree sounds harsh and foreboding alongside the mystical undertones of the video. The video is eerily serene, which conveys the calm before the storm as a child peacefully tries to fall asleep but risks losing his or her life to this dismal faery land. Yalin’s voice has a definite faery-like quality to it in its softness. It quietly entreats a child to join her in the “Sleuth Wood in the lake.” She sounds disturbingly calm as she lures a young boy away from his innocent childhood. Overall, Yalin’s reading of Yeats’ poem is effective in portraying the haunting subject matter of the poem. Alongside the visual accompaniment, she paints an appropriately chilling picture of Yeats’ already somber poem.
Ashley Sawatzky
(Information about the legend found at http://www.reconnections.net/stolenchild.htm)
Anya Yalin’s reading of “The Stolen Child” by W.B. Yeats - with video by Virtual World of Second Life - is a chilling presentation of Yeats’ poem. The poem addresses the legend that children who do not behave will get swept away by little faery creatures - never to see their parents again. Anya Yalin’s voice is hauntingly creepy as she softly murmurs the words of the poem. Her voice matches the haunting nature of the poem - echoing a young child’s biggest worry at bedtime. The video is also a fitting accompaniment to the poem, with its sullen images and unsettling musical clips and sound effects. The child’s laughter in the background is especially effective. A sound that is usually happy and carefree sounds harsh and foreboding alongside the mystical undertones of the video. The video is eerily serene, which conveys the calm before the storm as a child peacefully tries to fall asleep but risks losing his or her life to this dismal faery land. Yalin’s voice has a definite faery-like quality to it in its softness. It quietly entreats a child to join her in the “Sleuth Wood in the lake.” She sounds disturbingly calm as she lures a young boy away from his innocent childhood. Overall, Yalin’s reading of Yeats’ poem is effective in portraying the haunting subject matter of the poem. Alongside the visual accompaniment, she paints an appropriately chilling picture of Yeats’ already somber poem.
Ashley Sawatzky
(Information about the legend found at http://www.reconnections.net/stolenchild.htm)
Those Dancing Days Are Gone Review
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGs0y-fciLg
Those Dancing Days Are Gone Review
Carli Bruni, an Italian born French singer/songwriter, offers us an easy-listening performance of Yeats’ poem Those Dancing Days Are Gone. Similar to other popular songs by Bruni, this song is largely dependent upon a simple arrangement of musical instruments, particularly the acoustic guitar. This is a fitting poem for Bruni to be singing, as the poem itself suggests listening to the beauty that can be found in song. Contrary to Russianyardie’s comment that Bruni “cant sing, especially in English”, Bruni’s vocals are admirable, and the fluency in her voice resonates well with the poems verses. The harmonica played in between verses compliments Bruni’s voice nicely in this rendition of the poem. While Russianyardie may say that I am “just a lost imbecile fool” for disagreeing with him, I think that Carla Bruni’s performance of this poem is deserving of the applause she receives.
Kyle Best
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)