While it may be difficult, or impossible, to say which came first in the development of the human race, the discovery of fire or the birth of spirituality, it is easy to see how fire became a central motif in rites and ceremonies throughout history. For those early few the voracious flame, crackling with hunger for fuel, possessed of a searing bite, must have seemed like a gift from, if not a manifestation of, their God(s). No wonder, then, that it became such a powerful symbol, often of cleanliness or purification, burning away evil and sending the good to God. The fact that intense heat is still used in medicine today for the cauterization of open wounds perhaps shows the basis of that particular notion, but much of this song refers to another rite, variations of which can be found globally, the sending of gifts and prayers to the Gods in the flame and rising smoke of the pyre.
Fire as purifier has been used in religious and racial persecution the world over, from witchhunts and pogroms to the flaming crosses of the KKK and the burning of books. The fuel to these fires feeds not only the flames, but the bloodlust and hatred of the persecutors.
The sacrificial flame, though occasionally fed with the same human fuel as the cleansing flame, gave a more hopeful light. The flame was seen as a direct conduit to the Gods, a device by which the faithful could send tribute and request protection, a boon, guidance, or ensure the continuation of some cycle - bringing the sun up each morning, the rotation of the seasons or the continuation of the past few years' bountiful harvests.
"Change must be earned, sacrificial bonfire must burn," the song says. If we want the Gods to get off their backsides and haul the sun up every morning, we need to offer something, we need to earn that service, by devotion and gifts. The harvest is brought in. The men and women in the fields straighten their backs and look up to the autumn sun, pulling back their cowls, joking and laughing as they carry home the last burdens of crops. A good yield, it should see the village through the coming winter. But what if the winter is long? Will the food last? Will the long winter make the spring too short to sow and grow the crops for the next winter?
A bonfire is built. In the song a goat seems to have been killed, cooked and eaten, but this certainly was not always the case - would a God be satisfied with a gift that was whipped out of the fire when it was just getting nice and crispy? But offering has been made, the change has been earned. Winter will go, the fresh spring will come and the cycle will continue.
Skylarking was designed as a themed piece, a song-cycle, and "Sacrificial Bonfire" is an apt ending to this concept. While the cycle of the album as a whole is clearly discernible, I think the strongest indication of the theme can be found in the running order of the Colin Moulding tracks on the album. From the casual courtship of "Grass", to the more serious dating in "The Meeting Place", on to marriage on "The Big Day", ageing and then "Dying". The pulse and swirl of "Sacrificial Bonfire" brings the subject to a close, with a nifty false ending on the phrase "banish the bad". The music fades, there is a heartbeat of a pause and then the music builds again. The cycle continues.
And, from Natalie Jacobs, this :-
...the song seems to have strong correspondences to the Celtic festival of Samhain, which is a harvest celebration, the Feast of the Dead, and the Celtic New Year. It's a time of, as Colin says, burning up the old and bringing in the new; neo-pagan tradition at this time involves burning things one wants to get rid of. Beltane, a spring-time fertility festival, also involves bonfires, but the song seems to be taking place in autumn (everyone is dressed for the cold, etc.). All of Skylarking seems to have a strong pagan element running through it - e.g. Season Cycle with its celebration of the endless wheel of the year - and this song sums up that tendency very nicely.
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