Age of the Hero [demo]

I recorded a version of this in the early 70s in Manchester, but never did anything with it, and I no longer have the tape. I’ve changed a couple of minor things in the lyric that mildly irritated me, but the vocal arrangement is much as I remember it, though it was originally purely acoustic and I’ll be adding some instrumentation. It’s very much a 20-something song, and I didn’t want to do a 60-something update.

Backup:

Age of the Hero

Deep down I know I should forget you
Get out with my ego intact
My head knows the end of the game
Is historical fact

But my heart never quite seems to make it
I can’t seem to learn to let go
It’s a one-way ticket to nowhere
But where else to go?

I took someone else to a party
In hopes of a two-way high
And stayed for a while in search
Of an alibi

Slipped out for some air and some distance
Got to thinking and wondering and then
I wasn’t surprised to get back and find
She’d gone home with somebody else

Now I lie on my bed, my mind racing
Watching dawn seeping in from the East
And the Age of the Hero is over
I can let go of that game at least

And I wait for the future to tell me
Whether angels are still to be found
And I’m trying hard not to stop hoping
That there’s still enough love to go round

 

Words and music by David Harley
© 1973

Liongate (Castles and Kings) [demo]

Latest draft, with no harmonies, but some guitar and mandolin: 

Sketch of a harmony version

Solo version.

When I was a kid in a country town
and I’d nothing better to do:
I’d detour round by the railway bridge
on my way home from school.

Leaning over the bridge with my chin in my hands,
too young to be wondering why,
I’d wait what seemed hours for the signal to change:
wait for a train to go by

The lure of the footplate, the churn of the rods
straining to places unknown;
fog in November, smoke in the cold air
the faraway steam-whistle moan;

bathing my eyes in the warmth of the lights
as up the track she would fly.
I’d get home late: they’d ask ‘Where have you been?’
I’d say ‘watching the trains go by’…

Saturday lunchtime some days in the spring
with the sky an implacable blue,
collecting the numbers of Castles and Kings:
it’s all we’d want to do.

Perspective of steel cut through frostbitten green,
just went on to a faraway end,
and I always felt sad at the Cambrian’s tail-light
as she’d disappear round the bend.

Now trains mean timetables, luggage and waiting rooms,
leaving the people I love;
the pounding of diesels, the A to B run
– perspective has subtly moved.

Tonight I am free and the rails are still endless
(if I had the fare to ride)
but I stand on a footbridge in the heart of the city
watching the tube trains go by.

Words and music by David Harley copyright 1974