ProgBlog

By ProgBlog, Jul 8 2020 09:42PM

Live albums for lockdown (part 2)

While a live album can’t compare with being physically present at a gig, the best of them are able to convey a sense of outstanding music frozen in time; this is what the band were performing at that moment, this is how good they were live. In the absence of live concerts, video performances and live albums are all that are available to us to attempt to connect with the feeling live music conveys. This is the second part of ProgBlog’s list of favourite live albums, for lockdown or anytime



Camel - A Live Record (1978)



I got into Camel in 1975 after hearing Music Inspired by the Snow Goose, an album I believe to be one of the finest orchestrated rock albums of all time thanks to David Bedford’s intelligent arrangements. One of my best friends had copies of both Rain Dances (1977) and A Live Record and it was a bit of a mystery why there wasn’t more of the (then) recently released Rain Dances on the live set, though the sumptuous Royal Albert Hall performance of Snow Goose took up half the 2LP the space for more of the latest album was limited by the inclusion of a collection of some of their most memorable tracks from their back catalogue up to that time. I used to have a copy of the original-length album on CD before it was replaced with the 2002 remastered and expanded edition, which provided an even better potted history of the band; I always felt the subsequent albums up until Harbour of Tears (1996) were driven more by commercial interests than musical, though that’s not to say there was no decent material produced after Rain Dances, and Pressure Points: Live in Concert (1984) was a decent live portrayal of the more modern Camel repertoire. A Live Record features a version of Skylines, one of the most highly rated tracks from Rain Dances, captured from their performance at Leeds University on October 3rd 1977 – I wasn't there but I’d encouraged my brother who was studying at Leeds to attend – but taken as a whole A Live Record presents Camel at their melodic best.



Genesis - Live (1973)



As an introduction to (early) Genesis, Live really hit the spot. My copy of the LP is a cut-out distributed by Canadian imprint Buddah Records, bought in Leeds in 1976, though I added the 1994 CD some years later. I don’t remember if I’d heard The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (1974) at the time - which was my brother’s first Genesis album – but I do remember discussing The Lamb when it was toured with a school friend who managed to get to see it performed live in Newcastle, and being impressed with the story of Rael. On reflection, it’s easy to chart the path from Foxtrot (1972) to the almost punk-attitude Lamb via Selling England by the Pound (1973); Selling England is pivotal in the development of Genesis band because it marks Tony Banks’ first use of the ARP synthesizer and his distinctive lead synth lines. This means Live, recorded in February 1973 and released in July that year as a stop-gap while Selling England was being recorded, marks the end of an era.

The sound quality isn’t the best, prompting Peter Gabriel to point out that the recordings were done quickly without much regard to the sound, but it’s an inspired collection of their early material in a live setting. Issued as a single LP, it’s rumoured that a few 2LP promo versions were pressed, including a version of Supper’s Ready from the Leicester performance that made up the bulk of the material. It’s also noteworthy for Gabriel’s ‘tube train’ story, which was almost reason enough for buying the album. Seconds Out (1977) is a decent cut which also marks the end of an era with the departure of Steve Hackett during mixing, but the conciseness of Live is an advantage - and got me into Genesis.



Premiata Forneria Marconi – Cook (1974)



Cook was my introduction not just to PFM, but to the sub-genre of progressivo italiano, and is therefore probably the record that has had the most profound effect on my life after Close to the Edge. While I can’t remember exactly how PFM came across our radar I know I saw their performance on BBC TV series The Old Grey Whistle Test, and Alan Freeman must have played them on his Saturday afternoon radio show. Cook was the first of their records that I bought but I was also listening to Photos of Ghosts, Chocolate Kings and Jet Lag, blown away by the musicianship and intrigued by the Italian take on prog. What was also interesting was the revelation that there was a ‘really first Italian album… …sung in Italian’, as the live introduction to Dove… Quando…, a personal favourite, informed us. It would take more than 30 years for me to get my hands on a CD copy of Storia di un Minuto and a further 12 before I bought a copy on vinyl. I also owned the Italian version of Cook, Live in USA, on CD before it became redundant following the 2010 3CD Cook reissue, where discs two and three feature the entire Schaefer Music Festival performance from Central Park.

I’ve been fortunate enough to see PFM live on three occasions, plus original bassist Giorgio Piazza once, where the set list was predominately selected from the first three Italian releases plus the first two English-language counterparts. Cook represents a snapshot of early PFM that set me off on a long road of discovery involving a large number of Italian cities, for which I’ll forever be grateful.



Caravan – Live at Fairfield Halls, 1974 (2002)



I didn’t really get into Caravan until the early 80s, when I first heard Nine Feet Underground. I’d bought Better by Far (1977) on cassette a couple of years earlier but was seriously unimpressed, and could barely remember For Girls Who Grow Plump in the Night (1973), which I’d heard around the time of its release. Prompted by Dave Sinclair’s side-long masterpiece I bought the Canterbury Tales compilation 2LP from 1976, an excellent introduction to their early material. Tucked away on side 1 of Canterbury Tales is a live version of Can't Be Long Now / Francoise / For Richard / Warlock, from September 1st 1974, part of a Croydon gig recorded for promotional reasons for an upcoming tour of the US.

I’d been quite happy with my CD copy of Caravan & The New Symphonia, a single LP recorded live with orchestra at Drury Lane and originally released in 1973, but when Decca began to reissue expanded CDs from the Caravan back catalogue in the early 2000s, the entire Croydon concert tapes were discovered. I love this album because it’s got a great set list, the sound is incredibly good (the Fairfield Halls are noted for the excellent acoustics), and because I live in Croydon. A 2LP vinyl version had been issued by Terry King’s Kingdom Records in France, The Best of Caravan Live (1980) but this went under the radar because most people thought it was a budget compilation – it would be brilliant if Decca could sanction a vinyl release.



Pink Floyd – Live at Pompeii (1972)



Both The Delicate Sound of Thunder (1988) and Pulse (1995) are well-recorded live albums but they contain material from The Wall which doesn’t particularly interest me. I am, however, a fan of the live half of Ummagumma (1969) where Pink Floyd demonstrated why they were the premier space rock band on the four classic early tracks Astronomy Domine, Careful with that Axe, Eugene, Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun, and A Saucerful of Secrets. It could be considered cheating to include Live at Pompeii in a list of live albums because my version is an audio recording of the 2002 DVD, played on a PC with Dolby sound and recorded on a laptop using WavePad sound editing software, rather than the official release on disc 2 of Obfusc/ation 1972 (2017) which doesn’t include Mademoiselle Nobs, but this 1971 recording with the audience made up of the road and film crews captures the group as they shift decisively towards prog. Three of Ummagumma’s live tracks are represented (the best three) and these are supplemented with Meddle material, the throwaway Mademoiselle Nobs, One of these Days, and the epic Echoes. The Pompeii film was an early favourite of mine, and I remember the long queue outside the cinema where it was showing, wondering if I’d get in to see it - and Pompeii was a 'must visit' on my first trip around Italy as a student. If live albums represent music frozen in time, then Pompeii is history frozen in time. The site is atmospheric and moving, so it's no surprise that David Gilmour returened to perform in the amphitheatre, with an enthusiastic crowd, 45 years after Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii.



It’s interesting to note, reading through my thoughts above, that my favourite live albums with the exception of Real Time, all feature recordings made during the first wave of progressive rock. It’s not that I don’t possess any recent live albums – my three-drummers King Crimson collection may not be complete but it is substantial; I’m also the proud owner of a copy of Topographic Drama and Steve Hackett’s Genesis Revisited Live at Hammersmith but once again, with the exception of some King Crimson pieces, all the compositions are from the golden age of prog. Real Time itself is made up from 70’s material and two tracks from 2005’s Present.

One explanation for this is familiarity. In part 1 I explained that I sometimes bought live albums as an introduction to a particular group but I’m also both more used to the earlier material and more appreciative of it; more recent concerts are likely to contain more modern material that I don’t think is as good as the output during the 70s, and with more music to choose from it becomes harder to please me because some of my earlier favourites will get dropped from the set list. It’s important for a band to reinterpret their music for a live setting, something King Crimson were at pains to point out during their 50th anniversary tour, but personnel changes inevitably bring about different arrangements. From the ten albums I’ve listed not one of the bands, if they’re still active, has the same current line-up; fewer members, different personnel, or an expanded line-up.

A short, finite list invariably means some of my highly-regarded live albums have not been covered, but I didn’t have to think too hard about which albums to choose. It’s unlikely anyone else would pick this same ten, because there are thousands of live recordings, each with a special bond to its audience. And in the absence of live music, we need something to keep us going.



By ProgBlog, Jun 26 2018 02:59PM



It doesn’t take much to get me on an aeroplane to Italy, but the promise of a good band is an added incentive. The last trip to Milan for the FIM Fiera Internazionale della Musica was primarily about getting to see Anekdoten, something of a coup for the Black Widow Records-organised Prog On evening, with a support slot from La Fabbrica dell’Assoluto whose excellent 1984: L’Ultimo Uomo d’Europa was added to my record collection earlier this year. I’d also been informed that the third band on the bill, Hollowscene, was another amazing symphonic prog band well worth looking out for.


Originally a duo called Banaau formed in 1990 by guitar player Andrea Massimo and keyboard player Lino Cicala, they recruited drummer Davide Quacquarella and bassist player Dino Pantaleo to perform long-form suites inspired by T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men and The Love Story of J Alfred Prufrock and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Conqueror Worm, but didn’t spend any time recording the material. There was a hiatus following the departures of Quacquarella and Pantaleo lasting from the early 90s until 2011 when the pair met again and agreed to continue working on songs written by Massimo during that almost 20 year gap. In 2015 they officially re-emerged as a septet, augmented by Andrea Zani on keyboards, Elton Novara on guitar, Tony Alemanno on bass guitar and bass pedals, Matteo Paparazzo on drums and Demetra Fogazza playing flute and adding vocals, and released a highly-acclaimed 20 minute-long EP The Burial inspired by The Burial of the Dead, the first of five sections of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922).


For their first full-length album, Massimo and Cicala changed the band name to Hollowscene and replaced Novara with guitarist Walter Kesten. The new moniker recalls T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men but is also a play on the current geological era, the Holocene, and could even allude to the general state of music, a hollow scene. Once again, this features a lengthy concept, a five-part suite Broken Coriolanus and the album also includes a reworked version of The Worm, one of their original compositions, plus a cover version of The Moon is Down, a 1971 Gentle Giant song taken from Acquiring the Taste.


‘Broken Coriolanus’ is another T.S. Eliot reference, appearing in line 215 of The Waste Land:


Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours

Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus


This itself is a reference to Shakespeare’s tragedy Coriolanus, based on the life of the legendary Roman general Caius Marcius Coriolanus who, following military success against uprisings challenging the government of Rome becomes active in politics. A proud, rude but genuine character whose nature, according to Menenius in the play


...is too noble for the world:

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

Or Jove for’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth:

What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent


Such a temperament made him unsuited to popular leadership and he is quickly deposed but, being true, he sets about trying to right wrongs in his own way and is forced to choose between his pride and his love for his family, ultimately bringing about his sad death.


Through no fault of theirs, Hollowscene’s performance in Milan was disrupted by a change to the published running order and a shortage of time during the soundcheck. I was expecting them to be the second act to play, following Prowlers, allowing them plenty of time to complete the entire Broken Coriolanus suite but they were actually the first band on stage which meant I missed their first track. What I did hear soon dispelled any disappointment because it was first-class symphonic prog that reminded me alternately of Tony Bank’s keyboard work for Genesis and, perhaps because of the double keyboards, occasional jazz phrasing of the guitar and the flute, National Health circa 1978. When they were rather hastily removed from the stage without completing their full scheduled set, presumably to keep the evening running to time, many of the audience were rather disbelieving; I’d just have to wait to get to hear the album.


I picked up a copy of the CD at the gig and the moment you click play it’s obvious that this is a very fine piece of rock progressivo Italiano. First track Welcome to Rome is simultaneously modern-sounding and a classic progressive rock piece. It begins with a fairly brief sinuous synthesizer and guitar line in an uncompromising time signature and gives way to a military rhythm which is very fitting with the theme, just before the vocals begin over harmonic flute lines. You get the immediate impression that it’s an uplifting (welcoming!) song, aided by fluent synth parts, yet there’s a rhythmical complexity underlying the entire piece. All the singing on the album is in well-delivered English. Massimo has a good voice that suits the story-telling requirements of the music; he’s not over-flashy and confines himself to a fairly narrow range, but he sings with a studied confidence. The group have a full, well-balanced sound, both live and on disc, and it’s clear that Genesis, Steve Hackett and Banks in particular, are a major influence.

A Brave Fellow follows in much the same vein; highly melodic, again with the same clean lead guitar which gives way to some excellent synth. A flute passage gives way to emotive piano and vocals, with constantly changing instrumentation and sounds. When the second set of vocals finish, they’re followed by an eerie synth with a staccato rhythm, replaced by organ that harks back to classic 70’s progressivo Italiano; slightly threatening, building gradually towards the denouement.

Traitor is played with a slightly increased tempo. It’s a predominantly vocal piece punctuated by relatively short but tasteful guitar breaks, the second, soaring, more lengthy than the first. That’s not to say there isn’t a great deal going on underneath the singing; there are busy keyboard parts, some strong melodic flute and the contrast of a short burst of more breathy flute.

Slippery Turns is more sedate than the previous track, beginning with more of the emotive piano and vocals before being joined by flute. It departs from the expected with a passage in Japanese from Atsumori, a classical musical drama by Zeami Motokiyo who lived from around the late 14th century to the mid 15th century, narrated by Takehiro Ueki:


Human life lasts only 50 years, Contrast human life with life of Geten, It is but a very dream and illusion. Once they are given life from god, there is no such thing don't perish


Atsumori was a 16 year-old killed in the battle of Ichi-no-Tani in 1184 who is said to have carried a flute into battle, evidence of his peaceful, courtly nature as well as his youthfulness and naïveté. Eliot is believed to have invoked Coriolanus for The Waste Land as an allusion to death in battle.

The tone on the Japanese-spoken section is solemn but gives way to one of Hollowscene’s trademark guitar breaks. Massimo speaks the last section over another staccato rhythm that reminds me of Watcher of the Skies, without the Mellotron, but with some bright synth.

Rage and Sorrow is a mini-epic and, at a little over 13 minutes, the longest track on the CD. The development of the composition takes in the full range of keyboard sounds you’d associate with prog and there’s a really good balance between vocal and instrumental passages. Fogazza takes on shared lead vocal duties at the beginning of the piece, which I thought were reminiscent of Amanda Parsons singing on National Health; a strong, clear, unaffected voice.

A truly dynamic conclusion to the concept, one of the sections that most transports me is an emotive 12 string guitar accompanied by highly melodic flute akin to the classic Genesis sound on Foxtrot or Selling England by the Pound but throughout the track the twin guitars really work well, with nice angular riffs providing a framework for the vocal melody lines.


The Worm commences with an extended passage of gorgeous early Crimson-like flute, floating above picked guitar chords and keyboard washes which I think represents the best of progressive rock. The keyboard line which is introduced prior to the vocals is closer to neo-prog, perhaps reflecting the era in which the song was originally written, demonstrating that Hollowscene aren’t simply attempting to recreate a 70’s vibe but selecting suitable references to make some outstanding modern symphonic prog. The song undergoes a number of tempo changes, injecting a sense of urgency with the use of triplets and even gets quite dark.

Gentle Giant’s The Moon is Down is relatively sparse, containing brief flashes of texture, with phased clarinet, sax and multi-tracked vocals and a relatively urgent instrumental middle section which could be seen as a template for the GG medieval sound; Hollowscene stamp their own form on the song with different instrumentation, beginning the piece with piano and flute but using fuzzed guitar behind the vocals, adding lead synthesizer to their middle section. It’s a nice nod to one of the classic 70s progressive rock bands.



The band have used the same cover image for the Burial EP and Hollowscene, taken by acknowledged master photographer Ernesto Fantozzi in 1961. The photo appears to be a view towards the Via Biscegli in Milan from the west or south west where the frozen ground fits the imagery of Eliot’s opening lines for The Waste Land. This attention to detail reflects the care in which the album has been put together. It’s altogether a really satisfying and very fine piece of work.


Hollowscene by Hollowscene is available on Black Widow Records BWR207









By ProgBlog, Jul 11 2017 10:42PM

I’ve just ripped a rather large pile of my wife’s CDs to mp3 for her, nothing that remotely interests me but which does indicate the breadth of her musical tastes, according to categories ascribed by Windows Media Player: Soul and R&B; folk; electronica (not the sort that I like); country; pop; world. The selection generally dated from within the last five years and I noticed that most of the albums play for around 45 minutes with an average track length of a little over four minutes within a range of sub-three minutes to just over five. This near-standardised format would suit a release on 12” LP and though quite a few of these recent additions to her collection were originally released before the current vinyl revolution, at least one has been re-released in audiophile format and two, by the same artist, have ridden the recent vinyl wave with the one of them allegedly becoming the fastest selling LP for 20 years.



It’s well documented how progressive rock bands found the standard three minute single something of a constraint and it’s equally uncontroversial to suggest that in the late 70s, as the golden era was drawing to a close with very few exceptions, bands who were obliged to attempt to write a hit single by their label produced failures; prog relied on album sales and was a spectacular success in doing so. It’s hard enough to put together a winning formula for a hit single without attempting to include some form of coherent story or message and most of the singles in the 70s were aimed at a particular demographic, the adolescent in the early 70s and then when punk came along, older teenagers. On a sociological level this was to do with burgeoning self-awareness and searching for inclusivity; call me dumb but the tribe I ascribed to had long hair, wore flairs and suede desert boots and carried albums to and from school under our arms, as if to show the world how deep and interesting we were.


I’m not going to comment on the provenance of some, undeniably successful singles from prog-associated artists such as Greg Lake or the 1980s version of Yes and equally, I’m not thinking of edits of album tracks cut-down to favour air play but, in my opinion, the only genuine full-on hit progressive rock song of single length is Wonderous Stories by Yes which entered the UK Singles Chart at number 31 in mid-September 1977. Over the next four weeks climbed to its peak, reaching number 7 for the week of 8 October and it remained in the chart for the next five weeks. A favourite with fans and band members alike, the track somehow condenses epic Yes into 3’45, possibly because the song structure, built around a classical framework, incorporates signature features such as the harmony vocals and an uplifting vibe. It’s unclear to me how many new fans they attracted, especially in an era of punk. I didn’t buy the single in either of its formats because I owned the album but I imagine a fair number of pre-existing fans bought the special edition picture-sleeve 12” version in blue vinyl.




So what is the ideal track length, and what is the perfect album duration? As someone who began listening to music when the vinyl LP was the dominant format, I’m used to and therefore favour an album of 35 – 45 minutes of music. There are plenty of shorter length albums such as Electric Prunes’ Mass in F minor which, at 26 minutes, must be one of the shortest LPs ever, Rick Wakeman’s The Six Wives of Henry VIII (just over 36 minutes), and many of the 70s progressivo Italiano releases. At the other end of the scale, Genesis had a bit of a reputation for eking out every square millimetre of the record surface with Foxtrot lasting over 51 minutes, Selling England by the Pound at over 53 minutes, Trick of the Tail at 51 minutes and Wind and Wuthering just shy of 51 minutes; [the non-prog] Duke was over 55 minutes. Progressive rock is known for its utilisation of full dynamics and the more music included on an LP means less space between grooves and a reduced dynamic range, plus the increased likelihood of damage from a worn stylus and though my Genesis records play well, the side-long title track on Autumn Grass by Continuum which lasts over 26 minutes, has reproduction problems on my current set-up, my former set-up and on the system in the shop I used to check the quality of the (second-hand) disc.

I’m very much in favour of side-long tracks and most of my favourite groups have committed one side of an album to a single piece of music; all of them have indulged in long-form, which I consider to be one of the defining qualities of prog. From the ultimate progressive rock album Close to the Edge to each of the four sides of Tales from Topographic Oceans and Gates of Delirium; Atom Heart Mother and Echoes to Eruption and Hamburger Concerto; Tarkus to A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers; Music Inspired by The Snow Goose to Nine Feet Underground; Supper’s Ready (Horizons is the prelude) to Thick as a Brick and A Passion Play; Lizard to Mumps; Rubycon to Tubular Bells; Trace’s Birds to The Mahavishnu Orchestra’s Dream, there are also other brilliant almost side-long tracks like Grand Canyon Suite and Credo on the only studio album by Refugee.




It’s not that I don’t like sub-five minute tracks but I just don’t think they represent the best a band can do. Anything around 10 minutes or over should give sufficient scope for development of ideas to transport the listener on a journey through the composition; there ought to be sufficient time to employ a variety of rhythmic devices, changes in amplitude and different instruments or instrumental voices.

The CD format opened up a whole new world of possibilities and prog supergroup Transatlantic managed to fill an album with a single piece of music, The Whirlwind, lasting 77 minutes. This may be an exception but the temptation to fill the available time on a CD, whether with a single track or a series of shorter tracks, is ever-present. Where should we stop? My brother Richard has specifically commented on Nad Sylvan’s 2015 solo album Courting the Widow, suggesting that as much as he likes the compositions, he finds it hard to reach the end of the album (it lasts just over 70 minutes.) I think Richard’s observation applies far more generally and that there’s no real requirement to release something over 50 minutes long. Before the 90s King Crimson came along I’ve held ‘Crimson days’ where I played all original (vinyl) releases one after the other; I’ve done the same for Yes and Pink Floyd but unless you have the time to dedicate to listening to music, there’s no point. I’m someone who believes in the importance of the album as a complete entity and that the running order described by the artist is sacrosanct yet I’m unsure if it’s the lives we lead (wake/commute/work/commute/eat/sleep/repeat) which is restricting our ability to fully connect with music or if the length of a CD album itself that we find hard to assimilate in a single sitting. Is this a generational thing affecting those of us who grew up happy to turn over an LP on the platter or is it a Page family thing? Yes magnum opus Tales from Topographic Oceans was derided for its length (amongst other things) and attracted criticism for passages regarded as ‘filler’, so would it have benefitted from a CD format, if that had been available in 1973, allowing it to be produced as a 60 minute-long piece of work? I like to think that the natural breaks afforded by changing sides and changing discs provide enough break to allow us to enjoy the full 80 minutes. Then again, as much as I enjoy Anderson/Stolt’s Invention of Knowledge which lasts around 65 minutes, I find it difficult to listen to from beginning to end on vinyl or in digital format; perhaps familiarity plays a large part and it’s not just the length of the album. I no longer have the time I once had to sit down and properly listen.




In fact there’s no perfect length of either a single track or of an album. The physical restraints of the 12” LP which allowed up to 27 minutes of music each side, has the capacity to hold music which can have any number of twists and turns, whether they’re presented as one piece or as a series of tracks. It’s not the length that counts – it’s the quality of the music itself.


By ProgBlog, May 7 2017 06:11PM

When my son was young we had family membership of both English Heritage and the National Trust and some part of most weekends was spent on outings to properties and gardens in the south east, with occasional forays into the north west when we returned to visit my family. Our subscriptions lapsed when Daryl became an adult; not only would this have incurred extra cost but we also saw less of him when he graduated and went off to do a Master’s degree in Oxford and then went to work in Australia for 18 months.

Remarkably for someone who graduated after the global economic meltdown, his career is based on his academic choices, architecture and historic conservation, and it’s this calling which has rekindled our interest in wandering around London in search of bits of fascinating architecture and design. When I first came to London in 1978 I roamed the streets from Notting Hill to Holborn looking for sites both off and on the tourist radar and, after almost weekly trips for three years, I considered myself well acquainted with the capital. This obsession with exploring the urban environment was an extension of my behaviour in Barrow, where almost all accessible and many (theoretically) inaccessible parts of the Furness peninsula were forensically investigated, inviting derision from anyone outside of a close circle of friends. Genetic or environmentally influenced, Daryl’s fixation with seeking out architectural gems means his knowledge of London’s streets is far better than mine ever was.

On a recent trip to the Design Museum in Kensington, a must for lovers of modernist architecture or anyone with a curiosity about the history of design, we stopped off at Café Phillies for a coffee and some lunch. I was intrigued to see a minibus pull up outside, the London Rock Legends Tour, on a stop to visit Bill Wyman’s Sticky Fingers restaurant which is opposite Café Phillies in Phillimore Road. I’m sure there are plenty of music-related sights, from the Abbey Road zebra crossing in St John’s Wood to The Hendrix/Handel museum in Brook Street, Mayfair, but it can’t be easy planning a sightseeing tour in London by road; the roadworks and sheer volume of traffic are hardly conducive to a strict schedule.



Inside the Design Museum
Inside the Design Museum

I was amazed to see the Yes logo on the side of the bus, along with more rock ‘n’ roll acts but, as the itinerary takes in pubs and clubs, it could be that there’s a stop at what used to be La Chasse at 100 Wardour Street, just down from the old Marquee. Writing songs about a particular location is nothing out of the ordinary but it tends to be a bit of a rarity in progressive rock; The King Crimson improvisations given the title of the town or city where they were recorded don’t count, whereas Egg’s A Visit to Newport Hospital (on the Isle of Wight) from The Polite Force (1971) is an excellent example – at this point it’s pertinent to mention that former Egg drummer and Pink Floyd drum tech Clive Brooks died last week, another loss to the progressive community.

I decided to challenge myself and go through my collection in search of London-themed compositions, requiring lyrics about the place, to see if it was possible to put together a virtual tour of physical locations, streets or landmarks which warranted a mention somewhere in the prog catalogue.

Public transport may have its problems but a combination of rail, tube and foot is by far the best way to move around the city and coincidentally, the tube map turns out to be a good place to start looking. Crimson’s Doctor Diamond from the Red-era, a song that never managed to get a studio release, doesn’t mention a place despite the reference to an ‘underground train’. I’d always assumed it was a New York subway train because Fallen Angel from the same cohort of songs is set in New York, but there’s every possibility that it’s London Underground, with a capital ‘U’. The most comprehensive reference to London Underground is on Alight, released earlier this year by progressivo Italiano Cellar Noise, where apart from the track Underground Ride, other songs are named after District and Circle Line stations Embankment, Temple, Blackfriars and Monument. This remarkable debut effort is a concept album where the narrative takes place somewhere between the real world and the imagination of the protagonist who, stuck in the monotonous grind of the daily commute through the underbelly of London, who suddenly finds a reason for existence. Musically and lyrically there are parallels with Genesis, from the Trespass-era to The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway (another New York-themed album) and the opening track on the album, Dive with Me is stylistically and harmonically linked to Foxtrot. It comes as no surprise that the play The Knife at gigs as an encore.



Genesis name-checked Epping Forest on Selling England by the Pound, a remnant of ancient woodland straddling the Greater London-Essex border where Peter Gabriel set his fictitious skirmish between rival East End gangs, apparently inspired by a piece in a newspaper that he’d read some years earlier. As much as I like this track, the piece has so much going on that when you include the four-minute instrumental After the Ordeal, it feels as though it’s taken up the entire side of the record when you’ve still got the ten-minute Cinema Show to come! Epping Forest is served by a number of stops on the Central Line and Forest Road, lined with its luxury cars (according to the song) heads into the forest from Loughton.

Also on the London Underground network is Turnham Green, served by the District and Piccadilly lines. This appears in Suite in C from McDonald and Giles’ self-titled album released in 1970, as a sub-section of the 11’40 mini-epic. This is a love song dedicated to Charlotte Bates, where the Turnham Green lyrics refer to the first time McDonald set eyes on Bates and the tube station where she disembarked. Besotted, McDonald placed an advert in International Times and remarkably, this was spotted by Bates’ friend who had been on the tube with her. It’s not really like Crimson but Michael Giles’ jazzy drum patterns do call to mind his work with his former band and his brother’s bass wouldn’t have been out of place on anything by the Crims; the subject matter is quite different, giving a more Beatles-like feel to the track.



Perhaps there’s a link between London geography and songs by King Crimson alumni. The UK song Nevermore, from their first album is about Soho, though it doesn’t relate to one particular location. Lyrically, it appears to be thematically linked to In the Dead of Night; commencing with some beautiful Allan Holdsworth acoustic guitar, it’s an altogether underrated piece with changes of dynamics and an experimental middle section. If Nevermore is a little hazy in its precise location, Rendezvous 6:02 from subsequent UK album Danger Money describes both time and place. When I first arrived in London I used to use the Sidcup branch of the railway from Charing Cross to Dartford, because my hall of residence was in North Cray, between Sidcup and Bexley. Stopping at Waterloo East, this journey afforded an excellent view of the (now Grade II Listed) Victory Arch leading into the main Waterloo Station. Built from Portland stone and completed in 1922, I find it an ugly piece of architecture but it relates to one of the most memorable UK songs, the poignant Rendezvous 6:02, which first describes the car journey from Hyde Park to Waterloo before specifically mentioning the arch itself. It was always a favourite pastime reviewing the departures timetable for trains leaving at two minutes past six in the evening and the last time I attended a talk at the nearby BFI, I deliberately arranged to meet Daryl at 18:02 under the arch.

It may not be part of the Underground network but Bill Bruford wrote the tune Palewell Park for the last of the Bruford albums. I’m labouring the point here, but this location, like the somewhat lengthier (in terms of both track timing and ground dimensions) Hergest Ridge was to Mike Oldfield, was evidently very inspiring to Bruford who lived close by in East Sheen and it's surprising because it's a piano-bass duet!.



Ian Anderson dedicated almost a full side to Baker Street on Minstrel in the Gallery, and Fulham Road features in A Passion Play. Of the former, which also mentions Blandford Street and Marylebone Road, this is the district inhabited by Anderson during 1974, making observations of everyday life in London W1. It’s possible that some of the lyrical content reflects some of the rehearsals for the album, where Anderson took on a great deal of the work as his fellow band members entertained themselves around Monte Carlo; there’s certainly more of a singer-songwriter feel to parts of the album, more acoustic guitar and less flute, but it remains one of the high points of the Jethro Tull canon. I’m less convinced about A Passion Play, particularly the use of saxophone and synthesizer, although the storyline is rather good. Is Fulham Road referenced because Brompton cemetery is close by?



Returning to modern prog, Big Big Train recite the names of underground and former waterways in Lost Rivers of London, from 2016’s Folklore. Citing Old Kent Road and Turnagain Lane (off Farringdon Road), there is much to be admired in their approach which reconnects modern, melodic prog with the importance of the roots of the genre. With the Fleet, the Tyburn, the Neckinger, the Westbourne, the Walbrook and the Effra, there are plenty of places to put on a progressive rock map of London.

...and there are a number of mews around Baker Street!







By ProgBlog, Mar 26 2017 08:54PM

The latest edition of Prog magazine (Prog 75) arrived last week with a somewhat surprising cover story: The 100 Greatest Prog Anthems of All Time. Not only had I missed the call for voting but I wasn’t sure what readers were supposed to have voted for. It turns out that what they had asked for was our favourite track, and their feature was actually a list of ‘the 100 Greatest Prog Songs of all time’, also described as ‘pretty much the definitive list of prog songs old and new’. Not surprisingly, the Prog website anticipated the response to the published list; a byline predicting ‘feverish debate’.



As happy as I am to wade through a comprehensive list, knowing I’ll disagree with a good proportion of it (although in this instance I have 17 of the top 20 in my collection, just not in the same order of preference), I do think compiling lists is lazy journalism. However, I wouldn’t want to diminish the not inconsiderable task of compiling the list, as it’s likely that there were very large numbers of votes cast. The feature also includes some new insight into the making of some of the albums highlighted, such as David Cross providing background thoughts on King Crimson’s Larks’ Tongues in Aspic from 1973 and a decent-length interview with Steve Rothery.

My gripe isn’t with the list, although Close to the Edge should have been at number 1 instead of Supper’s Ready, not number 2, but with the magazine’s cover and headline. According to the on-line Oxford English Dictionary, the word ‘anthem’ derives from old English antefn or antifne, a composition sung antiphonally, itself a derivation from late Latin antiphona (see antiphon); the alternative spelling with ‘th’ was probably adopted in the 16th century. Whereas there’s a nationalistic connotation to anthems, solemn or patriotic songs officially adopted by a country as an expression of national identity, and a subtly different appropriation where a rousing or uplifting song becomes identified with a particular social grouping, political body or cause, I’m not convinced that what we now recognise as anthems have any place in progressive rock.

This may not always have been the case, as Aldo Tagliapietra, bassist from Le Orme, has described the use of ‘stereo’ choirs in the Basilica di San Marco in his native Venice. This is an example of an antiphon, a hymn or a psalm performed by two groups of singers chanting alternative sections like a call and response and whether you believe in a Christian God or not, progressive rock has roots in liturgical music.

Call and response isn’t limited to either church music or prog but forms an interesting device in narrative songs. Perhaps it’s not surprising that Genesis, with their moniker and background in Charterhouse public school (and public schools had strong church links; Charterhouse was founded by Thomas Sutton in 1611 and built on the site of the ruins of a Carthusian monastery) should employ multi-character vocal parts on a range of albums: Harold the Barrel from Nursery Cryme; Get ‘em Out by Friday (Foxtrot); The Battle of Epping Forest (Selling England by the Pound); Robbery Assault and Battery (A Trick of the Tail); and All in a Mouse’s Night (Wind and Wuthering). There are some examples where a call and the response aren’t vocal, the best of which are on Between Nothingness and Eternity by the Mahavishnu Orchestra; normally a duel, Mahavishnu use three lead instruments in fiery exchanges, interplay that hints at the difficult nature of the quest for spiritual enlightenment.



The common understanding of an anthem involves a short, distilled message, largely because this is the easiest way to get a message across, be it a patriotic call or an environmental protest. That’s not to say progressive rock can’t be used to highlight some ecological or political concern; Yes’ anti-war themes in Yours is no Disgrace and Starship Trooper and their use of ‘green language’, especially on Close to the Edge and Tales from Topographic Oceans embrace counter-cultural thinking but the message isn’t clear-cut, relying on a deeper engagement with the audience. On the other hand, Don’t Kill the Whale, although still not an anthem, is a direct call to humankind to respect sentience in another species which cynics thought was simply the group jumping on an environmental band-wagon, but in fact their musical philosophy pre-dates the realisation that we were hunting whales to extinction.


An anthem has to include vocals and, in the context of pop or rock music, not only requires a structure that invokes euphoric feelings, it has to serve as something that is closely associated with a particular band. It’s a sweeping generalisation to say that minor chords are gloomy and major chords are ‘bright’ but, apart from increasing the tempo (which gives a sense of urgency or striving) it’s possible to make a chord sequence sound more rousing by opening up the chord; taking the middle note of a triad and raising it by an octave. In terms of association with a group, sticking to a pre-existing structural verse, chorus, bridge formula helps a little, as does revisiting familiar lyrical tropes, but in a world where visuals are as dominant as sounds, subscribing to a group’s visual identity is also a helping factor. A tendency towards style over substance is more rock than prog rock which is why I’d include Asia’s Heat of the Moment in the anthemic class. It just seems to me that there’s a propensity for stadium AOR and heavy rock acts to churn out this sort of music, so that wearing the patch on your cut-down denim jacket becomes an emblem of belonging, waving devil-horn hand gestures and singing along with 50000 others who have lost their own individualism to bask in the enveloping identity of the group.

As a season ticket holder of many years at Crystal Palace I can see, and I’m very wary of mob behaviour. It’s no surprise that national anthems are sung at the beginning of international matches; the sub-text is that two teams are going into battle. At league level we wear the club shirt and sing and chant club anthems in lieu of violence and, for some die-hards, the result is everything, not simply entertainment. I’m a bit intimidated by this fervour and though I always want Palace to win, playing well and demonstrating cohesiveness is nearly as important as coming away with three points. I think that immersion in the mob, whether it’s at a sporting event or at a gig is a repudiation of your individuality, whereas progressive rock is about inclusivity while retaining individualism; a realisation that different cultural influences makes more interesting music, that diversity is to be celebrated.



I suspect that the Prog editorial team simply made a poor choice of words when it came to putting together the front page of the magazine, which leaves us with the question: Are there really any prog anthems? I may go to gigs and sing to myself, sometimes with my eyes closed like some old dope, but I don’t like a singalong or to be encouraged to clap along to a piece of music because it interferes with my appreciation of what is being played. I suppose these moments get as close as anything to being anthemic but the complexity of the music normally brings audience participation to a premature close. The use of encores, playing well known and appreciated tunes, kind of fills the requirement for an anthem without necessarily being anthemic. Heat of the Moment, the culmination of John Wetton’s search for commercial success while retaining a relatively high degree of musicality would fit the bill, but stomping out verse-chorus-verse-chorus isn’t really prog.

If there was a Yes anthem it would be I’ve seen All Good People. Not surprisingly, I’m least disposed towards it out of all the songs on The Yes Album because the All Good People section comes close to straightforward rock. It remains a live favourite however, the second most played song by the band, where it frequently appears as an encore and audience clapping is encouraged. The most played tune is Roundabout which, despite the success brought about by the truncation into a radio-friendly single, chops and changes too many times to be an anthem.


The answer lies with Emerson, Lake and Palmer who covered the William Blake / Hubert Parry Jerusalem. This may seem like a return to the theme of church music, or even the idea of a national anthem but Blake has also been appropriated by a wide range of people who recognise a spirit of utopianism in his writing. Rugby fans may bellow out the hymn in an effort to galvanise their team while right-wing commentators remind them that perhaps Blake wasn’t quite as patriotic as they thought; rationalists like Dawkins and Bronowski and Marxists like EP Thompson have sided with him; he inspired Gordon Giltrap’s excellent prog-folk Visionary. His Complete Works was the first book of poetry I ever bought. It may be the Elgar’s orchestration of the hymn provides much of the uplifting feel but the ELP version, with Greg Lake’s clear voice ringing through, is a call to all followers of progressive rock.







The blogs HRH Prog 4 Line Up (F+B) Keith Emerson at the Barbican Z fest ticket BMS Brescia A Saucerful of Secrets banner

Welcome to ProgBlog

 

ProgBlog's lockdown solution to a lack of live concerts - likely to be the last part of the economy to be re-started - is a list of ten of the best lives albums

 

This is the first five...

Banco ticket 050220