Van der Graaf Generator (69,12 %)
The Quiet Zone/The Pleasure Dome (51,49 %)
Released: 1977-09-02
Type: Studio
Type: Studio
Ranking:
Artist:
7
Year (1977):
47
Decade (1970's):
484
Overall:
2238
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1.
Lizard Play
 04:30
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2.
The Habit of the Broken Heart
 04:41
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3.
The Siren Song
06:04
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4.
Last Frame
 06:14
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5.
The Wave
03:14
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6.
Cat's Eye/Yellow Fever (Running)
05:20
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7.
The Sphinx in the Face
 05:58
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8.
Chemical World
06:11
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9.
The Sphinx Returns
 01:17
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Album length:
43:29
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Lyrics |
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1.
Lizard Play
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Frozen moment, cold blood time: the Iguana lady is saying goodbye.... She's not quite ready, she wants to stay, she wants to be perfect, but not in the way. He tries to be cautious, one more cigarette, he wants to be open, but the time is not yet. They talk about poetry, life-stories too; he wants to know if she keeps a pet or two. She's into lizards, she's into snakes, he's into trauma - still got the shakes from a lady who only talked dogs and cats making love in the alley - she thought like that.... So he doesn't notice he's falling in to a change in colour of chameleon skin. And the sun beats down on the baking earth in the land where the lizards play. And the tongues flick out - though they want to touch all the words get in the way. And it's you and me and it's he and she and it's everything I say. Frozen vision,deaf and dumb: still trying to work out what I've become.... I tried to reach you, I tried to score, I shot the bolt on the open door... the secret reaction, base metal to gold, and all I felt was my blood froze... I walked on water - I was wearing skis - and now the water must dance on me. Anyway, for all that, will you dance with me? will you dance with me? And the sun beats down on the baking earth in the land where the lizards play. And they shed their skins and at last begin to find colours for the day. Will you dance with me? |
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2.
The Habit of the Broken Heart
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Oh, the Sisters of Blindness From the Convent of the Broken Heart, They want to smother it with kindness, They want to tear it all apart. And there's a rock of sterile virtu' In the centre of the bay I'm so sorry he hurt you, But don't throw yourself away. You only wanted to have some fun, You only wanted to try it; You only wanted to be someone, But everybody denies it. Why's it so hard to make you listen? Don't go and change your name Learning to lose can be The start of winning the game. You're so special, such sadness seems a shame. I know that you've got a service to catch, I wouldn't want you to miss it, But there's something so mismatched, Some motive inexplicit Is it the call of the Convent? You only wanted to find someone Or something more than pleasure; Penitence for the Chosen One You can indulge at leisure - By the light of the sinking sun, Don't turn your back on the treasure. Whether or not you want to face it, you're a beautiful girl And your lay-lady laughter has a right to be heard; But what can I give you if you've already got the Word? Don't go Don't start Don't take on The Habit of the Broken Heart |
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3.
The Siren Song
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Letters in pencil, some of them as heavy as lead, as dated as carbon, as black as coal, but burning as red. Clues faintly stencilled: the message, though leeched, is unbled, as secret as marble - as young, as old, as living, as dead. And always that laugh that comes as though it's from pain: though I'm lashed to the mast still it hammers round my brain. Laughter in the backbone, laughter impossibly wise, that same laughter that comes every time I flash on that look in your eyes which whispers of a black zone which'll mock all my credos as lies, where all logic is done and time will smash every theory I devise. And the hour-glass is shattered only by the magic of your touch where nothing really matter No, Nothing matters very much! So the siren song runs through the ages, and it courses through my veins like champagne; and with all the sweet kisses of addiction it's calling me to break my bonds again. Future memory exploding like shrapnel, some splinters escape on my tongue, some of them scar comprehension beneath the scab they burn, but the wound becomes numbs. And always the song draws me forward, rejoicing in the search and the prayer, bored with all but the mad, the strange, the freak, the impossible dare. Still your laugh chills my marrow till I embrace it on my knees Oh, when the mast becomes a flagpole, what becomes of me? What becomes, oh, what becomes of me? |
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4.
Last Frame
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Pretty keen, yes, my hobby keeps me busy And if I talk to myself, what's the crime In the darkroom I am a dealer in space and time When all memory is mellowed When the photograph is yellowed Still it never lies There you are, your eyes laced with secret pleasure Saying that you're on the way to change Devouring in inordinate measure Every diversion that's arranged For every appetite, a cruel attraction But there's a panic in your actions Oh, I never saw you look so strange Fixing memory chemically Holding time on the stop clock Hanging back from that last frame Just in case it didn't show you In the way I used to know you I thought you'd always stay the same (But you won't) Oh, the red light, the silver, the black and the bromide The silence, the waiting for overview The past seems under exposed, low tide But still the images ghost through And you're there in the bath Which is all this has led to And I can't say your path Is a right one to choose But then I only have a negative of you |
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5.
The Wave
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The wave hits the beach, writing words on the sand - to the academic man, this could be the answer In fact, it's no more than a hunch; still we try to eat it I think we're all pretty out to lunch. The wave is out of reach, trailing words from the hand only air can understand; semaphore on the shoreline, waiting for distance to recede, unhappily imperfect when we should be happy just to breathe. But with each bated breath, so present, tense, we want to know, we want it sure, it don't make sense! So I'll do mine and you do yours but let's not trade sand and sea for brick and cement. The wave hits the beach, laps around abandoned clothes, wants to share a joke with those who'll brave the breakers, who'll break bread rather than pray while the definition-maker's lost in the small print of the day. The words are only pictures that the next wave wipes away. |
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6.
Cat's Eye/Yellow Fever (Running)
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I was walking in the evening, I was looking for something good, clean, fine, pure, straight, but instead I found the bunker wall and gate. It was open: I was free. I gave a token guarantee; though I later knew I had promised more, with an I.O.U. I could scarcely score my way. Oh! But I herald Apocalypse anyway! I was a prime believer in the faith of 'I': yellow fever in the cat's eye. And it's everything you want, own,love, hate, touch, dream, trust; and it's everything you need. I got a heart like a rochet, I was out of control, I'd cleaned out my pockets for some luck to show really looking like a hopeless case, I found it in my hand, it was the Angry Ace. He wants to talk to me, one on one, he wants to give me his professional opinion But I'm running; I just can't wait, I haven't got a moment to anticipate; yes, I'm running, I just can't stop, I've got to get to the bottom just to get to the top, I've got the dark alleys and the open skies, I got the yellow fever from the cat's eye. I'll let you know how it goes in the ninth life. |
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7.
The Sphinx in the Face
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I remember what it felt like at seventeen, I was a cat, a snake, a lizard, a mouse; still got an interest in the limousine and a spouse and a brat, country house, London flat. I'm gonna head for the island when the summer's out, I'm gonna do all the stuff that I can, drink like a fish in a waterspout - I'm a fan of the flow, it began long ago, I'm a man who should know it doesn't stop. There's so much to remember, so much to forget: we're all in the possession of the future tense, but don't know it yet. The flesh comes through the spirit, the spirit through the flesh we look the Sphinx in the face for answers and, of course, we're really not impressed. We're caught between age and beauty, experience and youth, so we feel the need acutely for any kind of Truth. Oh, but we get copped some days, caught between options we've failed to play, such wasted chance. So I join the wastrel's dance: it has slow as well as fast movement, and any change must be an improvement on simply fossilising, standing still. I got a steady vocation for the Quiet Zone, I just can't wait for the song to be sung, I'm still possessed by the promise of the Pleasure Dome You're so young, you're so here,so gone, so old, so near,so wrong, such a drag so queer,so strong,so to be told. Such a drag to be told |
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8.
Chemical World
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"Well what's the harm? It's good clean fun why don't you just go on and have another one? When there's hanky-panky in the boardroom Wooly-bully on the farm, what's the harm? It's quite alright, I mean to say, tomorrow's just another day" Oh, but in the morning, Oh, but in the morning haze will you still feel as fine, will you still need to trade day for night? In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king; in the country of the sheep, they call him Cyclops. And the quality of mind is such a tenuous thing that here you need it like a blind man needs eye drops. Get out of that back room,this vacuum, it attracts you, but in fact you don't know quite what it is; you're being sapped of everything you once valued so highly Will you still feel as strong, will you still long for weakness to come? It's a Chemical World Not a candidate ever fails; though you search for the Holy Grail you're not going to find it in the Chemical World. A sleeper train; you can't escape; fast overnight the ticker-tape. Oh but in the morning, but in the morning haze will the market have turned, will there be no more days left to trade? It's the Chemical World and from the moment that it's embraced It's the Chemical World all the diamonds turn to paste in the Chemical World Yeah, you think you'll look so pretty - it's gonna blow up in your face. "It's just the time, so slow to pass. It's just the drug, it doesn't last" |
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9.
The Sphinx Returns
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You're so young, you're so here, so gone, So old, so near, so wrong, Such a drag, so queer, so strong, so to be told. Such a drag to be told |