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Posts tagged ‘Progressive Rock’

Tom Waits, Van Der Graaf Generator, Steve Hackett; Fifty Year Friday: September and October 1975

Welcome back to Fifty Year Friday! It is my great pleasure to announce that our first entry is by an esteemed and respected writer who, for reasons we won’t question, has graciously agreed to provide material for us under the nom de guerre of Leo The Deacon. If you can navigate a substantial drop in quality, a few of my own Fifty Year Friday entries follow. Enjoy!

Tom Waits: Nighthawks at the Diner

If ever there was an artist and an album deserving of the rubric sui generis, it is Tom Waits and this, his third album Nighthawks at the Diner. At a time—October 1975—when progressive rock was on the cusp of going to seed, disco was poised to go mainstream, and Wayne Shorter and Chick Corea had set aside post-bop to explore jazz-rock fusion, Waits came out with a two-disc album in which he performs mostly original songs, backed up by a quartet of first-rate Los Angeles jazz sidemen, in front of a small live audience.  As a bookish 20-year-old who never quite embraced rock music—despite the earnest and occasionally successful efforts of the curator of this blog to interest me in such groups as Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, King Crimson, and Gentle Giant—I found Waits’ wry, atmospheric, jazz-inflected compositions  a subversive challenge to the hegemony of rock and roll. Nighthawks appealed not just to the emotions, but to the head. It did not hurt that his profane, salacious, and very funny banter between songs was well calculated to engage the sensibilities of college guys whose weekends, more often than not, were spent in the company of other dateless young men.

So is Nighthawks a jazz production, or a singer/songwriter presentation? Yes. Here’s where it gets interesting, because throughout the performance Waits meanders about the intersection of several genres:  jazz, singer/songwriter compositions, spoken word, a bit of stand-up comedy. Hell, in the cut “Big Joe and Phantom 309” Waits even covers a country-music song by Red Sovine about a ghostly trucker. The entire album is a musical Venn diagram of multiple converging circles. One can’t even call it a “live” album, exactly, because it was recorded in a studio, but in front of an audience hand-picked by the producer to convey the feel of a live performance. It’s not quite authentic but it works, especially as it allows the listener to experience the entire Waits shtick: the guttural banter, the jokes, the wordplay, and the music.

The mood is set from the get-go in the opening intro, with the quartet playing a bluesy vamp featuring Jim Hughart’s walking bass and short, honking arabesques by Pete Christlieb on the sax. The sound is that of a cool, if jaded, house band at a burlesque club and Waits reinforces the conceit by welcoming the audience to the fictitious “Rafael’s Silver Cloud Lounge,” and thanking the stripper who ostensibly warmed up the audience and put a charge into Waits’  libido.  He continues with some introductory jokes about late nights and coming home after three months to find everything in his refrigerator has “turned into a science project.”  As he talks, Waits elegantly elides into the first song, “Emotional Weather Report,” which is more rhythmic spoken word recitation than it is singing. He bemoans the “tornado watches…in the western region of my mental health” and declares that “It’s cold out there—colder than the ticket-taker’s smile at the Ivar Theater on a Saturday night.” Jilted by his lover, Waits’ forecast is for more precipitation.

The rest of the album more or less follows the same pattern, with Waits sustaining a twisted down-and-out persona as he leads into another song or spoken word performance, backed by the jazzmen and revolving around themes of loneliness, lost love, late nights, and life at the margins. For my money, the best cut on the album is the third, “Eggs and Sausage (In a Cadillac with Susan Michelson)” in which Waits precisely captures the milieu of an all-night coffee shop. In this song, (this time he is singing rather than reciting), Waits displays his artistry in clever turns of phrase and the ability to evoke the bittersweet mood of a lonely late night out after a break-up. Atmospherics and the skilled deployment of similes and metaphors are Waits’ stock in trade and he’s at his best in “Eggs and Sausage.”

Waits is often compared to the Beat poets, but that’s not quite right. His music at this stage of his career, and particularly on this album, is reminiscent of the Beats, with its jazz and spoken word poetry, and its exploration of loneliness and alienation. But unlike the Beats, Waits isn’t concerned with philosophy or spirituality, or even drug-induced altered states of consciousness. For the most part, alcohol is Waits’ drug of choice and that and his focus on the working class and marginalized perhaps slides him closer to the Beats-adjacent Charles Bukowski. Both Bukowski and the Beats expressed profound alienation, however, with the Beats setting themselves in opposition to the 1950s military-industrial complex and Bukowski challenging the smug conventionality and moral sensibilities of bourgeois America. Waits isn’t overtly political, like the Beats could be, and he certainly doesn’t indulge in the blunt rage and belligerence of Bukowski. Rather, despite the crusty delivery, he is sentimental. In the end, Nighthawks, as well as Waits’ other music of the mid-1970s, is not concerned so much with alienation as with hard luck, loneliness, and the struggle to carve a little dignity out of an uncaring universe. On Nighthawks, the world is what it is, and Waits knows it is a mug’s game to try to change it.

Tom Waits, at any point in his long musical career, is an acquired taste. Those fans, likely younger ones who are more familiar with the growling, iconoclastic, and experimental performer Waits morphed into starting with 1983’s Swordfishtrombones, may find the younger Waits of Nighthawks in the Diner more conventional—dare we say “quaint”?—than the older artist they are familiar with.  But in 1975, Waits’ retro-beatnik hipster persona, jazzy music, and well-crafted noirish lyrics was something different from the dominant electronic-heavy compositions of rock and fusion. From the perspective of fifty years, it holds up well, although younger listeners may find themselves bemused by Waits’ frequent references on this album to LA “landmarks” that have passed into history—The Copper Penny restaurants, the seedy Ivar Theater, the  Ziedler & Ziedler clothing store on Sunset, and KABC weatherman Dr. George Fischbeck, to name a few.

If there is a flaw in Nighthawks, it is that the persona Waits adopts narrows the variety of the songs. To be sure, on a few tracks—“Warm Beer and Cold Women,” “Nobody,” and the country-ish “Putnam County”—Waits veers into his singer/songwriter roots, dials back the jazz, and sings accompanied by himself on piano. By and large, though, the album is a series of Waits’ compositions backed up by well-executed jazz incidental music. The jazz frames the mood, but the fun is in skillful lyrics, the repartee and wry observations, and the dark, at times cynical, yet not despairing atmosphere that Waits conjures up. It is an eccentric artifact of its time, but it still rewards the listener and reminds us that the 1970s weren’t all bell-bottoms, platform shoes, and leisure suits. 

—Leo the Deacon

Van Der Graaf Generator: Godbluff

Released in October 1975 in the UK, this album was only available as an import. It wasn’t until I made a trip to Europe in 1978 that I purchased it in Amsterdam and had it and several other albums shipped from a post office near the record store back to the States. That particular parcel of LPs arrived home earlier than I, and so once I was home, I put it on my beloved turntable. Wow!

As a great admirer of their previous album, Pawn Hearts, which I had bought as a cut-out in the US for less than three dollars, I had high expectations for this. Fortunately, the quality of the lyrics and music did not disappoint.

After a four-year gap between Godbluff and Pawn Hearts, Peter Hammill, Hugh Banton, Guy Evans, and David Jackson roar back more powerfully than ever with less psychedelic and excursionary elements and an apparent singular focus on drama and controlled handling of musical tension and release. Hammill displays his range of skills on vocals, superior in dramatic and expressive impact to more famous contemporary singers/songwriters like David Bowie, and even contending with the otherworldly emotional delivery of Demetrio Stratos of Area and Francesco Di Giacomo of Banco del Mutuo Soccorso. Hugh Banton and Guy Evans are in great form on keyboards and percussion; and we have David Jackson on double saxophones, à la Rahsaan Roland Kirk, creating musical textures that elevate the music experience to breathtaking intensity.

Side One opens with “The Undercover Man”, which starts softly, creating musical and dramatic suspense. Once the tension is established, it methodically builds in intensity, layer by layer, gradually crescendoing, leading to some colorful organ, sax and the further unfolding of the brilliant expression and pacing of Hammill’s staggered and passionate vocals.

“Scorched Earth”, the second of two tracks on the first side, maintains intensity, opening up quietly and building in dynamics with repetitive motives weaving through Hugh Banton’s organ part and David Jackson’s deftly engineered sax parts supported by Guy Evans’s relentlessly polyrhythmic drum work. The forward momentum cools, with an initially echoey middle section, crafted out of preceding musical material that explodes into an unpredictable flurry of syncopated melodic material and violent skirmishes of accelerating ostinatos and motivic interchanges. Two dominant mixed meters alternate. Dynamic and rhythmic shifts continue to propel the music forward to an abrupt climax ending with a brief musical exhale.

Side two opens up reflectively with “Arrow”, with a meandering and introspective introduction ferociously interrupted with Hammill’s vocals which commence to entwine and shape the course of the music leading into an instrumental of repeated sax permutations on the primitive four-note saxophone motive heard earlier but not put through a series of repeated modifications. Hammill’s vocals return with full intensity and anguish:

How long the time seems
How dark the shadow
How straight the eagle flies
How straight towards his arrow

How long the night is
Why is this passage so narrow?
How strange my body feels
Impaled upon the arrow

This is followed by more sax-dominated instrumental and intensive, unrestrained percussion eventually trailing off into a sustained whimper.

The last track, “Sleepwalker”, described by Hammill as portraying “life in death, death in life” begins boldly with a brilliant 9/8-based mixed-meter motif, syncopated and off-kilter, creating a lurching, stumbling feel, realized flawlessly by sax, organ and percussion. Once the pattern is established for the listener, it moves into an accompaniment foundation for Hammill’s vocals:

At night, this mindless army, ranks unbroken by dissent
Is moved into action and their pace does not relent
In step, with great precision, these dancers of the night
Advance against the darkness – how implacable their might!

The second section starts off as a tango with güiro, organ, clavinet and then sax on melody– but it is a 3/4 tango! It then contorts itself evolving into the opening motif for brief return of theme A, but these expectations are quickly tossed aside with an intro into a completely new section in a relentless, undeniable 4/4, the sax and rhythm hinting at a brief funky disco feel before the band shuts down that possibility completely with aggressive prog-rock percussion, sax and Hammill’s searing vocals.

A necessary aside on the artistic nature of David Jackson’s approach to the saxophone: dubbed “the Van Gogh of the saxophone” by a critic of the British New Musical Express, Jackson was described as a “renegade impressionist, dispensing distorted visions of the world outside from his private asylum window”. Following in the footsteps of jazz artists like John Coltrane, Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and Albert Ayler, Jackson focused on fully leveraging timbral and tonal qualities of his instrument to deliver a wider range of emotional experiences.

Two key elements defined his style. The first was his signature use of double horn — playing two saxophones (typically alto and tenor) simultaneously, creating dense harmonies and powerful, layered riffs. The second, and more crucial for “The Sleepwalkers,” was his pioneering use of electronics using customized pickups, octave dividers, wah-wah pedals, and powerful amplification, transforming the saxophone from a purely acoustic instrument into a versatile prog-rock sound source, capable of generating textures and timbres far beyond its natural range, allowing him to sonically manifest the fragmentation, distortion, and psychological turmoil central to VDGG’s music — and provide a fully-effective soundscape for Hammill’s autonomically engaging, intensely visceral vocal delivery.

The synthesis of those two saxophones, the bass pedals and organ work of Banton, Evans’s driving polyrhythmically-paced percussion, always at the service of the music and text propels us into the psychedelic-flavored coda which slowly evaporates into nothingness, leaving the lingering essence in the listener’s mind, eventually compelling a repeat playing of one of the finest albums

Steve Hackett: Voyage of the Acolyte

Released in October 1975, I never had enough money to buy this in my college days — such a shame, as this is a wonderful album and provides insight into how much Steve Hackett contributed compositionally to the many of the passages within Genesis’s Nursery Cryme and Supper’s Ready. Excellent, evocative and reflective music that sparkles as wondrously as ever.

Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here

Pink Floyd released their ninth studio album in September of 1975. Fifty years later their The Dark Side of Moon boost has maintained their popularity enough so that there are multiple sets out this month celebrating the fiftieth anniversary. If you haven’t heard this album yet, you probably weren’t listening to music fifty years ago!

Can: Landed; Jethro Tull: Minstrel In the Gallery; Electric Light Orchestra: Face the Music

All released in September of 1975, all three of these albums have their strong moments and are worth checking out. Can’s Landed starts off with grungy rock badly recorded, but ends strongly with the musique concrète of “Unfinished” with much of interest in between.

Jethro Tull’s Minstrel In the Gallery is more reflective than his previous three albums and seemingly more personal. Thematically, the album lyrics cover the introspective and the cynical, with Ian Anderson’s lyrics exploring the isolation and pressures of being a public performer — Anderson being that Minstrel in the Gallery. Throughout a good deal of the album Martin Barre’s electric guitar is in the forefront and borders on a jazz-fusion ethos contrasted in other sections with delicate acoustic guitar. The album’s highlight is the musically and metrically complex, multi-part “Baker Street Muse” on side two, lasting over sixteen minutes with sharp contrasts and sharp lyrics.

ELO’s Face the Music opens up with an orchestral intro and explodes with their signature blend of strings, Jeff Lynne’s guitar, drums, and keyboards. The excellent opening instrumental, which highlights Mik Kaminski on violin, is followed by a classic-sounding ELO track, “Waterfall, reminiscent of Eldorado material. As mentioned earlier by Leo the Deacon, September 1975 ushers us into the mainstream days of disco fever and ELO made good money with an edited single version of the third track “Evil Woman.” I had stopped listening to AM radio long before 1975, but somehow I was still exposed to it enough in various public venues that I developed a rather strong aversion to its annoyingly commercially cloying sound. The remaining album has its ups and downs, and includes a number sounding much like the pre-disco Bee-Gees (“Strange Magic”) and Lynn’s excursion into country music, “Down Home Town.”

Besides these albums we have a wealth of other releases, not at the level of Godbluff by any means but much more commercially successful including albums by George Harrison, John Lennon, Elton John, Paul Simon, his former singing mate, Art Garfunkel, Rush, Herbie Mann, Linda Ronstadt, Roxy Music, Sparks, Steeleye Span, Aretha Franklin, Barbra Streisand, Frank Zappa, Hall & Oates, Crosby and Nash without Stills, and though I haven’t a clue what it sounds like, and am totally fine with that, Kiss’s Live Album, which apparently is the first album released by any American hard rock band, for if memory serves me correctly Spinal Tap had not released any live albums by that date — or to be factually correct, now that I check Wikipedia, still has not.

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Album review, Country Rock, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Gentle Giant: Free Hand, Renaissance, Klaus Schulze. Harmonia; Fifty Year Friday: July and August 1975

Progressive Rock in the Summer of ’75

The summer of 1975 marks the zenith of progressive rock: the moment when the genre reached its cultural and commercial apex. The journey had been remarkable. The late 1960s and early 1970s saw its birth and evolution, a period of explosive creativity as bands honed their technical abilities and expanded their conceptual ambitions. The artistic potential evident in foundational works like Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and Days of Future Passed was fully realized in a wave of masterpieces, each pushing the boundaries further: In the Court of the Crimson King, Fragile, Thick as a Brick, and Brain Salad Surgery.

By 1975, progressive rock was no longer an exceptional burst of creativity; it had become a normal, even dominant, mode of musical expression. The audience for long-form, complex compositions—accommodating multi-part suites, shifting time signatures, and grand conceptual themes—had been built. The music was not only artistically impressive but commercially triumphant, filling the largest concert halls, arenas, and stadiums across America and Europe.

Yet, this peak was also a turning point. Just as any artistic movement has its heyday followed by phases of sustainment, adaptation and imitation, whether finely-crafted Baroque, emotionally-evocative Impressionism, or intoxicating Swing, so too did progressive rock begin its next chapter. Having reached its summit, the genre moved out of the creative spotlight and began to solidify its place in history, setting the stage for new bands to adapt its sounds and for its original architects to navigate the changing tastes of a global audience.

Gentle Giant: Free Hand

Progressive Rock certainly had to be popular for one of the most underpromoted and generally ignored progressive rock groups to have an album climb as high as number 48 on the U.S. Billboard chart. One was still likely to get blank looks when recommending Gentle Giant to friends, but they had made such considerable progress in achieving recognition that they were now more often the main attraction rather than a predominantly supporting act, playing larger and larger venues, getting placed into multi-act festivals and headlining the 7,000-capacity Montreal Forum Concert Bowl and selling out the Centre Municipal des Congrès in Quebec City.

This well-deserved increase in success was crucial, as it helped buffer the band psychologically during a bitter two-year conflict with their UK label, WWA Records. The disputes were numerous and severe: WWA’s US counterpart, Columbia, had refused to release the brilliant but challenging In a Glass House; the band’s management was siphoning off an obscene amount of money; and the label was relentlessly pressuring them to become more commercial and produce a hit single.

After much legal maneuvering (and at what was apparently a significant financial cost), the band finally managed to extricate themselves from their contract. They promptly signed with the more prog-friendly Chrysalis, which had already expressed interest should they become available. This move was not just a business transaction; it was a liberation.

Now on their new label, Gentle Giant could create without constraints. The result was an immediate celebration of this freedom. The first side of their new album, Free Hand, serves as a defiant and musically intricate declaration of independence. Its overarching theme is interwoven with introspective lyrics on a fractured relationship, functioning both as a literal commentary on their breakup with WWA and as commentary on a romantic breakup.

The opening finger-snapping is overlaid with Kerry Minnear’s simple, syncopated piano line, which is quickly joined by Gary Green’s guitar—first with on-beat chords, then with off-beat stabs that accentuate the rhythm. Derek Shulman’s voice enters as another independent line, creating as exhilarating a syncopated opening as has ever been created in rock music.

During the verses, the rhythm section of Ray Shulman on bass and John Weathers on drums lays down a solid six-to-the bar beat. Superimposed over this foundation, the lead vocal and the primary melodic instruments (piano and guitar) operate in a conflicting meter of 7/4. This is not merely a display of technical prowess; it is the lyrical theme made manifest in rhythm. This irrationally persistent dual-meter creates a feeling of daredevil friction — a propulsive yet unsettling groove that is constantly pulling against itself. It musically represents the band’s position: they are intentionally “out of step” with the standard pulse of the industry but are perfectly in sync with their own complex internal logic. The two meters coexist, creating a challenging but ultimately coherent whole — a sonic metaphor for forging one’s own path.  

The track ends with a coda carved from the intro, leading directly into the dramatic fugato opening of “On Reflection.” The texture builds with breathtaking complexity: first a single voice, then a second independent voice, then a third, and a fourth. After a short contrasting section, the four-part vocal polyphony is doubled by instruments. The track then shifts to a new, ballad-like theme, delicately supported by recorders, violin, and vibraphone, before the opening fugato returns on instruments alone, trailing off into silence.

The first side culminates with the title track, “Free Hand”, which serves as the narrative and thematic centerpiece. The swaggering, layered opening provides musical continuity, while the lyrics offer a triumphant and unambiguous celebration of autonomy. The aggressive first section is effectively contrasted by a reflective, free-flowing instrumental interlude. Derived from the opening theme, this section alternates between fluid passages and sharp, staccato outbursts. Exciting, climactic transitional material then builds tension before a final recapitulation of the primary theme. A short coda indulges in a few moments of development and ends with a notable cadential flourish — an in-your-face flip of the heels — a musical “so there!”

With “Killing the Time”, side two unexpectedly and amazingly opens up with the sound of Pong — the unassuming, but highly popular video game once found in pizza parlors, pubs, and hotel arcades throughout the U.S., Canada, the U.K., Japan and much of Europe in 1974 and 1975. The brief sound of Pong is followed by musical tone painting at its finest — the music captures idleness effectively with its representation of the seeds of the rhythm searching for a groove and coalescing into what I call Gentle Giant’s stride style (see Fifty Year Friday: July 1971 with additional examples mentioned in Fifty Year Friday: September 1973, Fifty Year Friday: December 1972, Fifty Year Friday: April 1972, Fifty Year Friday: November 1970.) 

Functionally, this track extends the album’s concept of new found freedom, portraying the band killing time between concerts. Though primarily minor and minor/modal with its distinctive off-kilter character, once past the opening section, the structural form relies on traditional verse and chorus relationships with a contrasting bridge after the third verse — but with the welcome addition of a sixteen-bar development section after the bridge with a standard repeat of chorus, verse, chorus and fade out. Though the harmony is generally straightforward, using a dominant key and the relative major as contrasting tonal areas, the deployment of chromatic passing chords and controlled dissonance adds to the overall musical interest.

“His Last Voyage” is the most lyrical work on the album, a soft and beautiful Kerry Minnear composition. The form is generally strophic, but constant variation and development provide a sense of passage through tumultuous seas, turning a tragic narrative into a powerful musical metaphor.

This is followed by the penultimate track, “Talybont,” a refreshing neo-Renaissance instrumental that lightens the mood with its cheerful Mixolydian mode and playful counterpoint. Originally composed for a never-released Robin Hood film, its inclusion here provides effective contrast while its melodic contour echoes the album’s opening track, adding to the record’s cohesive feel. It is in rondo form (A B A B A B A) with some musical variation to further increase interest. Interestingly, while the track provides necessary contrast, it also shares the melodic contour of the main theme from “Just the Same.” This subtle connection enhances the album’s sense of unity.

The album ends with “Mobile”, describing life on the road and returning to the album’s general conceptual theme.

“… Moving all around, going everywhere from town to town
All looking the same, changing only in name
Days turn into nights, time is nothing only if it’s right
From where you came, don’t you think it’s a game?
No, no, don’t ask why
Do it as you’re told, you’re the packet, do it as you’re sold…”

The music rocks hard with a solid 4/4 time signature but is enriched with aggressive syncopation, rhythmic displacement, use of synthetic stretto (my term for removing notes in a repeated pattern) for creating momentum and tension, implied metrical shifts (while still in 4/4) and hints of polyrhythm. Add to this effective musical support of the lyrics, and ample musical development, and we have an exhilarating conclusion to one of Gentle Giant’s most unconstrained, most unified albums — an album celebrating, and ultimately documenting, their creative freedom.

Renaissance: Scheherazade and Other Stories

Renaissance’s sixth studio album, Scheherazade and Other Stories, released in July 1975, captures the band operating at the peak of their artistry. Side one starts with John Tout’s piano solo, setting a dramatic tone for the album. Annie Haslam’s ethereal, wide-ranging, and always captivating vocals soar over the first track, “Trip to the Fair,” with its waltz-like foundation reminiscent of a merry-go-round. The 3/4 meter extends into the instrumental middle section, punctuated by snippets of 5/4 that nicely set up the return to the primary theme. This is followed by a short, upbeat, and energetic piece, “The Vultures Fly High,” with its effective modulation in the middle instrumental section. “Ocean Gypsy,” a reflective ballad with subtle musical twists and turns, closes side one.

The highlight of the album is the nearly 25-minute “Song of Scheherazade,” based on the multicultural classic collection of folktales, One Thousand and One Nights. The work is so effectively arranged to incorporate the London Symphony Orchestra that the orchestration seamlessly supports the musical and narrative effort. Annie Haslam is in top form, her voice navigating the epic’s dynamic shifts with grace and power, and John Tout contributes some truly memorable and impressionistic piano interludes that serve as narrative turning points.

Fifty years later, this is an exceptional album to revisit, beautifully showcasing Renaissance’s unique blend of progressive rock and classical influences. This truly effective, enduringly relevant, and genuinely engaging album is one of those artistic excursions that showcase how great music transcends stylistic boundaries to establish its own identity, one ultimately independent of time and genre.

Klaus Schulze: Timewind

Released in August of 1975, Timewind is a turning point for Klaus Schulze, a monolith of sequenced sound that answers the artistic challenge thrown down by Tangerine Dream’s Phaedra. Schulze’s response was to forge his own approach to the analog step sequencer, using its relentless, hypnotic ostinato patterns to create a new musical language that taps into the listener’s subconscious desire for rhythmic order. Time is no longer measured; it is created. This gives Klaus Schulze the freedom to forgo conventional melody, yet provide an accessible, orderly musical landscape: a slow tectonic drift of ambient continents stratified from electronic synthesis.

Even with this new technology, the album demands patience, which in turn allows the listener to fully enter and remain within the two slowly evolving universes that occupy each side of the original LP. This transformation of a mechanical pulse into the catalyst for a new realm of immersive experience now gives talented musicians like Klaus Schulze entirely new architectural tools to build previously undiscovered worlds. For the willing listener, the opportunity is that of complete immersion into the inner dimensions of pioneering soundscapes where time and space are collectively managed by the composer’s creative capabilities and the listener’s personal engagement.

Harmonia: Deluxe

Released in August of 1975, Deluxe, the second album from Harmonia — brimming with sonic colors, warmth and optimism — provides one of the best examples of listener-friendly German “Kosmische Music” (cosmic music). Where some of their contemporaries explored challenging dissonance or more Stockhausen-influenced content, this trio of Neu! guitarist Michael Rother and Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius from Cluster, supplemented by drummer Mani Neumeier from Guru Guru, successfully crafted a sound that was both innovative and accessible, at least to those more adventurous listeners who explored the alternative avenues of music of the 1970s.

The album unfurls a vibrant, welcoming sonic world, seamlessly blending kaleidoscopic electronics with an insistent, forward-driving momentum that immediately engages the listener. The overall architecture relies on rhythms, ostinatos and the artful use of a drum sequencer. This is not consistently pulse-driven, rigid music, but music that appropriately flows, changes course, provides calm and turbulence, and ultimately invigorates with a sense of exploration, motion and scenic excursions.

The synthesizer work is particularly appealing, controlling the tint, brightness and saturation of the passing soundscape so colorfully it becomes visually evocative. The rich, shimmering textures seem to radiate a sonic equivalent of the visual spectrum allowing one to perceive the music in vibrant, shifting hues. With the addition of Rother’s contrasting guitar lines melodically interacting with the multitracked shimmering keyboards, the composite result creates the necessary wonder and interest to give Deluxe its overflowing positive and enduring energy.

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Fifty Year Friday, Gentle Giant, Progressive Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: May 1975

Henry Cow: In Praise of Learning

Henry Cow released their second album featuring members of Slapp Happy on May 9, 1975. Fiercely uncompromising, both musically and ideologically, it seamlessly blends rock, Twentieth century classical composition, and radical political commentary with a precision, ambition, and effectiveness as praiseworthy as any work in the 1970s.

Vocalist Dagmar Krause provides a stellar brilliancy the moment she takes over the vocals from Peter Blegard, four seconds into the album on “War,” which at 2:31 in length would have been perfect for radio play in some alternate universe — but alas our universe wasn’t quite up to the challenge of accepting irregularly contoured melodic phrases, asymmetrical time signatures, complex and politically charged lyrics, ominous incursions of harmonic instability, and the interspersion of harnessed chaos between vocal passages.

With the listener’s musical mind properly attuned, Henry Cow unleashes Tim Hodgkinson’s 16-minute “Living in the Heart of the Beast.” Initially, Peter Blegvad was asked to provide the lyrics, but ultimately Hodgkinson took over the task, crafting a set of syllables and meanings that seamlessly support the music. The work avoids any traditional structure, initially navigating shifts between vocal intensity and instrumental reflection until a wonderful organ solo introduces a forceful, uplifting instrumental interlude. This gives way to serious introspection from the organ, which then returns to the insistent, march-like vocal over metrical shifts, now irrevocably increasing in intensity until the coda winds down the work. Perhaps this may musically recall for some listeners the finale of ELP’s Tarkus as the wounded Tarkus retreats from the battlefield; however, in this case, the music is a call to charge into “fight for freedom,” providing a remarkable level of optimism and energy, effectively enveloping the listener in an afterglow as side one comes to a close.

Continuing the topic of marching to fight for freedom, side two opens up with “Beginning: the Long March”, an abstract, avant-garde representation of the march towards battle. It’s unstructured collage of electronic effects and musique concrète sensibilities may not appeal to the casual listener, but for someone focused on the overall flow and intent of the album this is a very appropriate and effective transaction to the next musical milestone, “Beautiful as the Moon; Terrible as an Army with Banners.”

This second track of side two, “Beautiful as the Moon; Terrible as an Army with Banners”, begins with Krause’s finely controlled, expressively nuanced delivery, dominating the first half with the entreaty to “seize the morning.” An instrumental commentary propels the start of the second half, with some excellent pointillistic contrapuntal piano punctuation with authoritative commanding vocals seizing the spotlight again to effectively close the work.

The last track, Morning Star, given its significance by the previous track’s lyrics of “A star mourns souls ungraved – ignored. Slow wheels: Mira. Algol. Maia” and “Rose Dawn Daemon Rise Up and seize the morning” brings the album to an effective close, firmly resolute and transcendent, firmly tying the album’s musical and verbal themes of awake, consider, prepare, engage and, ultimately, arrive and be!

Robert Wyatt: Ruth Is Stranger Than Fiction

Robert Wyatt’s Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard, released in May 1975, is a strikingly unpredictable album, filled with angular compositions that shift direction almost from note to note. Unlike his previous two solo albums, which were composed entirely of his own material, this third album finds Wyatt showcasing the music of others, creatively arranging and in most cases adding lyrics. Most compositions are by Wyatt’s friends and musical associates, but Wyatt also provides a fine treatment of jazz bassist Charlie Haden’s “Song for Che.”

The album’s eclecticism is immediately apparent with a strong focus on jazz. Is this jazz-rock, jazz-prog-rock or mostly jazz? Not sure, but it is wonderful and a non-stop thrill from start to finish! The flow of the album never flirts with predictability, its angularity lending a sharp, dynamic energy that keeps the listener engaged.

With contributions from Brian Eno, trumpeter Mongezi Feza and Fred Frith on piano, Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard thrives on musical interplay and spontaneity. It’s a thrilling listen, bursting with invention, providing a richness of the unexpected without being disjointed or even mildly inaccessible. Wyatt’s vision is as playful as it is sophisticated, making this a truly exciting and engaging listening adventure.

Weather Report: Tale Spinnin

Tales Spinnin’, released in May of 1975, is a vibrant, colorful album that showcases Weather Report at the height of their fusion creativity. The first side of the album is particularly striking, filled with bold, dynamic compositions that blend intricate melodies with rich textures. It is if I can almost hear colors when listening to this first side — it is that visually evocative, aurally. I wish I had some sophisticated color display screens for both the left and right channels that would translate the music into various bursts and evolving strands of colors, but lacking that, I can luxuriate in the radiant waves of Zawinul’s lush synthesizers and Wayne Shorter’s fluid, expressive saxophone work. The interplay between all five musicians is electric, creating a vivid musical landscape that’s both sophisticated and exploratory. The rhythms are complex yet accessible, propelling the tracks into lush, otherworldly soundscapes that are full of life and color.

Hawkwind: Warrior On the Edge of Time

Released on May 9. 1975, Hawkwind’s Warrior on the Edge of Time is both engaging and consistently accessible, effectively blending their signature space rock with more traditional prog-rock elements. There is strong emphasis on synthesizers with some effective flute, guitar and even violin to supplement the keyboards, thundering bass, and the often incessant forward-driving percussion. “Assault & Battery” begins the album in grand style, immediately immersing the listener in Hawkwind’s signature Space Rock. This album showcases Hawkwind at their peak, delivering a memorable, mythic sci-fi journey through the fabric of time and space rock.

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock, Progressive Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: December 1972

Gentle Giant: Octopus

Fifty years ago, 1972 was coming to a close with the usual releases of albums in November and December coinciding with the holidays. One of the best out of the very best of those albums, was Gentle Giant’s fourth album, Octopus, named for the eight “opuses” included in the album. Appropriate, for sure, as all eight tracks are worthy of bearing that often historically and musically important designation. The instrumentation is richly diverse with Gary Green providing his usual impressive electric guitar work, Welsh drummer John Weathers replacing the injured Malcom Mortimore, on drums, and providing bongos, varispeed cymbals, and some enduringly memorable xylophone, Kerry Minnear on acoustic piano, electric piano, the renaissance-era regal (organ), electric organ, moog, mellotron, clavinet, vibraphone, other percussion, cello and, of course, lead and backing vocals, Ray Shulman on bass guitar, acoustic violin and viola, electric violin, acoustic guitar, percussion, and vocals, Derek Shulman on sax and lead vocals, and Phil Shulman. in his last studio appearance with his brothers, on tenor and baritone sax, trumpet, mellophone and lead and backing vocals.

The album opens up softly and intimately with Kerry Minnear’s “The Advent of Panurge” with interlaced vocals (I believe Minnear and Phil Shulman) followed by a hard-rock interlude that includes the classical technique (Haydn, Beethoven) of compacting a repeated motif to create heightened tension and energy leading into a temporary vocal handoff to the more dramatic Derek Shulman, then vocals becoming intimate again with Phil, then a short mystical section, returning to the opening melody with the stretto-like compressive technique followed with a strong ending with Derek again on vocals.

The second track, Minnear’s “Raconteur Troubadour” takes us back to the Middle Ages and Renaissance, before exploring an Elgar-like melody, that moves into a more twentieth century feel with trumpet before another verse and chorus of the main melody ending with a repeated motif slowly unwinding the work to a stop.

Ray Shulman’s “A Cry for Everyone”, takes us into harder progressive rock mode, with Derek on vocals, and some brief flamboyant moog garnishes followed by some more instrumental including that unique Gentle Giant “stride” style (see Fifty Year Friday: July 1971), interrupted with some more moog flourishes, returning to a third verse of the main melody, and concluding with a brief coda.

The first side ends with Minnear’s contrapuntally clever “Knots”, which sets excerpts from R.D. Laing’s psychological-themed poetry of the same name. Besides a mix of Renaissance and prog imitative counterpoint, hocketing, and some additional madrigal-like Renaissance handling of the words and musical material there is a contrasting, more contemporary, prog-rock, second theme, Weathers mirthful xylophone interlude, an instrumental transformation of the earlier material prepping for and then interlaced with the return of the original material followed by a repeat of the secondary theme ending the piece. Whew! What an exciting four minutes of music seemingly covering as much ground as covered by some lesser prog-rocks groups on much lengthier tracks!

Side two is equally strong, opening with Ray Shulman’s instrumental “The Boys in the Band” reminiscent of Frank Zappa’s best material of the early seventies. The next track is Minnear’s Renaissance-like “Dog’s Life, “a backhanded tribute” to the band’s roadies with the regal providing a shawm-sounding whine, complemented nicely by Ray’s and Kerry’s string playing. The third track on the album is Minnear’s beautifully sensitive and reflective “Think of Me with Kindness” as good as any ballad ever penned in the 1970s. The second side ends strongly with Ray Shulman’s epic “River”. which while under six minutes, is much like “Knots” in that it seems to cover enough musical ground for take up the better part of a single side of an LP.

The production, for 1972, is good enough to differentiate the various parts and provide a crisp, relatively undistorted listening experience, the performances are energetic and expressive, and the music itself is unusually distinctive with compelling melodies and motives that have a level of adventurousness, playfulness, and durability that creates a substantial listening experience the very first time or even after a dozen. Impressively, this was a group that could deliver this material live very effectively, with all the studio wizardry translating without any loss of intensity into live performances. Though most rock critics at the time couldn’t or wouldn’t even try to appreciate the singular music on this album, the music still lives on, embraced generation after generation by music lovers the world over.

Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso: Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso

Influenced by the emergence of a multitude of English Progressive rock groups, a number of talented musicians came together in various locations throughout Italy to provide their own contributions to the ever increasing riches of the progressive rock canon. In Rome, classical trained pianist Vittorio Nocenzio, having studied composition, organ performance, and ethnomusicology, and written songs for Italian folk singer Gabriella Ferri, formed Banco Del Mutuo Soccorse (Bank of Mutual Assistance) in 1969 with his brother, Gianni, also skilled on keyboards, and former members of two other rock bands, Fiori Di Campo and Le Esperienze including the vocally captivating tenor, Francesco Di Giacomo, who would provide a Puccini-like drama and intensity to the band’s recordings and concerts. The talented group played festivals before recording their first album, a particularly strong debut that incorporates stylistic elements from both progressive rock and early twentieth century classical music.

Despite the multitude if influences, the material is identifiably Italian, especially in some of the melodic phrases and in the character of their exuberant playing. Particularly impressive are the second track, “R.I.P. (Requiescant in Pace)”, and the fourth track “Metamorfosi.” Side two includes the 18 minute “Il Giardino del Mago” and ends with an animated tarantella-like piece simply titled “Traccia” (track.)

Banco Del Mutuo Soccorso: Darwin

Banco’s second album, released near the end of 1972, builds on the excellence exhibited in their first album, improving on it with a cohesiveness and establishment of a consistency of style. The album starts off with the magnificent opening of L’Evoluzione, a dramatic 14 minute work rich, beautiful, and epic in impact that effectively sets the tone for this concept album. The second track, “La Conquista Della Posizione Eretta” (‘The Attainment Of The Standing Position”) begins with a extended and compelling instrumental section that brings to mind the survival struggles of prehistoric life including growls that settles into a reflective lyrical section narrating the advantages of standing upright.


The second side opens up with the casual, jazzy “Danza Dei Grandi Rettili”. The next track, “Cento Mani E Cento Occhi” opens up in frenzied contrast to the cooler preceding track, not only making use of some of the musical language elements of Ginastera and Bartok, but covering a wide range of progressive rock musical expressiveness in unremittent 4/4 time with the appropriate use of accents for inescapable forward momentum. The third track, “750,000 Anni Fa … L’Amore?” seemingly channels Puccini for its amorous expressiveness achieved with a expressive piano accompaniment to Giacomo passionate vocals and as well utilizing the moog synthesizer for a dramatic middle section. “Misere Alla Historia” (badly translated as “History’s Lament”) provides musical reflection on the lost/dead civilizations with the warning/observation of “Ma… Quanta vita ha ancora il tuo intelletto se dietro a te scompare la tua razza” “But… How much life does your intellect still have if your people disappear behind you.” The album ends with additional reflection, ironically set in 3/4 time, “Ed ora io domando tempo al tempo ed egli mi risponde…non ne ho!” (“And Now I Ask Time for More Time and He Answers Me…I Don’t Have Any!”) bringing the album to an indisputable close, fully covering the saga of human evolution from early, undeveloped life to its apparent, overwrought and unavoidable finish.

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Album review, Gentle Giant, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: Extrapolation, More, Audience

 

jmclaughlinR-3093046-1315393792.jpeg (2)

John McLaughlin: Extrapolation

Recorded on January 18, 1969 and released later that year, this very well could be the first true fusion album.  The electric guitar of one of the finest electric guitarists in the generation after Grant Green and Jim Hall (how is it John McLaughlin is listed only at 68 on Rolling Stone’s 100 Greatest Guitarists list and Grant Green and Jim Hall are not on the list?) is featured prominently and emphatically throughout along with English sax jazz musician, John Surman, who incorporates his free-jazz experience seamlessly within the scope of the album’s intent.

The first composition is the Thelonious Monk sounding “Extrapolation”, setting the tone for a dynamic, musically extroverted album. Each track runs into the next, except for the side change (originally on LP, of course), creating a greater sense of mood and material continuity. The last track showcases a solo, acoustic McLaughlin, bringing a sometimes wild, but always musically accessible, stellar, and leading-edge jazz album to a thoughtful conclusion.

Album is produced by Georgian/Swiss/Italian/UK producer Giorgio Gomelsky, who also had produced and managed the Yardbirds and later worked with The Soft Machine, Gong, Magma, Bill Laswell and Laswell’s band, Material, and one of my favorite groups, Henry Cow. Album is engineered by Eddie Offord who later engineered the first four ELP albums and co-produced and engineered several of the Yes albums.

Track listing [From Wikipedia]

All tracks written by John McLaughlin.

Title Length
1. “Extrapolation” 2:57
2. “It’s Funny” 4:25
3. “Arjen’s Bag” 4:25
4. “Pete the Poet” 5:00
5. “This Is for Us to Share” 3:30
6. “Spectrum” 2:45
7. “Binky’s Beam” 7:05
8. “Really You Know” 4:25
9. “Two for Two” 3:35
10. “Peace Piece” 1:50

Personnel

  • John McLaughlin – guitar
  • John Surman – baritone and soprano saxophones
  • Brian Odgers – double bass
  • Tony Oxley – drums

Pink-Floyd-More

Pink Floyd: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack from the film More

Pink Floyd’s first full album after Syd Barret was a movie soundtrack, More, recorded from January to May 1969, and released in the UK on June 13, 1967, a couple of weeks after the premiere of the movie More.  Though the music is meant to support the movie, and is a collection of basically unrelated tracks with a significant breadth of musical variety, the album holds together nicely, like a well-conceived sampler LP.

The music ranges from the dreamy “Cirrus Minor”, to the eerily pre-grunge-rock track, “The Nile Song”, to the exquisitely harmonically and melodically simple “Crying Song” to music that anticipates space rock and Kraut Rock. This is virtually a catalog of some of the adventurous musical styles that would become popular in the coming years.  Not hard to imagine why this is many listeners favorite Pink Floyd album.  It is hard to imagine why Allmusic.com gives this two and a half stars or Rolling Stone Album Guide gives it two stars.   More is more than just a movie soundtrack, it is an instruction manual of future musical styles.

Track listing [From Wikipedia]

Side one

#

Title

Writer(s)

Length

1.

 “Cirrus Minor“ Waters

5:18

2.

 “The Nile Song“ Waters

3:26

3.

 “Crying Song“ Waters

3:33

4.

 “Up the Khyber” (instrumental) Mason, Wright

2:12

5.

 “Green Is the Colour“ Waters

2:58

6.

 “Cymbaline“ Waters

4:50

7.

 “Party Sequence” (instrumental) Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

1:07
Total length:

23:24

Side two

#

Title

Writer(s)

Length

1.

 “Main Theme” (instrumental) Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

5:27

2.

 “Ibiza Bar“ Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

3:19

3.

 “More Blues” (instrumental) Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

2:12

4.

 “Quicksilver” (instrumental) Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

7:13

5.

 “A Spanish Piece“ Gilmour

1:05

6.

 “Dramatic Theme” (instrumental) Waters, Wright, Gilmour, Mason

2:15
Total length:

21:32

Pink Floyd

Additional personnel
  • Lindy Mason – tin whistle (5, 7)

 

AudienceAudience (2)

Audience: Audience

Audience recorded and released their first album in 1969, though it is not easy to find out exactly when. The band formed in 1969 and within weeks after their first rehearsal they had a record deal with Polydor and were playing at the famous Ronnie Scott’s in Soho, London, also site of the 1969 premiere of the Who’s Tommy.  Polydor, though quick to sign the band, was not so efficient at promoting them or their album.  The album had insignificant sales, not helped by the puzzling album cover, a dim negative of the band members, and shortly after its release was discontinued.  Meanwhile during live performances, the band drew critical praise for their performances and material, and soon, while the backup touring band for Led Zeppelin, was signed to the Charisma label.

The first two songs on this album are unquestionably progressive rock.  The tracks that follow, though more traditional rock, are still catchy and showcased the nylon-stringed acoustic-electric (fitted with an electric pickup) classical guitar  of Howard Werth and the sax, clarinet and flute of Keith Gemmel, the latter using echo and wah-wah pedal to fill in some of the role of the traditional rock guitar.  The album is worth listening to more than once, and the musicianship and arrangements are very good.

Track listing [From Wikipedia]

Unless noted, all tracks credited to Werth, Williams.[2]

Side one

  1. “Banquet” – 3:47
  2. “Poet” – 3:05
  3. “Waverley Stage Coach” (Williams) – 2:59
  4. “Riverboat Queen” – 2:57
  5. “Harlequin” – 2:35
  6. “Heaven Was an Island” – 4:18

Side two

  1. “Too Late I’m Gone” – 2:37
  2. “Maidens Cry” (Gemmell, Richardson, Werth, Williams)- 4:47
  3. “Pleasant Convalescence” – (Gemmell, Werth) – 2:30
  4. “Leave It Unsaid”
  5. “Man On Box” (Gemmell, Werth) 
  6. “House On The Hill”

Audience

 

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1969, Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, jazz, Jazz Rock, Progressive Rock, Rock, Uncategorized

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Fifty Year Friday: The Canterbury Scene: Soft Machine and Caravan first albums

Establishing the starting point of progressive rock is a hopeless cause since elements of progressive rock appear in bits in pieces long before a general progressive rock style.  The best one can do is try establish the earliest date of the first progressive rock group. Some might argue that such an “earliest date” is established by the formation of the Wilde Flowers, a group of jazz-leaning musicians that took a crack at British Rock and Roll in 1964 and developed a more-or-less accessible, and even partly danceable style of music that foreshadows the music of the Canterbury scene — easily enough explained by the members of the Wilde Flowers all taking prominent roles in these later groups. Though no albums were recorded, we have a set of demos that have been released on CD and are currently available on You Tube.  Keep in mind that these were demos and not particularly representative of Wilde Flower live performances, which included some jazz-based improvisation.

Though I prefer to keep my distance from the term “progressive rock” as a label for a style of music, I support a concept of progressive rock representing the pushing of boundaries of status-quo music and breaking free of the constraints of commercial expectations, particularly when commercially successful as in the case of songs like the Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.”  This means that any rock music, whether by the Beach Boys, the Beatles, Jefferson Airplane, The Doors, The Zombies or some other group from the mid or late sixties that goes past the minimal expectations of pop/rock to explore the passageways that naturally and unnaturally twist and spiral out into Robert Frost’s road not taken.  This is also why I am hesitant to consider some of the “neo-progressive” rock bands as notably progressive — such a use of the “progressive” label creates the ironic condition when applied to today’s musicians, of being indicative of a lack of progressiveness as they are trying to recreate an older style as opposed to pushing out to new territories. However, that said, quality and excellence is a more welcome and appealing feature in any music over progressiveness for the sake of sounding or being progressive. I will more readily listen to the post-romantic British symphony composers of the early twentieth century over many of their contemporary atonal composers.

The Wilde Flowers

Band members included, at various times:

softm1MI0001896961

The Soft Machine: The Soft Machine

The Soft Machine, named after the 1961 novel by William S. Burroughs (titled based on the nature of the human body) started as a quartet in 1966 that included Robert Wyatt and Kevin Ayers from the Wilde Flowers, and classically-trained keyboardist Mike Ratledge and guitarist Daevid Allen from the free-jazz group Daevid Allen Trio. Following a European tour in August 1967, Allen, an Australian, was refused re-entry into Britain due to a previous overstay on an earlier visit.  Allen returned to Paris, to later form the group Gong, leaving Soft Machine a trio. On the first Soft Machine album we also have  Brian Hopper and Hugh Hopper, prior members of The Wilde Flowers, appearing in the writing credits.

This first Soft Machine album is a mixture of psychedelic rock and jazz elements as in tracks like “Joy of a Toy”, based on “Joy to The World” and sounding more like early space rock than Christmas music. Robert Wyatt makes up for any shortcomings as a vocalist with his contributions on drums.

Interestingly, the post of this first Soft Machine album on YouTube (link) has a Dislike to Like ratio of .0257 in the same ballpark of the Beatles’ Sgt. Peppers (link) ratio of .0254 — compare that to the Beatles’ Abbey Road ratio of .15 (link) or Gentle Giant’s Free Hand of .030 (link)

Track listing [from Wikipedia]

Side one
No. Title Writer(s) Length
1. “Hope for Happiness” Kevin Ayers, Mike Ratledge, Brian Hopper 4:21
2. “Joy of a Toy“ Ayers, Ratledge 2:49
3. “Hope for Happiness (Reprise)” Ayers, Ratledge, B. Hopper 1:38
4. “Why Am I So Short?” Ratledge, Ayers, Hugh Hopper 1:39
5. “So Boot If At All” Ayers, Ratledge, Robert Wyatt 7:25
6. “A Certain Kind” H. Hopper 4:11
Side two
No. Title Writer(s) Length
7. “Save Yourself” Wyatt 2:26
8. “Priscilla” Ayers, Ratledge, Wyatt 1:03
9. “Lullabye Letter” Ayers 4:32
10. “We Did It Again” Ayers 3:46
11. “Plus Belle qu’une Poubelle” Ayers 1:03
12. “Why Are We Sleeping?” Ayers, Ratledge, Wyatt 5:30
13. “Box 25/4 Lid” Ratledge, H. Hopper 0:49

The Soft Machine

Additional personnel

caravan R-11701362-1520895436-5771.jpeg

Caravan: Caravan

Also made up of band members from The Wilde Flower (Pye Hastings, David and Richard Sinclair, and drummer Richard Coughlan), Caravan started up in 1968 and released their first album about the same time as Soft Machine’s first album.  This would be the first British group signed to Verve records, the famed American Jazz label founded in 1956 by Norman Granz that not only carried the most jazz titles in their catalog of any label, but also was home to Frank Zappa and The Velvet Underground.

Even if one is able to somehow dismiss the first first two Nice albums or the first Soft Machine album as qualifying as fitting into the progressive rock genre classification (once again, I am making a distinction between between being considered progressive rock music and being classified under the prog-rock label), it is much more difficult to dismiss this first Caravan album. It is unfortunate that the balance and mixing of this album is dodgy at best, but the music more than compensates for this otherwise serious failing.

“Place of My Own” with its alternation between the dreaminess of impressionism and the insistent forward progress of a march creates a whole organic work of four minutes that is comparable in substance to a similar length classical or jazz track. With liberal use of keyboard arpeggios and emphasis on the instrumental section over the lyrics, Caravan creates an overall mood and character to the entire work giving it is own identity as effectively as bands like Yes and Genesis would do to many of their songs on their early albums.  This is followed by the Indian-influenced instrumental, “Ride”, the effective forward-moving and sometimes beautiful “Love Song with Flute”, and the quirky, mostly psychedelic Cecil Rons. ” However, the most notable piece is the nine-minute “Where but for Caravan Would I” which is co-written by Caravan and Brian Hopper (who also co-authored some of the tracks on the first Soft Machine album.)  It is epic in nature,  starting off with a relatively simple section, repeated, that modulates to a short contrasting section that quickly returns to the original section again before breaking out into a furious instrumental section dominated by organ that again returns to the original key and the altered and more intense original theme, which is followed by a more complex rhythmical section that nicely functions as the coda to bring the work to a satisfying and complete conclusion.  This is a template for the prototypical prog-rock track, laid bare without any unnecessary frills or complications, something easily grasped and enjoyed, and available to be copied with endless variation and development.  Yes, later groups would move well beyond this, but Caravan provides the necessary starting point — and though it may not so much have influenced other groups as much as it was just an instance of the parallel development of the post-psychedelic rock groups that got their start at the end of the late sixties, it is as an impressive example of the relentless nature of this new music to carve out its own language and means of expression from the available languages and expressions readily available in the diverse music of that time.

Track listing [from Wikipedia]

All tracks credited to Sinclair, Hastings, Coughlan & Sinclair except “Where but for Caravan Would I?” which is written by Sinclair, Hastings, Coughlan, Sinclair and Brian Hopper.

Side One

#

Title

Length

1.

 “Place of My Own”

4:00

2.

 “Ride”

3:41

3.

 “Policeman”

2:45

4.

 “Love Song with Flute”

4:09

5.

 “Cecil Rons”

4:05
Side Two

#

Title

Length

1.

 “Magic Man”

4:01

2.

 “Grandma’s Lawn”

3:23

3.

 “Where but for Caravan Would I?”

9:01

Caravan

  • Pye Hastings – lead vocals (side 1: 1-2, 4), co-lead vocals (side 1: 5 & side 2: 1, 3), guitars, bass guitar
  • Richard Sinclair – lead vocals (side 1: 3 & side 2: 2), co-lead vocals (side 1: 5 & side 2: 1, 3), bass guitar, guitar
  • Dave Sinclair – organ, piano
  • Richard Coughlan – drums

 

Side Note:

Interestingly, the post of this first Soft Machine album on YouTube (link) has a Dislike to Like ratio of .0257 in the same ballpark of the Beatles’ Sgt. Peppers (link) ratio of .0254 — compare that to the Beatles’ Abbey Road ratio of .15 (link) or Gentle Giant’s Free Hand of .030 (link)  

Caravan’s first album Dislike to Like Ratio on Youtube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bt1inf8CRnE&list=PLALZtwXPtUFKvbI7h8Fc5CdqRYoI_qyyd) is .0028 — or 356 likes to only one Dislike — rather unheard of in youtube land.

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Fifty Year Friday, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: The Nice

The Nice ALVB.jpeg

The Nice: Ars Longa Vita Brevis

In November of 1968, The Nice release their second album, furthering their advance into progressive rock as initiated in their first album.

With the guitarist, David O’List, no longer part of the group (either dropped from the group or left on his own depending on whose side of the story is being represented), The Nice auditioned replacement guitarists, including Steve Howe.  Evidently this would have worked out, except for Howe having second thoughts a week later.  And so, the band moved on without a replacement guitarist, with a line up more like a traditional piano jazz trio (piano, bass and drums), then a rock group, providing the blueprint for the keyboard-dominated progressive rock group (with occasional augmentation by orchestra as in the case with this second Nice album.)

The first track, “Daddy, Where Did I Come From”,  seems like a throwaway novelty number, but much like the ensuing second and third tracks, has a distinct charm and quirkiness that elevates it above the commonplace. Note the peppy piano intro by Keith Emerson as well as the brief baroque-like organ passage, the ensuing unbridled electric organ accompaniment, and the spoken dialogue as the dad.

The second track, “Little Arabella” includes vocals from Keith Emerson at around the 1:37 mark. The third track, the fanfare-like”Happy Freuds”, has Keith on lead vocals and though mostly a simple upbeat pop number, has both charm and substance.

Keith Emerson’s dominance continues with the keyboard-dominated realization of Sibelius’s Intermezzo from the Karelia Suite.  The main theme works better in its original version, but Emerson’s improvisation and development of the theme — and short detour from the theme — provide the essence of this interpretation.

The title track takes up the length of the second side, including orchestra backup — at least at points.  It is not so much a coherent whole as a stitchwork that includes a dramatic Keith Emerson prelude orchestrated by Robert Stewart, a four minute drum solo, the main “Ars Longa Vita Brevis” theme with Jackson on vocals,  followed by a jazzy instrumental diversion, a third section with an Emerson intro that dives into the first movement of Bach’s Brandenburg, pitting Emerson’s more excursive inclinations against the orchestra’s more faithful script,  followed by a restatement of the “Ars Longa Vita Brevis” theme with more jazz-like trio work and the prelude material serving as a coda.

All in all a pretty good album that delivers quality, variety and some impressive trio passages.

Track listing [From Wikipedia]

All songs written by Keith Emerson and Lee Jackson, except where noted.

Side one

  1. “Daddy, Where Did I Come From” – 3:44
  2. “Little Arabella” – 4:18
  3. “Happy Freuds” – 3:25
  4. “Intermezzo from the Karelia Suite” (Sibelius) – 8:57
  5. “Don Edito el Gruva” (Emerson, Jackson, Brian Davison) – 0:13

Side two

  1. “Ars Longa Vita Brevis” – 19:20
  • “Prelude” (Emerson) – 1:49
  • “1st Movement – Awakening” (Davison) – 4:01
  • “2nd Movement – Realisation” (Jackson, David O’List, Emerson) – 4:54
  • “3rd Movement – Acceptance “Brandenburger”” (J.S.Bach, Davison, Emerson, Jackson) – 4:23
  • “4th Movement – Denial” (Davison, Emerson, Jackson) – 3:23
  • “Coda – Extension to the Big Note” (Emerson) – 0:46
The Nice

 

Category:

Fifty Year Friday, Music, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: Jefferson Airplane and HP Lovecraft

crownof creation81NdZctnSEL._SX355_

Jefferson’s Airplane Fourth studio album, released sometime in September of 1968, continues their expansion of San Francisco folk-flavored psychedelic rock, with a mostly denser, darker and more spontaneous, jam-rock-enriched sound.

Grace Slick scores big again, starting from the instant the needle hits the vinyl with her composition “Lather”, which though inspired by her fellow bandmate, and bedmate, drummer Spencer Dryden, turning thirty, also has been crafted to have a more poignant message about an intellectually disabled adult named Lather:

“Lather was thirty years old today,
They took away all of his toys…

“He looked at me eyes wide and plainly said,
Is it true that I’m no longer young?
And the children call him famous,
what the old men call insane,
And sometimes he’s so nameless,
That he hardly knows which game to play…
Which words to say…
And I should have told him, “No, you’re not old.”
And I should have let him go on…smiling…babywide.”

Another impressive track on this first side is Slick’s rendition of David Crosby’s “Triad” with Crosby on guitar.  The Byrds had recorded the work for inclusion on the final Byrds album with Crosby, The Notorious Byrd Brothers,  and for whatever reasons (conjectured explanations range from the nature of the lyrics to the quality of the song to internal band politics and ego-clashes), the Byrds dropped it’s inclusion.  Perhaps this was for the best, as not only was their no hesitation on the Airplane’s part to record this, but Slick on an album of material otherwise written by the band, but the change of the gender of the personna makes the lyrics work out even better.

The rest of the album is generally heavier, rockier and with a more complex sound with the final song covering the nuclear demise of the earth — the Jefferson Airplane are still producing commercially-in-demand and modern, cutting-edge material, with this album having made it as high as the sixth spot on the Billboard album chart.

Jefferson Airplane {from Wikipedia}

Additional musicians

hplovecraft-2

With a very promising well crafted first album, featuring haunting, distinct, yet harmonious vocals between co-founders George Edwards and classically-trained Dave Michaels, thoughtfully arranged compositions and a sophisticated approach to psychedelic folk-rock that included timpani, harpsichord, piccolo, renaissance recorder, saxophones, clarinet, french horn, tuba, trombone and vibes, H. P. Lovecraft, named after the American horror-fiction writer, recorded their second album in the summer of 1968, releasing it in September of 1968 with no special title, simply called “H P Lovecraft II” with  a small “II”as seen in the album cover above.

This second album is more progressive, but due to a demanding concert schedule, the band had little time to prepare, with the result being a less disciplined effort than the first album, but a step forward musically.  Like their namesake, the author, H. P. Lovecraft, fortune, or even decent wages, were not to be theirs. The group disbanded in 1969, with a subsequent reformation as simply “Lovecraft” and then again as “Love Craft”, but without the leadership and musical skills of George Edwards and Dave Michaels, the band had a much different sound,  lacking that other-worldly, psychedelic, borderline progressive quality of this second album.

H. P. Lovecraft {from Wikipedia}

Category:

Fifty Year Friday, FOlk, Music, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: Ultimate Spinach

Ultimate Spinach - Behold and See002

There are those that believe that everything is determined, and that no matter how many times something is played out, the same result will occur.  Such a belief may be based on fatalism, or the predictability of Newtonian physics, or the belief that there is no self-determinism and that people are stimulus-response machines and that once set in motion, all resultant activity can theoretically be modeled, given all the initial data points.

There are those that believe that every moment holds countless possibilities, some vastly different, some imperceptibly so, with any given result leading to another countless set of possibilities each leading to their own potential result leading to more possibilities.  Some believe there is self-determinism and that our choices are not predicted solely on past events and current physical and mental factors.  Some believe that we ourselves are not part of the universe we appear to be in, and so can effectively can cause changes to that universe through the exercise of free choice. Some reach out to their understanding of quantum physics to support a belief in uncertainty and unpredictability.  Some go as far as to speculate that there are infinite or nearly infinite universes with each universe having been the result of the cumulative consequences of each and every outcome from each and every previously emergent outcome prior to that.

If we go with this last worldview, or rather universe-view, there are no doubt trillions upon trillions upon trillions of universes similar to ours where the first Ultimate Spinach album sold well, benefiting from the Newsweek January 1968 article that was part of the full-out publicity assault by MGM’s Alan Lorber to establish an identity for Boston-based psychedelic bands like Ultimate Spinach, Eden’s Children, Beacon Street Union, Puff, Quill, and Orpheus.  Though this attempt at creating an identity similar to that of the bands associated to the “San Francisco Sound” worked initially as evidenced by the considerable attention resulting from the Newsweek article, which certainly fueled sales of the first Ultimate Spinach album, there was the inevitable backlash by a handful of music critics, including a prominent Boston rock critic, whose general claim was this was a blatant establishment-based marketing ploy and that there was no characteristic sound of these Boston bands and that the informed consumer should completely discount such commercially motivated hype.  Wall Street Journal joined in the pile-up chiding the publicity effort in their arcticle “The Selling Of A New Sound”, followed by Rolling Stone which stereotyped this purportedly non-existent Boss Town Sound as ” “pretentious,” “derivative,” and “boring’ — terms that would also later be used in the arsenal of the “informed” and elite “anti-elite” music critics against progressive rock.

UltimateS1

Other media outlets weighed in on the topic of the legitimacy of the claim of a Boss Town Sound including Crawdaddy and Playboy. In Alan Lober’s words in an article published in Goldmine in 1992 “the snowball became an avalanche. It was now more trendy to talk “Boston Sound” than to hear it. In retrospect, it was hard to believe that something which had received so much media coverage could fail to become a commercial success.”

Yet, amidst all of this, that first Ultimate Spinach album was relatively successful commercially, staying on the Billboard album chart for 36 weeks and peaking at position 34.  It was also quite good, being easily accessible, fresh, upbeat and generally adventurous incorporating elements of jazz, classical, psychedelia, and world music into a primarily contemporary rock style.

So, successfully swimming against the current of some not so-well meaning rock critics, providing an accessible, contemporary sound with plenty of potential for further development and exploration, and then, in August 1968, releasing a second album, Behold & See, more mature, better constructed, and stronger than the first, there was no real reason for Ultimate Spinach not to remain in the spotlight and have ever increasing album sales.

Except that Ian Bruce-Douglas got fed up.  He got fed up with the mechanics of the record industry and the resulting loss of his musical independence and authority, he got fed up with producer Alan Lorber, and he got fed up with the various personal conflicts occurring within the band. Then frustrated to the extreme, he simply walked away from his own band.  With no group to tour in order to promote the new album, and without marketing or live shows, the second album stalled at number 198 on the Billboard top 200 album chart.  Without their leader and composer, the remaining band attempted a third album, which had a different sound and sold even more poorly than the second album.

UltimateS2a

Now if you buy into the multi-universe concept, and concede that there are easily quadrillion to the quintillionth universes that all have this same second Ultimate Spinach album, “Behold & See”, then it is conceivable, that in at least one, or perhaps even two, universes, the Boston music scene was allowed to more naturally flourish, that Ian Bruce-Douglas was able to overcome his initial disgust and dissatisfaction with the immense personal and individual ego challenges, the insensitivity of his record company, and the conflicts between he and his producer — and thus successfully promote through live concerts the second album, continue with the creation of a third and then have that fourth break-out album.  However, this may be pushing the envelop of the possible just a bit too much.  Perhaps there is limited upside to any group named “Ultimate Spinach.”  Or perhaps the personality that provided the music and lyrics for these first two albums, inherently would inevitably be constrained by the idiosyncratic demands of the music industry.   One hesitates to speculate about how much great music was lost because talents like Ian Bruce-Douglas were not able to cope with the realities and frustrations of the commercial music industry.

So even if there are not universes in which there are additional albums by the Bruce-Douglas led Ultimate Spinach, one can at least enjoy these two that are available. For those looking for early progressive rock, they will find many items that they can check off their list of prog characteristics: exotic or non-traditional rock instruments (theremin, acoustic sitar, electric sitar, vibraphone, recorder), angular rhythms and syncopation, an overall conceptual unity present in the two albums,  (anti-war, anti-conformist with references to Sartre in the first, and the theme of achieving transcendent awareness and freedom of thought in the second), imitative counterpoint, classical music reference (J.S. Bach incorporated into the final track of the first album), layered production techniques, interesting instrumental passages or completely instrumental tracks, and for bonus points, a single, visionary leader, who in this case was Ian Bruce-Douglas, who wrote the music and lyrics for the entirety of those first two albums.  Also, as noted earlier, the musical press referred to Ultimate Spinach as “pretentious” — an epithet worn as a badge of honor by many of the progressive groups of the early seventies. (Remember Gentle Giant’s compilation album, “Pretentious for the Sake of it?”)

And if you don’t much care for progressive rock, but like the more melodic psychedelic music of the late 1960’s, or just interested in hearing a bit of the “Boss Town Sound”, these two albums are available on CD, on vinyl, through streaming services, or even youtube as if they are deserving of more respect today than ever before.

And one last note directed at those musical critics that said there was no actual “Boss Town Sound”– history now seems to say otherwise with even once-antagonistic magazines like Rolling Stone conceding in 1988, in its “Rock of Ages” encyclopedia, the existence of such a musical movement.  Unfortunately, the time frame of that movement was ridiculously short, with the lack of commercial success causing most of these Boston-based psychedelic bands to break up by 1969 — yet I have to believe that, in this universe at least, if not in countless other universes, these Boston bands left something of lasting value, both in terms of influencing other, sometimes younger, musicians at the time that carried on, and in the case of the most popular of these bands, The Ultimate Spinach, left us music we can still listen to and enjoy today.

Track listing of Behold & See [from Wikipedia]

Side one

  1. “Gilded Lamp of the Cosmos” – 2:30
  2. “Visions of Your Reality” – 5:49
  3. “Jazz Thing” – 8:20
  4. “Mind Flowers” – 9:38

Side two

  1. “Where You’re At” – 3:10
  2. “Suite: Genesis of Beauty (In Four Parts)” – 9:56
  3. “Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse” – 5:50
  4. “Fragmentary March of Green” – 6:51

Personnel

UltimateS2b

Category:

Fifty Year Friday, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention; United States of America

Zappa WOIIFTM_

Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention: We’re Only in It for the Money

In the summer of 1969 my family drove up to the San Francisco to take a cruise to Alaska on the Princess Cruise Line Ship,  MS Italia, and visited with my Aunt and then dropped me off for most of the day to visit with my cousin who was rooming with two or three other college students.  As typical, there the living room was the shared area, and it was well-stocked with a stereo system and dozens of LPs.  Several of them were recent recordings of Baroque music, this being the era of the baroque revival where driving around San Francisco one can find multiple FM stations playing mostly baroque music with works of not only J.S. Bach and Telemann, but seemingly dozens of Italian Baroque composers with names like Torelli, Tartini, Tortellini, Samartini, Scarlatti, Spumoni,  and on and on. So though my natural instinct was to dive into the treasures of Baroque music stacked around the stereo and against the sides of the speakers, my attention was redirected by an album that looked like Sgt. Peppers, but clearly was not.

“My roommate is a big Frank Zappa fan”, explained my cousin. “He’s got all the albums.”

That is, all the albums up to the summer of 1969.  And so I started with “We’re Only In It For the Money”, intrigued and yet mostly thrown off balance for much of side one and, to a lesser extent side two, but comforted by having the lyrics printed on the back.   Then putting on “Reuben and the Jets”, I was even more puzzled, abandoning it at the end of the first side, going on to the next Zappa album, and then ultimately shifting to one of the many Baroque albums I had initially neglected.

A few weeks later, during my first semester in college, I was able to explore Zappa’s early catalog at my own pace, and appreciated better the musicianship, music, and unconventional point of view, though not particularly embracing the sarcastically, disparaging tone and the interspersed droppings of scatology that were as much a Zappa trademark as the predictably unpredictable musical discontinuity and divergent shifts. I would not become a Zappa fan until Hot Rats, but was still able to enjoy and laugh at these early albums, particularly Freak Out, Absolutely Free, and We’re Only it For the Money. 

So Fifty Years later, I am not yet ready pronounce, We’re Only it For the Money as a masterpiece of Western music, but can unequivocally state that it is a work of genius and something everyone should hear, if not just for purely musical reasons, for both musical and historical purposes.

Track listing[from Wikipedia]

All tracks written by Frank Zappa.

Side One

#

Title

Length

1.

 “Are You Hung Up?“

1:23

2.

 “Who Needs the Peace Corps?“

2:34

3.

 “Concentration Moon”

2:22

4.

 “Mom & Dad”

2:16

5.

 “Telephone Conversation”

0:48

6.

 “Bow Tie Daddy”

0:33

7.

 “Harry, You’re a Beast”

1:22

8.

 “What’s the Ugliest Part of Your Body?“

1:03

9.

 “Absolutely Free“

3:24

10.

 “Flower Punk[11]“

3:03

11.

 “Hot Poop”

0:26

Side Two

 #

Title

Length

1.

 “Nasal Retentive Calliope Music”

2:03

2.

 “Let’s Make the Water Turn Black“

2:01

3.

 “The Idiot Bastard Son”

3:18

4.

 “Lonely Little Girl” (“It’s His Voice on the Radio”)

1:09

5.

 “Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance“

1:35

6.

 “What’s the Ugliest Part of Your Body? (Reprise)”

0:57

7.

 “Mother People”

2:32

8.

 “The Chrome Plated Megaphone of Destiny”

6:25
Total length:

39:15

united states of america

The United States of America: The United States of America

Two days after We’re Only in It for the Money was released on March, 4, 1968, another unconventional and relatively radical rock album was released, the work of Joseph Byrd, other band members including vocalist Dorthy Moskowitz, and producer David Robinson.

I first heard this band in my first semester in college in 1973 as part of Music History 251, when the track “Garden of Earthly Delights” was played on the classroom’s barely adequate stereo as part of the listening example included in the course workbook. I was impressed but when looking for that record that weekend could not find it in even the larger chain record stores and so forgot about it until years later when it became available again through reissue.

The first track, “The American Metaphysical Circus”, opens up much in the spirit of Charles Ives with competing marching bands, a piano playing “At a Georgia Camp Meeting” and a calliope.  But going beyond Ives is the electronic effects — no Moog synthesizer, this was beyond the financial means of the group — but creatively generated effects from more basic sound wave generation equipment.

More obvious than the Ives’ influence here, is the Beatles’ Sgt. Peppers’ influence.  The lyrics of that first track hearkens back to “For the Benefit of Mr. Kite” — at least in the first verse:

“At precisely 8:05, 
Doctor Frederick von Meyer
Will attempt his famous dive
Through a solid sheet of luminescent fire.”

However as the song progresses the lyrics darken:

“In the center of the ring
They are torturing a bear
And although he cannot sing
They can make him whistle Londonderry Air”

And then political:

“And the price is right
The cost of one admission is your mind.

“We shall shortly institute
A syncopation of fear
While it’s painful, it will suit
Many customers whose appetites are queer.”

And such goes much of the album with decidedly left-wing, if not communist-inspired viewpoints (one track is titled “Love Song for the Dead Ché”), embedded into adventurous, well-crafted music.   This album, the group’s only offering (they broke up shortly after the release) is sometimes mentioned as a forerunner to progressive rock. For anyone interested in building up a collection of more exploratory and ambitious 1968 “rock” music, it is worth the trouble to track this album down — and it is a suitable companion for We’re Only in It for the Money next time you have ninety minutes set aside for some uninterrupted listening of some of the more progressive and unusual music from 1968.

Side One

Title

Length

1.

 “The American Metaphysical Circus” (Joseph Byrd)

4:56

2.

 “Hard Coming Love” (Byrd, Dorothy Moskowitz)

4:41

3.

 “Cloud Song” (Byrd, Moskowitz)

3:18

4.

 “The Garden of Earthly Delights” (Byrd, Moskowitz)

2:39

5.

 “I Won’t Leave My Wooden Wife for You, Sugar”

(Byrd, Moskowitz)

3:51

Side Two

Title

Length

6.

 “Where Is Yesterday” (Gordon Marron, Ed Bogas, Moskowitz)

3:08

7.

 “Coming Down” (Byrd, Moskowitz)

2:37

8.

 “Love Song for the Dead Ché” (Byrd)

3:25

9.

 “Stranded in Time” (Marron, Bogas)

1:49

10.

 “The American Way of Love”

  1. “Metaphor for an Older Man” (Byrd)
  2. “California Good-Time Music” (Byrd)
  3. “Love Is All” (Byrd, Moskowitz, Rand Forbes, Craig Woodson, Marron)”

6:38

Personnel

The band

Additional musicians

  • Ed Bogas – occasional organ, piano, calliope

Technical staff

  • Glen Kolotkin, Arthur Kendy – remixer
  • Richard Durrett – instrument design engineer
  • David Diller – engineer
  • David Rubinson – producer

Category:

1968, Fifty Year Friday, Music, Political Music, Progressive Rock, Rock

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