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Trollheart · 06-26-2011, 04:46 PM

Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of “The War of the Worlds” --- Jeff Wayne --- 1978 (Columbia)

So far as I know (though I could of course be wrong; has to happen sometime!) this was the first “rock-opera” written originally for vinyl, as in, there were many rock operas of course, but all the recordings accompanying them were more soundtracks to the show, be it stage or film. This particular project was the first I ever remember that began its life on record, and then later spawned other media like a stage show, DVDs, computer game etc.

Conceived by composer Jeff Wayne, and bringing together some of the cream both of the UK's acting and musical talent, this album formed a huge part of the soundtrack to my teenage life. I recall one summer morning in 1979 lying in bed listening to my little radio, and delighted to hear the opening track, “The eve of the war”. When it had finished I was more than surprised to hear narration and then the second track, then the third and so on. Sitting up in bed, I realised with delight that the DJ had either snuck off for a cigarette break, got waylaid somewhere in the radio station or had decided to let the album play, at least part of the way through. Now, this was before YouTube, before itunes, and the only way you could hear an album in its entireity was to buy it. In 1979 I was 16, so I wasn't exactly flush with cash, and a double album like this was going for somewhere in the region of 12 Irish pounds! That doesn't seem much by today's prices, but consider that a newly-released single album could be purchased for about £5.99, and you can see how expensive it would seem. Before I would take the plunge and buy this album I would have to know it was worth it.

As I listened in rapt amazement that July morning, and the DJ failed to fade in and change the record, and the entire thing played out before my disbelieving ears, I made my mind up to buy it that very day, and so I did. I never regretted it. Now a piece of musical history, the album screamed class, from its amazing sci-fi cover to the names of the individual tracks, and the gatefold sleeve that opened to reveal a painting from the story and more credits that you could read in one go, to the airplay it was getting at the time. Without doubt, this was the “must-have” album of 1978!

Built of course on the solid grounding of the story of H.G. Wells' 1898 classic, the album alternates between songs, instrumental passages and spoken narration/action. It's all seen from the perspective of The Journalist, played by the inimitable late Richard Burton, and his mellifluous, grandiose voice adds real gravitas to the persona of the character. The album kicks off with a voiceover from Burton, as he ominously intones, without any music whatsoever behind him, ”No-one could have believed/ In the last years of the nineteenth century/ That human affairs were being watched/ From the timeless worlds of space./ No-one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinised/ As someone with a microscope/ Studies creatures that swarm and multiply/ in a drop of water./ Few men even considered the possibility/ Of life on other planets./ Yet, across the gulf of space/ Minds immeasurably superior to ours/ Regarded this Earth with envious eyes./ And slowly, and surely/ They drew their plans against us.”

The music then kicks in, with what you will probably have heard at some point, even if it's a crappy cover version on one of those “space themes” albums, or off the radio. “The eve of the war” sets the tone, with an urgent synthesised soundtrack, piano and keyboards by Ken Freeman, as well as string sections building up the drama as the tune rocks along on a boppy drumbeat. The track ends dramatically, but the theme is continued, and becomes the unofficial motif of the album. There is both spoken narration by Burton and some singing on the track. In his character as the Journalist, Burton describes how, one night in August, strange cylinders are seen coming from Mars towards Earth. Concerned, Burton consults his friend Ogilvy, who is an astronomer, but he assures everyone there is no danger. This then becomes the only lyric to the tail-end of “The eve of the war” as Burton recalls his words ”The chances of anything coming from Mars/ Are a million to one, he said/ The chances of anything coming from Mars/ Are a million to one/ But still they come!” This lyric is actually sung by the Moody Blues' Justin Hayward, whose role is that of the Journalist's thoughts. A strange one, but it works.

“The eve of the war” continues its musical theme until the first of the cylinders are discovered on Horsell Common, and Ogilvy arrives to examine it, but is pushed back by the intense heat as the lid of the thing begins to move. Is someone, or something, trying to get out? Burton recalls how weird it is, how everything seemed to be so ordinary, so normal, up until this moment, and he finds it hard to believe what is happening all around him. The second track, “Horsell Common and the Heat Ray” is introduced on an ominous, waiting bassline, then joined by synth as the humans have their first view of a Martian, as it comes struggling out of the cylinder. It's a musical passage which to me recalls Genesis' “The colony of Slippermen” from “The Lamb lies down on Broadway”. As the tune progresses, Burton's horrified Journalist relates how, after the Martian has exited the cylinder, an unearthly heat ray turns on the crowd, frying people where they stand.

The second track is over eleven minutes long, and with “The eve of the war” forms what was originally the first side of the double-album, clocking it at just over twenty minutes. Running from the destruction, Burton escapes and writes an account for his newspaper before falling asleep. Waking, he hears weird sounds of hammering from the crater created by the impact of the Martian cylinder. It seems the invaders are building something, but no-one knows what, and anyone who dares to venture too close is easy prey for the deadly heat ray!

It's kind of hard to describe the way the music paints the landscape for the story: you really have to hear it to understand. But “The war of the worlds” is as much an album on which you listen to the narration and the action as much as you listen to the actual music. It really IS a story, and whether or not you've read the book, or seen any of the films, you find yourself drawn into the story. As “Horsell” comes to a fading close, the army arrive and set up, and another cyclinder is seen in the sky, heading Earthwards, and Burton realises that his own house is now in range of the heat ray, as the Martians clear their path.

Side two opens with “The Artilleryman”, and we are introduced to the second character in the drama, a soldier played by David Essex, whose platoon has been wiped out by the Martians. He ends up in Burton's house, running from the invaders. He tells Burton that the Martians have constructed massive fighting machines, and are now on the move. The ominous bassline carries the track, then kicks into what becomes the theme of “Forever Autumn”, the hit single from the album, as Burton and Essex both decide to flee to London, the latter to report to HQ, and Burton to seek his girlfriend. The sense of urgency grows as the two make their way across the countryside, hiding from Martian fighting machines. The Martians, when attacking, let out a hideous cry which sounds like “Uuu-llaaa!”, and becomes their musical battlecry, recurring throughout the album.

It's without doubt a keyboard and synth-driven album, and the soundscapes lain down by Ken Freeman characterise the story and paint the picture of humanity on the run. But it's also the vocal and acting performances of people who up until now have never acted that make the album so special. It's like watching one of those old episodes of “The Twilight Zone” set to music. Truly phenomenal.

During one of the Martian attacks Burton and Essex are separated, the Artilleryman running away while the Journalist jumps into the water. When Burton emerges, everyone is gone, and he must continue on his own towards London. However, when he reaches his girlfriend's house, it appears that both she and her father have already left. Then we get the hit single, “Forever autumn”, sung by the talented Justin Hayward, as he voices Burton's depair that he has missed his girl, and hope that he may be reunited with her. You surely know the song, driven on flute and acoustic guitar, with a beautiful lyric that tugs at the heartstrings: ”Through autumn's golden gown/ We used to kick our way/ You always loved this time of year/ Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now/ Cos you're not here.” The song is however interrupted by narration from Burton, unlike on the single, as he makes his way towards the coast and a boat out of England.

This leads to the standoff at the dock, where the valiant warship “Thunder child” holds off the Martians long enough for the passenger steamer to get out of range and escape. Burton, however, has been forced back, having seen in despair the face of his love already on board the ship but unable to join her, and he is left on the shore as her ship sails away. But at least, he consoles himself, she is safe. The song “Thunder child” closes the second side, and first disc of the album, and is sung by Chris Thompson, taking the role of “the Voice of Humanity” as they urge the valiant warship on to their defence, wish it success and finally salute it as it bravely slides beneath the waves.

When the album was originally released, on vinyl, the first record (sides 1 and 2) was subtitled “The coming of the Martians”, and this ends with “Thunder child” and the escape of the steamer. Side 3, record 2, opens “Earth under the Martians.” There is no resistance left. The army have been swatted aside like flies, the government (never mentioned, but one assumes) fled, and the Earth (ie England) is now ruled by the invaders. The final words of part 1 are Burton despairingly declaring “The Earth belonged to the Martians.” This is symbolised and driven home by the opening track, “The red weed”, which depicts a new weapon the Martians inflict on the Earth, a thick, choking weed that strangles all flora and vegetation, replacing it and turning the Earth from green to red. The synth lines evoke a slimy, writhing red snake, making its way across the planet and choking every growing thing it sees, replacing it with its own hellish vegetation. Freeman has great fun with the keyboards, throwing in all the weird sounds he can, to build an alien landscape on Earth. It's almost all keyboards and synth, with a little bass and the odd flurry of percussion, and some nice guitar work near the end, but essentially it's Freeman's baby.

Burton staggers through the “lurid landscape”, completely alone, until he comes across the body of a parson lying in a ruined churchyard. Unable to leave him he decides to bury the priest, but just then a female voice calls “Nathaniel!” and the parson's eyes flicker open! Phil Lynott makes his entrance with his total star turn as the insane Parson Nathaniel, while Julie Covington is his wife, Beth. The church has been destroyed by the Martians, and the parson, believing them to be devils, has lost his mind and now launches into “The spirit of Man”, a duet between Lynott and Covington, another standout from the album. ”If just one man could stand tall/ There must be some hope for us all/ Somewhere in the spirit of Man.” she sings, but Lynott's parson has lost his faith: ”Tell me, what kind of weapon is love/ When it comes to the fight? / And just how much protection/ Is truth, against all Satan's might?” he asks, declaring fatalistically ”Forget about goodness and mercy/ They're gone!” He is convinced that the Martians are God's judgement upon the evil of men, and have been sent to destroy humanity.

“The spirit of Man” is an oddity: half fast-rocker, half-ballad as Lynott and Covington exchange views on the possibility of survival, Covington insisting ”There must be something worth living for/ There must be something worth trying for” while Lynott snaps ”When the demons arrive/ The survivors will envy the dead!” Just then another cylinder arrives, crashing into the church-house, killing Beth and trapping the trio in the pit it has made. As Parson Nathaniel and Burton watch from hiding, they see the Martians take human captives. The musical theme from “The red weed” returns, and the two men watch in horror as the Martians drain the blood from humans and consume it. This finally pushes the parson over the edge, and believeing he can save them --- ”Those machines are just demons in another form!/ I shall destroy them with my prayers! / I shall burn them with my holy cross!” --- he decides to confront the Martians, and Burton has to knock him out. Moments later he is taken by the questing Martian machine, and there is nothing the Journalist can do to prevent it.

“The red weed, part 2” takes the third side of the record to its conclusion, as the Journalist comes out of hiding and makes his way along the road. All of a sudden he comes across his old friend, the Artilleryman. Not recognising him at first, Essex's character challenges him, but quickly each realises who the other is, and the Artilleryman invites Burton to the place he has found, as side 4 kicks off with the last actual song on the album, the overly optimistic and totally unrealistic plan the Artilleryman has to rebuild society, as “Brave new world” relates his idea about living underground, in the sewers, starting everything from scratch.

It's a guitar driven song, bouncing along with hope and promise, but with an edge of madness too, featuring some great lyrics ”Take a look around you/ At the world you've loved so well/ And bid the ageing empire of Man/ A last farewell/ It may not sound like Heaven/ But at least it isn't Hell!” It's Essex's only real chance to shine on the album, and he doesn't waste it, putting in a convincing performance, both spoken and sung, as a man who really believes he can rebuild the world in a very short time. Sadly, Burton sees that the Artilleryman has made only the smallest of progress, and realises the impossibility of his companion's dreams coming true. As he sings ”Listen! Maybe one day we'll capture a fighting machine, eh?/ Find out how to make them ourselves/ Then WALLOP! Our turn to do some wiping out!/ WHOOSH! With our own heat ray!/ WHOOSH! And them running and dying/ Beaten at their own game! / Man on top again!” Burton shakes his head and slips away, leaving the Artilleryman to his grandiose dreams.

Having finally reached London, Burton wanders the deserted streets, with “Dead London” as his background, a bluesy reworking of the “Horsell Common” track and with bits of “The red weed” thrown in, guitars and sax playing equal parts with piano keeping the beat like a metronome. Suddenly, struck by the seeming hopelessness of his situation, all fight goes out of the Journalist and he decides to commit suicide by offering himself up to the Martians. Heartsick, weary, with his girlfriend who knows where and his species on the edge of extinction, he no longer wants to live. However, the fighting machine he approaches has a dead Martian in it, and it seems that (no spoiler here, we all know how this ends, don't we?) the invaders have been destroyed by germs in the Earth's atmosphere.

The theme from “Eve of the war” reprises as the album ends, as Burton contemplates the nature of life, how something so microscopic as bacteria could lay low such seemingly unstoppable creatures. He envisions the return of all those who have fled, and that life will come back to the city. They will rebuild, and his lover will also come back to him. The final melody on the album is a triumphant march of victory (why, since Man did not defeat the Martians? Oh well...), and fades out.

Unfortunately, Wayne saw fit to thrown in an epilogue, concerning NASA as they watch over the first manned landing on Mars, and we hear the sound we heard on Horsell Common as the Martians moved about in their cylinders. Oh dear... I could have done without this, particularly the annoyingly nasal voice of the NASA controller, but I usually stop the album before this anyway.

Whatever way you look at it, “Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of the War of the Worlds” is a classic album, and if you haven't heard it this far into your life, do yourself a favour and pick it up. It's a slice of music history you'll want to be part of.

TRACKLISTING
Part I: The coming of the Martians
1. The eve of the war
2. Horsell Common and the Heat Ray
3. The Artilleryman
4. Forever autumn
5. Thunder child
Part II: Earth under the Martians
6. The red weed, part 1
7. Parson Nathaniel
8. The spirit of Man
9. The red weed, part 2
10. Brave new world
11. Dead London
12. Epilogue
13. Epilogue, part 2 (NASA)

06-26-2011, 04:46 PM	#44 (permalink)
Trollheart Born to be mild Join Date: Oct 2008 Location: 404 Not Found Posts: 26,971	Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of “The War of the Worlds” --- Jeff Wayne --- 1978 (Columbia) So far as I know (though I could of course be wrong; has to happen sometime!) this was the first “rock-opera” written originally for vinyl, as in, there were many rock operas of course, but all the recordings accompanying them were more soundtracks to the show, be it stage or film. This particular project was the first I ever remember that began its life on record, and then later spawned other media like a stage show, DVDs, computer game etc. Conceived by composer Jeff Wayne, and bringing together some of the cream both of the UK's acting and musical talent, this album formed a huge part of the soundtrack to my teenage life. I recall one summer morning in 1979 lying in bed listening to my little radio, and delighted to hear the opening track, “The eve of the war”. When it had finished I was more than surprised to hear narration and then the second track, then the third and so on. Sitting up in bed, I realised with delight that the DJ had either snuck off for a cigarette break, got waylaid somewhere in the radio station or had decided to let the album play, at least part of the way through. Now, this was before YouTube, before itunes, and the only way you could hear an album in its entireity was to buy it. In 1979 I was 16, so I wasn't exactly flush with cash, and a double album like this was going for somewhere in the region of 12 Irish pounds! That doesn't seem much by today's prices, but consider that a newly-released single album could be purchased for about £5.99, and you can see how expensive it would seem. Before I would take the plunge and buy this album I would have to know it was worth it. As I listened in rapt amazement that July morning, and the DJ failed to fade in and change the record, and the entire thing played out before my disbelieving ears, I made my mind up to buy it that very day, and so I did. I never regretted it. Now a piece of musical history, the album screamed class, from its amazing sci-fi cover to the names of the individual tracks, and the gatefold sleeve that opened to reveal a painting from the story and more credits that you could read in one go, to the airplay it was getting at the time. Without doubt, this was the “must-have” album of 1978! Built of course on the solid grounding of the story of H.G. Wells' 1898 classic, the album alternates between songs, instrumental passages and spoken narration/action. It's all seen from the perspective of The Journalist, played by the inimitable late Richard Burton, and his mellifluous, grandiose voice adds real gravitas to the persona of the character. The album kicks off with a voiceover from Burton, as he ominously intones, without any music whatsoever behind him, ”No-one could have believed/ In the last years of the nineteenth century/ That human affairs were being watched/ From the timeless worlds of space./ No-one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinised/ As someone with a microscope/ Studies creatures that swarm and multiply/ in a drop of water./ Few men even considered the possibility/ Of life on other planets./ Yet, across the gulf of space/ Minds immeasurably superior to ours/ Regarded this Earth with envious eyes./ And slowly, and surely/ They drew their plans against us.” The music then kicks in, with what you will probably have heard at some point, even if it's a crappy cover version on one of those “space themes” albums, or off the radio. “The eve of the war” sets the tone, with an urgent synthesised soundtrack, piano and keyboards by Ken Freeman, as well as string sections building up the drama as the tune rocks along on a boppy drumbeat. The track ends dramatically, but the theme is continued, and becomes the unofficial motif of the album. There is both spoken narration by Burton and some singing on the track. In his character as the Journalist, Burton describes how, one night in August, strange cylinders are seen coming from Mars towards Earth. Concerned, Burton consults his friend Ogilvy, who is an astronomer, but he assures everyone there is no danger. This then becomes the only lyric to the tail-end of “The eve of the war” as Burton recalls his words ”The chances of anything coming from Mars/ Are a million to one, he said/ The chances of anything coming from Mars/ Are a million to one/ But still they come!” This lyric is actually sung by the Moody Blues' Justin Hayward, whose role is that of the Journalist's thoughts. A strange one, but it works. “The eve of the war” continues its musical theme until the first of the cylinders are discovered on Horsell Common, and Ogilvy arrives to examine it, but is pushed back by the intense heat as the lid of the thing begins to move. Is someone, or something, trying to get out? Burton recalls how weird it is, how everything seemed to be so ordinary, so normal, up until this moment, and he finds it hard to believe what is happening all around him. The second track, “Horsell Common and the Heat Ray” is introduced on an ominous, waiting bassline, then joined by synth as the humans have their first view of a Martian, as it comes struggling out of the cylinder. It's a musical passage which to me recalls Genesis' “The colony of Slippermen” from “The Lamb lies down on Broadway”. As the tune progresses, Burton's horrified Journalist relates how, after the Martian has exited the cylinder, an unearthly heat ray turns on the crowd, frying people where they stand. The second track is over eleven minutes long, and with “The eve of the war” forms what was originally the first side of the double-album, clocking it at just over twenty minutes. Running from the destruction, Burton escapes and writes an account for his newspaper before falling asleep. Waking, he hears weird sounds of hammering from the crater created by the impact of the Martian cylinder. It seems the invaders are building something, but no-one knows what, and anyone who dares to venture too close is easy prey for the deadly heat ray! It's kind of hard to describe the way the music paints the landscape for the story: you really have to hear it to understand. But “The war of the worlds” is as much an album on which you listen to the narration and the action as much as you listen to the actual music. It really IS a story, and whether or not you've read the book, or seen any of the films, you find yourself drawn into the story. As “Horsell” comes to a fading close, the army arrive and set up, and another cyclinder is seen in the sky, heading Earthwards, and Burton realises that his own house is now in range of the heat ray, as the Martians clear their path. Side two opens with “The Artilleryman”, and we are introduced to the second character in the drama, a soldier played by David Essex, whose platoon has been wiped out by the Martians. He ends up in Burton's house, running from the invaders. He tells Burton that the Martians have constructed massive fighting machines, and are now on the move. The ominous bassline carries the track, then kicks into what becomes the theme of “Forever Autumn”, the hit single from the album, as Burton and Essex both decide to flee to London, the latter to report to HQ, and Burton to seek his girlfriend. The sense of urgency grows as the two make their way across the countryside, hiding from Martian fighting machines. The Martians, when attacking, let out a hideous cry which sounds like “Uuu-llaaa!”, and becomes their musical battlecry, recurring throughout the album. It's without doubt a keyboard and synth-driven album, and the soundscapes lain down by Ken Freeman characterise the story and paint the picture of humanity on the run. But it's also the vocal and acting performances of people who up until now have never acted that make the album so special. It's like watching one of those old episodes of “The Twilight Zone” set to music. Truly phenomenal. During one of the Martian attacks Burton and Essex are separated, the Artilleryman running away while the Journalist jumps into the water. When Burton emerges, everyone is gone, and he must continue on his own towards London. However, when he reaches his girlfriend's house, it appears that both she and her father have already left. Then we get the hit single, “Forever autumn”, sung by the talented Justin Hayward, as he voices Burton's depair that he has missed his girl, and hope that he may be reunited with her. You surely know the song, driven on flute and acoustic guitar, with a beautiful lyric that tugs at the heartstrings: ”Through autumn's golden gown/ We used to kick our way/ You always loved this time of year/ Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now/ Cos you're not here.” The song is however interrupted by narration from Burton, unlike on the single, as he makes his way towards the coast and a boat out of England. This leads to the standoff at the dock, where the valiant warship “Thunder child” holds off the Martians long enough for the passenger steamer to get out of range and escape. Burton, however, has been forced back, having seen in despair the face of his love already on board the ship but unable to join her, and he is left on the shore as her ship sails away. But at least, he consoles himself, she is safe. The song “Thunder child” closes the second side, and first disc of the album, and is sung by Chris Thompson, taking the role of “the Voice of Humanity” as they urge the valiant warship on to their defence, wish it success and finally salute it as it bravely slides beneath the waves. When the album was originally released, on vinyl, the first record (sides 1 and 2) was subtitled “The coming of the Martians”, and this ends with “Thunder child” and the escape of the steamer. Side 3, record 2, opens “Earth under the Martians.” There is no resistance left. The army have been swatted aside like flies, the government (never mentioned, but one assumes) fled, and the Earth (ie England) is now ruled by the invaders. The final words of part 1 are Burton despairingly declaring “The Earth belonged to the Martians.” This is symbolised and driven home by the opening track, “The red weed”, which depicts a new weapon the Martians inflict on the Earth, a thick, choking weed that strangles all flora and vegetation, replacing it and turning the Earth from green to red. The synth lines evoke a slimy, writhing red snake, making its way across the planet and choking every growing thing it sees, replacing it with its own hellish vegetation. Freeman has great fun with the keyboards, throwing in all the weird sounds he can, to build an alien landscape on Earth. It's almost all keyboards and synth, with a little bass and the odd flurry of percussion, and some nice guitar work near the end, but essentially it's Freeman's baby. Burton staggers through the “lurid landscape”, completely alone, until he comes across the body of a parson lying in a ruined churchyard. Unable to leave him he decides to bury the priest, but just then a female voice calls “Nathaniel!” and the parson's eyes flicker open! Phil Lynott makes his entrance with his total star turn as the insane Parson Nathaniel, while Julie Covington is his wife, Beth. The church has been destroyed by the Martians, and the parson, believing them to be devils, has lost his mind and now launches into “The spirit of Man”, a duet between Lynott and Covington, another standout from the album. ”If just one man could stand tall/ There must be some hope for us all/ Somewhere in the spirit of Man.” she sings, but Lynott's parson has lost his faith: ”Tell me, what kind of weapon is love/ When it comes to the fight? / And just how much protection/ Is truth, against all Satan's might?” he asks, declaring fatalistically ”Forget about goodness and mercy/ They're gone!” He is convinced that the Martians are God's judgement upon the evil of men, and have been sent to destroy humanity. “The spirit of Man” is an oddity: half fast-rocker, half-ballad as Lynott and Covington exchange views on the possibility of survival, Covington insisting ”There must be something worth living for/ There must be something worth trying for” while Lynott snaps ”When the demons arrive/ The survivors will envy the dead!” Just then another cylinder arrives, crashing into the church-house, killing Beth and trapping the trio in the pit it has made. As Parson Nathaniel and Burton watch from hiding, they see the Martians take human captives. The musical theme from “The red weed” returns, and the two men watch in horror as the Martians drain the blood from humans and consume it. This finally pushes the parson over the edge, and believeing he can save them --- ”Those machines are just demons in another form!/ I shall destroy them with my prayers! / I shall burn them with my holy cross!” --- he decides to confront the Martians, and Burton has to knock him out. Moments later he is taken by the questing Martian machine, and there is nothing the Journalist can do to prevent it. “The red weed, part 2” takes the third side of the record to its conclusion, as the Journalist comes out of hiding and makes his way along the road. All of a sudden he comes across his old friend, the Artilleryman. Not recognising him at first, Essex's character challenges him, but quickly each realises who the other is, and the Artilleryman invites Burton to the place he has found, as side 4 kicks off with the last actual song on the album, the overly optimistic and totally unrealistic plan the Artilleryman has to rebuild society, as “Brave new world” relates his idea about living underground, in the sewers, starting everything from scratch. It's a guitar driven song, bouncing along with hope and promise, but with an edge of madness too, featuring some great lyrics ”Take a look around you/ At the world you've loved so well/ And bid the ageing empire of Man/ A last farewell/ It may not sound like Heaven/ But at least it isn't Hell!” It's Essex's only real chance to shine on the album, and he doesn't waste it, putting in a convincing performance, both spoken and sung, as a man who really believes he can rebuild the world in a very short time. Sadly, Burton sees that the Artilleryman has made only the smallest of progress, and realises the impossibility of his companion's dreams coming true. As he sings ”Listen! Maybe one day we'll capture a fighting machine, eh?/ Find out how to make them ourselves/ Then WALLOP! Our turn to do some wiping out!/ WHOOSH! With our own heat ray!/ WHOOSH! And them running and dying/ Beaten at their own game! / Man on top again!” Burton shakes his head and slips away, leaving the Artilleryman to his grandiose dreams. Having finally reached London, Burton wanders the deserted streets, with “Dead London” as his background, a bluesy reworking of the “Horsell Common” track and with bits of “The red weed” thrown in, guitars and sax playing equal parts with piano keeping the beat like a metronome. Suddenly, struck by the seeming hopelessness of his situation, all fight goes out of the Journalist and he decides to commit suicide by offering himself up to the Martians. Heartsick, weary, with his girlfriend who knows where and his species on the edge of extinction, he no longer wants to live. However, the fighting machine he approaches has a dead Martian in it, and it seems that (no spoiler here, we all know how this ends, don't we?) the invaders have been destroyed by germs in the Earth's atmosphere. The theme from “Eve of the war” reprises as the album ends, as Burton contemplates the nature of life, how something so microscopic as bacteria could lay low such seemingly unstoppable creatures. He envisions the return of all those who have fled, and that life will come back to the city. They will rebuild, and his lover will also come back to him. The final melody on the album is a triumphant march of victory (why, since Man did not defeat the Martians? Oh well...), and fades out. Unfortunately, Wayne saw fit to thrown in an epilogue, concerning NASA as they watch over the first manned landing on Mars, and we hear the sound we heard on Horsell Common as the Martians moved about in their cylinders. Oh dear... I could have done without this, particularly the annoyingly nasal voice of the NASA controller, but I usually stop the album before this anyway. Whatever way you look at it, “Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of the War of the Worlds” is a classic album, and if you haven't heard it this far into your life, do yourself a favour and pick it up. It's a slice of music history you'll want to be part of. TRACKLISTING Part I: The coming of the Martians 1. The eve of the war 2. Horsell Common and the Heat Ray 3. The Artilleryman 4. Forever autumn 5. Thunder child Part II: Earth under the Martians 6. The red weed, part 1 7. Parson Nathaniel 8. The spirit of Man 9. The red weed, part 2 10. Brave new world 11. Dead London 12. Epilogue 13. Epilogue, part 2 (NASA) __________________ Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018 Last edited by Trollheart; 03-01-2013 at 05:22 PM.