The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage - Peter Hammill

The Silent Corner and the Empty Stage (Peter Hammill, 1974)

1. Modern - 7:28
2. Wilhelmina - 5:17
3. The Lie (Bernini's Saint Theresa) - 5:40
4. Forsaken Gardens - 6:15
5. Red Shift - 8:11
6. Rubicon - 4:11
7. A Louse Is Not A Home - 12:13

Of all Peter Hammill's early solo albums, this one is my favorite, and it might be the best too.  Citing financial difficulties, Van Der Graaf Generator broke up after Pawn Hearts, but they still showed up every now and then on Hammill's albums.  Hammill's third album after the breakup, The Silent Corner probably has the most full-band numbers to offer the VDGG fan, while not neglecting the introspection of Hammill's best solo work.

Let's start with the solo pieces. "Modern" is a striking composition, lyrically dwelling on the idea of civilization and modernity by examining several cities - Jericho (security), Babylon (ambition), Atlantis (idealism). Musically, it ebbs between jagged, frail acoustic guitar and intense blasts of distorted electric guitar and bass. "Wilhelmina", a song written for a newborn, has a classical melody supported by vocal, piano, and harpsichord, with a brief spot for Mellotron strings.  Similar instrumental restraint is shown on "Rubicon", a tender love song with only acoustic guitar and bass backing the vocal sentiments.  "The Lie" is a haunting, visceral solo performance piece. Vocals and piano swell in bursts of fury, then drain back down to bitter contemplations as Hammill sifts through his inner religious conflicts. Hugh Banton's tasteful, unintrusive support on pipe organ is a perfect complement to the song, torn between desire for God and disillusion with religion.

After the intensity of "The Lie," "Forsaken Gardens" starts with another bare vocal, shortly joined by stately piano accompaniment, and we think we have another solo piece.  But the piano is very much in Hugh Banton's style... and then David Jackson's flute and sax join in, and when Guy Evans' drums crash to life during the first chorus, we've got a full band performance on our hands!  Lyrically, this song is brilliant - never have I heard such a fine (musical) refutation of Voltaire's stoic "tend your garden" version of humanistic morality:

Now I see the garden that I've grown is just the same as those outside,
The fences that erected to protect, simply divide.
There's ruination everywhere, the weather has played havoc with the grass.
Does anyone believe their garden's really going to last?

The band stays on board for "Red Shift", a rocking philosophical rumination on a principle of physics with some snaky solos from Spirit guitarist Randy California. It's another up-tempo piece with sprightly saxophone and an almost Egyptian feel. But the true highlight is the final opus, "A Louse Is Not A Home". Originally intended for the Van Der Graaf Generator album that would have followed Pawn Hearts, it is a richly dense examination of place and identity. The pauses and spaces created within the song are almost as intense as the outbursts of anguish and hope.  Banton adds to his typical piano/organ/synth excellence an enviable performance on bass guitar, and the band as a whole navigate the song's many parts, moods, and time signature shifts with adroitness and skill.  And Hammill's poetry of desperation is in full flower:

Sometimes I get the feeling that there's someone else there...
The faceless watcher, he makes me uneasy,
I can feel him through the floorboards and his presence is creepy,
He informs me that I shall be expelled.
What is that but "out of" and "into"?
Don't know the nature of the door that I go through.
Don't know the nature of the nature that I am inside.
...
What is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a rule-book or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your protector?
Does the idol have feet of clay?
Home is what you make it, my friends all say.
But I rarely see their homes in these dark days.
...
How are you to find the dawning of the day?
Day is just a word I use to keep the dark at bay.
...
Maybe I should de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life away,
In the confines of this silent house.

Arbitrary rating: 5 out of 5 rocking philosophical ruminations