The Road to Now.
By Randall Steohen Hall.
Replacement track from 1983
EXPRESS TO NOWHERE.
By MUDS MUNTU 1983.
Stephen Hall, Julian Fowler
Peter Loughridge, guesr on fine trumpet
Listen to Express to Nowhere by Mudsi Muntu on #SoundCloud
https://on.soundcloud.com/
Belfast. Back in 1980 I was an art student
in my final year, preparing for a degree show where the students would gather their work together throughout the college.
It was an exciting time but, “back in the day”, I probably saw myself more as part of the Protestant British experience than the Irish Traditional experience. Mainly because I didn’t know any better. For the republican doppelganger experience was over a wall and far away but also close by in Belfast. Kept from me. We were kept from each other.
Luckily for me I had a lot to discover . . .
A gift to me at the time, was my ears were really switched on! They still are. Switched on. I am still alive and curious. Though I am furious, still, for what they did to us and my generation, in the “Northern Explosion”. An erosion of our senses, across fences and boundaries. A psychological attack on our younger selves. Kept apart by our education. Like the young salmon, reaching the upper pool of academia yet still, kept apart.
A crowd of swimming Johnny Two Rivers.
We are still kept apart except, it’s our grandchildren now.
I sounded Irish, I lived in this part of Ireland and as far as I was aware, my ancestors had lived here for at least 400 years. Way beyond the fledging America, where many of my relatives had left, to go, due to religious discrimination and lack of opportunity.
Sound familiar? All victims know their master.
The Troubles had broken out in 1968/69
and, as a child I was unprepared for this. So, by the time I was a student I was inspired to write a song I called “Ten Years Tall.” I recorded it at the college, projecting these images in a darkened space for students, visitors and parents to experience. The images were of an interrogation, overseen by a war demon.
These were responses to what I saw around me. I felt that both sides were equally being manipulated by dark forces and agendas. I didn’t relate to these waring factions.
In the evening I would work away in our tiny box room, listening to John Peel, Scritti Politi and Linton Qwasi Johnon. It raised my intellect and emotions.
I was just expressing how I felt. I mentioned before, I was coming out of my first serious relationship. It just happened to be with an Irish Catholic.
So, from then until now I’ve been on the long road, immersing myself in information both social and historical, art based and musical, creating an interrelated body of work where I use illustration, writing, poetry and song to explain what I think about this place.
Here are the words to the song, TEN YEARS TALL along with a few of the images.
Of course, I created this audio visual show
when I was younger than 23. But many of my sentiments haven’t changed. They have just expanded. And my first cross cultural exchange blossomed inti catching the bus on the road to now.
I have few real regrets. The road to now has brought me to a time in my life where I am just as excited about my work as I was back then. For art naturally crosses boundaries to impregnate people’s minds
with all the possiblities that creativity can bring.
I grew up in a comfortable ghetto in North Belfast. I had a good grammar school education. I still live in a kind of ghetto and when I cross local boundaries to go see my friends I’m still aware of those boundaries “switching on” because they are still there, on the road to now.
RSH. Ten Years Tall
By Randall Stephen Hall. 1969-1980
Out if the darkness came a flaming light
Out of the darkness from the dead of night.
It moved so slowly, yet so I’ll at ease.
Out of the darkness
someone help me please.
Was it a man whi held a flaming torch?
“I’m here ti burn he said
I’m here ti scorch!
I laugh at those who try stand in my way
Death and destruction is the devil’s pay”
Chorus.
And he stood ten years tall
Like a mountain.
Fathered by many foolish politicians.
We must destroy what they have created
Or what’s left of our future
Will just get backdated!
Was it a man who wore the crimson mask?
His eyes were full of hatred
From the distant past.
The buildings shook
The windows closed as he walked by.
His military uniform blocked out the sky.
“Some come on you lads
Come join me lads, let’s have some fun.
Let’s make some poor fool beg for life
With a metal gun.
I’ll even let you drive the car
Show you the way
And I’ll do the same for the other side
Some other day.
Chorus.
And he stood ten years tall
Like a mountain.
Fathered by many foolish politucians.
We must destroy what they have created.
Or what’s left of our future
Will just get back dated, yeah!
www.randallstephenhallsongs.
A northern Irish artist
AKA. Dangerous Banana
By Randall Steohen Hall.
Replacement track from 1983
EXPRESS TO NOWHERE.
By MUDS MUNTU 1983.
Stephen Hall, Julian Fowler
Peter Loughridge, guesr on fine trumpet
Listen to Express to Nowhere by Mudsi Muntu on #SoundCloud
https://on.soundcloud.com/
Belfast. Back in 1980 I was an art student
in my final year, preparing for a degree show where the students would gather their work together throughout the college.
It was an exciting time but, “back in the day”, I probably saw myself more as part of the Protestant British experience than the Irish Traditional experience. Mainly because I didn’t know any better. For the republican doppelganger experience was over a wall and far away but also close by in Belfast. Kept from me. We were kept from each other.
Luckily for me I had a lot to discover . . .
A gift to me at the time, was my ears were really switched on! They still are. Switched on. I am still alive and curious. Though I am furious, still, for what they did to us and my generation, in the “Northern Explosion”. An erosion of our senses, across fences and boundaries. A psychological attack on our younger selves. Kept apart by our education. Like the young salmon, reaching the upper pool of academia yet still, kept apart.
A crowd of swimming Johnny Two Rivers.
We are still kept apart except, it’s our grandchildren now.
I sounded Irish, I lived in this part of Ireland and as far as I was aware, my ancestors had lived here for at least 400 years. Way beyond the fledging America, where many of my relatives had left, to go, due to religious discrimination and lack of opportunity.
Sound familiar? All victims know their master.
The Troubles had broken out in 1968/69
and, as a child I was unprepared for this. So, by the time I was a student I was inspired to write a song I called “Ten Years Tall.” I recorded it at the college, projecting these images in a darkened space for students, visitors and parents to experience. The images were of an interrogation, overseen by a war demon.
These were responses to what I saw around me. I felt that both sides were equally being manipulated by dark forces and agendas. I didn’t relate to these waring factions.
In the evening I would work away in our tiny box room, listening to John Peel, Scritti Politi and Linton Qwasi Johnon. It raised my intellect and emotions.
I was just expressing how I felt. I mentioned before, I was coming out of my first serious relationship. It just happened to be with an Irish Catholic.
So, from then until now I’ve been on the long road, immersing myself in information both social and historical, art based and musical, creating an interrelated body of work where I use illustration, writing, poetry and song to explain what I think about this place.
Here are the words to the song, TEN YEARS TALL along with a few of the images.
Of course, I created this audio visual show
when I was younger than 23. But many of my sentiments haven’t changed. They have just expanded. And my first cross cultural exchange blossomed inti catching the bus on the road to now.
I have few real regrets. The road to now has brought me to a time in my life where I am just as excited about my work as I was back then. For art naturally crosses boundaries to impregnate people’s minds
with all the possiblities that creativity can bring.
I grew up in a comfortable ghetto in North Belfast. I had a good grammar school education. I still live in a kind of ghetto and when I cross local boundaries to go see my friends I’m still aware of those boundaries “switching on” because they are still there, on the road to now.
RSH. Ten Years Tall
By Randall Stephen Hall. 1969-1980
Out if the darkness came a flaming light
Out of the darkness from the dead of night.
It moved so slowly, yet so I’ll at ease.
Out of the darkness
someone help me please.
Was it a man whi held a flaming torch?
“I’m here ti burn he said
I’m here ti scorch!
I laugh at those who try stand in my way
Death and destruction is the devil’s pay”
Chorus.
And he stood ten years tall
Like a mountain.
Fathered by many foolish politicians.
We must destroy what they have created
Or what’s left of our future
Will just get backdated!
Was it a man who wore the crimson mask?
His eyes were full of hatred
From the distant past.
The buildings shook
The windows closed as he walked by.
His military uniform blocked out the sky.
“Some come on you lads
Come join me lads, let’s have some fun.
Let’s make some poor fool beg for life
With a metal gun.
I’ll even let you drive the car
Show you the way
And I’ll do the same for the other side
Some other day.
Chorus.
And he stood ten years tall
Like a mountain.
Fathered by many foolish politucians.
We must destroy what they have created.
Or what’s left of our future
Will just get back dated, yeah!
www.randallstephenhallsongs.
A northern Irish artist
AKA. Dangerous Banana
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