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the granite shore - act two, scene iii: "we don't build cathedrals" كلمات الأغنية

a lawyer’s office. amanda is seated behind a desk

amanda: [to herself] oh for god’s sake. [she gets up, walks over to a filing cabinet, pulls out a contract, then returns to the desk and reads aloud. rich has appeared at the door.] “we, the undersigned, declare this deed shall bind us all…” who in the name of fluffy pink h-ll drafted this load of b-ll-cks?
[enter rich]
rich: that’d’ve been me
amanda: [rolls her eyes] not worth the paper it’s written on
rich: actually you could probably get a few quid for it online, it’s signed by all of us
amanda: wouldn’t stand up in court
rich: of course not, that was never the point
amanda: oh, so there was a point?
rich: most definitely
amanda: go on then, enlighten me, i can see you’re dying to
rich: it was for you. well, and for… not exactly for us, not as individuals, though of course, being individuals, we each saw it differently, but… for us as a unit… you see, i thought it was a declaration of brotherhood, only your uncle tony…
amanda: ah. i wondered when tony’d come into it. he shafted you royally, didn’t he?
rich: he certainly thinks so
amanda: oh come on, dad. he tried to keep the band going when you left and actually made a career out of it
rich: a career of sorts, i suppose. but look at it from his point of view: i left him in the lurch. all he ever wanted was to be famous and he thought i was taking that away from him. which i suppose i probably was
amanda: rich and famous, you mean
rich: like most people, he -ssumed that if you were famous you’d be bound to be rich as well, it’s a common enough misapprehension. i’ve probably done better out of the band – this one, i mean – than anyone else because i wrote the songs, although i’m hardly a household name. maybe if we’d split the publishing equally things’d’ve been different. anyway, tony feels terrible about the way things turned out, even worse than i do
amanda: don’t be so naive. tony built a career on the back of the band and when you left he just got people to write songs in your style, with the rough edges smoothed off, then he’d change a couple of lines and claim half the publishing. he knew he couldn’t do that with you
rich: hmm, i suppose i kept him honest, but maybe i did it unfairly. anyway, the public obviously wanted the edges removed; he was selling quite a lot of records at one point, you know
amanda: he’s not now
rich: n0body is now. n0body like us, anyway, the middle ground’s gone. in our day you had a few people selling millions, then you had the whole cottage industry thing, tiny independents, but in the middle you had loads of bands who sold enough to make a decent living without troubling their local yacht dealerships. that’s as far as tony ever got. he always -ssumed he’d move up to the big league so he never put anything away, plus he never had any judgement, he’d think he was pulling a fast one but get overtaken. what he needed was someone like harry with his interests at heart. now his royalties have dried up, bigger stars are doing the package tours… he hasn’t even got a pension whereas i have, much though it pains my principles to admit it
amanda: look, i’m fond of tony…
rich: you two adored one another when you were little and that’s all tony’s ever wanted: mutual adoration. he could never understand why the critics didn’t like his solo stuff
amanda: what did you mean about it all being for me?
rich: “i have done nothing but in care of thee”. culture’s a continuum, each generation thinks it’s making it all up from scratch but actually all you’re doing is telling the same old story in your own way… shakespeare didn’t make up his plots, nor did chaucer… in fact, more than any other, english culture is based on nicking bits from all over the shop and p-ssing them off as our own, often rather brilliantly. it’s all i’ve ever done, in my own small way. it’s about recording ourselves, leaving a mark. after all, we don’t build cathedrals any more, do we?
amanda: there speaks the sociologist
rich: the study of people who don’t need studying, by people who do; yes, i know, but i wasn’t suited to any proper work
amanda: i must be such a disappointment to you
rich: i’m prouder of you than anything else in my life, though so little of the credit’s mine
amanda: really? i always thought your songs were your favourite children
rich: oh no, they were less able to fend for themselves, that’s all. you’re my “best piece of poetrie”: a real person
amanda: don’t tell me…
rich: ben jonson
amanda: you were born four hundred years too late, weren’t you?
rich: he wrote that when his eldest son died. [shudders] no, i was born in my own time, same as everyone else. i forgot to live in it sometimes and perhaps i could’ve done more… or less… does it matter? all i ever did was write some songs for a little while then step away from the platform. i’m not so different from tony, though i probably wanted to be admired rather than adored. or maybe just understood. i’ve never been sure. [pause] did you know poor old ben asked to be buried standing up, only the pall bearers got confused and he ended up head down? [smiles]
amanda: i’m amazed you never wrote a song about that
rich: there’s still time. at least, there might be. [collecting himself] tony’s on at me to write some new stuff, you know
amanda: funnily enough, what with my lawyer’s eye for detail and all, i had noticed that. well? there’s nothing you’d like better and you know it. so what’re you waiting for?
rich: i don’t know. everyone always seems to think i just jot them down on the back of a f-g packet
amanda: don’t you? you always seemed to have one handy. a f-g packet, i mean
rich: sometimes, maybe… but only after i’d spent months mulling them over
amanda: and smoking the f-gs. if i know you you’ve never given up mulling. you’ve never given up anything, have you? i bet you’ve got plenty coming to the boil, you just want to make tony sweat
rich: maybe. i never really subscribed to the whole “i am a mere channel for the muse” thing. mostly it was hard work, i needed to know what a song was trying to say, then i needed to have a sense of it, to be able to hear the voice… no, i don’t suppose i ever have given anything up
amanda: was the voice tony’s?
rich: a lot of the time that helped, yes. say what you like about your uncle tony but he does have some kind of connection to a higher sphere when he’s singing. he can make a lyric come alive. when you first hear him sing it you think “no, no, that’s all wrong”, but then you realise it’s far more right than the way you wrote it. he has no idea how he does it. in fact he doesn’t even know how good he is, which is his tragedy. if he’d known he’d never’ve sung all that cr-p. still, if he ever found out how he does it he’d probably never be able to do it again
amanda: he’s not a poet though
rich: neither am i. most people aren’t, thank goodness. i’m a lyricist, and a pretty decent one. tony’s talent’s far more supernatural. he’s more like an actor, i’d say. actually if either of us were born out of time it’s him, he’d’ve been much more at home as an elizabethan player, or a victorian lion of the theatre, even a silent movie star
amanda: tony? silent? [guffaws]
rich: no, i mean it. he’d’ve been one of the few who made the transition to the talkies. now, though… well, he just doesn’t understand where the music industry’s gone
amanda: none of us understands that
rich: oh, i think i’ve some idea
amanda: i might’ve known you would have
rich: harry and i were talking about this the other day. he reckons things go in cycles and he’s probably right. every now and again an art form pops up and gets a grip on whatever p-sses for the popular imagination for a little while. of course, up until the 20th century, most people’s imaginations were entirely taken up with ways of finding the next meal, but the poor aren’t the only ones who’re always with us. in the 16th and 17th centuries the theatre was hugely popular, shakespeare wasn’t struggling in a garret you know, he went back to stratford a man of property. then in the 18th and 19th centuries you get the rise of the novelists, composers and virtuoso musicians… even poets were famous! nowadays most people can’t quote a single line of contemporary poetry, but the likes of byron and sh-lley were notorious figures, their stuff sold and was quoted in drawing rooms across the land. then in the early 20th century you’ve got the silent cinema, jazz, the early days of wireless, with popular music taking over in the 50s and, especially the 60s…
amanda: spare me the sociology lecture, dad
rich: our turn in the spotlight’s over, that’s all. they said rock ‘n’ roll would never die and… it probably won’t, certainly not in my lifetime and probably not in yours. even so, the days when the pop music you liked defined your ident-ty are behind us, at least in the way we knew it. was it ever even like that for you?
amanda: well, yes, music was always important, but me and all my friends… well, we’d seen our parents looking so silly in old photos. plus you’d been a musician, which made it worse, so i had to be someone else really… either that or i had to try to compete with you and… [embarr-ssed]
rich: oh sweetheart
amanda: you were actually good. i… i never told you this but i tried out for a band once, i even wrote a few lyrics. only they didn’t measure up to your stuff, and… well, one thing i definitely get from you is that if i can’t do something well i’d rather not do it at all. [pause] anyway, i’m a bl–dy good lawyer
rich: i know you are. the world always needs good lawyers
amanda: now you’re laughing at me. oh and while we’re on the subject, i’ve got some papers for you
rich: what do you want me to sign?

- the granite shore

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