“To Venus and Mars (The Spaceman’s Lament)” is another song from my musical The Watcher on the Shore, offered in the hope of sparking interest in the play’s production. The theme of the song is the homesickness that would undoubtedly be felt at times by a lone explorer of deep space—especially if he thought he might never return to Earth. Utterly alone and impossibly far from one’s home planet, would the thought of perhaps never again experiencing earthly life be bearable?
Of course, many pioneering spirits would not be afflicted with thoughts like this; their deep-seated passion to explore and learn would overwhelm all other considerations. In fact, in the play, the song is sung by one who does not wholly identify with such spirits. But one must admit that the case of outer space is extreme, and I can’t help but think that even the strongest souls might now and then succumb to such a sentiment. Especially in the coming early years of interplanetary travel, travelers may have to contend with a new malady consisting in a soul-destroying longing and nostalgia.
As usual, the point of this recording is the melody, the chords, and the lyrics; my particular arrangement here is non-essential. However, the strange glass-and-metal feeling of the sounds is intended to evoke the black world of stars, planets, and spaceships for purposes of this demo of the tune.
CLICK HERE to hear the music. The lyrics follow. I hope it is not too difficult to match the words with the music. One must be careful to distinguish the melody from the answering (“antiphonal”) phrases. (Stereo earphones or good speakers are recommended.)
To Venus and Mars (The Spaceman’s Lament)
To Venus and Mars someday a brave man will go,
A man who can bear to be launched and leave us below.
But deep in the sky he will lose sight of the earth.
And he’ll cry “Oh, let me return,
“Lie ’neath the stars;
“And then serenely I’ll gaze on Venus and Mars.”
[Two lines have no words, just piano. Then:]
“Oh, one day I’ll turn back to the world of my birth—
“Lie under a calm summer night and
“Hear soft guitars;
“And then serenely I’ll gaze on Venus and Mars.”
(Edited by Rodney Rawlings on 3/23, 6:30am)
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