a decent man: there'll be no burdens to darken the green / a place of living brought an ordeal / here's the coffin you know / where are we going tonight, who'll ask /hey, branches are trying to get out of there / and i'm fond of the weather / yes, what a truth it was / you'd never seen me that silent / the wet evening street, vanity clear and stretching away / to work upon it coherent / remember that line of old-fashioned lamps / i couldn't tell you anything, with a broken habit / and the grey wall followed in the left / i let it all rain down of course / and how long it took / just a spell to get myself in order / i was right in that it works and wrong in a few other things / the bleached and our resentment / think it as a kind of secret / i've tried so much, and are you going to watch these steps hoping that i'll grieve
(poet)aster / the red wine: burning and velleity the sad part / cleansing dives without a reason / three quarters of an hour / it was the same image / idle along when dreaming, then want a palace in the garden and a heart ages old / what heals all now / adhere to the word / it would have been fine if something real had happened / psyche / where are your selves laid / nineteen for the chronicle / those things on my grave were not alone / it was deepened that autumn / let the florescence turn brighter / with a peace and chrysanthemums found / venetian blinds did cut the sight on the horizon of march / dear, i was still in a feverish realm / looking at its brim / but i've come to hold your hand / the need again graciously / the time is different, don't transcend in the bus / for the hotbed and the wine now bottled / i'm so damn glad i'm here and sane
under autumnal rain distinct.: the crippled man is speaking / "i have suffered enough for not following you, have i not?" / listen to the narrowing sound / the lower waves there, and hollow thorns / i'll walk a little under that light / in salvat (give it a thought or two) / give a thought or two to compulsion / wonderful's not the same in those liquids / near the spirit's edge / to say something wise about loneliness, or something wise about the human mind / honey will end the loss of routine / waltzing with a girl whose name is white flower / thank god all are reminding each other / but hearts do come out of chests / “yes, we were in the park under an almost autumnal rain, i tried to act like a gentleman with the umbrella; offering my soul to set” / "the old language isn't enough, i finally managed to lit my heart with the ageless flame" / if you're willing to stay make sure it isn't hard to breathe / it'll be just fine, verily
the shape: to bliss whenever quiet / it's a slow move, lying on the bed / but many have done it before / with heavens of archaic fathers towards a terrible spire / that's why i'm still eager to have cream and jewelry in tongues, using violet / when harmless orchids are tied together / and a frame of something / pour everything down your throat for the only love and the life / i admit you're a beauty / though only a picture / the word nature means "that which is born" / the memory began to live / let's go somewhere else, to have a new glassful / it's an old wine / i saw the crippled man and he had bitter-looking company / "now you have all the time in the world to spend with me"
somnolence out: muse in clasping arms / for a city that is lonely / who's gonna take a walk around the corner / here i slept and my wishes at home didn't work so well / crave highly for languish, more and more tired / "no sorrow's forever with me, though sometimes i still go over the edge" / leaves may have withered / the floor of the dance for an illhearted / as december went away / and i had written to you, but not like a poet / the crippled to fall for your rose / there's a holy wine / i used to have a broken chalice / a coffin in the middle of the room / dark blue walls / there were pieces on the floor / a theatre i could say / until the trees of cherbourg seduced me into a different kind of romanticism
beaurepaire: dressed in carmine / we met again on a bridge / stared the water beneath and the lilies floating there / oh the fate in my hands with every coincidence on the streets / whether it's good luck or not, my loving adèle / who'll be there this spring / to hope it's built above cliches / and read me through these eyes / how could i show / the wounded and wandering knight, with golden numbers on the chestplate / riding the horse of a dead knight to a chapel / yes, for an accident to take place on a bridge / the crippled will pour it down gleaming and send forth / "i have a trembling body, thrown deeper after this; its pieces glimmer for me" / with a violin the end of love / these lines brought emptiness, no grass here greener / we are watching a black-and-white movie / and your violin is heard, it's moving the innocent / in pure songs the water's cold
I UNDER AUTUMNAL RAIN DISTINCT.
The crippled man is speaking
"I have suffered enough
For not following you, have I not?"
Listen to the narrowing sound
The lower waves there, and hollow thorns
I'll walk a little under that light
In Salvat (give it a thought or two)
Give a thought or two to compulsion
Wonderful's not the same in those liquids
Near the spirit's edge
To say something wise about loneliness,
Or something wise about the human mind
Honey will end the loss of routine
Waltzing with a girl
Whose name is White Flower
Thank God all are reminding each other
But hearts do come out of chests
Thank God all are reminding each other
But hearts do come out of chests
(Hesperia park in Helsinki. When someone was "taken to Hesperia", it meant a sanitarium near this park.)
"Yes, we were in the park
Under an almost autumnal rain,
I tried to act like a gentleman
With the umbrella;
Offering my soul to Set"
"The old language isn't enough,
I finally managed to lit my heart
With the ageless flame”
If you're willing to stay
Make sure it isn't hard to breathe
It'll be just fine, verily
II (POET)ASTER
Burning in velleity the sad part
Cleansing dives without a reason
Three quarters of an hour
It was the same image
Idle along when dreaming,
Then want a palace in the garden
And a heart ages old
What heals a little,
What heals our pettiness
”It would be fine
If something bad happened to them”
(The water colour painting was done by R.T. in 2001. Psyche and the sea, with red and blue flowers. Two models were used, a Greek sculpture and a French porn actress.)
Psyche
Where are your selves laid
Nineteen for the chronicle
(Blackened roses on my grave is an old song title)
Those things on my grave were not alone
(They were not, they were not alive)
It was deepened that autumn
Let the florescence turn brighter
With a peace and chrysanthemums found
Venetian blinds did cut the sight
On the horizon of March
Dear, I was still in a feverish realm
Looking at its brim
My will is so terrible
"I don't mind this, transcend in the bus
The hotbed and all resentment;
I'm so damn glad I'm ahead of them”
III BEAUREPAIRE
(Beaurepaire means "beautiful retreat")
Dressed in carmine
We met again on a bridge
Stared the water beneath
And the lilies floating there
Oh the fate in my hands
With every coincidence on the streets
(One of Claude Monet's Nymphéas, a series of meditative paintings, usually with no horizon, save what is reflected from the surface of the pond.)
Whether it's good luck or not,
My loving Adèle
Who'll be there this spring
To hope it's built above cliches
And read me through these eyes
How could I show
The wounded and wandering knight,
With golden numbers on the chestplate
Riding the horse of a dead knight to a chapel
Yes, for an accident to take place on a bridge
The crippled will pour it down gleaming
And send forth........
"I have a trembling body,
thrown deeper after this;
Its pieces glimmer for me"
With a violin the end of love
These lines brought emptiness,
No grass here greener
We're watching a black-and-white movie
"Yes, we were in the park
Under an almost autumnal rain,
I tried to act like a gentleman
With the umbrella;
Offering my soul to Set"
"The old language isn't enough,
I finally managed to lit my heart
With the ageless flame”
If you're willing to stay
Make sure it isn't hard to breathe
It'll be just fine, verily
II (POET)ASTER
Burning in velleity the sad part
Cleansing dives without a reason
Three quarters of an hour
It was the same image
Idle along when dreaming,
Then want a palace in the garden
And a heart ages old
What heals a little,
What heals our pettiness
”It would be fine
If something bad happened to them”
(The water colour painting was done by R.T. in 2001. Psyche and the sea, with red and blue flowers. Two models were used, a Greek sculpture and a French porn actress.)
Psyche
Where are your selves laid
Nineteen for the chronicle
(Blackened roses on my grave is an old song title)
Those things on my grave were not alone
(They were not, they were not alive)
It was deepened that autumn
Let the florescence turn brighter
With a peace and chrysanthemums found
Venetian blinds did cut the sight
On the horizon of March
Dear, I was still in a feverish realm
Looking at its brim
My will is so terrible
"I don't mind this, transcend in the bus
The hotbed and all resentment;
I'm so damn glad I'm ahead of them”
III BEAUREPAIRE
(Beaurepaire means "beautiful retreat")
Dressed in carmine
We met again on a bridge
Stared the water beneath
And the lilies floating there
Oh the fate in my hands
With every coincidence on the streets
(One of Claude Monet's Nymphéas, a series of meditative paintings, usually with no horizon, save what is reflected from the surface of the pond.)
Whether it's good luck or not,
My loving Adèle
Who'll be there this spring
To hope it's built above cliches
And read me through these eyes
How could I show
The wounded and wandering knight,
With golden numbers on the chestplate
Riding the horse of a dead knight to a chapel
Yes, for an accident to take place on a bridge
The crippled will pour it down gleaming
And send forth........
"I have a trembling body,
thrown deeper after this;
Its pieces glimmer for me"
With a violin the end of love
These lines brought emptiness,
No grass here greener
We're watching a black-and-white movie
And your violin is heard,
It's moving the innocent
In pure songs the water's cold
(Old Riga in August 2000. There was a bridge for me, the water seemed like a mirror. And Riga is "a place where the river runs".)
IV A DECENT MAN
A GOOD FRIDAY SPELL
There'll be no burdens to darken the green
A place of living brought an ordeal
Here's the coffin you know
Where are we going tonight, who'll ask
Hey, branches are trying to get out of there
And I'm fond of the weather
Yes, what a truth it was
You'd never seen me that silent
The wet evening street,
Vanity clear and stretching away
To work upon it coherent
(Old Riga in August 2000. There was a bridge for me, the water seemed like a mirror. And Riga is "a place where the river runs".)
IV A DECENT MAN
A GOOD FRIDAY SPELL
There'll be no burdens to darken the green
A place of living brought an ordeal
Here's the coffin you know
Where are we going tonight, who'll ask
Hey, branches are trying to get out of there
And I'm fond of the weather
Yes, what a truth it was
You'd never seen me that silent
The wet evening street,
Vanity clear and stretching away
To work upon it coherent
Remember that line of old-fashioned lamps
I couldn't tell you anything,
With a broken habit
(The medieval Hermitage in Arlesheim, Switzerland. It was Good Friday, 2009. In Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival the knight visits Trevrizent the very same day. There is a story that this was the place where they met.)
"alrêst er dô gedâhte,
wer al die werlt volbrâhte,
an sînen schephære,
wie gewaldec der wære.
er sprach: 'waz ob got helfe phliget,
diu mînem trûren ane gesiget?
wart aber er ie ritter holt,
gediende ie ritter sînen solt
oder mac schilt unde swert
sîner helfe sîn sô wert
und rehtiu manlîchiu wer,
daz sîn helfe mich vor sorgen ner,
ist hiute sîn helflîcher tac,
sô helfe er, ob er helfen mac.'"
("Only now did he ponder
Who had brought the world into being,
only now think of his Creator
and how mighty He must be.
'What if God has such power to succour
as would overcome my sorrow?'
he asked himself.
'If He ever favoured a knight
and if any knight ever earned His reward
or if shield and sword and true manly ardour
can ever be so worthy of His help
that this could save me from my cares
and if this is His Helpful Day,
then let Him help, if help He can!'")
-Wolfram von Eschenbach / Parzival
And the grey wall followed in the left
I let it all rain down of course
And how long it took
Just a spell to get myself in order
(The wet evening street was gleaming in the dim light of the lamps, as I walked down Linnankoskenkatu. The feeling was unusually strong when I was taking these pictures.)
I was right in that it works
And wrong in a few other things
The bleached and our resentment
Think it as a kind of secret
I've tried so much, and are you going
To watch these steps hoping that I'll grieve
V SOMNOLENCE OUT
Muse in clasping arms for a city that is lonely
Who's gonna take a walk around the corner
(The medieval Hermitage in Arlesheim, Switzerland. It was Good Friday, 2009. In Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parzival the knight visits Trevrizent the very same day. There is a story that this was the place where they met.)
"alrêst er dô gedâhte,
wer al die werlt volbrâhte,
an sînen schephære,
wie gewaldec der wære.
er sprach: 'waz ob got helfe phliget,
diu mînem trûren ane gesiget?
wart aber er ie ritter holt,
gediende ie ritter sînen solt
oder mac schilt unde swert
sîner helfe sîn sô wert
und rehtiu manlîchiu wer,
daz sîn helfe mich vor sorgen ner,
ist hiute sîn helflîcher tac,
sô helfe er, ob er helfen mac.'"
("Only now did he ponder
Who had brought the world into being,
only now think of his Creator
and how mighty He must be.
'What if God has such power to succour
as would overcome my sorrow?'
he asked himself.
'If He ever favoured a knight
and if any knight ever earned His reward
or if shield and sword and true manly ardour
can ever be so worthy of His help
that this could save me from my cares
and if this is His Helpful Day,
then let Him help, if help He can!'")
-Wolfram von Eschenbach / Parzival
And the grey wall followed in the left
I let it all rain down of course
And how long it took
Just a spell to get myself in order
(The wet evening street was gleaming in the dim light of the lamps, as I walked down Linnankoskenkatu. The feeling was unusually strong when I was taking these pictures.)
I was right in that it works
And wrong in a few other things
The bleached and our resentment
Think it as a kind of secret
I've tried so much, and are you going
To watch these steps hoping that I'll grieve
V SOMNOLENCE OUT
Muse in clasping arms for a city that is lonely
Who's gonna take a walk around the corner
Here I slept
And my wishes at home
Didn't work so well
Crave highly for languish,
Crave highly for languish,
More and more tired
"No sorrow's forever with me,
Though sometimes I still go over the edge"
(Another walk around the corner in Helsinki. It was October 2000, and I had just begun my love affair with Töölö. All black-and-white photographs by Antti Filppu.)
Leaves may have withered
The floor of the dance
For an illhearted
As December went away
And I had written to you, but not like a poet
The crippled to fall for your rose
There's a holy wine
I used to have a broken chalice
A coffin in the middle of the room
Dark blue walls
There were pieces on the floor
A theatre I could say
Until the trees of Cherbourg seduced me
Into a different kind of romanticism
(Withered leaves for us to perceive what is behind them.)
VI THE RED WINE
Burning and velleity the sad part
Cleansing dives without a reason
Three quarters of an hour
It was the same image
Idle along when dreaming,
Then want a palace in the garden
And a heart ages old
What heals all now
Adhere to the Word
It would have been fine
If something real had happened
Nineteen for the chronicle
(Honorable / Poetaster is an old song title)
Those things on my grave were not alone
(They were not, they were not alive)
It was deepened that autumn
(Claude Monet's Chrysanthèmes, 1878. Around the time I wrote A Good Friday Spell, 1999-2000, I was moved by everything Monet had painted. And the words of V.A. Koskenniemi were like echoes for mine: "minun on kuin sun kummassa katseessas ois öisten unien syvyys, kuin lääkitä ei vois suruas, ei maan, ei taivaan hyvyys". I named it melancholic confidence. And I thought it was, after all, something positive.)
Let the florescence turn brighter
With a peace and chrysanthemums found
Venetian blinds did cut the sight
On the horizon of March
Dear, I was still in a feverish realm
Looking at its brim
But I've come to hold your hand
The need again graciously
The time is different,
Don't transcend in the bus
For the hotbed and the wine now bottled
I'm so damn glad I'm here and sane
VII THE SHAPE
(The official and the only cover of The Thin Young Men's heavy influenced progressive art rock piece called A Good Friday Spell, written and composed around 1999-2000. It was recorded in 2000-2001 and released X.X.X.X. Those were the days, these are the lyrics. Notice the cup of coffee and the book shining out from the street. Psyche is almost hidden there. The photos and fooling around by Antti Filppu.)
To bliss whenever quiet
It's a slow move, lying on the bed
But many have done it before
With heavens of archaic fathers
Towards a terrible spire
That's why I'm still eager to have cream
And jewelry in tongues, using violet
When harmless orchids are tied together
And a frame of something
Pour everything down your throat
For the only love and the life
I admit you're a beauty
Though only a picture
The word Nature means "that which is born"
(A decade after, that is, in Autumn 2010. The trees of Topelius park, and beyond them the houses of Topeliuksenkatu. Photo by Antti Filppu.)
The memory began to live
Let's go somewhere else, to have a new glassful
It's an old wine
I saw the crippled man
And he had bitter-looking company
"Now you have all the time in the world
To spend with me"
A Good Friday Spell was written on Good Friday, 2000. After a desperate year of trying, the words finally came. No major changes have been made after that. For the first two songs (Under Autumnal Rain Distinct. and Aster) the written spell differed from words that were sung. Quotes were needed to solve this twofold nature of the verses, to save the real spirit of A Good Friday Spell, and to keep different readings alive.
"No sorrow's forever with me,
Though sometimes I still go over the edge"
(Another walk around the corner in Helsinki. It was October 2000, and I had just begun my love affair with Töölö. All black-and-white photographs by Antti Filppu.)
Leaves may have withered
The floor of the dance
For an illhearted
As December went away
And I had written to you, but not like a poet
The crippled to fall for your rose
There's a holy wine
I used to have a broken chalice
A coffin in the middle of the room
Dark blue walls
There were pieces on the floor
A theatre I could say
Until the trees of Cherbourg seduced me
Into a different kind of romanticism
(Withered leaves for us to perceive what is behind them.)
VI THE RED WINE
Burning and velleity the sad part
Cleansing dives without a reason
Three quarters of an hour
It was the same image
Idle along when dreaming,
Then want a palace in the garden
And a heart ages old
What heals all now
Adhere to the Word
It would have been fine
If something real had happened
Psyche
Where are your selves laidNineteen for the chronicle
(Honorable / Poetaster is an old song title)
Those things on my grave were not alone
(They were not, they were not alive)
It was deepened that autumn
(Claude Monet's Chrysanthèmes, 1878. Around the time I wrote A Good Friday Spell, 1999-2000, I was moved by everything Monet had painted. And the words of V.A. Koskenniemi were like echoes for mine: "minun on kuin sun kummassa katseessas ois öisten unien syvyys, kuin lääkitä ei vois suruas, ei maan, ei taivaan hyvyys". I named it melancholic confidence. And I thought it was, after all, something positive.)
Let the florescence turn brighter
With a peace and chrysanthemums found
Venetian blinds did cut the sight
On the horizon of March
Dear, I was still in a feverish realm
Looking at its brim
But I've come to hold your hand
The need again graciously
The time is different,
Don't transcend in the bus
For the hotbed and the wine now bottled
I'm so damn glad I'm here and sane
VII THE SHAPE
(The official and the only cover of The Thin Young Men's heavy influenced progressive art rock piece called A Good Friday Spell, written and composed around 1999-2000. It was recorded in 2000-2001 and released X.X.X.X. Those were the days, these are the lyrics. Notice the cup of coffee and the book shining out from the street. Psyche is almost hidden there. The photos and fooling around by Antti Filppu.)
To bliss whenever quiet
It's a slow move, lying on the bed
But many have done it before
With heavens of archaic fathers
Towards a terrible spire
That's why I'm still eager to have cream
And jewelry in tongues, using violet
When harmless orchids are tied together
And a frame of something
Pour everything down your throat
For the only love and the life
I admit you're a beauty
Though only a picture
The word Nature means "that which is born"
(A decade after, that is, in Autumn 2010. The trees of Topelius park, and beyond them the houses of Topeliuksenkatu. Photo by Antti Filppu.)
The memory began to live
Let's go somewhere else, to have a new glassful
It's an old wine
I saw the crippled man
And he had bitter-looking company
"Now you have all the time in the world
To spend with me"
A Good Friday Spell was written on Good Friday, 2000. After a desperate year of trying, the words finally came. No major changes have been made after that. For the first two songs (Under Autumnal Rain Distinct. and Aster) the written spell differed from words that were sung. Quotes were needed to solve this twofold nature of the verses, to save the real spirit of A Good Friday Spell, and to keep different readings alive.