From Robyn on Patreon in 2023
I made this song up directly onto a cassette recorder in the summer of 1987 on a cloudy afternoon on the Isle of Wight. When I finished I wound back the tape and transcribed the words and chords into my note book: there it was, complete, like the globe itself. It’s a swarming hymn to fertility, the pulse of existence and the goddess of all things. Mrs Watson was a teacher at my children’s school, and I pictured her at the centre of a green glass terrarium, surrounded by vibrant life forms. Of course, quite a few of them become unhinged - stability is not a given. Some of them are hybrids too, like the sphinx, the angel and the manticore; Mrs Watson is at the epicentre of possibility. The bleak reality ahead is plastic chairs and fossilised breakfasts, most likely - but, being a mad old hippie, I prefer to believe in an accelerated green explosion that will carpet this globe - and other globes like it - with pure Being. The tadpole army slithers on.

Too much to ask? Perhaps, but it’s worth asking; you never know who or what is listening to your prayers. Artificial Intelligence may be our legacy, our salvation, our downfall or merely another option; if it cannot die it will never live. Think you’re way out of that one, Huertbise.

Some reviewers said this song reminded them of The Incredible String Band - a neat observation; the ISB were much possessed by the magic of existence. I’d love to think that ‘Globe of Frogs’ is descended from ISB incantations like ‘Three Is A Green Crown’ and ‘A Very Cellular Song’. The version on the A&M album has some of their sound, definitely. With the Egyptians and Peter Buck I also recorded a rock version which was on the B-side of “Balloon Man” - I keep meaning to listen to it on YouTube.

Soon afterwards, my own personal globe began to crack and America seeped into my life - it had always been lying in wait, and indeed was already bankrolling me. My mythology changed to absorb cities, airports, hotels and highways, and a different kind of goddess. Rock’n’roll had come out of the USA anyway, along with The Green Lantern, Bob Dylan, TS Eliot, Captain Beefheart and William Burroughs; there was no way I could avoid all that, and by the end of the 1980s I was extremely fuelled by Uncle Sam.

These days I’m quite fond of my old British songs - but I think this might have been the last of them…

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Excerpt from interview included on 4/4/88 gig page:
"It's a whole vision conceived in a courtyard where there's a homoerotic sculpted statue, like the Narcissus of legend. He has two red eyes that light up. There are leafy fronds and sensual looking shrubbery and little things in the water, frog images. The statue's fingers begin to drip, like wax, into the water."

Translation? "It's about a soul waiting to be made flesh. When two people are out there (making love), they really want to have a baby; the soul has the urge to incarnate. Now don't misunderstand. I'm not preaching; I'm a totally earthly person. I'm seeing it from the soul's point of view, like planes waiting to land."