Just a song at twilight
Oct. 18th, 2009 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
pallas_athenaAfter rehearsal yesterday, I happened to pass by one of the most fantastic charity shops ever: Age Concern on St Clement's, Oxford, crammed to the gills with the random and the sublime. There I found
The Parlour Song Book: A Casquet of Vocal Gems
In almost every charity shop you can find old collections of songs meant to be sung around the piano (or harmonium) at home by friends and family, containing popular songs of the time as well as traditional songs and hymns. This one is different: it's dedicated specifically to the Victorian parlour song, composed by actual Victorians (as well as a few nineteenth-century Americans). Within its battered covers is enclosed pretty much everything there is to love and loathe about the Victorian era.
One of the reasons goths love the Victorian era is its obsession with death and mourning. To us, it seems overdone; we forget quite how many of our friends would be dead by this point, or have seen their child die, if we'd been alive in the pre-antibiotic era. The Victorian era in particular was an age that came up with a whole hell of a lot of things that could kill you, and showed absolutely no mercy to the casualties.
Once you were dead, though, you were fuel for that uniquely Victorian phenomenon, the sentimental song. I'll throw you some titles from the table of contents:
You can pretty much tell exactly what each of these songs are going to sound like just by reading the title. The book also includes other mostly-forgotten genres like Temperance songs and "minstrel" songs (written in dialect, to be sung by white singers in blackface makeup.)
As well as the shovel-loads of tripe, though, the book does contain a few songs that have held onto their value. "The Lost Chord" is in there, as well as "Come Into the Garden, Maud" and "The Last Rose Of Summer." Here are the lyrics to one by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, set by Michael Balfe:
The question now is: what should I do with this book? Find someone with an accordion and work up a few numbers to amuse steampunks? Send it anonymously to the Dead Victorians in the hope that they'll do an upbeat, ukulele-accompanied version of "Father's A Drunkard, Mother Is Dead"? Really, what do I do? I'm open to suggestion here.
The Parlour Song Book: A Casquet of Vocal Gems
In almost every charity shop you can find old collections of songs meant to be sung around the piano (or harmonium) at home by friends and family, containing popular songs of the time as well as traditional songs and hymns. This one is different: it's dedicated specifically to the Victorian parlour song, composed by actual Victorians (as well as a few nineteenth-century Americans). Within its battered covers is enclosed pretty much everything there is to love and loathe about the Victorian era.
One of the reasons goths love the Victorian era is its obsession with death and mourning. To us, it seems overdone; we forget quite how many of our friends would be dead by this point, or have seen their child die, if we'd been alive in the pre-antibiotic era. The Victorian era in particular was an age that came up with a whole hell of a lot of things that could kill you, and showed absolutely no mercy to the casualties.
Once you were dead, though, you were fuel for that uniquely Victorian phenomenon, the sentimental song. I'll throw you some titles from the table of contents:
Father's a Drunkard and Mother is Dead
Dear Mother, I've Come Home To Die
Yes, Let Me Like A Soldier Fall
Shall I Be An Angel, Daddy?
Let Me Kiss Him For His Mother
The Vacant Chair
The Pardon Came Too Late
You can pretty much tell exactly what each of these songs are going to sound like just by reading the title. The book also includes other mostly-forgotten genres like Temperance songs and "minstrel" songs (written in dialect, to be sung by white singers in blackface makeup.)
As well as the shovel-loads of tripe, though, the book does contain a few songs that have held onto their value. "The Lost Chord" is in there, as well as "Come Into the Garden, Maud" and "The Last Rose Of Summer." Here are the lyrics to one by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, set by Michael Balfe:
I know a maiden fair to see,
Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! Beware!
She has two eyes, so soft and brown,
Take care!
She gives a side-glance and looks down,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! Beware!
And she has hair of golden hue,
Take care!
And what she says, it is not true,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! Beware!
She has a bosom as white as snow,
Take care!
She knows how much it is best to show,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! Beware!
She gives thee a garland woven fair,
Take care!
It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear,
Beware! Beware!
Trust her not,
She is fooling thee! Beware!The question now is: what should I do with this book? Find someone with an accordion and work up a few numbers to amuse steampunks? Send it anonymously to the Dead Victorians in the hope that they'll do an upbeat, ukulele-accompanied version of "Father's A Drunkard, Mother Is Dead"? Really, what do I do? I'm open to suggestion here.
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no subject
on 2009-10-18 07:19 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-18 11:59 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-21 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-19 10:24 am (UTC)In the meantime, here's a 1929 recording of Father's a Drunkard and Mother is Dead for your delectation.
no subject
on 2009-10-21 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-19 09:12 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-10-21 10:44 pm (UTC)