FEATURE:
Watching You Without Me
PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
The Filmic Potential of Hounds of Love’s The Ninth Wave
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IN my latest feature relating to Kate Bush…
ALBUM COVER CREDIT: John Carder Bush
I am going to expand on an idea I proffered fairly recently regarding her albums Hounds of Love (1985) and Aerial (2005). Both albums have big anniversaries later this year, and both are the only albums of hers whose second sides/discs are suites. Whereas Aerial’s A Sky of Honey is a trip through a single day – with all the sounds, feelings and sights associated with a summer’s day starting and ending, and starting again -, Hounds of Love’s The Ninth Wave is almost the exact opposite: a woman’s struggle as she is adrift, alone at sea; not sure whether she will be rescued, as she fights against fear and defeat. On the first side of Hounds of Love, there are the singles and a more traditional structure – albeit it, one of the most impressive first sides of any albums of the 1980s! The second side, The Ninth Wave, features the following tracks: And Dream of Sheep (2:45); Under Ice (2:21); Waking the Witch (4:18); Watching You Without Me (4:06); Jig of Life (4:04); Hello Earth (6:13); The Morning Fog (2:34). As you can make out from some of the song’s titles, Bush’s heroine (her or a form of herself) is dreaming of sheep and being able to sleep; she then goes through this frightful terror and, near the end, finds the fortitude to keep going and survive – she is rescued at the very end, but we are not sure how or by whom.
I want to highlight why The Ninth Wave would make for a brilliant short film but, at the moment, I have come across an article that beautifully details each step of the suite:
“According to Kate, the suite is about “…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. Now I find that horrific imagery, the thought of being completely alone in all this water. And they’ve got a life jacket on 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 one’s 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.”
As the tiny battery-powered light on her life jacket shines like a beacon, our narrator struggles to stay awake. Of course she hopes to be found; she says that if rescuers see her racing white horses, a reference to the white caps of fast moving waves, they won’t think she is a buoy, a lifeless piece of ocean equipment.
PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
Surely they would recognize her. But there is a lovely contradictory idea in her wish both to stay awake and her wish to be weak, to fall asleep and dream of sheep—a realistic wish to be granted an easy way out of her dire situation. She wishes she had a radio to listen to something, anything, even something stupid, to keep her awake. This song has a lulling, tiny, precious quality about it, punctuated with little heartbreaking rallies of half-hearted optimism (on the sections “If they find me racing white horses,” and “I’d tune into some friendly voices…”) that belies the bleakness. The most startling moment of the song, tellingly, comes from the sudden dramatic roll at the word “engines.” The entirety of “The Ninth Wave” is sonically rich with many layers of sound effects, as we will soon hear, but they are never heavy handed or intrusive. In fact, they play like sound track excerpts from a filmed version. Here we have a somnolent broadcaster giving shipping information for vessels at sea, seagulls, and Kate’s real-life mother delivering a line that foreshadows the rest of the suite as well as having deep personal meaning, which Kate explained: “When I was little, and I’d had a bad dream, I’d go into my parents' bedroom round to my mother’s side of the bed. She’d be asleep, and I wouldn’t want to wake her, so I’d stand there and wait for her to sense my presence and wake up.
She always did, within minutes; and sometimes I’d frighten her—standing there still, in the darkness in my nightdress. I’d say, ‘I’ve had a bad dream,’ and she’d lift bedclothes and say something like ‘Come here with me now.’ It’s my mother saying this line in the track, and I briefed her on the ideas behind it before she said it.” It’s the familiarity of everyday life, the comforts of home, the things she can’t have that she wishes to lull her to sleep, the warm breath of mum saying “Come here with me now,” lulling like poppies…so she succumbs and enters a world of hallucinations and dreams that is the rest of her—and our—fateful experience lost at sea…”.
There are a lot of stages and steps that unfurl through The Ninth Wave; going from this unprecedented sense of isolation to the fatigue and then all but sort of giving up on rescue…before things start to turn. I am going to skip through a few phases of The Ninth Wave but, as you can see from the descriptions below, we are listening to something more similar to a film than a conventional set of songs:
“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.
PHOTO CREDIT: John Glanville/AP
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.”
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.
PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush
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.
The Ninth Wave is evocative and scary but, as it seems like nobody can save Bush/the heroine, a light comes through the bleakness and fear:
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”.
I recommend you look at the full article from the oh, by the way blog, as it perfectly illustrates how each song moves the story along and how we are seeing this truly epic and wonderful piece unfold. This is how The Ninth Wave sounds and feels on Hounds of Love. In Bush’s words, the notion of one being lost at sea is an anxiety we all have; when you are in that scenario, your imagination goes wild to allow you to keep going and adapt to the horror:
“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)”.
There is a literary adaptation of The Ninth Wave which expands on Hounds of Love’s songs and does something I feel Bush was doing when she wrote the tracks: imagining what they would be like in terms of a novel or novella. Similarly, I also think Bush thinks in film terms when penning songs. I think, after Hounds of Love was released, there was a hope from Bush that The Ninth Wave could be something grander and more visual. Nearly thirty-five years after Hounds of Love was released, there has not been a short film or feature that gives light and cinematic body to The Ninth Wave. Whilst Aerial’s A Sky of Honey, I feel, would be perfectly accompanied by an animated film, The Ninth Wave demands something more in the way of a standard film – one with an epic set! Finally, nearly thirty years after The Ninth Wave was first heard, Kate Bush brought it to life on stage in Hammersmith (in 2014). The Ninth Wave appeared during the concert’s first act:
“Act One
1. "Lily"
2. "Hounds of Love"
3. "Joanni"
4. "Top of the City"
5. "Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) (Extended)
6. "King of the Mountain" (Extended)
The Ninth Wave
7. Video Interlude – "And Dream of Sheep"
8. "Under Ice"
9. "Waking the Witch"
10. "Watching You Without Me"
11. "Jig of Life"
12. "Hello Earth"
13. "The Morning Fog".
I was not lucky enough to see her during her Before the Dawn residency – a lingering regret -, but any review that mentions The Ninth Wave being played out gives it praise. Because there is no DVD from the show, we can only imagine how The Ninth Wave translated to the stage after all of these years. I am going to, once more, use Graeme Thomson’s biography of Kate Bush as a guide, as he was in attendance and got to see this once-imagined suite of songs brought to life. During Before the Dawn, there was what was happening on stage, interspersed with filmed pieces – that showed the realities of a woman being lost at sea. The Ninth Wave began with a written piece by Bush and author David Mitchell called The Astronomer’s Tale. This was done to allow the stage to be set, and we learn, from a coastguard, that a distress signal was picked up from a vessel called Celtic Deep. The lights come up as the band and Chorus are inside the skeleton of a sunken ship. Bush appears on the screen at the back of stage singing And Dream of Sheep – filmed at Pinewood months earlier. Under Ice sees her return to the stage; the stage is made to look like the ocean, as Bush is buckled in a navy greatcoat. On screen, Bush remains the same (in terms of position), but she is swallowed and released by the trapdoor on stage – representing choppy and turbulent waters. Waking the Witch is a tarrying spectacle where Jo Servi plays the Grand Inquisitor, masked, as Bush struggles for air and screams out.
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush during the Hounds of Love shoot in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari
There is a pilot’s radio communication – written by Mitchell and voiced by Bush’s brother, Paddy -, saying that all on board Celtic Deep has been safely rescued bar one. Watching You Without Me features a comic look inside the Bush/woman’s household (on screen), as she and her son (played by her real-life son, Bertie) and husband (played by Bob Harms) play out a scene of domestic normality – a stark contrast to the lone heroine who dreams of once more being at home as she struggles to stay alive. Bush hovers behind her family ghost-like to sing the song as the house/building shakes side to side – as though Bush is haunting the house from the sea. Jig of Life is a turn to the more spirited and energised as, on stage, it is scored with Celtic rhythms and incredible musicianship. One of the best moments from Before the Dawn – and the closest thing to perfect cinema – was during Hello Earth where we see a large buoy bathed in red light; Bush tries to escape the waves (futile as it is) to be pulled back and down by the Lords of the Deep. A motionless Bush is carried from the stage/waves, carried down a ramp and into the audience. The procession stops near the first few rows of the audience as Bush is lifted in the air. A voice commands her to “go deeper”, at which point she opens her eyes and seemingly comes back to life; she is then led out of the side door to the auditorium as the crowd take it all in and catch their breath.
The buoy then slips away as the gloomy stage is now bathed in golden light, to signify the breaking of a new dawn. Rather than continue the concept and stay ion character during The Morning Fog, Bush returned to the stage and swayed and moved with the dancers. Bush almost gives thanks to her family and the audience in a moving and stunning piece of theatre. After an act of two district and hugely powerful halves, there was a twenty-minute interval so that the performers and musicians could breathe, and the audience could absorb what they had just seen. Although there are some missteps to the staged version of The Ninth Wave – some say the filmed piece of domestic disagreement and normality was a bit misjudged and poor; the limitations of the stage is not as seamless as what you can achieve through cinema/film, regarding switching between songs and sets -, most agreed that The Ninth Wave was one of the finest pieces of theatre seen at a gig. It is a tragedy that a DVD was not released but, as she explained to Matt Everitt in 2016 – when promoting the soundtrack of the residency -, she felt that, if a DVD were included with the album, people would discard the record and just watch the DVD. Bush wanted the experience and magic of The Ninth Wave to be reserved for those who were there.
IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush during her Before the Dawn residency in 2014/PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images
I guess watching the songs play out would not elicit the same emotion as actually being in the theatre on the night(s). It is wonderful The Ninth Wave, finally, moved beyond Hounds of Love. I can imagine Bush was excited planning the routines and concept for the staged Ninth Wave; she would have been carrying it in her head for years! For the millions of people who were not fortunate enough to join her at one of the twenty-two dates in Hammersmith in 2014 will wonder just how brilliant The Ninth Wave looked and sounded! I suppose one, as I said, cannot get the same vibe from watching a filmed version of the performance compared to the first-hand account. I feel The Ninth Wave still begs for a cinematic or televisual treatment. One can imagine this was what Bush had in mind in 1985. She would produce a film/suite of songs with 1993’s The Line, the Cross and the Curve and, whilst it has some beautiful moments, it was a bit rushed and Bush has distanced herself from it. Because she was busy recording music after 1985, the time to film The Ninth Wave never materialised. 1993 was a busy and fraught year for her, so the possibility of realising The Ninth Wave was impossible. So many years down the line, and the vision of a woman/someone being adrift in the water and looking for salvation still seems important and frightening. Maybe Kate Bush would not play the heroine, but lots of people will re-examine The Ninth Wave when we celebrate Hounds of Love’s thirty-fifth anniversary in September.
I think a wonderful short film could be created that would bring life from The Ninth Wave’s songs that you do not get from listening to the album. I guess part of the potency comes from hearing The Ninth Wave with no images. Each listener has their own interpretation but, ever since I first heard The Ninth Wave, I have imagined it as a filmed piece that takes us inside the water; inside the mind of a woman yearning for safety and loved ones with no sense of rescue in sight. The Ninth Wave is one of the most spectacular and original suites of music ever recorded. I think so many people associate Hounds of Love with singles on the first side like Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) and Cloudbusting; the contrasts we hear on Hounds of Love’s second side deserves just as much attention and dissection. I love how each track has a different sound and there is so much life and possibility in each. Yet, every song flows together and forms part of this amazing story! From literature through to the stage, The Ninth Wave has been presented and imagined. I think film and T.V. is somewhere Bush originally wanted to take the concept – or a longer music video -, and there are many possibility regarding The Ninth Wave on the screen. Maybe an actor could play Bush/the woman and mime to the songs; maybe she does not sing anything. When you have an album as vivid as Hounds of Love, you imagine how each song could be represented as a music video. No tracks from The Ninth Wave (obviously) were released as single in 1985, and there is that gap that could be filled. What a wonderful revelation it would be to see (the immaculate) The Ninth Wave brought…
ILLUSTRATION CREDIT: rosabelieve
TO the screen.