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Kate Bush (born Catherine Bush on July 30, 1958) is an English singer-songwriter, musician and record producer; sister of John Carder Bush.
Born: July 30th, 1958
Quotes: 392 sourced quotes total (includes 82 about)
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'''I'm convinced that, as great as that record sounds, if you had anyone else sing it, you know, anyone else try to kind of weave and make it do that thing where it burns like wildfire and it comes alive, no one else could do it.''''' It's incredible the way she kind of brings this cold arctic atmosphere, It's just like fire, you know? It's like all aaarh coming out of her mouth. … and now I'm listening to the song in my head. "Do you know what I really need? Do you know what I really need? I need lalalala yea yo yea yo your love''."
I had a listen, I was intrigued … by this strange voice, and I went to her house, met her parents down in Kent, and she played me, it must have been forty or fifty songs, on tape, and I thought, I should try to do something. … We were making — Pink Floyd was making the Wish You Were Here album, and I think we had the record company people down at Abbey Road, in number 3, and I said to them "Do you want to hear something I've got? And they said "sure", so we found another room, and I played it to them, "The Man with the Child in His Eyes", and they said "Yep, thank you – we'll have it."
They're not "normal" songs. None of her songs have been "normal." She's just who she is, she's unique. She's — a mystery. She's the most beautiful mystery. … Let me tell you a story: when I had my civil partnership, nine years ago, in 2005, and Kate — we invited Kate, we didn't think she'd come but she came, she came with her husband Danny, and there were a lot of very famous people in that room, there were like 600 people — and all anybody wanted to meet was Kate Bush. I mean, musician, anybody, they couldn't believe Kate Bush was there. She's kind of an enigma.
What a lovely afternoon On a cloudbusting kind of day. We took our own 'Mystery Tour' And got completely lost somewhere up in the hills. And we came up on a bee-keeper, And he said "Did you know they can change it all?"
"Get out of the waves! Get out of the water!" Watching You Without Me
This chapter says "Put it out of your mind" Mmm, give it time….
"This moment in time," (She said.) It doesn't belong to you," (She said,) It belongs to me, And your little boy and your little girl, And the one hand clapping: Where on your palm is my little line, When you're written in mine As an old memory?
We used to say "Ah Hell, we're young" But now we see that life is sad And so is love.
Heathcliff, it's me — Cathy.
'''It was just so beautiful.
Out on the wiley, windy moors We'd roll and fall in green. You had a temper like my jealousy: Too hot, too greedy. How could you leave me, When I needed to possess you? I hated you. I loved you, too.
Bad dreams in the night. They told me I was going to lose the fight, Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering Wuthering Heights.
And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building.
I said "Lily, Oh Lily I'm so afraid I fear I am walking in the Veil of Darkness" And she said "Child, take what I say With a pinch of salt And protect yourself with fire"
It's in the trees! It's coming!
There's a hole in the sky with a big eyeball Calling me: "Come up and be a kite, On a diamond flight!"
You don't want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware I'm tearing you asunder. Ooh, there is thunder in our hearts.
Ooh, it gets dark! It gets lonely, On the other side from you. I pine a lot. I find the lot Falls through without you. I'm coming back, love. Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream, My only master.
She sent him scented letters, And he received them with a strange delight. Just like his wife But how she was before the tears, And how she was before the years flew by, And how she was when she was beautiful.
C'mon, baby, c'mon darling, Let me steal this moment from you now. C'mon, angel, c'mon, c'mon, darling, Let's exchange the experience, oh…
She wanted to test her husband. She knew exactly what to do: A pseudonym to fool him. She couldn't have made a worse move.
Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Tell me, we both matter, don't we? You, it's you and me. It's you and me won't be unhappy.
It doesn't hurt me. Do you want to feel how it feels? Do you want to know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? You, it's you and me.
On top of the world, Looking over the edge, You could see them coming. You looked too small In their big, black car, To be a threat to the men in power.'''
I hid my yo-yo In the garden. I can't hide you From the government. Oh, God, Daddy — I won't forget…
What could he do? Should have been a father. But he never even made it to his twenties. What a waste — Army dreamers. Ooh, what a waste of Army dreamers.
I found a fox Caught by dogs. He let me take him in my hands. His little heart, It beats so fast, And I'm ashamed of running away From nothing real — I just can't deal with this, But I'm still afraid to be there, Among your hounds of love…
"Don't you know you've kept him waiting?" "Look who's here to see you!"
Moving stranger, Does it really matter, As long as you're not afraid to feel?
Touch me, hold me. How my open arms ache! Try to fall for me.
You say we're fantastic, But still we don't head the bill. Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Unbelievable!
I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left.
I love my Beloved, ooh, All and everywhere, Only the fools blew it. You and me Knew life itself is Breathing…
I still dream of Orgonon. I wake up crying. You're making rain, And you're just in reach, When you and sleep escape me.
Soon it will be the phase of the moon When people tune in. Every girl knows about the punctual blues, But who's to know the power behind our moves?
What really matters? It's all we've got Isn't that enough?
Them heavy people hit me in a soft spot. Them heavy people help me.
I'm giving it all in a moment or two. I'm giving it all in a moment, for you.
My terrible fear of dying No longer plays with me, for now I know that I'm needed For the symphony.
Watching storms Start to form Over America. Can't do anything. Just watch them swing With the wind Out to sea.
December will be magic again. Take a husky to the ice While Bing Crosby sings White Christmas. He makes you feel nice. December will be magic again.
I hear him, before I go to sleep And focus on the day that's been. I realise he's there, When I turn the light off and turn over.
Some say that knowledge is something that you never have. Some say that knowledge is something sat in your lap. Some say that heaven is hell. Some say that hell is heaven.
They open doorways that I thought were shut for good. They read me Gurdjieff and Jesu. They build up my body, break me emotionally. It's nearly killing me, but what a lovely feeling!
You and me on the bobbing knee. Didn't we cry at that old mythology he'd read! I will come home again, but not until The sun and the moon meet on yon hill.
Nobody knows about my man. They think he's lost on some horizon. And suddenly I find myself Listening to a man I've never known before, Telling me about the sea, All his love, 'til Eternity.
This kicking here inside Makes me leave you behind. No more under the quilt To keep you warm. Your sister I was born. You must lose me like an arrow, Shot into the killer storm.
When that feeling of meaninglessness sets in, Go blowing my mind on God: The light in the dark, with the neon arms, The meek He seeks, the beast He calms, The head of the good soul department.
Give me the Banshees for B.V.s.
Never, never say goodbye To my part of your life.
Rolling the ball, rolling the ball, rolling the ball to me…
Like it or not, we were built tough, Because we're woman.
Get the bow going! Let it scream to me: Violin! Violin! Violin!
We needed you To love us too. We wait for your move.
I needed you To love me too. I wait for your move.
We've lost our chance. We're the first and the last, ooh, After the blast.
You look like an angel, Sleeping it off at a station. Were you only passing through?
Kashka from Baghdad Lives in sin, they say, With another man, But no one knows who.
The Song of Solomon The song of everyone Who walks the path Of the solitary heart.
Lying in my tent I can hear your cry Echoing round the mountainside You sound lonely
I must work on my mind. For now I realise: Everyone of us has a heaven inside.
You stood in the belltower, But now you're gone. So who knows all the sights Of Notre Dame?
The light Begin to bleed, Begin to breathe, Begin to speak. D'you know what? I love you better now.
I'll be sitting in your mirror. Now is the place where the crossroads meet. Will you look into the future?
You came out of the night, Wearing a mask in white colour. My eyes were shining On the wine, and your aura.
Little light shining, Little light will guide them to me. My face is all lit up, My face is all lit up.
Hammer Horror, Hammer Horror, Won't leave me alone. The first time in my life, I leave the lights on To ease my soul.
I've got a hunch that you're following, To get your own back on me. So all I want to do is forget You, friend.
Four strings across the bridge, Ready to carry me over, Over the quavers, drunk in the bars, Out of the realm of the orchestra…
Somehow this was it, I knew. Maybe fate wants you dead, too: We've come together in the very same room, And I'm coming for you!
Breathing my mother in, Breathing my beloved in, Breathing, Breathing her nicotine, Breathing, Breathing the fall-out in, Out in, out in, out in, out in.
If they find me racing white horses, They'll not take me for a buoy. Let me be weak, Let me sleep And dream of sheep.
I no longer see a future. I've been told when I get older That I'll understand It all. But I'm not sure if I want to.
Excuse me I'm sorry to bother you, But don't I know you? There's just something about you. Haven't we met before? We've been in love forever.
I could have been anyone. You could have been anyone's dream. Why did you have to choose our moment? Why did you have to make me feel that? Why did you make it so unreal?
Only tragedy allows the release Of love and grief never normally seen. I didn't want to let them see me weep, I didn't want to let them see me weak, But I know I have shown That I stand at the gates alone.
Outside Gets inside Through her skin.
We're calling out for Middle Street.
You never really understood me. You never really tried.
Mother, where are the angels? I'm scared of the changes.
You don't need words — just one kiss, then another.
Ooh, James, are you selling your soul to a cold gun?
Remember yourself. You've got a Full House in your head tonight…
Emma's come down. She's stopped the light Shining out of her eyes.
I am my enemy Mowing me over, And towing the light away.
All of the birds are laughing Come on let's all join in.
The sense of adventure Is changing to danger. The signal has been given.
She knows that I've been doing something wrong, But she won't say anything.
We hang on to every line, And walk straight down the middle of it.
Am I the cat that takes the bird? To her the hunted, not the hunter.
'''Let's change things. Let's danger it up. We're crazy enough. I just can't take it.
I will not let you in. I face towards the wind. I change into the Mule.
I question your innocence! Help this blackbird! She's a witch! There's a stone around my leg.
We're gonna be laughing about this We're gonna be dancing around It's gonna be so good now.
Stepping out, off the page, into the sensual world. And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech…
It's no good for you baby It's no good for you now Keep looking up for the ladder.
All the banners stop waving And the flags stop flying And the silence comes over Thousands of soldiers…
No, we never die for long, While we've got that little life To live for, where it's hid inside.
Just like a photograph, I pick you up. Just like a station on the radio, I pick you up.
As the people here grow colder I turn to my computer And spend my evenings with it Like a friend.
Elvis are you out there somewhere Looking like a happy man? In the snow with Rosebud| And King of the Mountain.
'''This is where the shadows come to play twixt the day And night Dancing and skipping Along a chink of light
You can't hear me. You can't hear me. You can't hear what I'm saying. You can't hear what I'm saying to you.
Oh the dawn has come And the song must be sung And the flowers are melting. What kind of language is this?
I just know that something good is going to happen. I don't know when, But just saying it could even make it happen.
I don't know if I'm closer to Heaven but It looks like Hell down there. These streets have never been paved with gold.
Warm and soothing That's how I remember home. Walking into arms through the back door Hearing voices I know well and long for.
Ooh, he's a moody old man. Song of Summer in his hand. Ooh, he's a moody old man. …in…in…in his hand. …in his hand.
Sweet and gentle and sensitive man With an obsessive nature and deep fascination For numbers And a complete infatuation with the calculation Of π.
Hey there, you lady in tears, Do you think that they care if they're real, woman? They just take it as part of the deal.
I'll kiss the ground. I'll tell my mother, I'll tell my father, I'll tell my loved one, I'll tell my brothers How much I love them.
I don't know why I'm crying. Am I suspended in Gaffa? Not until I'm ready for you, Not until I'm ready for you Can I have it all.
Just like a feeling that you're sending out, I pick it up. But I can't let you go. If I let you go, You slip into the fog…
Hello, I know that you've been feeling tired. I bring you love and deeper understanding. Hello, I know that you're unhappy. I bring you love and deeper understanding….
Our engineer had a different idea From people who nearly died but survived, Feeling no fear of leaving their bodies here, And went to a room that was soon full of visitors.
If you go, I'll let the law know, And they'll head you off when you touch the ground. Ooh, please, don't go through with this. I don't like the sound of it.
I thought you were crazy, wishing such a thing. I saw only a stick on fire, Alone on its journey Home to the quickening ground, With no one there to catch it.
He thought he was gonna die, But he didn't. She thought she just couldn't cope, But she did. We thought it would be so hard, But it wasn't… It wasn't easy, though!
In Malta, catch a swallow, For all of the guilty — to set them free. Wings fill the window, And they beat and bleed. They hold the sky on the other side Of borderlines.
I know where I'm going. But I don't want to leave. I just have one problem We're best friends, yeah? We tied ourselves in knots Doing cartwheels 'cross the floor Just forget it alright.
This love was big enough for the both of us. This love of yours was big enough to be frightened of. It's deep and dark, like the water was, The day I learned to swim.
Who knows who wrote that song of summer, That blackbirds sing at dusk, This is a song of colour, Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust, Then climb into bed and turn to dust.
Out in the garden There's half of a heaven, And we're only bluffing. We're not ones for busting through walls, But they've told us Unless we can prove That we're doing it, We can't have it all.
I won't open boxes That I am told not to. I'm not a Pandora. I'm much more like That girl in the mirror. Between you and me She don't stand a chance of getting anywhere at all.
To be sung of a summer night on the water. Ooh, on the water. "Ta, ta-ta! Hmm. Ta, ta-ta! In B, Fenby!" Blow Away (For Bill) Dedicated to Bill Duffield, Bush's lighting engineer, who died in a stage accident.
'''The soul cries out Hear a woman singing Don't want your bullshit, yeah Just want your sexuality. Don't want excuses, yeah Write me your poetry in motion Write it just for me, yeah And sign it with a kiss.
This little girl inside me Is retreating to her favourite place. Go into the garden. Go under the ivy, Under the leaves, Away from the party. Go right to the rose. Go right to the white rose (For me.)
I look at you and see my life that might have been your face just ghostly in the smoke. They're setting fire to the cornfields as you're taking me home. The smell of burning fields will now mean you and here.
Well, you won't get me with your Belladonna — in the coffee, And you won't get me with your aresenic — in the pot of tea, And you won't get me in a hole to rot — with your hemlock On the rocks.
Take away the love and the anger, And a little piece of hope holding us together. Looking for a moment that'll never happen, Living in the gap between past and future. Take away the stone and the timber, And a little piece of rope won't hold it together.
Wake up!…You must wake up!
Oh, I'm in love With Egypt.
You're the only one I want…
All is revealed Not only women bleed.
We could be like two strings beating, Speaking in sympathy…
The thrill and the hurting Will never be mine. Rocket's Tail
The whims that we're weeping for Our parents would be beaten for.
I think about us diving Diving off a rock, into another moment…
All the time it's a changing And all the dreamers are waking. Aerial
Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes. Wuthering Heights
Leave the breast And then the nest And then regret you ever left.
Put your hand over the side of the boat What do you feel?
Mummy… Daddy… The day is full of birds Sounds like they're saying words…
We're building a house of the future together. (What would we do without you?)
Hey all you little waves run away. Mmm… run away. Why Should I Love You?
Rosabel believe, Not even eternity Can hold Houdini! "Rosabel, believe!" Get Out Of My House
I can't hear a word you're saying Tell me what are you singing In the sun
Do I look for those millionaires Like a Machiavellian girl would When I could wear the sunset?
Ooh find me the man with the ladder And he might lift me up to the stars.
My mother and her little brown jug It held her milk And now it holds our memories…
It's gonna be so good now It's gonna be so good Can you see the lark ascending?
She has a very intense poetic mind. That's what makes it — that voice that comes in.
I spend a lot of my time looking at blue, The colour of my room and my mood…
Harm is in us. Harm in us, but power to arm. Harm is in us. Leave it open!
They say that the Devil is a charming man. And just like you I bet he can dance.
Split me open With devotion You put your hands in And rip my heart out Eat the music.
What am I singing? A song of seeds — The food of love. Eat the music. Moments of Pleasure
Who said anything about it hurting? It's gonna be beautiful It's gonna be wonderful It's gonna be paradise.
''''Coming in with the golden light In the morning. Coming in with the golden light Is the New Man.'''
They look down At the ground, Missing. But I never go in now. I'm looking at the Big Sky.
And I can hear my mother saying "Every old sock meets an old shoe" Isn't that a great saying?
Your name is being called by sacred things That are not addressed nor listened to. Sometimes they blow trumpets.
Just one thing in it: Me or him. Just one thing in it: Me or him. And I love life!
He said it was her fault. She said it wasn't at all. But the truth lies somewhere in the middle.
We let it in We give it out And in the end What's it all about? It must be love.
There's someone who's loved you forever but you don't know it. You might feel it and just not show it.
My door was never locked, Until one day a trigger come cocking. (But now I've started learning how,) I keep it shut.
Gabriel before me Raphael behind me Michael to my right Uriel on my left side In the circle of fire. The Red Shoes
'''Here comes the sunshine Here comes that son of mine Here comes the everything Here's a song and a song for him.
When we got on top of the hill, We saw Rome burning. I just let you walk away. I've never forgiven myself.
The tambourine jingle-jangles. The medium roams and rambles. Not taken in, I break the circle. I want this man To go away now.
Reaching out for that hand to hold. Reaching out for the Star. Reaching out for the Star that explodes. Reaching out for Mama.
See those trees Bend in the wind I feel they've got a lot more sense than me You see I try to resist…
Passing through air. You mix the stars with your arms. Walking through there. The doom of eternity balms. Skies of grey are not today.
I cannot sit and let Something happen I'll regret. Ooh, he scares me! There's a man behind those eyes. I catch him when I'm bending.
With a kiss I'd pass the key And feel your tongue Teasing and receiving. With your spit Still on my lip, You hit the water.
Another Hollywood waitress Is telling us she's having your baby And there's a rumour that you're on ice And you will rise again someday. ''' π
Well we think you'd better wake up capt'n There's something happen'n up ahead We've never seen anything like it We've never seen anything like it before.
So much for all the prayers you've learned. They are no help to basic needs. And all the worlds they've shown you Just make you even greedier.
This cloud, this cloud — Says "Noah, C'mon and build me an Ark." And if you're coming, jump, 'Cause We're leaving with the Big Sky. Mother Stands For Comfort
This is where I want to be. This is what I need. This is where I want to be, But I know that this will never be mine.
Ooh, their breath is warm And they smell like sleep, And they say they take me home. Like poppies heavy with seed They take me deeper and deeper. Under Ice
They got alchemy. They turn the roses into gold They turn the lilac into honey They're making love for the peaches. And they'll do it, Do it for you.
'''''See the light ram through the gaps in the land.'' Many an Aborigine's mistaken for a tree 'Til you near him on the motorway And the tree begin to breathe.'''
See how the child reaches out instinctively To feel how fire will feel. See how the man reaches out instinctively For what he cannot have. The pull and the push of it all.
Nobody else can share this. Here comes one and one makes one, The glorious union. Well it could be love, Or it could be just lust, But it will be fun. It will be wonderful.
His little hand is on my heart. He's got me where it hurts me. Knock, knock. Who's there in this baby? You know how to work me. All my barriers are going. It's starting to show.
We're all alone on the stage tonight. We've been told; we're not afraid of you. We know all our lines so well, ah-ha, We've said them so many times: Time and time again, Line and line again.
One of the band told me last night That music is all that he's got in his life. So where does it go? Surely not with his soul. Will all of his licks and his R'n'B Blow away?
There's something very special indeed, In all the places where I've seen you shine, boy. There's something very real in how I feel, honey. It's in me. It's in me, And you know it's for real. Tuning in on your saxophone…
Could be in a dream Our clothes are on the beach These prints of our feet Lead right up to the sea No one, no one is here No one, no one is here We stand in the Atlantic We become panoramic…
Aren't we all the same? In and out of doubt. I can see angels standing around you. They shimmer like mirrors in Summer. But you don't know it. And they will carry you o'er the walls. If you need us, just call.
The stars are caught in our hair The stars are on our fingers A veil of diamond dust Just reach up and touch it The sky's above our heads The sea's around our legs In milky, silky water We swim further and further…
Oh, come on, you've got to use your flow. You know what it's like, and you know you want to go. Don't drive too slowly. Don't put your blues where your shoes should be. Don't put your foot on the heartbrake.''' Oh England My Lionheart
There's a city, draped in net Fisherman net And in the half light, in the half light It looks like every tower Is covered in webs Moving and glistening and rocking It's babies in rhythm As the spider of time is climbing Over the ruins.
If you can't tell your sister, If you can't tell a priest, 'Cause it's so deep you don't think that you can speak about it To anyone, Can you tell it to your heart? Can you find it in your heart To let go of these feelings…
It lay buried here. It lay deep inside me. It's so deep I don't think that I can speak about it. It could take me all of my life, But it would only take a moment to Tell you what I'm feeling, But I don't know if I'm ready yet.
Oh thou, who givest sustenance to the universe From whom all things proceed To whom all things return Unveil to us the face of the true spiritual sun Hidden by a disc of golden light That we may know the truth And do our whole duty As we journey to thy sacred feet
That's a song where we were listening to a lot of Kate Bush last summer, and we wanted a song which had a lot of tom-toms in it,I just had my daughter up also, and was kind of feeling in a sense of awe and wonderment, so the song is kind of a Kate Bush song about miracles.
I was called by my agent, who said "Would you like to record a track with Kate Bush?" To which there is only F-ing one possible answer. Unless its me singing. I said, "She does know I can't sing?" "No-no-no, it would be voicing, saying words for snow. … I still can't believe it says "Kate Bush-Stephen Fry."
When I first heard it, I thought that's extremely challenging, the vocal — it was almost hysterical, and it was so up there, the register, but it was absolutely fascinating. And I know at the time a lot of my friends couldn't bear it, they thought it was just "too much" — but that's exactly what drew me in.
There was a story that some EMI execs had come down to see you and you'd said something like: "Here's what I've been working on," and then produced some cakes from your oven. True? "No! I don't know where that came from. I thought that was quite funny actually. It presents me as this homely creature, which is all right, isn't it?"
There were so many times I thought, "I'll have the album finished this year, definitely, we'll get it out this year." Then there were a couple of years where I thought, "I'm never gonna do this." If I could make albums quicker, I'd be on a roll wouldn't I? Everything just seems to take so much time. I don't know why. Time… evaporates.
With no words, with no song You can dance the dream with your body on And this curve, is your smile And this cross, is your heart And this line, is your path Oh it's gonna be the way you always thought it would be But it's gonna be no illusion Oh it's gonna be the way you always dreamt about it But it's gonna be really happening to ya…
Her music remains reassuringly the same ecstatic alchemy of the humdrum and otherworldly. Recalling the hello-clouds wonder of The Big Sky from 1985's Hounds of Love or the frank paean to menstruation that is Strange Phenomena from her debut, The Kick Inside, Aerial finds Bush marvelling in the magic of the everyday: the wind animating a skirt hanging on a clothes line, the trace of footprints leading into the sea, the indecipherable codes of birdsong.
Full lyrics online Rubberband Girl
Full text online The Sensual World Video performance
Here come the Hills of Time Song of Solomon
Oh! To be in love, And never get out again.
Full lyrics online Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)
How I'm moved. How you move me With your beauty's potency. The Saxophone Song
See the sun set in the hand of the man. Night Of The Swallow
So all the colours run See what they have become A wonderful sunset Sunset
At night They're seen Laughing, Loving. They know The way To be Happy. Coffee Homeground
I hold a cup of wisdom, But there is nothing within. There Goes a Tenner
All young gentle dreams drowning In life's grief Can you hang on to me?
You bring me so much joy And then you bring me More joy… Mrs. Bartolozzi
Ooh! Let me have it. Let me grab your soul away. James And The Cold Gun
My Pussy Queen Knows all my secrets. I'll never fall in love again. The Wedding List
I said, mmh… yes, But not yet, mmh… yes, Mmh… Yes. Love and Anger Video performance
Without the pain there'd be no learning Without the hurting we'd never change. Big Stripey Lie
Do you know what I really need? I need love love love love love, yeah! The Big Sky
Bright, white coming alive jumping off of the aerial All the time it's a changing, like now…
I am a rocket On fire. Look at me go, with my tail on fire… This Woman's Work Video
Oh will you come with us To find the song of the oil and the brush? An Architect's Dream
And I'd never know where you'd gonna be next But I'd know that you'd surprise me. Among Angels
Oh! Don't you throw my love away, I need your loving, I need your loving… The Magician (1979)
You might not, not think so now, But just you wait and see — someone will come to help you. The Fog
They took the game right out of it. When I am a man I will be an astronaut, And find Peter Pan. Wow
I'm dying for you just to touch me, And feel all the energy rushing right up-a-me. L'amour looks something like you. Them Heavy People
I turn to my computer like a friend. I need deeper understanding. Give me deeper understanding… Between A Man And A Woman Youtube video
With a voice you either love or hate, she belts out a song with a desperation that grabs you and won't let go.
See how the flower leans instinctively Toward the light. See how the heart reaches out instinctively For no reason but to touch… Heads We're Dancing
Have you ever seen a picture Of Jesus laughing? Mmm, do you think He had a beautiful smile? A smile that healed. You're the One
Not one of us would dare to break The silence And, oh how we have longed For something that would Make us feel so… Nocturn
I say good night-night I tuck him in tight. But things are not right. What is this? An infant kiss That sends my body tingling?
I'm reeling in the music, And I've only had a few… And I'm afraid by the way we grow old… My darling… Under the Ivy (1985)
Put out the light, then, put out the light. Vibes in the sky invite you to dine. Dust to dust, Blow to blow. All We Ever Look For
Follow the Nile Deep to much deeper. The Pyramids sound lonely tonight. The sands run red In lands of the Pharoahs. Their symmetry gets right inside me.
I want you as the dream, Not the reality. That clumsy good-bye kiss could fool me. But looking back over my shoulder at you happy without me.
Maybe you're lonely, And only want a little company, But keep your recipes For the rats to eat, And may they rest in peace with coffee homeground. Hammer Horror
I don't know you, And you don't know me. It is this that brings us together. You Want Alchemy (B-side of The Red Shoes single) (4 April 1994)
He does love his numbers And they run, they run, they run him In a great big circle In a circle of infinity 3.14159 26535897932 3846 264 338 3279… Bertie
She's a gift for satirists. Of course it's easy, because dull artists, especially in pop music, are very difficult to satirize. It's all there on a plate wasn't it?
Ooh, yeah, you're amazing! We think you are really cool. We'd give you a part, my love, But you'd have to play the fool. Don't Push Your Foot On The Heartbrake
In the warm room She'll touch you with your Mamma's hand. You'll long to kiss those red lips, But when you do It'll feel like kicking a habit. Kashka From Baghdad
Just like his wife before she freezed on him, Just like his wife when she was beautiful. Delius (Song Of Summer) A song about the composers Frederick Delius and Eric Fenby.
Where angels fear to tread, You go rushing in. Stay out of this You must not interfere Don't you see this is Between a man and a woman? Never Be Mine
All I see is Rudi. I die with him, again and again. And I'll feel good in my revenge. I'm gonna fill your head with lead And I'm coming for you! Violin
There's something moving Under, under the ice, Moving under ice, Through water, Trying to get out of the cold water. "It's me." Something, someone — help them. "It's me." Waking The Witch
I found a book on how to be invisible You take a pinch of keyhole, And fold yourself up, You cut along the dotted lines. You think inside out. You're invisible. Joanni
Full lyrics online Sat in Your Lap This song incorporates a bit of Bush's eccentric wordplay: Sat is a Hindu and Sikh term for Truth, or Knowledge related to the concept of Dharma.
Just being alive It can really hurt These moments given Are a gift from time.Just let us try To give these moments back To those we love To those who will survive…
I don't mind if it's dangerous I don't mind if it's raining Take me up to the top of the city And put me up on the angel's shoulders. Constellation of the Heart
Joanni, Joanni wears a golden cross And she looks so beautiful in her armour Joanni, Joanni blows a kiss to God And she never wears a ring on her finger… A Coral Room
Surely by now I should know I can control My highs and my lows By questioning all that I do, Examining every move, Trying to get back to the rudiments. In The Warm Room
We dive deeper and deeper Could be we are here Could be in my dream It came up on the horizon Rising and rising In a sea of honey, a sky of honey.
You don’t ever get the sense that she's making music to pander to anyone. I think you always get her absolute best attempt at her true vision whenever you get a Kate Bush record.
The civilised keep alive The territorial war… Erase the race that claim the place And say we dig for ore, Or dangle devils in a bottle And push them from the pull of the Bush.
The new album, Hounds of Love, breaks new ground for Kate with the b-side. This is a story — The Ninth Wave — told in a series of songs, like a Pink Floyd concept album.
The more I think about sex, the better it gets. Here we have a purpose in life: Good for the blood circulation, Good for releasing the tension, The root of our reincarnations. In Search Of Peter Pan
I am ice and dust. I am sky. I can see horses wading through snowdrifts. My broken hearts, my fabulous dances. My fleeting song, fleeting. The world is so loud. Keep falling. I'll find you. Wild Man
I feel so sorry for you, Believing because they control. And of all the guardian angels They chose me to save your soul! Oh, I'm just trying to explain, I'm a disbelieving angel. Passing Through Air (1978)
She's sort of stretching the fabric, not just of her voice, but of the whole kind of pop form. … It's like a child, it's like a kind of reveling in what her voice can do.
God, but you're beautiful, aren't you? Feel your warm hand walking around. I won't pull away. My passion always wins. So keep on a-moving in. So keep on a-tuning in. Synchronise rhythm now. Oh To Be In Love
A rubberband bouncing back to life A rubberband bend the beat If I could learn to give like a rubberband I'd be back on my feet… And So Is Love - Performance on Top of the Pops (1994)
I love the whirling of the dervishes. I love the beauty of rare innocence. You don't need no crystal ball, Don't fall for a magic wand. We humans got it all, we perform the miracles. Room For The Life
I was born in a cloud… Now I am falling. I want you to catch me. Look up and you'll see me. You know you can hear me. The world is so loud. Keep falling. I'll find you.
When EMI invites a group of journalists to the Royal Academy of Music, in London, for a one-off listen to Kate Bush's new album, they are sending a clear signal — this album is not to be dismissed lightly.
You'll never know that you had all of me. You'll never know the poetry you've stirred in me. Of all the stars I've seen that shine so brightly, I've never known or felt in myself so rightly, It's in me… Strange Phenomena
Oh! England, my Lionheart! Dropped from my black Spitfire to my funeral barge. Give me one kiss in apple-blossom. Give me one wish, and I'd be wassailing In the orchard, my English rose, Or with my shepherd, who'll bring me home. Fullhouse
Could you see the aisles of women? Could you see them screaming and weeping? Could you see the storm rising? Could you see the guy who was driving? Could you climb higher and higher? Could you climb right over the top?
When the fantasy bells Of the universe ring You can fly through the sky On a dragonfly's wing. There is magic within There is magic without Follow me and you'll learn Just what life's all about. December Will Be Magic Again (1980)
I don’t think she's ever particularly wanted to "play the game", has she? But when you've done great work, like she's done, and then you retract from the public, people almost have to make up their own version of you, don’t they?
I've spent many, many hours listening to that 30 minutes of music. It's an incredible piece of music, and I would advise anyone who's never heard it to go and listen to it, because it's one of the great pieces of music.
I'd never heard anything like it before. It was like banshee music. This absolutely otherworldly voice, singing about a book, and as a bookish kid, I was always fascinated by anything, any music that seems to be about or inspired by books.
It is absolutely beautiful, isn't it? And its a sort of over two years before any of the other recordings she did. That is her singing at the age of 16, and having written those extraordinary lyrics — about whatever they're about.
Every sleepy light Must say goodbye To the day before it dies In a sea of honey A sky of honey Keep us close to your heart So if the skies turn dark We may live on in Comets and stars. Somewhere In Between
The intention is to tell a story, to create a sonic world for us, a sonic painting, for us to walk into, without having to see her. She's transcending that. She's choosing to transcend that. And that's a very powerful thing to do.
I read an interview with her one time, where she was asked, something along the lines of "Why do you write from the perspective of a lot of characters?" and she said very simply and eloquently "because they're more interesting than I am."
Watching the painter painting And all the time, the light is changing And he keeps painting That bit there, it was an accident But he's so pleased It's the best mistake, he could make And it's my favourite piece. It's just great. The Painter's Link
I think she is still relevant. It's nice to see people reinvent themselves. She was a great performer and a great singer. I like that song, you know the one, "It's me, I'm Cathy…" I love that song. I remember listening to it growing up.
You can hear one note of a Kate Bush song, or one note of her voice even, and know immediately what it is. And that is the biggest feat of any artist, especially when you consider, you know, all the roads that she's gone down.
He said I was a flower of the mountain, yes, But now I've powers o'er a woman's body, yes. Stepping out of the page into the sensual world. Stepping out… To where the water and the earth caress And the down on a peach says mmh, Yes…
One of the main things that brings people to the Brontë Museum from all over the world is Kate Bush. We have copies of her No 1 hit single "Wuthering Heights" in our collection of Brontë-related items. People often arrive at the Brontë novels through that song.
I didn't realise how commercially successful she might be. I thought of her more really, I suppose, in the terms of someone like Joni Mitchell — the level of a lady who's very talented, but would appeal to a more esoteric audience. But she had different ideas.
That record she did with Peter Gabriel saved my life. That record helped me get sober. So she played a big part in my actual downfall and kind of "rebirth'" as it were. That record helped me so much. I never told her that, but it did.
I knew from day one, I knew … there was no way this girl was not going to make it. She was going to be a huge success. There was no way, because she was so driven for it. And her enthusiasm for it all was infectious.
See how I fall like the snow, Come to cover the lovers, (But don't you wake them up) Come to sparkle the dark up, With just a touch of make up. Come to cover the muck up. Ooh with a little luck — December will be magic again.
To me, Kate Bush will always represent the age of exploring your sexuality, when you change from a girl to a woman. I guess that's what I found fascinating about Kate, she totally stuck out. She created her own look and sound. There's a timelessness to her music.
One of music's most reclusive and enigmatic figures has re-emerged into what some have seen as a rich era for British female singer-songwriters. Bush's new double album, Aerial, is due out in November, only her eighth after three decades in the business. It will be treated with due reverence.
"Wuthering Heights" was not your normal type song — but that's why it was so brilliant. It was something out the norm. When something like that comes along, they don’t come along that often. When does the next Kate Bush come along, after Kate Bush? There hasn’t been one.
I know it works for me. As we cross the bridge — the burning bridge — With flames behind us, We front the line. It's you and me, baby, against the world. Be Kind To My Mistakes (1986) Song for the film Castaway (1986); later included in the collection This Woman's Work
Somewhere in between The waxing and the waning wave Somewhere in between What the song and the silence says Somewhere in between The ticking and the tocking clock Somewhere in a dream between Sleep and waking up Somewhere in between Breathing out and breathing in Like twilight is neither night nor morning
Many years ago, back near the start of her career, she regarded the domestic demands of motherhood as a dubious prospect, claiming her work was her love, and how could she do that and bring up a child at the same time? The answer, presumably, was not to work for a dozen years.
Creativity comes from the freedom to fail. And freedom to fail comes from experimentation, and that's what gives something its individuality. And, you know, I think her courage, which is the positive way of interpreting it, or bloody-mindedness, which is the negative, is part of what gives her real value as an artist.
I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking Of all the things I should've said, That I never said. All the things we should've done, That we never did. All the things I should've given, But I didn't. Walk Straight Down The Middle
My favorite album by her is The Dreaming, and I think she produced that one herself. That got a lot of criticism — but I loved it. It was overloaded with textures, and tones and all manner of things. It’s a record that I still can play to this day, and still hear new things.
I'm really looking forward to Kate Bush's return — I'm no expert on her work but I know some of it and I think she's an incredibly original and talented artist. Anyone who writes most of an album like her first album, The Kick Inside, at 15 years old has got to be pretty special.
A Sky of Honey is a celebration of song itself, which has a child's joyful lack of inhibition about it — Kate Bush is heard laughing freely towards the end while a young child, possibly her son, is heard several times… Aerial stands alongside The Hounds of Love and The Kick Inside as her finest work.
We've been holding our breath for a long time. Three years of playing the old songs and wondering "whatever next?" Would it be even weirder than The Dreaming? Would it leave more admirers by the wayside, shaking their heads?… The real fans will happily go along for the ride, even if she isn't going the pretty way.
That's one of like my all-time favorite songs, dude. Music is supposed to evoke emotion, you know what I'm saying, It makes you feel a certain way, you know, that's what the vibrations are. Its, its not stagnant, its not just, not just plain — every time you listen to it, it touches you, it strikes a chord.
'''When you reach for a star Only angels are there And it's not very far Just a step on a stair Take a look at those clowns And the tricks that they play In the circus of life Life is bitter and gay There are clowns in the night Clowns everywhere See how they run Run from despair …
I just remember pulling aside, I was driving, and I heard it on the radio, in the states — and she didn't really get played a lot in the states, until that song — that really got played — a lot. I remember, I had to pull over, and listen to it, because I'd never heard anything like it.
All we ever look for — a god. All we ever look for — ooh, a drug. All we ever look for — a great big hug. All we ever look for — a little bit of you. All we ever look for — a little bit of you, too. All we ever look for, But we never do score. Egypt
We take all the telescopes And we turn them inside out And we point them away from the big sky. Put your eye right up to the glass. Here we'll find the constellation of the heart. Steer your life by these stars On the unconditional chance 'Tis here where Hell and Heaven dance. This is the constellation of the heart.
It's as if, within her voice, there's everything — every possible facet of human experience is their under her surface, and her work as a writer is to constantly draw that out. Not just the particularity of her experiences as a female body, but her experience as a person, which is to be prey to all kinds of forces and sensations.
I know this may give her a mystique and make the press all the more curious about her, but that's not the intention; it's not a ploy to get her more attention. She genuinely doesn't see why people should be interested in her personal life and she certainly doesn't like going out to clubs or trendy restaurants. It's just not her.
I only like extreme talent. It's the only thing I can listen to. Where does Kate Bush come from? You can't hear her influences. It's like Billie Holiday, when I first heard Billie Holiday, I'd never heard anything like that in my life — the same with Kate Bush. I can't figure out musically, artistically, who her mother and father is.
A Sky of Honey is, in a sense, a lyric poem set to music. Full of lush, fecund melodies which swing from jazz to rock, it is threaded through with bird song and chatter and feels distinctly organic and earthy…. Side two is the album Pink Floyd might have made if Kate Bush had been their lead singer and lyricist in 1979.
I still remember going to the CD store and buying The Sensual World when I was 16, and the cover — there was a rose in front of her mouth, that has bloomed, she's got big wide eyes, and '''I remember, you know, putting it on the shitty car stereo on the way home, you know — ''and my life was forever changed.'''''
I simply think she is one of the greatest figures in British music over the last 30 years. There are an awful lot of people in the business wandering around claiming to be artists, but she is one of the few who can genuinely make that claim… I don't think there is any competition, she's on a different level and quite outside them all.
It's a mischievous paradox that, while rock at its ultra-macho best is exhilarating and energizing, yet just at the moment when it is most strident and loud it leaves you needing something more. Then along comes a shy doctor's daughter from Welling who out-screams the best, out-powers the noisiest and tops it with the satisfying impact of musical and psychological depth. It's almost Wagnerian.'''
Oh and the waves are going out Oh and the waves are coming in Out of the corner of my eye I think I see you standing outside But it's just your shirt Hanging on the washing line Waving it's arm as the wind blows by And it looks so alive Nice and white Just like it's climbed right out of my washing machine… How To Be Invisible
Kate journeys into new and exciting territories. She is an original in a music world dominated by cover versions, regressive movements and identikit superstars. The direct opposite of the archetypal rock star: compulsively introvert in a world of screaming extraverts, middle-class and deeply English amid England's all-pervasive working class American ethos, boldly feminine in rock's macho climate. Her melodic genius and articulate lyrics make the rest seem moronically simplistic.
The album Never for Ever came next and starts in happy mood, with a summer night of a cha-cha-cha tribute to a new-found hero, "Delius". The philosophic All We Ever Look For creates a remarkable and rare mood of reassurance and upbeat resignation, a Bush specialty . . . The end comes in the horrifying "Breathing", a vision of the nuclear holocaust through the eyes of an unborn child.
It's extraordinary what that song has been used for — I think a lot of people who have gotten into trouble, have attached themselves to that song, and I think a lot of it is Kate's wonderful voice is there, in a sort of reassuring and loving way, and it just makes them think that perhaps there is going to be that type of love out there for them.
This is a whole universe I can dive into — and for me, it was very avant-garde, and expressive and kind of from a complete different planet to everything else that you see from the eighties … it's like she was definitely out their on her own. … She seems to have an endless kind of ability to put herself in and with empathize with different characters and viewpoints.
You were playing in the snow You were banging on the doors You climbed up on the roof Roof of the world You were pulling up the rhododendrons Loping down the mountain They want to know you They will hunt you down Then they will kill you Run away, run away… We found your footprints in the snow We brushed them all away… You're the wild man. Snowed In at Wheeler Street
When the conductor Richard Hickox rang me one day in 1984 to ask if I could help with a rather unusual job for which he and his choir had been engaged, I was intrigued. Kate Bush, it transpired, was working on her new album, Hounds of Love, and for one track, Hello Earth, she wanted a chorus to recreate the orthodox singing/chanting that made such a contribution to the film Nosferatu.
The Man with the Child in His Eyes is still one of those things, which right from the get-go … has its own life, because it's just a great song. … For all the time that she or I or anyone spend decorating and creating moods, its actually the key element of what your saying, the melody and the chords which still speak louder than all the stuff around, on a great song.
Its funny no one ever applies the term "progressive rock" to Kate Bush, but to me its prog. It's the same think I love about the best prog, it's like, the really sort of brash stuff, people showing technical ability, I have no interest in, but the experimental dreamy stuff, that sort of came from many places at once, I set her stuff next to, well next to Janis, is the obvious comparison…
Kate Bush makes a record, and you don’t hear from her. And you play the stuff she has made, and one day you are surprised, and she brings out something else, and she's been quietly working away on it, for however long she wanted to work on it, and I love that. I love the willingness to be quiet, until its time to speak — which is something that she does over and over.
Artists shouldn't be made famous. You know… they're just … as important as… um doctors, and priests … or maybe not as important sometimes, and yet they have this huge aura of almost god-like quality about them, just because their craft makes a lot of money. And at the same time it is a forced importance — you know, football stars and theatre stars — It is man-made so the press can feed off it.
I do think I go out of my way to be a very normal person and I just find it frustrating that people think that I'm some kind of weirdo reclusive that never comes out into the world. Y'know, I'm a very strong person and I think that's why actually I find it really infuriating when I read, 'She had a nervous breakdown' or 'She's not very mentally stable, just a weak, frail little creature'.'''
For me, it's not important how well the songs will be received because I think she's already an amazing influence in what she's done. I listen to her stuff a lot while I sketch and I think there is a weird sense of emotional encouragement in her work. There's something therapeutic in her voice and in her attitude, so that sometimes just listening to it can encourage you or give you some kind of energy.
After a thousand songs on the theme of boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl or Thatcher's Britain, exposure to her music comes as an imaginative release as we go giddily flying into the limitless possibilities of the poetic viewpoint. Here is talk of whales, of Peter Pan, kites, Houdini, mysticism… Acquaintances have observed, "She lives in a world of her own." But it's a world that lives within all of us, and her songs shine light into neglected areas of our minds.
Babooshka's just one of those song's you just can't get out of your head, can you? You know, how she just takes a word, and you start seeing images and pictures. To a word that maybe you haven't used … it's "Babooshka" and she's turned that into an emotion, that's just how she's able to use a combination of a word and a combination of a melody and the rhythm of that, and it creates a new language.
Her subjects come tripping from library shelves, television and cinema screens and musty books of fairy tales, the stuff that dreams are made of. She spins tunes that haunt, twist and turn the mind, triggering long forgotten moods. Listening intently to her albums is an experience akin to having a lucid and feverish dream. Jungian symbols of youth, innocence, spiritual escape and the dark, feminine realm abound. Ghosts haunt the black vinyl grooves… But it's not all brooding intensity. There are jokes, too…
Such is the idiosyncratic nature of her work that she could probably disappear for a half-century and still sustain her own unique position in the pop firmament. But then, who else would write about an obsessive-compulsive housewife or attempt a vocal duet with trilling birds, or, in the most courageous of the album's many unusual strategies, sing huge strings of numbers, a gambit that brings new meaning to the old critic's chestnut about being happy to listen to someone singing the telephone directory?
Her talent was precocious. "The Saxophone Song" and "The Man With the Child in His Eyes" were recorded as demo tapes when Kate was still at school. The first album, The Kick Inside (1978), caused tremendous media interest and is still the public's favourite. Her voice, criticized at the time, was small and childlike, the range erratic, if impressive. Since then it has improved enormously, deepening and gaining power and flexibility, until now it is a great asset, individual and capable of both subtle and stunning effects.
On to The Dreaming, a strange, alien album full of mysticism and obscurantae. Its impact owes much to sheer production quality. Kate has gradually taken over this aspect of her records since Lionheart, and each LP is technically more impressive. Her voice here is forward and strong and, on "Leave It Open", deliberately distorted to create a surreal effect. Get Out of My House is a shattering trip into madness, with a stunning culmination which finds Kate braying like a mule amid a chorus of Indian drum talk.
For that to have come out of someone's brain, period, is a remarkable feat. For that to have come out of someone's brain, at 17 years old — this incredible song, incredible song … there aren't that many amazing pop songs that have two or three key changes in them —‚ and I'm not talking about some modulations, I'm talking: "Okay, now we're in the key of Q." It's like WHAT? But it's so brilliant, it's so memorable. I always karaoke that song — if I drink enough.
Although she had piano and violin lessons at school, Bush is essentially self-taught. I have always been fascinated by the difference of dynamics at work between popular artists and conventionally trained classical musicians, and had a similar experience with the Edge, of U2, when we worked together on the score of a film called Captive. In fact, gifted "pop" musicians like Bush and U2 are far more demanding of themselves in the studio than classical musicians can afford to be, and will spend days working on a tiny fragment.
When Kate Bush came along, sort of '78, I was in The Slits , and I remember I was sitting in a van outside our singer's house, waiting to do a gig, and "Wuthering Heights" came on the radio, and I was like "Ooh, WHAT? What's this?" And I kept waiting for the melody to repeat, because, you know, at that time, pop music was very much Radio One, you know it was repeating melodies very quickly, and '''this melody it meandered on, and this high-pitched voice warbling and dropping, but I was ''absolutely spellbound.'''''
For me, Kate Bush was always a trump card when the tiresome 'question' of female artistic genius came up. … Before disgust stopped me getting dragged into these skirmishes, I had a ready arsenal of Girl Greats — Patti Smith, Björk, Nina Simone, Delia Derbyshire, Polly Harvey, and so on. And yet, there would often be some caveat why genius eluded my candidates (ripped off Dylan etc). Until we would get to Kate. Female genius? Kate Bush. End of. Aerial, the first Kate Bush album in a young lifetime (12 years), re-establishes the fact. It is extraordinary — jaw-dropping, no less.
Of course she's still relevant. I wasn't actually in the country when her music first came out, so I only discovered it three or four years ago. What's amazing is that something like "Wuthering Heights" still sounds so different. I actually saw her about nine months ago, we were just passing at an industry event and I went up to her and said I was a big fan and asked her about the new record. She was really excited about it but quite nervous because she felt that everyone was hyping it up a bit and she just wanted to bring out an album. You know, she's a musician.
She has always freely admitted being like a little girl in many ways, and furthermore, happily presumes she'll still be that way in her dotage. It's certainly still a factor on Aerial , both in the track "Bertie" itself and in the memories and reminiscences that cobweb some other songs. But compared to the darker corners of the mind sometimes mined in earlier songs, the new album seems a much sunnier affair: an enduring image I took away from it — not necessarily a lyric, though it might have been — was of windows flung wide open, their curtains billowing out in the breeze, a room's long-dormant dust stirred into life again.
Kate Bush's celebrated full return to the stage after a 35-year absence is proving that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Eight positions of the current British albums chart are occupied by the art-rock icon's albums, according to The New York Times, which sets a new record for the artist, whose 1978 debut single "Wuthering Heights" made her the first female in British charts history to have a self-written Number One. In addition to being the only woman in U.K. charts history to have that many albums in the Top 40, Bush is now trailing Elvis Presley and the Beatles for having simultaneous Top 40 records; Presley had 12 at one point in his career, while the Beatles, at another time, had 11.
Kate will never be an academic artist, drily applying intellectual music theory to the delight of a handful of peers, forging into new areas for the sake of "progress". Her style is personal, individual, impressionistic. Like Delius, her music will always flow from poetic necessity, breaking from the confines of tradition because expression demands it. I just hope that she will have the confidence to follow her instincts and not be discouraged by the music press, who in the main are baffled and annoyed by her uniqueness. Unable to pigeon-hole her music, they turn instead to ridicule and condescension to fill the pages. Which is a disservice to the British public who, to their undying credit, have made Kate Bush such a popular success.
I always heard about Kate Bush being considered one of the most influential female artists during the modern era of pop/rock music, but never understood what her appeal was… But when I recently stumbled upon her debut 1978 single, "Wuthering Heights," I found myself spending hours absorbing as much of her pre-1985 material as possible . . . Listening to an early Kate Bush album brings you far, far, away to a dreamworld filled with pixies and love and Peter Pan and pure hearts . . . "Wuthering Heights" and the rest of The Kick Inside display all of Bush's trademarks: a literary consciousness; flourishing, heartfelt waves and the ability to successfully incorporate just about every eccentric vocal style you've never heard into each song.
At around an hour and a half, Aerial is unquestionably a substantial piece of work, and its manifold peculiarities and quirks offer much more interesting fare than that available from today's AOR mainstream. It's also a more mature undertaking than any of her previous albums, an extended meditation on art and light, fame and family, creativity and the natural world. Indeed it seems, come to think of it, like an expansion of the theme of Laura Veirs' gorgeous "Rapture". And since that was the finest song of last year, I'd have to say that leaves Kate Bush still operating at the cutting-edge of intelligent adult pop, every bit as relevant now as at any point in her career. Just a little bit weirder, thank heavens.
One of the things I love about Kate Bush is her absolute ability to take things, to pluck things that you would never expect to see on a rock album, and put them there and make them work. James Joyce's Ulysses — one of the greatest passages in all of English or Anglo-Irish literature, is Molly Bloom's glorious soliloquy ending in a sequence of Yeses. It's about embracing the world of the senses, embracing yourself, embracing sex, embracing love, embracing the future, embracing all possibility, and it goes all the way back to me, to "Wuthering Heights" — this is somebody who is not afraid of books. This is somebody who is not afraid of reading, somebody who's not afraid of writers, and who's not afraid of translating, being an intermediary, being a door, between the world of books and the world of rock.
I was trying to say that, really, a man and a woman, can't understand each other because we are a man and a woman. And if we could actually swap each other's roles, if we could actually be in each other's place for a while, I think we'd both be very surprised! … And I think it would lead to a greater understanding. And really the only way I could think it could be done was either... you know, I thought a deal with the devil, you know. And I thought, "well, no, why not a deal with God!" You know, because in a way it's so much more powerful the whole idea of asking God to make a deal with you. You see, for me it is still called "Deal With God", that was its title. But we were told that if we kept this title that it would not be played in any of the religious countries, Italy wouldn't play it, France wouldn't play it, and Australia wouldn't play it! Ireland wouldn't play it, and that generally we might get it blacked purely because it had God in the title.
Full lyrics online Babooshka
Full lyrics online
Full lyrics online Symphony in Blue
Who is that girl? Do I know her face?
What say you, good people? "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" Help this blackbird…
All for love Just for the sake of love. Eat the Music
Like it or not, we keep bouncing back, Because we're woman. The Kick Inside
I must admit, just when I think I'm king, I just begin.
We raise our hats to the strange phenomena. Soul-birds of a feather flock together. Kite
If I only could Be running up that hill With no problems… Hounds Of Love
Only you can do something about it. There's no-one there, my friend, any better.
We let the weirdness in. The Dreaming This song deals with the Australian traditions of "The Dreaming"
It's not easy for me To give away a secret — It's not safe… Burning Bridge (1985)
Well, I couldn't see what was to be, So I just stood there laughing. Deeper Understanding Youtube video
He's big and pink, and not like me. He sees no light. He sees no reason for the fighting… Suspended in Gaffa
I was there at the birth, Out of the cloudburst, The head of the tempest. Murderer! Murder of calm… The Morning Fog
My excitement Turns into fright. All my words fade. What am I gonna say? Mustn't give the game away. Pull Out The Pin
You're a coward, James. You're running away from humanity. You're running away from reality. It won't be funny when they rat-a-tat-tat you down. Feel It
I should have been home Hours ago, But I'm not here. But I'm not here… Jig Of Life Co-written with her brother John Carder Bush
I'll do it for you I'll be the Rose of Sharon for you Ooh I'll come in a hurricane for you I'll do it for you… Lily
December will be magic again. Don't miss the brightest star, Kiss under mistletoe, I want to hear you laugh, Don't let the mystery go now. Warm And Soothing (1980)
Full lyrics online Moving This first track of Bush's first album is a tribute to Bush's mime and dance instructor Lindsay Kemp, and opens and closes with a whale song.
All the love, all the love, All the love we should have given. All the love, all the love, All the love you could have given. All the love… Houdini
Is this love big enough to watch over me? Big enough to let go of me Without hurting me, Like the day I learned to swim? Reaching Out Youtube video
A diamond kite On a diamond flight. Over the lights, under the moon. Over the lights, under the moon. Over the moon, over the moon! The Man with the Child in His Eyes
Give me a break! Ooh, let me try! Give me something to show For my miserable life! Give me something to take! Would you break even my wings, Just like a swallow? All The Love
All the colours look brighter now. Everything they say seems to sound new. Slipping into tomorrow too quick, Yesterday always too good to forget. Stop the swing of the pendulum! Let us through! L'Amour Looks Something Like You
Mother stands for comfort. Mother will hide the murderer. Mother hides the madman. Mother will stay mum. Cloudbusting This song is sung from the perspective of Wilhelm Reich's son Peter, whose memoir A Book of Dreams inspired it.
I want to smack but I hold back. I only want to touch. But I must stay and find a way To stop before it gets too much! All my barriers are going. It's starting to show. Army Dreamers
Feel your hair come tumbling down Feel your feet start kissing the ground Feel your arms are opening out And see your eyes are lifted to God With no words, with no song I'm gonna dance the dream And make the dream come true… Top of the City
Oh, Jesus Christ, he wasn't to know, Like a chicken with a fox, He couldn't win the war with ego. Give the kid the pick of pips, And give him all your stripes and ribbons. Now he's sitting in his hole, He might as well have buttons and bows. Breathing
The fine purple The purest gold The red of the Sacred Heart The grey of a ghost The "L" of the lips are open To the "O" of the Host The "V" of the velvet The "E" of my eye The eye in wonder The eye that sees The "I" that loves you.
She's unafraid, too, of tackling more problematic areas of sexuality, as for instance when she dealt with cradle-snatching in "The Infant Kiss" and incest in "The Kick Inside". But not all that seems erotic in her music is about sex, as an EMI employee discovered when he found her working on the hypnotic "out-in-out-in" chant section of "Breathing" (from 1980's Never For Ever), and expressed outrage at EMI's young pop princess making such an overtly sexual record. The song is, of course, about breathing. Duhhh!
I really thank Kate, because these touchstones like "This Woman's Work", that kind of song, it's celebrating everything that's so wonderful about being a woman, and being nurturing, and intuitive and emotional, and gentle and sensual, and just like really intimate. People don’t put their hearts on the line in that vulnerable way very much, and me, as an artist myself, it's helped me to not be frightened, to show all, as much of my vulnerability as a woman as possible, and in that be powerful.
For the last 12 years, I've felt really privileged to be living such a normal life. It's so a part of who I am. It's so important to me to do the washing, do the Hoovering. Friends of mine in the business don't know how dishwashers work. For me, that's frightening. I want to be in a position where I can function as a human being. Even more so now where you've got this sort of truly silly preoccupation with celebrities. Just because somebody's been in an ad on TV, so what? Who gives a toss?
It's clear Bush is still a force to be reckoned with. The problem, though, with female genius — for many men at least — is that very frequently it is not like male genius. And with its songs about children, washing machines going 'slooshy sloshy', Joan of Arc, Bush's mother, not to mention the almost pagan sensuality that runs through here like a pulse, Aerial is, arguably, the most female album in the world, ever. … the artistry here is so dizzying, the ambition and scope so vast, that even the deafest, most inveterate misogynist could not fail to acknowledge it. Genius. End of.
The working relationship was never a problem, you know. We always worked together reasonably well, you know, we always argue, and we always have and always will. I've always argued with Kate, and she's always argued with me, but I guess that's just the way it is, you know, so I feel I'm emotionally involved with it all, to a great extent, you know, much more so than most people would imagine. Not only did we have a personal relationship, and I work with her — I really love her music, I really do… to the point, where I virtually work with nobody else — because nobody else comes close.
Illusion, dance, mime, even magic — the Tour of Life, as it was called, had the lot. I shan’t forget the way those Pink Floyd-like whale sounds that open The Kick Inside album heralded Kate’s entry to the stage as waves were projected on huge screens and her band launched into Moving. For a split second, the audience thought Kate was lip-synching because there was no microphone, but in pre-dating Madonna by a couple of decades, she was wearing a headset to allow free movement around the stage. Every song from that first album was performed before the switch to stuff from follow-up Lionheart, virtually every number warranting a change of costume and stage set. … The entire show was pure theatre.
Can't you see where memories are kept bright? Tripping on the water like a laughing girl. Time in her eyes is spawning past life, One with the ocean and the woman unfurled, Holding all the love that waits for you here. Catch us now for I am your future. A kiss on the wind and we'll make the land. Come over here to where When lingers, Waiting in this empty world, Waiting for Then, when the lifespray cools. For Now does ride in on the curl of the wave, And you will dance with me in the sunlit pools. We are of the going water and the gone. We are of water in the holy land of water And all that's to come runs in With the thrust on the strand.
Casual listeners will miss the depth of the music. You must sit down with the lyric sheet and find out what's going on. All the vocal acrobatics and weird sounds click into place when you know what ideas, stories and situations they are expressing. In most rock and pop, the music and words may be linked, but are basically separate. Kate creates, more and more, a fusion between the two — the sounds directly expressing the subject. This is a throwback to Wagner's music-drama, with its leitmotifs, turning music into an idea. The Beatles revived the technique, and bands of the hippy era like Pink Floyd carried the banner. . . Kate is fast becoming a master in the use of this sonic montage, perhaps because the ideas she is using are far more complex, have more "resonances", than those of her contemporaries.
I had always considered Kate Bush truly original both as a performer and as a songwriter with an unusually fresh sense of harmony. If her new album next month is awaited with some excitement after a long fallow period, then in 1985 it was assumed that Hounds of Love would be something of a final fling at the conclusion of a waning career. I soon realised how wrong this assumption was when Kate sent me a cassette: it was zany, ambitious and yet utterly Kate Bush, but with gaps where I was to do her bidding. Having chatted at length, she sent me a long letter with the words of the song and precise instructions on how it should unfold… Structure was carefully delineated, verses and choruses written out fully and marked up in colour, and she talked of the sound quality in the most graphic terms.
I was teaching at the Dance Centre in Covent Garden. Kate turned up, dressed very properly in her ballet tights and things, and her hair straight back, looking very, very professional indeed, a very, very serious student. But as timid as hell, and of course she took a place at the back of the class, you know, I had to coax her forward. I mean she was extremely shy, extremely timid, and of course the first thing I had to do was, you know, bring her out of herself, give her courage. I have to say that once Kate actually started dancing, she was a wild thing, she was wild'''''. … One day, some months after knowing her, I got back to my home … and there was this LP pushed under the door, The Kick Inside — and there, dedicated to me was this beautiful'' song "Moving" — I didn’t know she had any aspirations of being a singer. She never talked about herself.'''
Aerial succeeds because it's all there for a reason. And because the good stuff is just so sublime. 'King of the Mountain', Bush's Elvis-inspired single, is both a fine opener and a total red herring. Bush's juices really get going on 'Pi', a sentimental ode to a mathematician, audacious in both subject matter and treatment. The chorus is the number sung to many, many decimal places. It's closely followed by a gushing ode to Bush's son, Bertie, that's stark and medieval-sounding. The rest of disc one (aka A Sea of Honey) sets a very high bar for disc two, with the Joan of Arc-themed 'Joanni' and the downright poppy 'How to Be Invisible' raising the hair on your arms into a Mexican wave. Disc two, subtitled A Sky of Honey, is a suite of nine tracks which, among other things, charts the passage of light from afternoon ('Prologue') to evening ('An Architect's Dream', 'The Painter's Link') and through the night until dawn. Things get a little hairier here.
Come the recording day, a group of male choristers, more accustomed to singing church services than backing vocals, descended on Bush's home, which was equipped with its own studio. Doubtless they were imagining that they were about to meet a wild-eyed rock babe, but Kate, quiet and unassuming — the kind of sympathetic, slightly shy girl who greets you from behind the counter at the local chemist — introduced us to her friend the bass player Del Palmer, who engineered the session. None of the singers or Richard had ever gone over and over four or five phrases so exactingly. No measure of Bach or Mozart had, in their experience, been subjected to such surgical scrutiny, and I began to worry that their voices might begin to tire. But Bush knew and got what she wanted and "Hello Earth" is, I think, a remarkable track on the album that finally broke the American market and established her as an iconic and hugely influential figure. I can't wait to hear what she has been up to now.
For me to get into that creative process I have to have a sort of quiet place that I work from. And if I was living the life of … somebody in the industry, as a pop star or whatever, it's too distracting. It's too to do with other people's perceptions of who you are, and what's important to me is to be a human being who has a soul, and who hopefully has a sense of who they are, not who everybody else thinks you are. And I think, you know, that's something that's very difficult for people who become extremely famous. I mean, I find it completely ridiculous this obsession with celebrities. … Why are celebrities so important to people? It's absolute crap. I mean, the important people are surgeons and doctors and people actually put people back together and make a difference to people's lives. Not somebody who's in an ad on telly. I mean, okay, so that's valid for what it is, too. But why so much attention on something that's so shallow?
Now all the shows are over, it's pretty difficult to explain how I feel about it all. It was quite a surreal journey that kept its level of intensity right from the early stages to the end of the very last show. It was also such great fun. It was one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. I loved the whole process.… I was really delighted that the shows were received so positively and so warmly but the really unexpected part of it all was the audiences. Audiences that you could only ever dream of. One of the main reasons for wanting to perform live again was to have contact with that audience.They took my breath away. Every single night they were so behind us. You could feel their support from the minute we walked on stage. I just never imagined it would be possible to connect with an audience on such a powerful and intimate level; to feel such, well quite frankly, love. It was like this at every single show. Thank you so very much to everyone who came to the shows and became part of that shared experience. It was a truly special and wonderful feeling for all of us.
Could Keely Garfield be the Kate Bush of downtown dance? The question is raised by “Wow,” the bizarre, hilarious, enthralling, confounding and cathartic new work that Ms. Garfield presented on Thursday at Danspace Project. Surely it is the recent comeback tour of Ms. Bush that has put that singer-songwriter on Ms. Garfield’s mind. But it is “Wow” that suggests the comparison: two British-born women, intensely idiosyncratic and theatrical with outlandish taste in costumes, who follow their imaginations uninhibitedly. The salient difference would seem to be irony. Much of Ms. Bush’s power stems from her absolute sincerity, the sense that she is unaware that anyone might find what she’s doing ridiculous. But Ms. Garfield has always been wry, droll, deadpan. Her assertion in a program note that she meant “Wow” to be “entirely sincere without a hint of irony or cleverness” cannot and should not be taken as entirely sincere. The program also credits Matthew Brookshire with “music inspired by the poetry of Kate Bush.” What we actually hear, though, are Kate Bush songs. Some are played in the original recordings, some chopped up and looped, but most are performed live by the marvelous Mr. Brookshire, on vocals and piano, joined by Ms. Garfield and her four terrific dancers. The arrangements are stripped down and seductively vibrant. Some lyrics are recited in a manner between sports cheer and Greek chorus. Some singsongy melodies are swapped for the tunes of actual nursery rhymes. Ms. Garfield, in other words, does not shy from the naïveté of her material. Much of her choreography illustrates the lyrics literally, in the manner of a children’s pageant.
Bush has always teetered dangerously at the edge of sentimentality and cliché, and her early songs (what one reviewer called her “soft-focus Victorian melodramas”) could have gone all wrong had her bizarre phrasing not somehow let us know how serious she was. Bush sang melodramas, but she meant them like truth; those “oohs” aren’t filler. The conviction in her voice, the baldness and great crushing desperation of it, is overpowering. It’s the kind of music that grabs your innards and you turn it up, squint your eyes with the strain of it. Kate Bush was younger than 20 when she wrote “Wuthering Heights.” She couldn’t (and still can’t) read or write music, but she knew how to make a song true, how to up the tension with a key change, repeat the chorus with a hardness in her voice. She was a prodigy, an 18-year-old who looked 35, with an ethereal voice and a knack for inventive songwriting. She looks, in photos of the time, simultaneously naive and defiant, like someone who doesn’t need other people. Much later in life, when she was asked in an interview with Rolling Stone why she toured so infrequently, Bush replied: “The more I got into presenting things to the world, the further it was taking me away from what I was, which was someone who just used to sit quietly at a piano and sing and play. It became very important to me not to lose sight of that.” In other words, Bush decided early on that our approval didn’t matter. She was doing this from herself and largely for herself and if people didn’t like her, or if they didn’t understand her, well then, screw them.