“You don’t wanna hurt me/But see how deep the bullet lies”
WHEN Kate Bush was eight years old, she writes in the introduction to – her collection of lyrics – she found a discarded instrument an unlikely outlet for her growing musical due for a reissue later this year, we attempt to reveal the mysteries behind Bush’s idiosyncratic vision and her determination to bring that vision to fruition, something that has been there right from the start. Reflecting on Bush’s alchemical gifts for transforming the ordinary into the unexpected, I’m surprised she didn’t write a song about that harmonium – one to add to her uncanny bestiary alongside snowmen, magicians, angels and washing machines…
