never have, never will
Patty since you're Ill do this shameless indulgence and nod to our shared Gilles Peterson years. Feel no shame.
Went to see Callier at the jazz cafe one time. Back when you could smoke indoors. His voice plus a J almost had me falling asleep standing up a couple of times. So soothing. Was studying drums in Acton at the time. Shared a house with a Greek guy along with 3 English dudes. Greek guy had a Callier live CD which we used to listen to it quite a bit. Also had heard Dancing Girl played by Gilles. And our Brazilian percussion teacher was in the band when I saw the gig. All very interweaved, so I have a bit of a personal attachment to Terry and particularly this track.
His life story makes for an interesting read.
Anyway, the beginning of the song is like a lullabye in its gentle caresses of guitar arps, tinkling percussion and his silken vocals all intertwining and with and drifting in and out of contact with each other. After a short while you start to settle into this feeling and think you're in for a soothing and easy ride, but suddenly the horizon opens up with the introduction of the orchestra. Didn't see that coming. Now he's suggesting the beginning of some long journey. But just as your senses arouse to catch up, he brings you back down to the ground for a moment while he collects himself with a few pensive chords, only to return back to the larger landscape with those elegant drifting strings offering you the sense of solemn oneness finely expressed with the line "each of us is born alone" muted blues trumpet answering his lines like a sad, instrumental flava flav. He holds no punches, it all flows out and then the fucken drums come in and oh shit we're off and you're waltzing down the history of smoky jazz, blues & folk bars, breathing in all kinds of smokes and vapors, wisping their way around you. The air of his voice is like a historic mist telling you how it was back in the day, a caring voice warning you of the dangers of the night, excess and how easy it is to lose your way. So better tell her if you want to to boogie, bop or boogaloo lest you end up on a crack handle. Tell her, ffs. But wait, where did that acoustic rhythm sneak in from? The beat goes from the 6/8 to 4/4 like the drifting mind of a junkie and next thing you know you've got yourself laying on the couch in the corner and all the bittersweet memories come flooding in. Reaching a peak here. A shelf drop and then another slower climb and then crashing down. Try not to scratch too hard. Ahh here are those opening acoustic arps and tinkling percussions. Consciousness regained? Was it all a dream? Is the dancing girl really just the dancing dragon and all the twinkling just the moonlight reflecting off of the creases in the well worn foil? You decide.