Marianne & Joan
In 1965, when she was 18 years old, Marianne Faithfull was cast as Ophelia in Tony Richardson’s Hamlet, a Roundhouse production swiftly transferred to film. Two years later Bill Gaskill directed her in Chekhov’s Three Sisters at the Royal Court, alongside Glenda Jackson: “Marriane (sic) Faithfull looked Irina most plausibly,” Philip Hope-Wallace wrote in the Guardian, “even if she could still get more out of the words.” Today, in her maturity, Faithfull knows that the best lines can be allowed to speak for themselves.
Lines like Keats’ “The sedge has withered from the lake/And no birds sing”, for example, and Tennyson’s “The mirror crack’d from side to side.” They’re heard on her new album, She Walks in Beauty, in which she recites verses from the Romantic poets over backdrops created by the Australian musician Warren Ellis.
I’ve no idea whether, following her recovery from a bout of Covid-19 which put her in intensive care for three weeks, she has plans to make any more albums. If not, She Walks in Beauty would make a fitting capstone to a career that began in 1964 when, at a party for the singer Adrienne Posta, Andrew Loog Oldham spotted a convent schoolgirl who was already in thrall to the poetry she reads here.
The album adheres to a single mood, tending towards the ethereal: drifting ambient soundscapes sparingly garnished by Ellis’s violin, Vincent Ségal’s cello, Nick Cave’s piano and, on two pieces, Brian Eno’s treatments. Faithfull’s delivery of the verses is respectful and measured: her deep contralto has the grain of experience, grounding the poetics. About half the tracks received their voice tracks after her recovery, which might explain why one or two of them are more deliberate than the rest, although not obviously or disturbingly so.
Among the pieces I particularly enjoyed are Byron’s title piece, Keats’ “La Belle Dame Sans Merci”, Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias” and Wordsworth’s “Surprised by Joy”. I was amused, too, that she borrows a tactic perfected by her old admirer Bob Dylan with “Desolation Row” and “Sad Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”: the trick of leaving the collection’s epic performance until last. In this case it’s the 12 minutes of Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott”, which she gives in the 20-stanza version published in 1832, 10 years before the author revised the ending to suit Victorian sensibilities. (It’s a shame her script — repeated in the accompanying booklet — gave her “Through the squally east wind keenly/Blew…” rather than “Though…”, but the blemish is fleeting.)
It’s worth adding that ownership of the special edition of She Walks in Beauty is much enhanced by the inclusion of reproductions of a dozen watercolours — including the cover illustration — by the English artist Colin Self, any one of which I’d be happy to have hanging on the wall.
As a collateral benefit, Faithfull’s album sent me back to Baptism: A Journey Through Our Time, a 1968 release in which Joan Baez read and sang poetry over music by the composer Peter Schickele. Conceived by Maynard Solomon, the co-founder of Vanguard Records, it was an ambitious project in which Schickele created bespoke settings for verses from poets ranging from anonymous medieval Chinese and Japanese writers through John Donne, William Blake and Walt Whitman to Arthus Rimbaud, Wilfred Owen, Henry Treece, James Joyce, Federico García Lorca, Jacques Prévert, Countee Cullen and Yevgeny Yevtushenko.
The album is bookended by Treece’s “Old Welsh Song”, a fragment sung by Baez, backed by a harmonium. Much more of a mosaic of miniatures than Faithfull’s album, the mood of the programme is defined by a hatred of war and bloodshed, beginning with Whitman’s “I Saw the Vision of Armies”, read to softly rolling tom-toms and cymbals, and the Chinese verse “Minister of War”, punctuated by a distorted guitar and a clashing gong-like effects. A hovering unison cello and bass line wanders disconsolately behind Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s translation of Prévert’s “Song in the Blood”, glockenspiel and celeste accompany the sung version of Joyce’s early “Of the Dark Past”, a jaunty string quartet matches the vivacity of a fragment from the same writer’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
If the flute and harp embroidering Rimbaud’s “Childhood” are a bit twee, his “Evil” gets a cinematic soundtrack whose opening sounds of strife thin out as they give way to pathos. The flute, viola and celeste colouring Kenneth Rexroth’s translations of Japanese haiku are appropriately exquisite, and Schickele gives Baez a lovely melody for e.e. cummings’ “All in green went my love riding”. Wilfred Owen’s “The Parable of the Old Man and the Young”, with its devastating payoff, is wisely left unaccompanied.
Baez was 27 at the time of this recording. Sometimes her delivery could be a little over-reverent, but mostly she found the right tone, nowhere more powerfully than on the two short poems at the heart of the album: Blake’s “London”, with its appalled visions of the corruption of the flesh and the spirit, and Norman Rosten’s “In Guernica”, where a simple, almost photographic description deepens into tragedy through a single word: “In Guernica the dead children / Were laid out in order on the sidewalk / In their white starched dresses / In their pitiful white dresses.” Both pieces employ the tolling of tuned percussion over strange drones.
By 1968, Baez had sold a lot of albums. Her two In Concert albums had made the Billboard top 10 in 1962-63, and in a year later Joan Baez 5 reached the UK top three. Baptism made it no higher than No 84 in the US and failed to register at all in Britain Somehow, though, partly for its sense of adventure and partly for “London” and “In Guernica”, it’s the one that’s stayed with me.
A friend sent me the Marianne Faithfull album referred to here, if you’re intetested
Sent from my iPhone
Yes, that would very much interest me.
What does it mean that my ‘comment is waiting ‘moderation?’
All it means is that I’ve been out of the house. Now approved.
Two middling talents , both over-shadowed by more charismatic and influential male partners.
Yes, ‘whoooo!’ indeed! Without being that familiar with her recordings, I think that describing Marianne Faithfull as a ‘middling talent’ is a little severe. I saw her on stage, accompanied only by Bill Frisell on guitar, a few years ago at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, and it was a spell-binding evening. There is a short film from the gig – if I wasn’t so useless at including links I would have done so; it’s easy enough to access on the South Bank web site though – and it is well worth seeing and listening to. I certainly didn’t get the impression that Bill Frisell thought he was sharing the stage with a ‘middling talent’.
Thank you for saying that, Graham. i am not a huge (I am bit huge around the belly) supporter of either of either Faithfull or Baez. When I saw Richard’s blog about these two albums I was truly grateful to be alerted to two great pieces of work that made me feel better in these troubled times. I did not give a thought to Jagger or Dylan and why should I? These two women have achieved remarkable things in their own right. It is incredibly mean-spirited for a woman to try to undermine that.
This all very chivalrous on your part gentlemen but I remain convinced that they are modest talents who probably would never have achieved fame had they not been initially associated with the men on whose arms they hung. Just my opinion!
I don’t think it’s a question of chivalry. It’s a fact that Joan Baez had success with her debut album — and an appearance at the Newport Folk Festival — before she first encountered Dylan in April 1961. Her reputation was established independently from his, and without his help. It was her patronage, indeed, that gave his career an early boost. As it happens, I’m not a great fan of either Baez or Faithfull, but I’m certain that they deserve to be seen as independent creative artists.
My sentiments exactly Richard.
Diana, they may be modest talents but they have staked their claim in the world independent of Jagger or Dylan.
I would only add that it’s so dismally rare to have a woman’s comments on this blog that I welcome Diana with open arms. She’s quite entitled to her opinion.
Fair enough and I genuinely respect your musical knowledge and insight. I’m an old lady who has been reading you for many years!
Gracious, Richard and Diana.
Hi Diana. I really wish I was better at inserting links into messages – the one below doesn’t look quite right, but do please give it a go. If it doesn’t work, there should be enough here for you to find it on-line. It’s an excerpt from the Marianne Faithful gig with Bill Frisell I mentioned earlier. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the gig. Best. Graham Roberts.
Well. thank you Graham. It certainly has charm and ( I am not trying to be unkind ) a certain novelty aspect to it. Yes. Bill Frisell is a wonderful musician but I have to honestly say that I don’t think I could have sat through that recital. We all have our own tastes in everything. Sometimes they match and sometimes they clash! Thanks again and best wishes.
Diana Williams ( no relation!!!)
Thanks for reminding me of Norman Rosten who was known as the Bard of Brooklyn and was a friend of Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller. He was a generous, unpretentious man who I got to know when I published Marilyn Among Friends, his perceptive and beautifully written short appreciation of Marilyn, at Bloomsbury in 1989. He died in 1995. I’ve just ordered his selected poems.
Enjoyed reading Marianne’s collection of short classic poems. Shall purchase her recent album. Marianne is a survivor whom I’ve admired ever since I was gifted her,’ Broken English album. XX
She is indeed a treasure whatever about her relationship with that awful man,.
Richard, I’m fairly certain that your first sentence is way off. I saw the Roundhouse stage production in 1969. No matter I guess – except that Faithfull was definitely not 18 years old.
Another nice article however.
Over the years I generally considered Baez’s “Baptism” an honorable failure. A little too earnest and serious—that kind of thing that often surrounds poetry. Now I’ve worked in something like the same framework for five years with my Parlando Project, and I’m starting to admire it more.
I listened to the Faithfull/Ellis “She Walks in Beauty” record this morning after reading you post here, curious to see what others are doing in my field. The wear in Faithfull’s voice adds weight, yes, but I’ll have to say as a listen-in-one-sitting the record started to drag for me. The clear highlight for me was the sentimental “The Bridge of Sighs” cut, which raised up an energy I found generally lacking elsewhere. I may be a poor Modernist, it’s hard to escape the value of emotion in art. The other one that grabbed me one time through was “To the Moon.”
I returned to the Baez, after that listen and I judged two differences which went to “Baptism’s” benefit. Schickele’s musical settings are to my mind quite good. Ellis’ are what I’d expect after hearing recent Nick Cave records, and I quite like his characteristic sound-palette— but with both recent Cave and then this Faithfull record, I wouldn’t mind a few more surprises, variety, and unexpected turns. The second difference is that Baez selected more modern poems. Though I grew up with the English Romantics, and will not foreswear them now, the texts selected for “Baptism” pack more direct impact in performance for me. One can do that with the Romantics. Why does everyone read Shelley’s “Ozymandias” as a wistful little sands through the hourglass of time observation. We know how Shelley felt about tyrants, I think he give back that shattered visage’s sneer and then some.