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Regarded as a prog metal classic, Dream Theater's Metropolis pt.2: Scenes from a Memory is now 20 years old

ProgBlog reflects on the current state of prog metal

By ProgBlog, Apr 10 2016 03:34PM

April 1976. Forty years ago. This was late summer-early autumn in the progressive rock golden era timeline though none of us knew it at the time; it was also in the middle of the major player hiatus and consequently there were only three significant releases that month which, on reflection, may have been an indication of change in the musical landscape. During this period I had limited cash for buying albums, though my part-time job delivering the Cancer and Polio Research Fund News Letter to households around the Infield and Hawcoat wards of Barrow could sometimes result in a substantial tip if the recipient won a respectable sum on one of the bingo cards that were sold with the newsletter. Back then I was still catching up with previous releases by a range of prog bands and it wasn’t until a few years later that I acquired the cream of the April 1976 crop: Moonmadness by Camel, Interview by Gentle Giant and Still Life by Van der Graaf Generator.

There isn’t too much common ground between the three albums with Camel’s efforts moving from symphonic prog towards a jazz-tinged melodic prog, Gentle Giant providing their usual eclectic mix of styles, albeit with a distinct rockier feel than some of their earlier work that equates to an increased degree of accessibility, and Van der Graaf Generator’s second release from the stabilised second generation four piece which I believe represents the creative pinnacle of their career, more composed (in both senses of the word) than the albums of the 70 – 72 incarnation and Godbluff (1975) with some of Hammill’s best lyrics and exploration of philosophy.


Moonmadness hardly needs any introduction. The last release by the original line-up, this was a deliberate move by the band to create something other than ‘son of Snow Goose’, and the result was an album loosely held together with the concept that each of the main tracks represented a member of the band: Chord Change is keyboard player Pete Bardens; Another Night is bassist Doug Ferguson; Air Born is guitarist/flautist Andy Latimer; and Lunar Sea is drummer Andy Ward. The album title comes from a pun on Lunar Sea and there are other references to the moon throughout the album, from lyrics on Another Night to the title of the concise opening track Aristillus, a prominent impact crater that lies in the eastern Mare Imbrium. This song features Andy Ward reciting ‘Aristillus’ and ‘Autolycus’ (a slightly smaller crater due south of Aristillus.)

All the preceding Camel albums contained songs of a uniformly high standard and Snow Goose stands out as a major composition that never dips in quality. The band was finding its feet with the eponymous debut and got more confident, and heavier, with Mirage (1974). Moonmadness returns to the song format but the quality has notched up a level and though on balance I probably prefer Snow Goose, its successor rates very highly with Lunar Sea remaining one of my favourite instrumental tracks of all time. Though most evident on Lunar Sea which features alternating lead guitar and keyboard lines, the entire album has a very satisfactory balance and neither Bardens nor Latimer comes out as particularly dominant, with the lead musicians giving each other ample space to conjure those beautiful, melodic lines. The rhythm section also performs admirably; I’ve always been a fan of Andy Ward’s drumming but Doug Ferguson, if we had to choose the weakest contributor, provides really solid bass throughout and positively bubbles on Lunar Sea.

Interview could almost act as a statement of Gentle Giant’s career up to that point. The subject matter concerns some well-trodden Giant subject material, concerning aspects of the music business, with another look at a roadie’s perspective but there was supposed to be a concept behind the whole project, the crassness of the interview process to publicise the output of a band. There are clips of an imaginary interview: “how would you describe your music?” Unfortunately the concept falls a little flat, without any real conviction and the interviewer is Phil Sutcliffe, one of the only journalists to genuinely appreciate the band.

Musically, the title track which opens the album continues from where 1975’s Free Hand left off. It’s clever, rocky and accessible, a style that continues on the original LP side 2 opener Another Show. Empty City is more gentle and reflective but it’s only in the first half of final track I Lost My Head, that the band show off their acoustic, medieval chops, then conclude with a muscular, rocking section that is also featured on the live set Playing the Fool (1977); I think this is probably the most satisfactory track on the album. The one departure from the previous Giant musical direction comes in the form of the proto reggae of Give it Back which reminds me of Dreadlock Holiday, the most memorable single from 10cc’s Bloody Tourists (1978.) Though there are a number of parallels with Free Hand, the production on Interview allows a good deal of space between the instruments that almost adds a feeling of sparseness. Gentle Giant remain one of the only progressive rock bands I never got to see, even outside of the golden era but at least their music seems to have reached a wider audience than that attained during the 70s.


When I bought Still Life I had the choice between that and Godbluff, both in the bargain bin of the Streatham branch of that well known purveyor of vinyl, WH Smith. I plumped for Still Life because I preferred the cover and I could see Hammill’s lyrics. I might have been swayed by the two-track per side format of Godbluff but without the song words and with what I thought was a less attractive title, I saved Godbluff for another day.
When I bought Still Life I had the choice between that and Godbluff, both in the bargain bin of the Streatham branch of that well known purveyor of vinyl, WH Smith. I plumped for Still Life because I preferred the cover and I could see Hammill’s lyrics. I might have been swayed by the two-track per side format of Godbluff but without the song words and with what I thought was a less attractive title, I saved Godbluff for another day.

There’s a sort of roughness to the production of the early 70s VdGG albums, with the surprise possible exception of H to He, which suits the music. Godbluff is also fairly raw in contrast to Still Life which comes across as though the band have spent as much time as they needed to produce the record. It sounds well rehearsed and controlled so that even when the band lets rip it almost feels as though they’ve got something in reserve. Not that Still Life could truly be described as polished in the sense of being over-produced; the anthemic Pilgrims and the full-on La Rossa were written during the Godbluff sessions so that in effect the band only required three pieces to complete the album, arriving at the hymn-like title track, the relatively calm My Room (Waiting for Wonderland) where the lyrics really grabbed me: “Searching for diamonds in a sulphur mine...” and the deep, epically structured Childlike Faith in Childhood’s End. The band employed some simple and effective devices during the recording with the aim of stirring the listeners’ emotions, including delaying the introduction of the drums (and horns) on the track Still Life and using single-track vocals on My Room, where there’s also some fine bass work from Banton. The cover photo by Paul Brierley adds to the impression that considerable thought went into the making of the album. A chance find in a magazine, the image is of electrical discharge from a Van der Graaf generator though I’ve always felt that it had the appearance of mineralisation or a treated photograph of a fossil fern, a reference to still life. The Paul Whitehead sleeves may have been iconic but Still Life is class. It’s not an easy album to listen to, coming across more of an aural assault and I still don’t think my brother Tony gets it, even though he was the one that got me into progressive rock in the first place. I think it’s a brilliant work, one of the best pieces of music to emerge from the whole of 1976 and probably the most adventurous; Van der Graaf Generator didn’t really know how to play safe!






By ProgBlog, Nov 10 2014 09:42PM

There’s something magical about a live performance, unless it’s to see a band that you don’t actually like. My personal nightmares include The Sweet (Barrow, May 1973 which fortunately cost me nothing because I accompanied a friend on his birthday), Slade (Goldsmiths’ College, December 1979) and UFO (Hammersmith Odeon, February 1980) but I’ve also seen performances from artists that I do like that have disappointed (Rick Wakeman’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth show at the Royal Albert Hall, earlier this year.) I think the disappointment stems from failed expectations. Wakeman had touted the format of the show beforehand but I was too stupid to take in what he’d said and I think that a full concert, rather than the Journey back-story peppered with jokes, some of which could be interpreted as offensive, that took up a good portion of the evening, would have been far less dissatisfying.

I think it’s generally true that musicians, of whatever genre, put a great deal into their live performances. Thematic or conceptual stage shows evolved in the 70s, especially amongst the more successful acts who graduated from small theatres to arenas. This coincided with the golden era of prog where the trilogy of recorded music, album design and stage set were fully thought through to provide what an economist might call ‘value added’. There was a shift from straightforward atmosphere to total immersion in a concept; from a light show to Yes and their fibreglass moulds to fit in with the Topographic Oceans iconography, ELP with their model of Tarkus, Rick Wakeman with inflatable battling dinosaurs or presenting Myths and Legends on ice, and culminating in the architectural designs of Pink Floyd, enhanced with models of crashing aeroplanes, flying pigs and giant puppets. There was no intention to downgrade the importance of the music but the increasing distance of the audience from the stage meant that there was a requirement to offer an alternative view to tiny dots on the stage. This became spectacle and, though many current rock and pop acts continue with the tradition, at the time it was seen as confirmation that progressive rock had become overblown and out of touch.

Though costume changes and make-up were seen as innovative by fans of David Bowie and the wider emerging glam rock scene, Arthur Brown was donning bizarre headgear and sporting makeup in 1968. A couple of years later, Peter Gabriel had also began to experiment with facial makeup, costumes and masks and wore his wife’s red dress and a foxes head for performances of The Musical Box before the release of Foxtrot, where it would be depicted on Paul Whitehead’s sleeve painting. [Have you looked closely at the horse ridden by the green headed huntsman on the cover of Foxtrot? It’s actually in a state of excitement.]

Gabriel’s theatrical touch served two purposes; to help him overcome his lack of confidence as he literally hid behind a mask and to provide a visual focal point as the other four musicians sat, barely moving, concentrating on playing their respective instruments. The costumes evolved from the basic ‘old Henry’ mask used on The Musical Box; through the bat wing head gear of Watcher of the Skies and the flower at the end of How Dare I be so Beautiful? and beginning of the Willow Farm sections of Supper’s Ready; Britannia on Dancing with the Moonlit Knight; culminating with Rael as a Slipperman on The Lamb Lies Down, a suit featuring inflatable genitals. Gabriel continued to wear face paint into his subsequent solo career and when I briefly played in a live band, I attempted to copy the makeup depicted on Plays Live – keyboard player Alistair Penny sported a Bowie-inspired flash and guitarist Eric Whitton wore makeup reminiscent of SAHB guitarist Zal Cleminson. It’s hard to believe that Gabriel was not responsible for inspiring the face painting of Fish, who wore makeup from the live inception of Marillion up to the end of the Real to Reel tour. Part camouflage and part refection of the Jester that appears on the sleeves of singles and albums up to Misplaced Childhood, a study of Fish’s greasepaint seems to show a thematic relationship with the venue. Though Fish denies any conscious adoption of colours relating to his surroundings, such as the black, red and yellow used for Marillion’s first indoor gig in Germany in October 1983, he does admit to putting some thought into occassionally going for specifics, such as a Union Jack and an RAF roundel design used at a gig at a base near Aylesbury in 1981, a design that was resurrected for the Reading Festival headlining gig of 1982. It's also of note that Peter Nicholls, vocalist with classic neo-prog band IQ, was also into face paint and costumes - the cover of The Wake depicts a character with make up very similar to that sported by Nicholls.

It’s difficult to know if Gabriel influenced Progressivo Italiano outfit Osanna. Genesis were certainly a very popular in Italy, where Nursery Cryme was a surprise success, reaching no. 4 in the Italian charts. L’Uomo was also released in 1971 and the cover depicts the band in costumes and theatrical makeup but their sound was rather different to that of Genesis, mixing jazz, psychedelia, folk and blues, indicating that Jethro Tull were a likely influence. They would later work with David Jackson from Van der Graaf Generator, Charisma label-mates of Genesis and another successful UK musical export to Italy. It’s not even coincidence, but VdGG had a track called ’Masks’ on World Record, allowing Peter Hammill to extemporise on the subject of presenting a false persona. The theme of acting a part was also visited in the surrogate band that featured in the live shows of The Wall, wearing masks.

The vast majority of prog was about concentrating on the music. The visual additions to live shows were intended to enhance the musical experience but when theatrics became the dominant force like on the tour of The Wall, or Rick Wakeman performing The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table on ice, it’s as though the entertainment is making up for deficiencies in the music. I certainly don’t regard The Wall as progressive rock and I’ve previously questioned whether Journey to the Centre of the Earth is really prog. A good light show and effects is all you need to add to good music but some costume changes and face paint don’t do any harm; over-reliance on gimmicks, however clever, is slipping on a mask to hide what’s underneath.


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