It would seem that Head Full of Snow is one year old this very day. That makes us six months older than my own shouty daughter.
Jeff Lynne and the Idle Race boys react to the news HFoS is one year old
365 days may have passed since the first proper posting here, but as I promised at the start of the year, we shan’t be doing anything to celebrate.
Following his departure from the Small Faces, the late Steve Marriott formed hard/blues-rock combo and supergroup of sorts, Humble Pie.
Although known primarily as practitioners of no-nonsense blues-rock boogie, Humble Pie’s second album, Town and Country, did depart to greener pastures, with an almost entirely acoustic and altogether more pastoral sound demonstrated thereon.
It yielded this psychedelic gem, ‘The Light of Love’, easily the best thing Steve Marriot recorded post Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake.
Good news for anybody taken by the psychedelic stylings and off-the-wall showmanship of mad-as-a-shrews-hatbox Arthur Brown, as February 22nd 2010 sees the release of a 2-disc deluxe edition of 1968’s self-titled The Crazy World of Arthur Brown.
Yes, the good people at Esoteric have given the one and only album by this iconic, psycho-delic rock band the royal treatment, delivering a remastered version of the original album and a host of extras, such as alternate mixes, a BBC session from 1968 and rare single tracks, including the wonderfully anarchic piss-take of the peace and love movement, ‘Give Him a Flower’ – “Don’t ‘it ‘im wiv a bottle, Give him a flower”
Perhaps fitting of a band calling themselves Made in Sweden, the trio of Georg Wadenius, Bo Haggstrom and Tommy Borgudd were, in fact, Swedish.
Equally as fitting for an album entitled Made in England, it was indeed made in England, produced by Colosseum bassist Tony Reeves, and, perhaps more importantly, performed in the Queen’s own tongue.
Such was the nature of a musical genre taking its name from the mind-altering effects of acid intake that psychedelia was inevitably going to produce thinly veiled references to the drug’s popular acronym within song titles.
Probably the most famous example of authority-baiting via the medium of song is The Beatles’ ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’, although John Lennon dismissed such speculation as mere coincidence. Billy Nicholls was another such artist willing to nail his colours to the mast, penning ‘London Social Degree’, taken from his 1968 album Would You Believe.
If one were to think of a psychedelic rock band that was largely ignored during its day, yet has gone on to acquire a cult following in the intervening years, rocketing them to the status of psychedelic legends, then Tomorrow would fit the bill perfectly.
Despite being the first band to record a BBC Radio 1 John Peel session, commercial success eluded them, and even a firm, if brief, following on the underground wasn’t enough to make 1968’s self-titled debut anything more than a lone shot at album glory.
The fickle nature of swinging 60’s musical adulation may have prevented Tomorrow from recording beyond 1967, but it doesn’t stop the eponymous record from being anything short of a minor classic.
Peter Banks began life as the original guitarist with high-pitched, space-age prog noodlers Yes. Leaving the band following their second album, Time and a Word, he formed the similar sounding Flash in 1970. Following three albums he teamed up with Focus guitarist Jan Akkerman to record this solo debut, Two Sides of Peter Banks, in 1973.
In the process, he also managed to pull in guest spots from Genesis’s Steve Hackett and Phil Collins, and King Crimson’s John Wetton. The result is a peculiar progressive rock piece devoid of words, which serves as a showcase for the fretwork thread work of Banks and Akkerman.
If one were to make a list of songs by Traffic worthy of covering, ‘Utterly Simple’ from Mr. Fantasy would surely be somewhere near the bottom. However, in 1968 it seems nobody had shown this list to The Smoke, as they recorded Dave Mason’s sitar-by-numbers ode to flower power-induced, pseudo-philosophical bollocks, just prior to splitting up.
In doing so, The Smoke improved on the original tenfold.
For those that dismissed prog rock as being overblown, overlong and – heaven forbid – pompous to the point of self-deluded arrogance, there was always the completely bonkers Supersister on hand to shoot down such accusations with a bizarre barrage of off-the-wall lyrics and bohemian tunes.
This is none so more evident than on one-shot side-project Sweet Okay Supersister and the 1974 album Spiral Staircase, upon which not a moment’s seriousness, or indeed sanity, is allowed to escape.
Compared to the previous Supersister album, 1973’s Iskander, this is a very different beast entirely. Whereas that was an about turn in direction, being a somewhat po-faced concept album in the more traditional prog rock vein, Spiral Staircase returned the sense of humour to the Supersister name for what was to be the silliest offering yet.
Pete Sinfield, lyricist and sometime producer for the first four albums by prog rock visionaries King Crimson, entered the studio himself in 1973 to record Still, his one and only album.
Released on the newly-formed, ELP-owned Manticore label, Still calls on the assistance of former King Crimson guitarist and the L in ELP, Greg Lake, to help out on a number of tracks along with other leading-light journeymen of the scene such as Ian Wallace (King Crimson), Mel Collins (The Alan Parsons Project) and Keith Tippet (Centipede).
The result is a slightly uneven mix of styles, but one that keeps its footing firmly in the progressive rock camp, despite the odd slip.
Within the never-ending, idyllic summer days of perhaps the strangest – and very much uniquely English – of all musical sub-genres, Toytown Psychedelia, ‘Grocer Jack (Excerpt from a Teenage Opera)’ surely remains its most successful export.
Taken from a proposed, yet aborted, rock opera by Mark Wirtz, ‘Grocer Jack’ is possibly the only song featuring a man suffering and dying from a heart attack to reach No. 2 in the UK charts (Madness’s ‘Cardiac Arrest’ having peaked at No. 14). Typifying a good deal of the Toytown psych pop genre, ‘Grocer Jack’ harks back to a bygone era that probably never existed. Keith West of short-lived, but long remembered, Brit-psychedelic band Tomorrow, sings the poignant tale of Jack, a forgotten relic in a world of apathy, who frets about how the unappreciative town will function if he can’t make his deliveries, even as he breathes his last.
So begins the first review of 2010. And where better to start than with the latest release from those retro vinyl-pushers, Fruits de Mer Records? This time they’ve called upon the services of Swedish anglophiles (musically, at least) Us & Them, and produced a 3-track EP worthy of Venus herself.
Now, before we crack on, it’s worth mentioning that this site was once tagged by someone out there in the sprawling wilderness of the internets as “anti-folk”. This was on the strength of a review of those warbling cat-stranglers The Incredible String Band and their so-bad-it’s-awful album The Hangman’s Beautiful Daughter. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth, and to say that Head Full of Snow loves a bit of acid, pastoral or wyrd-folk is a bloody great understatement.
Which is just as well in the case of Us & Them and their brand of gentle, but dark, folk stylings as demonstrated on the Fruits de Mer Volume Eight EP. Now if we’d been tagged “anti-jazz” that would be a different, yet fairer, matter.
2010. It may be January 5th, but the Christmas decorations are still up at HFoS towers, and the festive spirit will not wear off until at least April. But enough of that. The New Year brings a new decade, and inevitably more of my nonsense.
Jethro Tull look forward to another year of HFoS
2010 marks the official first birthday of Head Full of Snow, February 8th last year being the hallowed date when all this started with a wee profile of lost psychedelic popsters and brief Beatles’ protégés, Focal Point.
To celebrate this momentous occasion we’ll be doing absolutely nothing. Should you wish to wear a sparkly hat or release a party-popper into the wild on said date, you’re more than welcome.
Which brings me to the intentions for Head Full of Snow into 2010.
If you read the Prog Rock Xmas Selection Pack, then you already know the drill. If not, then to recap, it’s just five psych albums that you could do worse than spend your beer tokens on this Christmas.
It’s not a top 5, or the best of the best, so if you’re looking for a war of words, kindly try elsewhere. It’s just a few Head Full of Snow psychedelic rock faves to keep the cockles warm as the real snow falls.
Kaleidoscope – Tangerine DreamThe 1967 debut album from the UK (and vastly superior) Kaleidoscope, who would later go on to become Fairfield Parlour. With songs such as ‘The Murder of Lewis Tollani’, the sinister ‘(Further Reflections) In the Room of Percussion‘, the toytown psych of ‘Mr. Small, The Watch Repairer Man’, and the Narnia-like joy of ‘Sky Children’, Tangerine Dream is psychedelic gold. A folky feel prevails throughout, and this largely neglected example of late 60’s psychedelia is an eerie masterpiece.
Tangerine Dream is available from Amazon.co.uk
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The Nice take on West Side Story with their rendition of Leonard Bernstein’s ‘America’.
At a loss on what to spend the Our Price vouchers you’ll inevitably receive this Christmas?
Well, as Head Full of Snow is here to assist you – connoisseur of finer music – we’ve knocked up a quick list of five progressive rock albums to keep you warm through the impending winter months. This isn’t a top 5 list, just a few suggestions of some HFoS faves.
First up, the prog list:
Jethro Tull – Thick As a BrickJethro Tull’s 1972 experiment in the ultimate concept album is a joy to behold. Essentially one song carved into two twenty minute slices, Thick as a Brick runs the full gamut of prog, even throwing in self-indulgent drum solos for good measure. Ian Anderson’s lyrics and vocals ensure the tongue remains firmly in the cheek throughout.
Thick as a Brick is available from Amazon.co.uk
Progressive acid -folk at its darkest. Comus’s ‘Drip Drip’ darts out of the shadows of a tangled wood and stabs you in both ears.
Taken from the 1971 album First Utterance, it’s the stuff bad dreams are made of, here in almost all of its ten minute glory*
If your idea of a good time is something along the lines of setting light to virgins in wicker effigies, then Comus could be right up your street. Even if you harbour no such homicidal tendencies, they’re still a damn fine listen.
Comus inhabit that most spectral of sub-genres, acid-folk – A blend of the psychedelic and the folkish, underpinned by a progressive foundation. It’s an area of music renowned for its ethereal eeriness, oft-beauty, and mystical meanderings…
… Except nobody seemed to have told Comus that, for their 1971 debut, First Utterance, is, to put it bluntly, quite terrifying.
The BBC reports that rare footage of a Syd Barrett-led Pink Floyd, playing on Top of the Pops, has been unearthed and will be shown for the first the time in 42 years.
Image courtesy Capitol/EMI Archive
The damaged film stock, on 1 inch, reel to reel tape, was discovered in a private collection and has been restored to a state where it can once again be viewed.
Since the dawn of time debate has raged as to the answer to that eternal question. Which is better? Pre or post-Dark Side of the Moon Pink Floyd?
Many have attempted to find the answer only to fall by the wayside, their search for the truth let down by ill-preparation. Head Full of Snow will do no such thing. Instead we will weigh up the pros and cons of each era with the pivotal album remaining off-limits (for the record, a decent enough album but, in my opinion, one that’s outrageously overrated). This way there should be no fear of falling on our collective swords, long before the battle has been won.
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Steve Swindells’ 1974 album Messages is as far removed from the grinding, out of this world spaciness of Hawkwind reincarnation The Hawklords – with whom he played keyboards – as it’s possible to get.
For the most part it’s a straightforward rock album that incorporates some of the flourishes associated with prog rock, retaining a steadily pleasant ambience right up until the final track ‘Messages from Heaven’, which beams us skyward into the more HFoS-friendly stratospheres of space-flavoured progressive rock and leaves all that went before it back on planet Earth, struggling for elevation.
If you were to head over to AMG and look up their review of Mark Fry’s Dreaming With Alice, you would find the rather iniquitous quote “… reminiscent of Donovan’s forays into that area, though not as interesting.”
How wrong could they be? Dreaming With Alice, released only in Italy in 1972, possesses a certain magic that more than exonerates the cult that has built up around it over the years. As far as obscure acid folk rarities go, this is a stone-cold classic.
In fact, the only fault that can be found in it is the fact it was released in 1972, whereas it sounds as though it were recorded at the tail-end of the 1960s. The fact that music had moved on so much in the intervening years possibly accounts for the fact it could only secure an Italian release. Of course, nearly forty years on, when it was recorded is an irrelevance.
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