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ThrowBack Thursday episodes start tomorrow on YouTube (Patreon)

Published:
2023-01-04 22:37:58
Imported:
2023-05

Content

We're happy to report a new weekly episode series for 2023. On Thursdays each week, we'll release a 'Throwback Thursday' episode to YouTube. These will all be pre-recorded reactions from our 2022 Patreon videos. So, for tomorrow, we're starting with the #1 vote-getter in the first Fan Favorites, The Cinema Show by Genesis from Seconds Out. We'll mostly be pulling from Fan Favorites videos, but EPLs and Behind the Score episodes could come into play as well. 

Comments

Anthony Taylor

Seconds Out is one of the greatest live albums ever recorded!

MrWondrous David Beckwith

This is a blistering performance, by Phil and Chester. I can almost hear Lennon crying "I got blistahs on my fingahs!" The finale is beyond the beyond, pulling it all together.

Randy Hammill
>>98924614

It’s Phil and Bill Bruford, not Chester. Which is one of the reasons it’s such a killer version.

Anonymous
>>98924614

This recording was taken from the Trick tour, I believe it’s the only one on Seconds Out that was.

Morten Bay

I wish I had seen that video when it was made in February and had been a Patreon supporter. Then I could have helped a little more timely with the question of the lyrics. The song originates on 'Selling England By The Pound', on which Genesis explores the changes to posh English culture as the country joined what would later become the EU. The Cinema Show is essentially an homage to the poet T.S. Eliot and his masterpiece The Waste Land, where Tiresias shows up all over the place, and especially in the excerpt below that almost has the whole song in it: (TCS is my favorite song with my favorite band even though Marillion is now back vying for that position) The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins. Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun’s last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays. I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest— I too awaited the expected guest. He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent’s clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire, The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired. Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference. (And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . . She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass: “Well now that’s done: and I’m glad it’s over.”