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Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of The War of the Worlds

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Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of The War of the Worlds is the debut album by Jeff Wayne, retelling the story of The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells, released in the United Kingdom on 9 June 1978. A concept album, its main format is progressive rock and string orchestra, using narration and leitmotifs to carry the story and rhyming melodic lyrics that express the feelings of the various characters. It has since spawned multiple versions of the album, video games, DVDs, and live tours.

Journalist

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  • No one would have believed, in the last years of the 19th century, that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space. No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours regarded this Earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely, they drew their plans against us.
  • It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone spent that evening as though it were just like any other. From the railway station came the sound of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance. It all seemed so safe and tranquil.
  • For three days I fought my way along roads packed with refugees, the homeless, burdened with boxes and bundles containing their valuables. All that was of value to me was in London, but by the time I reached their little red-brick house, Carrie and her father were gone.
  • Fire suddenly leapt from house to house. The population panicked and ran – and I was swept along with them, aimless and lost without Carrie. Finally, I headed Eastward for the ocean, and my only hope of survival – a boat out of England.
  • When the smoke cleared, the little steamer had reached the misty horizon, and Carrie was safe. But the Thunder Child had vanished forever, taking with her man's last hope for victory. The leaden sky was lit with green flashes, cylinder following cylinder, and nothing and no one was left now to fight them. The Earth belonged to the Martians.
  • As time passed in our dark and dusty prison, the Parson wrestled endlessly with his doubts. His outcries invited death for us both – and yet I pitied him.
  • Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, London had still seemed alive. Now, suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something – and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.
  • As life returns to normal, the question of another attack from Mars causes universal concern. Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that, across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to us – but to the Martians?

Beth

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  • People loved you and trusted you, came to you for help.

Parson Nathaniel

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  • Didn't I warn them this would happen? "Be on your guard," I said; "for the Evil One never rests." I said, "Exorcise the devil." But no, they wouldn't listen. The demons inside them grew and grew until Satan gave his signal and destroyed the world we knew.
  • Forget about goodness and mercy. They're gone.
  • Didn't I warn them?! "Pray," I said! "Destroy the devil," I said! They wouldn't listen! I could've saved the world! But now it's too late! Too late!!!

Artilleryman

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  • We're gonna build a whole new world for ourselves. Look, they clap eyes on us and we're dead, right? So we gotta make a new life where they'll never find us. You know where? Underground. You should see it down there – hundreds of miles of drains – sweet and clean now after the rain. Dark, quiet, safe. We can build houses and everything, start again from scratch. And what's so bad about living underground, eh? It's not been so great living up there, if you want my opinion.
  • We'll build shops and hospitals and barracks right under their noses – right under their feet! Everything we need – banks, prisons and schools. We'll send scouting parties to collect books and stuff, and men like you will teach the kids. Not poems and rubbish – science, so we can get everything working. We'll build villages and towns and...and...we'll play each other at cricket! Listen, maybe one day we'll capture a Fighting Machine, eh? Learn how to make 'em ourselves and then wallop! Our turn to do some wiping out! Whoosh with our Heat Ray – whoosh! And them running and dying, beaten at their own game. Man on top again!
  • I've got a plan! Can't you just see it? Civilization starting all over again – a second chance. We'll even build a railway and tunnel to the coast, go there for our holidays. Nothing can stop men like us. I've made a start already. Come on down here and have a look.

Martians

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  • Ulla! Ulla!

The Eve Of The War

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"The chances of anything coming from Mars are million to one," he said.
"The chances of anything coming from Mars are million to one – but still, they come!"

Forever Autumn

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Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
'Cause you're not here
'Cause you're not here
'Cause you're not here

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Thunder Child

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Lashing ropes and smashing timbers
Flashing Heat Rays pierced the deck
Dashing hopes for our deliverance
As we watched the sinking wreck

With the smoke of battle clearing
Over graves in waves defiled
Slowly disappearing
Farewell, Thunder Child!

Slowly disappearing
Farewell, Thunder Child!
Farewell, Thunder Child!
Farewell, Thunder Child!

The Spirit of Man

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Once there was a time when I believed without hesitation
That the power of love and truth could conquer all in the name of salvation
Tell me what kind of weapon is love, when it comes to the fight
And just how much protection is truth against all Satan's might

There must be something worth living for
There must be something worth trying for
Even some things worth dying for
And if one man can stand tall
There must be some hope for us all
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

No, Nathaniel
Oh no, Nathaniel
No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life
There has to be a way
That we can restore to life
The love we used to know
No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life
There has to be a way
That we can restore to life
The light that we have lost

Brave New World

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With just a handful of men
We'll start – we'll start all over again
All over again
All over again
All over again

Take a look around you at the world we've come to know
Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show
But maybe from the madness something beautiful will grow...

Dialogue

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[Introduction in the stage musical version]
Martian #1: Mars is no longer capable of sustaining life. Our water is depleted, temperatures increase annually, while our populations plummet. Efforts to stabilize the atmosphere have failed.
Martian #2: We have arrived at the only remaining course of action: the conquest and occupation of Earth.
Martian #1: Earth is abundant with the natural resources our ancestors squandered. The environment will seem uncomfortable, but not inhibitive.
Martian #2: The problem is, of course, the humans. They have developed primitive intelligence, but their young society remains structured around perpetual conquest and conflict. A rapid offensive to their social and economic heart should prevent significant opposition.
Martian #3: The means for this attack are already being realised. A large-scale hydrogen accelerator will be constructed to launch the suspension pods carrying the assault forces. We have not required such destructive weaponry in over five thousand years, but modifications to our current technologies should overwhelm the inferior human defenses. It is time for Mars to thrive again - on Earth's young, unprotected soil.
Parson: Dear God! A cylinder's landed on the house! And we're underneath it – in the pit!
Journalist: [as narrator] The Martians spent the night making a new machine. It was a squat, metallic spider with huge articulated claws – but it, too, had a hood in which a Martian sat. I watched it pursuing some people across a field. It caught them nimbly and tossed them into a great metal basket upon its back.
Parson: Beth! She's dead! Buried under the rubble. Why? Satan! Why did you take one of your own?
Parson: It's a sign! I've been given a sign! They must be cast out and I have been chosen to do it. I must confront them now!
Journalist: No, Parson, no!
Parson: Those machines are just demons in another form! I shall destroy them with my prayers! I shall burn them with my Holy Cross! I shall—
Artilleryman: Halt! Who goes there?
Journalist: Er – a friend.
Artilleryman: Be on your way. This is my territory.
Journalist: Your territory? What do you mean?
Artilleryman: Wait a minute – it's you! The man from Maybury Hill!
Journalist: Good heavens! The Artilleryman! I thought you surely burned.
Artilleryman: I thought you surely drowned.
Journalist: Have you seen any Martians?
Artilleryman: Everywhere. We're done for, all right.
Journalist: We can't just give up.
Artilleryman: 'Course we can't. It's now we've got to start fighting – but not against them 'cause we can't win. Now we've got to fight for survival, and I reckon we can make it. I've got a plan.
Pasadena Control: It's looking good. It's going good. We're getting great pictures here at NASA Control, Pasadena. The landing craft touched down on Mars 28 kilometers from the aim point. We're looking at a remarkable landscape, littered with different kinds of rocks – red, purple. How about that, Bermuda?
Bermuda Control: Fantastic! Look at that dune field.
Pasadena Control: Hey, wait, I'm getting a no-go signal. Now I'm losing one of the craft. Hey, Bermuda, you getting it?
Bermuda Control: No, I lost contact. There's a lot of dust blowing up there.
Pasadena Control: Now I've lost the second craft. We got problems.
Bermuda Control: All contact lost, Pasadena. Maybe the antenna's...
Pasadena Control: What's that flare? See it? A green flare, coming from Mars, kind of a green mist behind it. It's getting closer. You see it, Bermuda? Come in, Bermuda! Houston, come in! What's going on? Tracking station 43, Canberra, come in, Canberra! Tracking station 63, can you hear me, Madrid? Can anybody hear me? Come in, come in...
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