An Irish Love Story

It is awesome to discover other people's design. The above photograph is from an Irish blog called In Photos dot org. And right now I'm obsessing about a song and its design (by Spandau Ballet from 1986). It is a Romeo & Juliet-style love story set in a troubled Northern Ireland. A boy and a girl, one a Catholic and one a Protestant, betray their families and their upbringing to meet on the bomb sites and the no-man's land between divided communities. The setting is given away by the drum and pipe marching music, so reminiscent of the parades mentioned in the second chorus. Like Shakespeare's play, there is a tragic ending. The "hearts go to their graves," but it is not clear whether this refers metaphorically to the end of the affair or a suicide pact. Incidentally, the phrase "a terrible beauty we've made" is very like "a terrible beauty is born" from the W. B. Yeats poem about the 1916 rising in Dublin.

Through the Barricades by Spandau Ballet

Mother doesn't know where love has gone
She says it must be youth
That keeps us feeling strong
See it in her face, that's turned to ice
And when she smiles she shows
The lines of sacrifice
And now I know what they're saying
When the sun begins to fade
And we made our love on wasteland
And through the barricades.

Father made my history
He fought for what he thought
Would set us somehow free
He taught me what to say in school
I learned off by heart
But now that's torn in two
And now I know what they're saying
In the music of the parade
We made our love on wasteland
And through the barricades.

Born on different sides of life
We feel the same
And feel all of this strife
So come to me when I'm asleep
We'll cross the line
And dance upon the street
And now I know what they're saying
When the drums begin to fade
We made our love on wasteland
And through the barricades.

Oh, turn around and I'll be there
There's a scar through my heart
But I'll bare it again
I thought we were the human race
But we were just another border-line-case
And the stars reach down and tell us
That there's always one escape.

I don't know where love has gone
And in this troubled land
Desperation keep us strong
Friday's child is full of soul
With nothing left to lose
There's everything to go
And now I know what they're are saying
It's a terrible beauty we've made
So we make our love on wasteland
And through the barricades.

Now I know what they're are saying
As hearts go to their graves
We made our love on wasteland
And through the barricades.

A Foggy Day In London Town

Billie Holiday's version is the one I listen to... there's just something so heart-breaking about her life-worn voice and effortless intonation (1915-1959).

I was a stranger in the city,
Out of town were the people I knew,
I had that feeling of self-pity,
What to do, what to do, what to do?
The outlook was decidedly blue.

But as I walked through the foggy streets alone,
It turned out to be the luckiest day I've known.

A foggy day, in London Town,
Had me low, had me down,
I viewed the morning, with much alarm,
British museum, had lost its charm.

How long I wondered,
Could this thing last,
But the age of miracles, hadn't past,
For suddenly, I saw you there,
And through foggy London Town,
The sun was shining everywhere.

(Photograph courtesy British National Archives)