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Queen, Joni Mitchell, Keith Jarrett, Magma, Vangelis, Chris Squire & more; Fifty Year Friday: November and December 1975

Queen: Night at the Opera

Released in November of 1975, Night at the Opera starts with the excitement of an ocean voyage — we hear arpeggiated waves from the piano, whale rumblings from the bass, bird cries and seagull squawks from multitracked guitar breaking into soft strains of a tango quickly turning into heavy metal. This is Freddie Mercury the composer at the height of his craft.

After having purchased three Queen albums already, the first thing I did when I brought this album home in December of 1975 was note which tracks were attributed to Mercury — this served as indicators to what tracks would impress me the most. That turned out to be an effective predictor, but, importantly, the rest of the band’s contributions were some of their very best songs, making this album packed with classic material from start to the pinnacle of the album, the penultimate track, “Bohemian Rhapsody” — one of those rare instances in rock since the Beatles had disbanded where a truly great work of music made its way from legendary status with serious listeners, musicians, and dedicated fans to legendary status with the general public, even though, perhaps as expected, it took some time to do so.

And just as the Beatles elevated their work with multi-track musical enhancements, so too did Queen elevate Night at the Opera to a precisely rendered set of cohesive numbers that deservedly live up to the album’s title. Now, don’t get me wrong — we have an amazing musical diversity on this album — with such diversity in just Mercury’s compositions — but we add to that “I’m in Love with My Car”, “You’re My Best Friend,” the vaudevillian “Good Company” with ukulele and outstanding guitar accompaniment, and “The Prophet’s Song” with its brilliant use of deceptively simple imitative counterpoint, and it’s pretty easy to understand how Night at the Opera more than holds its own today as a timeless classic.

Keith Jarrett : The Köln Concert

One of my favorite possessions was the triple LP Keith Jarrett Solo Concerts: Bremen/Lausanne which I had purchased with Christmas money in 1973. It was just incredible to have a three LP set of piano improvisation of such high quality. Given that, I am puzzled why I never bought The Köln Concert until the complete version made its way on to CD around 1984.

Recorded live in January of 1975, The Köln Concert was released in late November of 1975, the album starts off plaintively in the style of the quiet Americana reflectiveness so well done by classical composers like Aaron Copland and Roy Harris. For the first improvisation, Jarrett leans heavily on repetitive phrases and ostinato-like patterns to continue to move the music forward, flowing as if driven by stream of consciousness, yet always compelling and logical, deftly avoiding lingering too long in any single style, texture, or mode of emotional expression as the music logically unfolds.

The second piece, broken up onto three sides of the double LP album, is dramatically different in tone and character. Like the first improvisation, it evades any simple stylistic labels sometimes flirting into rock piano improvisation. Where the first improvisation was reflective, the second is inexhaustibly joyous and intensely rhythmically as Jarrett turns the piano into a percussive engine, hammering out a powerful, trance-like groove with his left hand that is pure, ecstatic energy. This propulsive marathon of invention continues through Part IIb, before finally dissolving and making way for the famous encore, “Part IIc.” After all the complex fireworks, this final piece is a moment of breathtaking, lyrical grace — a simple, hymn-like melody that releases all the tension and remains one of the most beautiful themes Jarrett ever played.

The music makes this performance legendary, but like the most interesting legends, it has an almost mythical backstory. Jarrett had specifically requested a Bösendorfer 290 Imperial concert grand. Unfortunately, what was made available on the stage was a baby grand rehearsal piano in such bad condition that Jarrett had initially refused to play on it. The requested piano was in storage and due to horrid weather was not able to safely replace the inferior piano. So Jarrett was forced to confront the rehearsal piano, an unsuitable, tinny, and out-of-tune practice piano he tested during the afternoon of the concert and was so dissatisfied with it he almost threw the towel in performing that evening. The promoter finally convinced him that he had a responsibility to play as best as he could for a sell-out crowd and somehow do his best to deal with the inadequacies of the inferior rehearsal piano. Jarrett went forward with the performance and it was this limitation, this ‘bad instrument,’ that forced Jarrett to navigate that evening’s improvisations into new territory, compelling him to avoid the shrill upper register notes and the weak lower bass notes, replacing the harmonic function of the latter with lower middle register accompaniment patterns and repetitive ostinatos — thus creating the distinctive style that unifies the music of this remarkable performance.

Joni Mitchell: The Hissing of Summer Lawns

Released in November of 1975, The Hissing of Summer Lawns finds Joni Mitchell presiding over one of the most seamless marriages of lyrics and music of the 1970s. The poetry here is evocative and ironic, crafting memorable metaphors and unforgettable images. It’s often said that when constraints are placed on artists, they often produce their best work. For an artist who had previously written music around pre-existing lyrics to then make that shift over to the craft of fitting words into already composed music, one might expect a change in character — or at least in lyrical texture. Beginning around 1973 or 1974, Mitchell’s lyrics indeed became more fluid, impressionistic, and engaged, so that by the time of this album, she had achieved a near-perfect fusion of music and poetry, with the music among her finest creations.

And how does one classify the sound? One cannot. It draws on pop, rock, folk, and jazz, yet it belongs to none of them. The album charts its own course, allowing space for stellar contributors like Bud Shank and Joe Sample to leave their imprint without overshadowing Mitchell’s vision. The closing track, “Shadows and Light,” brings the album to a transcendent conclusion: a multi-tracked a cappella choir of Mitchell’s voice against a contrasting, processed drone from a Farfisa organ. The result is a kind of sonic cathedral, where light and sound filter through like stained glas — ever shifting, quietly monumental, and filled with a sense of cosmic design.

The entire album is a showcase of extracting equilibrium from motion. The music is built on a strong foundation yet exploratory and liberating. Here we have an artist of the highest level in full command of her gifts, unafraid to blur the lines between song and painting, intellect and intuition. The Hissing of Summer Lawns continues to be an album worth returning to: we achieve familiarity with repeated listenings but never is the magic lessened.

Chris Squire: Fish Out of Water

Another November 1975 release was Chris Squire’s highly accessible, melodic Fish Out of Water. For those like me who couldn’t get enough of the brilliance of Yes’s Fragile, this album was filled with the musical inventiveness and wonderful bass lines that dominated that Yes album. Musicians include Bill Bruford on drums and percussion, with saxophonist Mel Collins on two tracks and Patrick Moraz on bass synthesizer and organ on one track . Squire handles all the vocals, bass guitar, some acoustic twelve-string guitar and electric bass. Special compliments go Andrew Pryce Jackman who provides acoustic and electric piano keyboards and seamlessly integrated orchestration providing the album with additional depth and further contributing to its ebullient vitality. Fish Out of Water is a must-have album for all Yes fans surpassing most of their catalog released after 1975.

Crack the Sky: Crack the Sky

Crack the Sky’s debut was released in limited quantities in November 1975 by the independent label, Lifesong. Is this the biggest accomplishment by this label? Depends on your perspective — Lifesong posthumously re-released several greatest hits albums of Jim Croce material starting in 1976 as well as being responsible for “The Biggest Rock Event of the Decade” — that’s right — the rock opera Spider-Man: Rock Reflections of a Superhero — an album of such popularity that I cannot find any entry for it on Wikipedia, though in fairness, the title was released again twenty-five years later on CD and is currently available on eBay for $49.

Putting Spider-Man historical considerations aside, the Crack in the Sky album, despite its limited distribution, eventually climbed up to spot 161 on the Billboard Charts in February 1976 aided by some airplay in the Baltimore area and more importantly being identified by the Rolling Stone magazine as the debut album of 1975. 

Keyboard player and lead vocalist John Palumbo wrote all the music and lyrics showcasing an eclectic range of styles incorporating sixties pop elements and contemporary progressive rock elements. Both the music and lyrics are generally quirky, with a tongue-in-cheek, often ironic, humor deeply embedded in the lyrics and the music rich with accessible melody. There are musical moments that recall surf music, the Beatles, Procol Harum, early Genesis, and even Gentle Giant. It’s not a particularly well-produced album but it is a lot of fun, and an album that anyone who considers themselves well-versed in the history of rock music should have heard at least once.

Tangerine Dream: Ricochet

Recorded in late October and early November of 1975 in England, partly live at Fairfields Hall in Croydon and partly in the studio, Ricochet was released in December of 1975. It continues that rhythmically intense sequencer-driven signature sound from Rubycon, delivering it with sparkling clarity and focus. The music unfolds logically with a strong sense of overall meaning and purpose, effectively locking in one’s attention and never letting it go. Side One, “Ricochet, Part One” contains studio improvisations and recreations of live performances with side two, “Ricochet, Part Two” being predominantly live.

Vangelis: Heaven and Hell

Released in November of 1975, Heaven and Hell is a mixture of the cinematic, early and modern “classical” music, Greek folk and some elements of progressive rock. The album effectively combines Vangelis’s mastery of synthesizer with orchestra to create a richly themed concept album about the duality of human interaction with good and evil, the light and the darkness of existence. Side One, “Heaven and Hell, Part I”, opens furiously with synthesizer and chorus setting a strong symphonic tone and concludes with vocals by Jon Anderson of Yes segmented with a glorious orchestral and synthesizer interlude. Side Two, “Heaven and Hell, Part II” opens up, contrastingly, darkly and ominously, generally maintaining that mood with the notable interspersion of an exuberant, infectious Greek-influenced folk-dance-like section and its more reflective ending. The musical tone-painting is particularly impressive, effectively supporting side two’s darker thematic premise.

Mike Oldfield: Ommadawn

Released in November of 1975, Ommadawn is Mike Oldfield’s third major symphonic work, following the partly Exorcist-driven phenomenon of Tubular Bells and the expansive, pastoral landscapes of Hergest Ridge. Ommadawn mostly consists of one long work, the title track, divided between the two sides of the original LP with a short additional work at the end. It is this title track that is the gem and centerpiece of the album, excelling in compositional presentation and development of thematic material with the first theme deftly varied, followed by an abruptly effective intrusion of the second theme around the 4:15 mark, which is also skillfully varied. After this exposition of fundamental material, both themes are further developed and extended with a richness of instrumental variety and occasional vocals (using a cleverly altered Irish translation of some simple English words) invoking a tribal sense of community.

The second half of “Ommadawn” is more dramatic with greater musical weight and contrast, further exploring a wondrous world-fusion sound that would soon become a whole sub-genre of music. The highlights here include Paddy Moloney on the Irish equivalent of bagpipes, more properly known as Uilleann pipes, and an uplifting blend of vocals and glockenspiel followed by an Irish-like dance section that brings the work to a close.

For those looking to check this album out, avoid the original mix and go for the sonically spectacular 2010 remix which provides significant clarification and enhancement of individual instruments and provides rich, immersive stereo.

Magma: Live/Hhaï

Released in December of 1975, I bought this album in Germany in 1978, and I was not surprised in the least to find this live album of the French progressive rock group in Germany. Unlike Ange, which had a distinct French coloration to their albums, Magma had a Germanic sound and eschewed the French language to adapt a language more suitable to their music — not German, but — okay let’s break this down.

Christian Vander, son of French jazz pianist Maurice Vander, was born in Paris in 1948. Exposed to both jazz and classical music, he grew up listening to Wagner, Bach and Stravinsky and met several great jazz artists including Chet Baker, who gifted Christian Vander his first drum kit and Elvin Jones who shared his musical expertise. Vander brought all these influences as well as his intense admiration for a number of jazz giants, most particularly John Coltrane, as well as drummers like Art Blakey, Max Roach, Kenny Clarke and Tony Williams. Vander brought all such influences with him, including Coltrane’s searching musical intensity, when he founded Magma in 1969 as Magma’s leader, primary composer, drummer and an important contributing vocalist.

With the formation of Magma, Vander begin the creation of the mythology of Magma concept albums and the appropriate language — Kobaïan, the language of the fictional world of Kobaïa — a distant planet colonized by a group of humans fleeing earth’s moral and ecological collapse. The language’s main function was to provide the appropriate musical sound for Magma’s music and to represent a sacred language of renewal. Its sonic characteristics are starkly different than French, coming closer to Slavic and Germanic patterns, but intrinsically supportive of Vander’s musical ideas, which slowly coalesced into a dark, more teutonic, primitively spiritual style, with texture and timbral/orchestral characteristics eventually significantly influenced by Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana, which Vander first heard in 1972.

This 1975 Live/Hhaï album includes material as early as 1973, all of which represents the mature, dramatic Magma sound prevalent from 1973 on. The original album was a two LP set that could still fit on a standard single CD, but is currently sold as a two CD set. It is available for streaming on the usual sources for anyone wanted to sample this unique music, a music that will retain its excitement, mystery and appeal for centuries to come.

Brian Eno: Another Green World and Discreet Music; Fripp & Eno: Evening Star

In November of 1975, Brian Eno released his third solo studio album, the remarkable Another Green World which, while not as ambient as his upcoming work, is certainly an unconventional pop album full of highly accessible music surrounded with imaginatively unusual context. Eno provides a mix of catchy songs with him on vocals, some amazing guitar work from Robert Fripp, but mostly a level of exotic, quirky arrangements that elevate each and every track. Highly recommend!

In December of 1975, Eno’s fourth studio album is released, Discreet Music, and it is a boldly innovative ambient album. The first side, the title track, is a work of beauty and can be listened to directly or used as effective background music for a range of activities including writing, reading and napping off. The second side is more challenging: three “elastic” arrangements of Pachelbel’s well-known canon where the parts move at different paces — not by chance or performer’s whim but intentionally arranged to distort the relationship of the individual parts and the overall musical experience. One can still hear traces of the original canon — yet each of the three very different arrangements alters the original musical architecture with time-based abstractions that are roughly parallel to distortion concepts in cubism, futurism and surrealism and also seem related to rules-driven processes that are found in works by artists like Paul Klee, Bridget Riley, Sol LeWitt and even those famous rectangle paintings of Piet Mondrian. One also has to give credit to John Cage’s influence which opened up this whole realm of unexpected alterations whether aleatoric or rules-driven.

The most challenging of these three albums, Fripp & Eno’s Evening Star, released also in December of 1975, is another tale of two sides. The first side of four tracks, each with new standard ambient titles, is by far the most accessible and functions very effectively as truly ambient music or even meditative, reflective music, particularly the first, third tracks and fourth tracks “Wind on Water,” “Evensong,” and “Wind on Wind.”

The second side is devoted to a single piece “An Index of Metals” divided up into six tracks. I doubt there are many people that can turn it on in the background and experience a calming or relaxing effect from it. It is filled with tension and not smooth or flowing. I suspect many will just find it plain irritating if using it to relax, read, or write by as it has a somewhat intrusive and ominous character. It is more listening music and needs the attention of an active listener to properly navigate the tension, suspense, and forward progress of the music. The last of the six tracks is the most gritty of all and it ends with the tension decaying as opposed to any resolution. This sets up a nice contrast to some more relaxing ambient music, which would become more and more common and commercially viable thanks to this early work by pioneers like Eno and Fripp.

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Ambient Music, Fifty Year Friday, Folk Rock, jazz, Jazz Rock, Music, Pop, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: March 1974

King Crimson: Starless and Bible Black

Released March 1974, Starless and Bible Black drifts further into free improvisation than previous albums, successfully showcasing both the virtuosic skills of the band, particularly those of Robert Fripp, as well as the band’s other-worldly improvisational skills. The first two tracks provide enough accessible progressive rock to make the album an absolute must for the prog-rock fan, and the rest of the album mixes studio and live material to present a less accessible, but highly impactful musical experience. Particularly noteworthy is the live track “Trio”, an improvisation that the always amazing Bill Bruford wisely allows the rest of the band to develop and finish without forcing his own entrance, fully sensitive to the mood and the masterpiece being created. The gem of this collection is “Fracture”, worthy of lengthy musical analysis far beyond my capabilities. It’s intricacy and irregular rhythmic and structural aspects makes this a particularly challenging composition to perform, but the band is unfazed and undaunted, and not only succeeds technically but fully imbues it with the necessary emotion and expression to make this one of the most meaningful listening experiences in the King Crimson catalogue.

Camel: Mirage

Ethereal and wistful, Camel’s Mirage was released in March of 1974, first with the album cover showed above, and then with replaced (as demanded by the Camel cigarette company) with an alternative cover. Andrew Latimer (guitar, flute, vocals) and Peter Bardens (keyboards, vocals) produce a set of compositions that blend together seamlessly creating a distinctive lush and compelling sound experience.
“Supertwister” is the most dynamic and energetic track of the album, a short instrumental that marks off many traditional prog-rock check-boxes with the rest of the album being more introverted and contemplative.

Queen: Queen II

Queen’s second album, released on March 8, 1974, gives us a much more ambitious and artistic effort than the previous, making this their first must-have albums. The production is more polished and the group clearly invested substantial hours in the studio capturing the perfected harmonies and instrumental layering. Side one is mostly Brian May’s compositions, with one work by Roger Taylor, showing off Queen’s own brand of hard rock, while side two, is completely dedicated to Freddie Mercury’s fantastical compositions, with their abrupt musical shifts and endless harmonic energy. Drama and musical theater abound, particularly on the second side, and the musical diversity and level of instrumental excellence have made this an album that never wears out its welcome in the listening room.

Kansas: Kansas

Kansas released their first album on March 8, 1974, with six musicians from the American Midwest — five of the six born in Kansas or Missouri. The album is particularly American in sound, with hints of boogie rock, country, folk-rock and similar American Rock styles. Notably different than other American Midwest and Southern Rock groups is their facile integration of contemporary prog-rock elements, some of which are very similar to Genesis and Gentle Giant material, though not in the least derivative or perceivably mimicked. Particularly notable is the work of Kerry Livgren on synthesizer and the contributions of violinist Robby Steinhardt. One of the finest debut albums of 1974.

Weather Report: Mysterious Traveller

Weather Report begins to unleash is full range of jazz-fusion capabilities with the release of their fourth studio album on March 24, 1974, climbing to number 2 on the US Jazz Charts, as high as 46 on the US Pop album charts, and up to 31 on the US R&B charts. Additional funk and world music influences are incorporated, possibly leading to creative differences with legendary Miroslav Vitouš, who makes this his last recording with the group, appearing on two of the eight tracks on acoustic bass, replaced by bass guitarist, Alphonso Johnson on the other six tracks.

The album is inventive, innovative and filled to the brim with interesting improvisation — fusing jazz, world music, including Latin influences, funk, rock, and hints of classical. Album not only showcases the creativity and imaginative brilliance of Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter, but includes memorable contributions from everyone involved included several guest musicians on percussion instruments, ocarina and woodwinds (on “J0ungle Book”) and vocals (“Nubian Sundance.”)

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Album review, Fifty Year Friday, Fusion Jazz, Hard Rock, Heavy Metal, jazz, Progressive Rock, Rock

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Fifty Year Friday: July 1973

Jethro Tull: A Passion Play

After the musically masterful Aqualung and the impeccably crafted and executed Thick as a Brick, there were many of us in 1973 that had very high expectations for Tull’s next release. Those preceding albums had been released in March of 1971 and 1972, respectively, and it wasn’t until July of 1973 that the next studio album saw the light of day. Once it hit the record stores, my next-door neighbor brought it over to be played on the better stereo at my house and give me the opportunity to record on reel-to-reel, which I set at 7 1/2 inches per second, a speed I reserved (since I had limited funds to purchase recording tape) for recording the best albums.

The album starts out with a mysterious, dramatic opening: a heart beat, the wind, and a hint of the recurring musical theme with additional components eventually including a repeated organ pattern accented with drums, then a musical opening as energetic, upbeat, lively, and captivating as the material on Thick as A Brick — initially unfolding as organically as any prog-rock album up to that time. Vocals are added and the main theme is introduced, and this is followed by a wonderful shifting-meter section that includes soprano saxophone. The theme returns, followed by another strong instrumental section with acoustic guitar and soprano or sopranino sax, and all is well approaching the end of side one. Yes, one could argue that there is excessive musical repetition, however that is easily absorbed in any initial listening just as it was easily absorbed during that initial listening back in 1973. So all was great back then, until the last few minutes of side one, with the inclusion of the seemingly irrelevant, textually and musically, “Story of the Hare Who Lost His Spectacles”, which sounds like an aggressively-abbreviated and vastly inferior nod to Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. Oddly this section could have been placed entirely at the end of side one or two, but was divided, Solomon-like, so it marred both the end of the first side and opening of the second side. Thankfully, this diversion only lasts for less than 4 1/2 minutes, but it irrecoverably breaks any momentum and continuity. The second side includes much good material, but even with the forced inclusion of the “Passion Play theme” most notably as a coda to finalize the album, much of the music sounds unrelated to anything from the first side.

How then to critique something that really outshown 98% or more of the music being released at that time, yet it could not meet the standard for musical cohesiveness set by a few exceptionally rare cases, such as Yes’s Fragile, or Jethro Tull’s own Aqualung or Thick as a Brick? Well, for what it’s worth, back in 1973, the two of us, my next-door neighbor friend and I, as teenage listeners, him 19 and I recently 18, our expectations, primed by the two exceptionally strong previous two albums, ended up disappointed. That did not inhibit my immersing myself in multiple replays, on headphones, mostly, of the Passion Play LP content I had recorded on reel-to-reel. I found much to like, and enjoy, but ultimately rarely played the album after the initial week of repeated listening. The album was panned by the senior rock critic of the L.A. Times, whose name I will just as soon not mention — enough just to say that he generally panned all prog-rock, focusing on his perceived excellence of groups like the New York Dolls, whose first album was released also in July of 1973.

Years later, with informed by the wealth of information on the internet, and in preparation to hearing this album again prior to writing this month’s entry in the zumpoem’s blog, I learned that the initial material intended for the new album started as a set of individual songs, even though Ian Anderson’s and the band’s intent was to create something much like the previous Thick as a Brick but done seriously without the intentional irony. The material as it was created and worked out, seemed to have a common theme around how different animals could be related to human behavior, but due to the material ultimately not convincingly coalescing into a final product, perhaps partly due to challenges with food-based illness for some members of the band at the recording venue, the Château d’Hérouville recording studio about 21 miles north north-northeast of central Paris, the material was essentially shelved with only a small portion being leveraged when the band resumed their work in the UK at Morgan Studios, with a general agreement to start anew. Due to upcoming tour dates, the band was left with little time, with that limited time forcing them to work intensely, putting in long hours at the studio, sometimes late into the night. Ian Anderson later expressed his dislike around the mechanics of the sax, an instrument he used generously on the album, and mentioned the awkwardness of dealing with reeds, which became soggy and chaffed his lips, as well as his lack of training, practice, and lack of affinity for the instrument.

Seems to me that it was a combination of circumstances that collectively insured that A Passion Play fell short of the quality established by Thick as a Brick, quite a high bar for any group to expect to clear twice in succession. Fortunately for us, the material from that French chateau recordings was partly or even mostly preserved and made available to us on the first CD of the 1993 Nightcap album and on the 2014 Steven Wilson’s 2 CD remix of A Passion Play with the second disc containing these Château d’Hérouville tracks. It is understandable why the band hit an impasse with the original material, or fell slightly short in their rushed second attempt, yet included in A Passion Play is some exceptionally good music. It makes one wonder whether if the band had had some additional time and had deviated from the common prog-rock approach of creating an album by a generally accretive compositional approach but instead had pruned and sculpted the sum of all the material created in the two studios between the end of 1972 and early 1973 into a single LP, the result might have been the finest Jethro Tull album ever. This was not meant to be, but at least what we have with A Passion Play is an album containing mostly exciting and satisfying musical material, that, though not setting any standards for musical cohesiveness, is incredibly enjoyable and withstands repeated listening and the test of time.

For those without access to the Steven Wilson remastered Passion Play, the Château d’Hérouville tracks are available from the Jethro Tull youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1L9dPAsadUY&list=OLAK5uy_kqxlbUqgYKgsxvqnHaeb_US5lE6ynHaOA

Steely Dan: Countdown to Ecstasy

Released sometime in July 1973, Steely Dan’s follows up their excellent first album with an equally strong second album — this time with all lead vocals handled by Donald Fagan. Some of the songs, such as “Bodhisattva”, a simple blues-progression, rock and roll tune, take on special life through the selective use of substitution chords and imaginative, quality soloing, while some other songs work well by seamlessly combining great music with inventive, imaginative, or memorable lyrics. My favorite is the final track, “King of the World”, which I first heard, for the first, second, third, fourth time, and perhaps fifth time at the 1974 California Jam, from a lengthy mixtape played from the very latest hours of the evening prior to the concert (many of us arrived the night before to get a seat close to the front) until well into the next morning, a few minutes before the start of the first act. Wowed by both music and lyrics, as well as the wonderful, straightforward synth solo, this song has had a place in my heart ever since. The lyrics, how they unfold, portray and characterize the persona, in this case the individual reaching out on the ham radio, and the economy of word usage and choice, are well-suited for study by any beginning lyricist. Of course, the album itself should be of interest to any music lover.

Genesis: Genesis Live

Released in the UK on July 20, 1973, this historically important album contains some of the material recorded for the King Biscuit Flower Hour in February 1973. Genesis’s record label, Charisma, advised the band it was in everyone’s interest to release this material prior on a budget album that could readily be sold at local stores like Woolworths and bookseller/music retailer WH Smith. This was agreed on by the band providing the album was not released in the US, due to concerns from Peter Gabriel over the quality of the recordings. Soon after Selling England by the Pound was released in the US, the Genesis Live album showed up as a low priced album ($2.99) in our local record stores, and so I eagerly purchased a copy.

Maybe the recording quality wasn’t up to the standards wished for by Gabriel, but it provides a great document of a amazingly proficient and creative group capturing them at their artistic best. The material was remastered in 1994, but doesn’t contain “Supper’s Ready”, also captured as part of the 1973 recordings — however, this was eventually released in 2009 as a bonus track on the Live at the Rainbow, . What this live album does include is amazing, particularly this 1973 live version of “The Return of the Giant Hogweed” with its baroque-like counterpoint, creative handling of meter and harmonic progressions, and concert-hall demands on the performers.

Queen: Queen

Released on July 13, 1973 in the UK and in early September in the U.S., this was an album I bought after getting all the earlier Queen albums soon after hearing tracks from Queen’s third album, Killer Queen and the just released fourth album, Night At the Opera from a cassette played in the car stereo of the friends of my good friend from next door. As I bought albums in reverse order until I got to the first Queen album, I was able to get a sense of how the group progressed and was pleasantly surprised how good that first album was. Of course, I later learned that the group really had been together since 1970, giving them ample time crafting and improving that material for that first album.

What makes the album immediately appealing is the effortless blend of hard rock, prog rock, and prog-folk elements, the vocal harmonies, the dramatic expressiveness, May’s distinctive guitar, and Mercury’s quality vocals. From the first track, already branded indelibly with Queen’s signature sound, to the short instrumental that ends the album, the album has enough of the later Queen energy and cleverness to make it mandatory listening for those of us that love the creativity and musical singularities of this group.



Category:

Fifty Year Friday, Progressive Rock, Rock

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