the unfamiliar hymns of

oh the sea

gracechurch hermann, 2012

tonight’s service commences with one of mr hermann’s more invigorating compositions. it is also among oh the sea’s most london-centred pieces.

those lucky enough to be berliners may wish to learn that the gherkin - a tall building which loosely resembles the unattractive legume - and gracechurch street, are situated in - and indicative of - what londoners refer to as ‘the city’; london’s financial district, and the hapless gentleman we meet in verse one is one if its workers, who are often referred to as, by way of synecdoche, ‘city suits’.

mayfair is home to those richer than you and i, while hoxton square, where once upon a time the playwright ben johnson duelled and killed the actor gabriel spencer, was once the abode of the type of individual who would, roughly a decade later, acquire that most delightfully old-fashioned of monikers; the ‘hipster’!

-

he dreamt of working at the gherkin now he’s pickled in a jar of nine to five

crosses gracechurch without looking left or right just to make sure he’s still alive

looking through the paramedics now for once the sky is limitless and blue

and as you pass by on your bicycle he turns his head and wishes he were you

-

ageing trophy wife in mayfair

she’s a cocktail in a bottle made of fur

she got used to spending money which was fun till money started spending her

she’s the living ghost of harrods she’s a homeless queen among the chosen few

and as you fish her out from too many martinis she wishes she were you

-

and have you seen the gargoyles laughing rain

- ! -1

going nowhere with their wings of stone

she awaits another bleeding heart to fill her veins she called you through the radio

when you were just a baby, so

-

you came to london

looking for something that’s looking for you

you started dressing like a star and pulling pints behind a bar in waterloo

kids in hoxton square are so afraid to speak afraid of haemorrhaging cool

in cigarettes and broken glass

they made you realise you’re sweeping up your youth

and one night became a decade full of promises you painted on this town

and all the friends who shared your whiskey and your dreams

they’re no longer around

so you cut your losses and your ties and you wipe the glitter from your eyes

and as you get up on your bike you sigh astonished at the sky

on gracechurch lies a city suit quite dashing with his gashing wound

he smiles as only poets do and you think man i wish that i were you

- ! -2

follow me dOwn hermann, 2012

joined in holy matrimony to an american, mr hermann journeys frequently to the new world. on one of his recent peregrinations along the pacific coast he felt moved for once to break with the tradition of directing his mournful airs at that most deserving of capitals, london, and instead to serenade another strange colossus, the mad and untamed city of los angeles! the informed listener will know the opening couplet of this humble composition to have been purloined from the oeuvre of the late prof. carl sagan, an astute appraiser of the human condition.

-

a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam that's here, that's home, that's us

i could lay it on your lips and you could drown it in a kiss

but somehow it's still bigger than love

yet somehow it's still bigger than love

look closely now and you can see the borders where our kings, they drew their failures in the sand

i'm an idiot but sometimes i'm an astronaut so take my hand so take my hand so take my hand oh take my hand

and follow me down

-

well, it looks like we both suck at taking orders says the soldier to the waitress and she laughs

she says what happened to your leg he says what happened to these eggs, I think

the answer is bigger than us darlin', the answer is bigger than us

and the love they made was tears and tiny whimpers in the neon light sliced by the ceiling fan

and when he screams iraq looks like los angeles she says, shhhhhhhhh, baby hold my hand she says, baby, baby, hold my hand baby baby hold my hand

- ! -3

oh, just hold my hand and follow me down

INSTRUMENTAL - in which mr münster puts the listener in mind of the great californian desert by applying to the strings of his instrument a glassen bottleneck!

followed by

the bridge - in which mr hermann changes registers to assume the guises of the forlorn young couple introduced to the attentive listener during the second verse:

she says…

each time they force you into makeup it's a takedown

and when the curtain falls it's you who's in the dark

just one more year of waiting tables and i'll make it i'm gonna leave my mark

he says i've been working on these stories with a fountain pen i found in echo park

(to which the young lady most perspicaciously replies:)

what if you're not a fountain pen but just a pencil how will you leave your mark?

they thought they'd move here to this city of angels and let the angels and their demons fight it out

heaven must be 'round the corner in a city of angels and when the angels win they want to be about

to follow them down

-

you pay per day in a paper house folded in among the freeways

and your passion is the flame that burnt the house that's in your name

because our feelings are bigger than us

because our feelings are bigger than us

and you're not a bird, you're tethered to the tarmac and you can't see past the billboards on your street

- ! -4

and to the man who plays guitar in your favourite sunset bar

you say, your melody it left me undone your little melody it left me undone, oh your little melody it left me undone, yes it left me undone

and I know - - - - - - -

it will follow me down

- ! -5

city that never wakes hermann, 2004

by way of introduction, the westminster quarters are hummed softly by mssrs. hermann & münster. -

good morning city that never wakes your people sleep in everything they do

daylight breaks above your ceiling everyone’s adrift in you but you can keep on dreaming

-

man with beard in car he's put a muffler on his feeling beauty queen walks past somehow he chooses not to see her go

didn’t know a smile is all it takes he’s growing old in the city that never wakes

-

the westminster quarters are hummed in reprise.

-

princess in the awkward dress thinks live a little more (hey hey yeah) the world is not a planet lost in space it’s right outside my little door

she talks to her prince every night but the ice won't break because we're all a little chilly in the city that never wakes

-

- ! -6

boy and girl in park he likes the way she likes the way he likes

but today she wears a face that she won't ever wear again

didn’t know the place to look for love that lasts is at the bottom of a lake because we’re running out of air, anyhow in the city that never wakes because we're running out of air, anyhow in the city that never wakes

-

and we’re waiting we’re waiting for the bang on your rooftops, in your gardens we've been waiting for the bang

see, we’re bathing, yes we’re bathing we’re bathing in the rain

and we’re bathing, and we’re bathing we’re bathing in the rain

INSRUMENTAL - led by mr resch's cello or, in the absence of mr resch and his esteemed instrument, by a spirited whistle from the lips of mr hermann!)

reprise:

good morning city that never wakes

your people sleep in everything they do

daylight waits above your ceiling

everyone’s a dream in you so you can keep on breathing

- ! -7

LITTLE BLUE NOTEBOOK hermann, 2011

all cities are cities of broken dreams, and a dream does not have to be big to break. many a humble aspiration lies buried in london. most go quietly, without a funeral service. all the poor chap at the centre of this song ever wanted, for instance, was to drive around america in an old car. the men of oh the sea would like to issue the following recommendation. worry less about your dreams breaking than about your dreams breaking you.

-

he would have wanted a 68 mustang now he’s blue on a red number 68 bus some of him gets off at every stop till he’s nowhere and far away a mustang drives on

alaska, nebraska, nevada the radio husky with storm plays the ghost of a song but it’s keeping him warm while he stumbles down coldharbour lane

-

and it’s no longer secret, things have gone awry if you like you can tear every page from his eyes you can tell him a joke or you can read him his rights you can lend him your coat and he will hand you his life

-

the fog of london plays hide and seek daily with buildings and people and cars and no-one finds anyone’s hiding place because everyone’s looking for stars

so his little blue notebook died open in the thames, black as midnight in space and his little blue words went and flew with the birds here’s another dead poet behind a living man’s face

-

tell him

dreams don’t really shatter and they never really break it’s just that we forget them as soon as we wake but they leave you that feeling, it’s long and so dark it’s the song of the nightingale sung by the lark

- ! -8

-

INTERLUDE - in which mr hermann’s wistful whistling is revealed to be the melancholy call of a confused songbird.

THE BRIDGE - in which mssrs. hermann & münster issue a wake-up call, the sad futility of which must dawn upon the attentive listener - having heard, some minutes earlier, ‘city that never wakes’ !

-

wake up london london wake up your roof is on fire there’s ash in your cup (x2!)

-

now his dreams are like flies on the windshield so many it’s impossible to drive on and he washes them down with the liquid and his engine will hum him a song

-

it goes

it’s no longer secret things have gone awry if you like you can tear every page from his eyes there were summers of sorrow and winters of bliss the last smile of the child just before the first kiss

there were prayers to women and phone calls to god but it’s an empty old circus now, isn’t it odd how we dream of tomorrow and it lets us go on then when we wake up, tomorrow is gone

- ! -9

paper hermann, 2014

with ‘paper’, mssrs. hermann & münster present a new song. its words and structure remain subject to change and, for this reason, are not reproduced here.

jingle jangle copper hermann, 2005

one of mr hermann’s earliest songs. ‘clowns’ here serves as code for those who have more money than you and i, know how to make it, and laugh at the rest of us. this is a desperate ode, addressing, once more, that cruellest of mistresses, london. throughout the song, our protagonist wants to flee this fraught romance. well, dear reader… he has!

-

you say a storm is coming and your mouth is full of wind

you say a fire will consume you soon and i see flames beneath your skin

you’ve heard an army rattle sabres in your dreams i’m getting ready for a war and i wonder had they put a drop of sunshine in your milk would you have seen these things at all

-

hello taxi, run me over the clowns are after me tonight

the jingle jangle copper in their pockets it isn’t mine

- ! -10

how i wish i were a pigeon dressed in grey and noble black

i’d leave a white mark on lord nelson and i’d spread my sooty wings and not look back

-

your heels are worn, your dress is empty, my love and your lipstick looks like death

and i stumble like a child through your silence and your smiles

while you pull me into you with every breath

-

hello taxi, run me over the clowns are after me tonight

the jingle jangle copper in their pockets it isn’t mine

like the trapped balloons at waterloo station i rose against the promise of a sky

like the trapped balloons at waterloo station i rose against the promise of a sky

against a gunmetal sky

-

this is no litany from heaven no note from underground

until i got to twenty-seven i was wise now the mysteries abound

-

hello taxi, run me over the clowns are after me tonight

the jingle jangle copper in their pockets it isn’t mine how i wish i were a pigeon

- ! -11

dressed in grey and noble black

i’d leave a white mark on lord nelson and i’d spread my sooty wings and not look back

-

oh, i’m leaving london no, i believe in london

a pigeon?

- ! -12

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