WORDS

Otagolands \ ō-tag-ō, lands\ n (ca. 1564) any of various boundless states where truth and fiction coexist 

Please enjoy personal comments from Rich about his lyrics.

Denniston Overture/Andorra

The Denniston Plateau is a place of remarkable beauty and old time nostalgia.  I must have been there a dozen times, for work and pleasure.  The mist-filled opening sets the album in motion, as much as it draws upon the sad tale of Andorra who tragically lost a loved one in a coal-mining accident.  I wrote the lyrics as the Pike River Mine disaster unfolded.

Clitheroe Kid

While working at the Natural History Museum, London, I’d rise early, arriving before most staff, and getting a full days work in so I could enjoy the London Jazz Festival.  In the mornings I’d walk past churches with their bells chiming wake-up in the still light of Kensington, where this song emerged.

Farewell Beach

After recording New Sun Rising, I travelled along the Kapiti Coast on a bright blue winter’s day where these deeply personal words came to mind like sharpened slants of sunlight through a barred window. In a prison. While sleeping. Dreaming.

Michelangelo

Ever been to an Italian Church with throngs of tourists, trying to imagine you are alone to enjoy those amazing ceilings with full-on cherubs, angels, and Jesus somewhere with  rays coming out’a his head?  Well, ya gotta get up early in the morning, especially in over-touristed Firenze. Anyway, this song weaves a number of Italian images (from Emilia-Romagna, Tuscany, and Piedmont), including a busking organ-man and ALL of those tourists straining their chins upwards with their electronic phones to capture a piece of art to send up on Facebook, or wherever.  The final jam could have lasted forever, only if it was performed before a live audience.

Said Henry James

This ditty developed around a quote by Henry James cited in a Truman Capote reader, of which I further adapted over the top of a Mo-Town melody – simple ain’t it! But the semiotic came later, during a landing on the Poor Knights Islands off the Northland Coast of New Zealand.  After our Maori elder stated his welcoming karakia (prayer), this little lyric was recited. Magic!