Roy Gardnerra's video: The Carnival Is Over - The Seekers Live BBC 1968

"The Carnival Is Over." Just the title conjures a bittersweet pang, a memory of childhood wonder fading into the dusk. And hearing Judith Durham's voice soar through that 1968 BBC Special performance is like stepping right back into that twilight moment. The Seekers, bathed in the warm glow of the studio lights, weave their magic. Athol Guy's Double Bass plucks a gentle melody, Keith Potger's bass thrums a steady heartbeat, and Bruce Woodley's guitar adds a touch of melancholic shimmer. But it's Judith, her eyes shining with unshed tears, who truly owns the stage. Her voice, clear as a mountain stream, carries the weight of a thousand goodbyes. Each note hangs in the air, heavy with the bittersweet knowledge that every joy must eventually fade. Yet, there's a quiet strength in her delivery, a gentle acceptance of life's inevitable cycles. The lyrics, simple yet profound, paint a vivid picture of a carnival packing up, its laughter replaced by the rustle of packing canvas and the creak of departing wagons. It's a metaphor for life itself, reminding us that nothing lasts forever, and that even the brightest moments must eventually give way to the shadows. But even in its sadness, "The Carnival Is Over" holds a strange beauty. It's a lament for lost innocence, yes, but also a celebration of the memories we carry with us. The song reminds us to cherish the fleeting moments of joy, for they are the threads that weave the tapestry of our lives. And as the final notes fade, leaving only the echo of applause, we're left with a bittersweet ache, a longing for the carnival's return. But we also know, deep down, that the true carnival lives on within us, in the memories we hold dear and the laughter that still rings in our hearts. So, thank you, Seekers, for that poignant reminder. Thank you for capturing the bittersweet beauty of life in a song that still resonates decades later. "The Carnival Is Over" may mark the end of the merrymaking, but it also leaves us with a profound appreciation for the precious gift of time we've been given. And that, I believe, is the truest magic of all.