FEATURE:
A New Wave
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush photographed for The Ninth Wave shoot (the second side of 1985’s Hounds of Love)/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Thirty-Eight: Inside Its Second Side Masterpiece
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A Kate Bush masterpiece….
that turns thirty-eight on 16th September, I wanted to explore the second side of Hounds of Love. I have written about The Ninth Wave before. It is Bush’s first conceptual suite; one where a heroine is adrift at sea and has to stay alive, hoping for rescue. Through the songs, there are different moods and emotions portrayed and introduced. Slipping in and out of sleep and a delirious state, the suite ends with the woman being rescued. I have explored how there is mystery and twists to the tale. The Ninth Wave ends with what seems like a rescue. Through the new morning fog, there seems to be this hope and lifeline. Bush has said in interviews how the heroine was rescued. It was brought to life for the first time for 2014’s residency, Before the Dawn. There, Bush is winched from the water by helicopter., This resolution and satisfying conclusion. I have said before how the different sounds and characters on The Ninth Wave remind me of her previous album, 1982’s The Dreaming. How that layered and diverse album almost drove her mad. An exhaustion in pursuit of something distinct and ensuring. Maybe referencing how she felt adrift, alone and anxious at times – maybe that rescue on The Ninth Wave was when Bush started Hounds of Love and found safe passage ands land as it were. Also, we are told that the ending for The Ninth Wave was happy. In fact, before I go on, this exert of an interview sourced by the Kate Bush Encyclopedia sees Bush discuss the concept behind The Ninth Wave:
“The Ninth Wave was a film, that's how I thought of it. It's the idea of this person being in the water, how they've got there, we don't know. But the idea is that they've been on a ship and they've been washed over the side so they're alone in this water. And I find that horrific imagery, the thought of being completely alone in all this water. And they've got a life jacket with a little light so that if anyone should be traveling at night they'll see the light and know they're there. And they're absolutely terrified, and they're completely alone at the mercy of their imagination, which again I personally find such a terrifying thing, the power of ones own imagination being let loose on something like that. And the idea that they've got it in their head that they mustn't fall asleep, because if you fall asleep when you're in the water, I've heard that you roll over and so you drown, so they're trying to keep themselves awake. (Richard Skinner, 'Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love'. BBC Radio 1, 26 January 1992)”.
I do like that idea of someone being in the dark and at the mercy of their fears and imagination. Not know what is underneath them in the water. No way of avoiding the worst perils and possibilities. I have a feeling that Bush’s heroine died during The Ninth Wave - and the last few songs are her watching from above. It is a bleak perspective, yet I don’t believe that things ended with a rescue. What I wanted to discuss for this feature on The Ninth Wave is the filmic possibilities. Bush always intended it to be filmed (as she discusses in this interview). I have touched on this before. I titled this piece ‘A New Wave’, both to signify a new wave of interest in the conceptual suite. It also means that, if The Ninth Wave were made into a short film, it would share aspects with New Wave cinema. In a couple of other Hounds of Love features, I am going to explore some of the songs from The Ninth Wave. I might also combine some interviews from 1985: one of Kate Bush’s busiest and most successful years. Now, because Bush always saw Hounds of Love’s second side as a film, I wonder whether it will be filmed. Rather than repeat what I have said before, I also want to commend a remarkable piece of work. In terms of the possibilities of The Ninth Wave, I still feel there is a short film in it. Bush performed it on stage back in 2014, yet most of her fans did not get a chance to see it. I am not sure whether anything quite like this has been brought to the screen. With an actress cast in the role of the heroine, there could be different filming styles for each song.
What is not known – and what was explored a bit in the stage mounting of it – was how the woman got into the water. I assume that she was washed off of a boat, but did she jump or was there an accident? I am fascinated how The Ninth Wave started life, as I assume Bush had in mind how the woman got into the water. Bush reveals the origins of the person – she didn’t explicitly say whether it is a woman to be fair -, though the Hounds of Love cycle sort of leaves questions hanging. On stage, a helicopter sees her and lifts her out of the water. It would be remarkable to see this thirty-minute short film where we start with the woman being on a boat; the hours leading to her being washed over. Maybe there was a chase beforehand. Perhaps the woman was involved in a relationship and she was pushed overboard. Maybe she was pregnant and that could be explored, I like the idea of casting someone who looks a bit like Kate Bush in 1985. Someone who maybe gets to speak and has a great opportunity to give new angles to The Ninth Wave. Perhaps there are tiny breaks between songs – there are seven in total on The Ninth Wave –, where family are waiting, or there are more layers to the mystery. I think the biggest frustration is that we do not find out who the person was, where they were stranded, and how things worked out when they were rescued.
Of course, as I have said I feel like the heroine died at sea, the filmed version would be in keeping with Kate Bush’s original intention: that the person was rescued and was okay in the end. There are fan theories as to what the actual outcome was in The Ninth Wave. If Bush felt in 1985 it was more positive, Before the Dawn maybe reversed that notion. I would like to know where she was taken to and whether there is another twist in the tale. For Before the Dawn, I think Bush suggested the filmed sections - where she is dragged under the water and drowns - were real, and the stages parts - the rescue and happier ending - was dreamt. It seems to be that contrast in outcomes and leaving it to the listener to decide what happened - though I still like to cling onto hope in all cases.The listeners is invested in this struggle as this person fights against the sea, what lurks underneath, the cold (and trying to stay alive). I guess the experience lasts through the night, and she is rescued the next morning – though I don’t think there is a specific timeline or set duration. It would be a treat if Kate Bush was behind it and gave her blessing. In lieu of any documentary or new album, this is a chance to combine what we hear on Hounds of Love with what was on the stage. It was fleshed out through Before the Dawn. This idea of maybe a family woman who got into this tragedy and then is set free. As Before the Dawn’s filmed set will never see the light of day, it is a tragedy that it will be left in the minds of those who say it and the imaginations of those who did not. I want to finish by tipping my cap to an extraordinary musical suite. Conceptual cycles are quite risky. They can go wrong or can be seen as quite pretentious. It is not a new thing in Pop and Rock. Artists usually incorporate them as part of the album, or they may dedicate an entire album to a concept. In Kate Bush’s case, it was a chance to balance out the singles and traditional structure of the first sider with a more experimental and cinematic second side.
IN THIS PHOTO: Saoirse Ronan would be a perfect fit to play the heroine in a filmic adaptation of The Ninth Wave/PHOTO CREDIT: British Vogue
I have suggested an actress playing that lead role would have to look like Kate Bush. I don’t think she mentioned she was the one in the suite – just a fictional person who has to battle against the odds. Someone like Saoirse Ronan would be perfect in the role. Maybe an Irish character (as Ronan is American-Irish; Bush is half-Irish herself), that would pair with the Irish sounds and sensations through Jig of Life. There are websites where there are thoughts and threads relating to The Ninth Wave. There was a literary adaption of the suite. I will finish with an article that goes into depth when it comes to this incredible flow of songs. A brilliantly deep feature that explores theories and gets to the root of the songs and the narrative, it definitely does give extra weight and substance to a potential screen telling of The Ninth Wave! I want to pick it up from (when the article) discusses the haunting Watching You Without Me:
“Kate’s decision to sing parts of this song, as I mentioned, through blue, numbed, barely-moving lips might be a simple one, but the chilling result is far more effective than describing the current state of our narrator. It reflects one of the first tenets of good art: show, don’t tell. Indeed, the entire simple structure of this song and the basic way Kate presents it belies the immeasurable profundity at its core. The essence of this song is really about life and death. And not in an abstract way, in a “noble” way, but in a day-to-day way. I often think of the people who will wake up this morning, and will die later in car crashes, plane crashes, sudden heart attacks… the method does not matter. What does matter is that no one wakes up thinking, “Well, I should have an extra yogurt this morning because I am going to die in an hour, so I might as well enjoy it.” And I think of the connections that will be and are severed with such tragic occurrences. And I ask you to think about them now too. And now think about the inevitability of this happening to you. And you suddenly find yourself standing in the living room of… whose, your house, your parents’ house? Who are you saying “I didn’t know I was going to die today, and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to you, so…goodbye. And I love you.” Who are you saying this to? Who are you saying “I love you” to? And who is it that you will never…ever see again? THAT is what this song is about. It’s about our narrator. And it’s about you too.
And of course, by implication, the song is ultimately about the one left standing, waiting. Our loved ones are the ones who will carry on without us, in pain at our loss, at the empty space we left behind. Our narrator is somewhat resigned to her fate at this point, knowing she is on her way out of this life. The thing that is left at the end is love.
The tone of this song shifts the direction of the entire suite. We have left behind frantic drumming, anxious sounds, tense narratives. We do however get a Morse Code S.O.S. mixed in with some more ocean/seagoing sounds. A mysterious, otherworldly melody smoothed with a strange, restrained joy, and emanating from a place of compassion, is tucked inside rolling waves and seagulls. Apparently only Kate knows about this enigmatic section—it starts with her vocal line being played backward, but portions are clearly Kate singing without any effects. And we are presented once more with the choppy vocals of her begging to be listened to, to be heard, but listen carefully as the gaps become longer, the words become more distorted.
The bracing, dazzling “Jig of Life” pushes its way into our consciousness, vital, full of primal energy, determined, unyielding. Our narrator is now face to face with a very surprising special guest:
Hello, old lady.
I know your face well.
I know it well.
She says,
"Ooh-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!
I'll be sitting in your mirror.
Now is the place where the crossroads meet.
Will you look into the future?
Never, never say goodbye
To my part of your life.
No, no, no, no, no!
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush photographed for The Ninth Wave’s shoot (for 1985’s Hounds of Love)/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
Oh, oh, oh,
Let me live!”
She said,
"C'mon and let me live, girl!"
She said,
"C'mon and let me live, girl!"
("C'mon and let me live!")
"This moment in time,"
(she said…)
“It doesn't belong to you,"
(she said…)
“It belongs to me,
And to your little boy and to 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?
Ooh, na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-
Never, never say goodbye
To my part of your life.
Oh no, no, no, no, no!
Never, never, never!
Never, never let me go!"
She said,
"C'mon and let me live, girl!'
("C'mon and let me live!")
She said,
"C'mon and let me live, girl!"
("C'mon and let me live!")
I put this moment.............here.
I put this moment.........................here.
I put this moment--
"Over here!
Over here!”
“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."
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush during the shooting of the video for And Dream of Sheep, a song that is part of The Ninth Wave/PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton/The New York Times
Imagine if your future self were to come and tell you to hang on, not to give up or let go because what you do now matters not just to you, but to that future self as well. Kate has always loved to play with chronology in her songs, and this is a great example. Past, present and future all meet at this one fateful spot. Physics tells us that all time is simultaneous. If we could step out of the time stream and see it all at once, it might look like this. Our narrator’s future self implores her to let her live—what a powerful idea to contemplate, that our death means the deaths of all of our possible future selves. Wow. The old woman wants to live, and lets our narrator know that the future doesn’t belong to her now, it belongs to her future self… and to her little boy and little girl, even more powerful incentives. This implies that the future has already happened… that, as mentioned, all time is simultaneous. And that her future self has already lived a complete life.
This dance of life is relentless, serious, demanding: Kate chose a jig for many reasons. Not only does it represent her Irish heritage on a personal level, but it is an ancient, traditional sound that ties our narrator’s predicament to something else, a sense of history and roots, a sense of belonging to a place, a people…belonging here. It serves as a wake-up call (like the introduction to “Waking The Witch”) for our narrator: DON’T GO. You are a link in the chain that stretches from the past to now to the future.
I have always been intrigued and very moved by the brief sequence where our narrator says, “I put this moment here.” She is curiously detached, as though now she is freed from the time stream and a physical body, she is able to look dispassionately at her life and take stock of an existence full of moments. All of our lives are made up of moments and our narrator moves them around like building blocks. She puts a moment here, another here—but then she is interrupted by a command to put them all “Over here,” the exact same voice and phrase we heard in “Waking The Witch” when her hallucination was trying to turn her attention to the “little light.” That original conversation sounds like it was about star-gazing, but the stars stand in for life, for her own spirit. We will come across this idea again in the next song. But for now, it turns out that “over here” is composed of a gorgeous, inspired poem written and performed with urgency by Kate’s brother John Carder Bush, a poem that stands outside of time and uses water imagery to play with the cosmic idea of the simultaneity of time. And we hear the source of the spiritual observation from “Waking The Witch,” “We are of the going water and the gone. We are of water in the holy land of water.” In other words, we are made up of our surroundings. We are not only connected to the universe, we are the universe.
Abruptly, this driving force ends as we hear another set of sound effects, audio cues that help us—and our narrator—navigate the story.
"Columbia now nine times the speed of sound."
"Roger that, Dan, I've got a solid TACAN locked on, uh, TACAN twenty-three."
"The, uh, tracking data, map data and pre-planned trajectory are all one line on the block."
These authentic samples of communication between NASA and astronaut Dan Brandenstein on the space shuttle Columbia place us in orbit around our planet. Kate has said of “Hello Earth,” “…this is the point where she's so weak that she relives the experience of the storm that took her in the water, almost from a view looking down on the earth up in the heavens, watching the storm start to form - the storm that eventually took her and that has put her in this situation.” Our narrator is having another out-of-body experience but this time it’s not nearby, on terra firma, but literally out of this world, and it seems to be final. She is high up above our earth, looking down, and there is a shocking sense associated with that as so few human beings have ever left our world to look back on it. There is a disconnection from what is common, known. I am reminded of The Overview Effect, the very real psychological and cognitive shift experienced by astronauts and cosmonauts…anyone who has left the planet and gone a sufficient distance to look back and perceive our planet not as a familiar home, but as a tiny, fragile ball, barely protected by a thin membrane of atmosphere. This awed feeling is described as one of ultimate compassion and understanding of the imperative to preserve and safeguard the planet.
Hello, Earth.
(Hello, Earth)
Hello, Earth.
(Hello, Earth)
With just one hand held up high
I can blot you out, out of sight.
Peek-a-boo, Peek-a-boo, little Earth.
With just my heart and my mind
I can be driving, driving home,
And you asleep on the seat.
I get out of my car,
Step into the night
And look up at the sky.
And there's something bright,
Travelling fast.
Just look at it go!
Just look at it go!
[men's choral passage in Georgian]
Hello, Earth.
Hello, Earth.
Watching storms
Start to form
Over America.
Can't do anything.
Just watch them swing with the wind
Out to sea.
All you sailors,
("Get out of the waves! Get out of the water!")
All life-savers,
("Get out of the waves! Get out of the water!")
All you cruisers,
("Get out of the waves! Get out of the water!")
All you fishermen,
Head for home.
Go to sleep, little Earth.
I was there at the birth,
Out of the cloudburst,
The head of the tempest.
Murderer!
Murderer of calm.
Why did I go?
Why did I go?
[men's choral passage in Georgian]
Tiefer, tiefer.
Irgendwo in der Tiefer
Gibt es ein licht.
Go to sleep little Earth.
After the NASA samples, we join our narrator floating in space like the Star Child in “2001: A Space Odyssey,” of the earth, but no longer attached to it, in fact freed from it. The tether has been cut. She is detached from her life and its meaning: there is an innocent, bemused approach as she plays a little game. She is so far from home, she can hold up one hand and block the planet from her field of vision…the earth is a toy. And we shift place, time, and point of view (as Kate so often does in her music) to our narrator driving home in a car at night, looking up at the sky, her loved one asleep on the seat beside her (a sweet, gentle, highly cinematic image, and all the more moving when we understand where our narrator currently is and the loss ahead), when she sees something bright streak across the sky. As she watches it shoot through the stars, she sings, amazed, “Just look at it go!” And what is “it?” Shooting star? Satellite? Space shuttle? A “little light?” If all time is simultaneous, has she glimpsed her own soul shooting past the planet? It is her own little light, a mind-boggling and heartbreaking idea…the cry in her voice when she sings this line indicates that she understands the meaning of this object, and its finality.
At this point, something very unexpected happens. An ethereal, arresting male choir sing a passage based on a traditional Georgian folk song from the Kakhetian region called “Tsintskaro.” It is a shocking transition, one that makes us hold our breath so as not to disturb this sudden, delicate, transcendent moment. Kate on the men’s chorus: “They really are meant to symbolize the great sense of loss, of weakness, at reaching a point where you can accept, at last, that everything can change.”
IN THIS PHOTO: Matt Hardy/Pexels
Our narrator, in full Overview Effect at this point, watches storms form and move to threaten the lives she sees below. She cries out to them in vain, all of them, the sailors, life-savers, cruisers, fishermen, anyone on or near the sea, to protect themselves. We hear in this section a few of the Irish instruments, bringing in echoes of meaning from the previous song “Jig of Life.” Here I am reminded of the idea of the Asian goddess Kuan-Yin, or the Buddhist idea of a Bodhisattva, a human who has attained ultimate awareness (Buddhahood) but motivated by compassion, refuses to leave this plane of reality for the benefit of all sentient beings. Our narrator, moved by the end of her own life, is now able to perceive the ephemeral nature of all creation. Everyone can be exposed to danger, everyone can suffer, everyone can—and will—die. This truth is universal. But she is unable to prevent or stop this truth. No one can.
She then sings a passage that is full of several meanings. She says she was there at the birth, out of the cloudburst, the head of the tempest. This could be the storm that took her, or it could be, from her newly widened perspective of awareness, the start of life itself, the start of the universe. We were all there, we are all made of the matter from a singularity… we are all star dust. The murderer of calm is this physical reality itself. All that is born must die. Entropy exists. She understands this and cries out, “J’accuse.” Hence the ultimate compassion for this tiny little blue ball.
The piece ends with whale song, sounds of radar, and a very mysterious, arcane passage spoken in German which, when translated into English, means “Deeper, deeper, somewhere in the deep there is a light.” In German, the word “tiefe” can also mean “profound,” and I am reminded of the Latin phrase at the beginning of the Christian Psalm 130 “De profundis clamavi ad te:” “out of the depths I cry out to you.” In the depths of sorrow, in the endless well of suffereing, there is a light. Compassion is the light.
And indeed, somewhere in the dark, there is a light. Our narrator has spent the night in open waters, battling for her life, and almost losing. But at dawn (first light), she is rescued. Perhaps someone saw, in the blue haze of early dawn, her “little light.” I always felt the vagueness of the lyrics to “The Morning Fog” could indicate that our narrator died and is reborn, reincarnated. But Kate herself has said that her narrative at this point and her intention with this song was that her heroine is rescued. Yet the tired but optimistic sound and simple, unadorned joy of this song gives us a sense of much more than a rescue. She has endured a life-changing event. She was born, died, and has been reborn to this world, to the people around her, those she loves. She is falling like a stone, as she says, from the spirit world back to the physical world and brings with her the ultimate compassion that has become a part of her psyche. She sees existence itself differently now. And we see it differently too, from sharing this harrowing journey with her.
The light
Begin to bleed,
Begin to breathe,
Begin to speak.
D'you know what?
I love you better now.
I am falling
Like a stone,
Like a storm,
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog.
D'you know what?
I love you better now.
I'm falling,
And I'd love to hold you now.
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”
From books, deep articles, Kate Bush’s own words and fan theories, a lot of time and effort has been expended discussing The Ninth Wave! It is the masterful and mesmerising suite on Hounds of Love’s second side. As the album is thirty-eight on 16th September, I wanted to go back to The Ninth Wave and discuss how it could be made into a short film. Each song has been explored by someone, so there is a script in there! It would be a remarkable thing for sure! As much as anything, it gives a chance for those (millions) who were not at one of the twenty-two dates in 2014 where Bush performed in Hammersmith. There, we mighty have seen Bush playing out a dreamt scenario where she was rescued, but the reality was darker. A short film could maybe have mystery and twists so you are not 100% sure whether the heroine is taken from the water of dreams it. I am not aware of anyone doing their own visual interpretation of The Ninth Wave - in the form of a short film. If there is any out there, then I would like to know! I am sure Kate Bush would not be averse to seeing it on the screen. She would have to have a big say in all aspects.
From the casting, to seeing the final thing, she would be the one who signs it off. It could be this sweeping and dramatic short film where the ending may take people by surprise – whether we know the truth at the end; if the person in the sea is rescued and taken to land. For years she wanted to make this into a film, but that was delayed because of recording albums and life in general. It remains un-filmed – or unreleased as a film – to this very day. So many people out there would want to see this! It came back to mind, as I am writing about Hounds of Love. Each song on The Ninth Wave has its own sound and skin, and yet everything flows and hangs together perfectly! That is testament to Kate Bush’s instinct and talent as a songwriter and producer. A beautiful and immersive – maybe we get to see underwater and above the Earth – short film of The Ninth Wave would be…
A wonderful thing!