Vanessa Williams once warbled, “save the best till last,” and though her insipid brand of asinine drivel is as welcome at Head Full of Snow as a particularly nasty bout of necrotizing fasciitis, as far as Compilation Week is concerned, we find ourselves obliged to heed her advice and have, indeed, saved the best till last.
Real Life Permanent Dreams – a cornucopia of British psychedelia 1965-1970, from Sanctuary Records, is exactly what it says on the tin, a veritable abundance of psychedelic joy that’s as essential as it is comprehensive.
With four discs (yes, four), a 46-page, oversized glossy booklet, and a monumental 99 tracks that kick off with the original demo version of The Smoke’s ‘My Friend Jack’, is there really any need for me to continue this review?
As far as label compilations go, this three-disc profusion of prog and psychedelic prime cuts is difficult to beat.
Spirit of Joy gathers some of the better and the lesser known tracks from the considerable underground canon hosted by Polydor and its imprints during the golden age of music. From The Crazy World of Arthur Brown to Focus, stopping at such picturesque stops as Eric Burdon, Supersister, and Barclay James Harvest in between.
Despite the rare low point (is there really any need for the jazz stylings of John McLaughlin or Ginger Baker’s Air Force?), Mark Powell, who compiled the tracks and penned the extensive liner notes in the 45 page booklet, has put together a definitive retrospective of the surprisingly underground output of the traditionally overground label.
Cave of Clear Light from Esoteric Recordings does for Pye Records – and its progressive imprint Dawn – what Spirit of Joy and Breath of Fresh Air do respectively for Polydor, and EMI’s prog label Harvest.
That is, deliver a comprehensive, beautifully packaged three-disc extravaganza complete with extensively detailed booklet.
Once again compiled by Mark Powell, behind both the Polydor and Harvest excursions, Cave of Clear Light shines the fiery torch on the label that’s been dismissed as a poor relation to the more dedicated exponents of the psychedelic and progressive sound. Unfairly so, one might add, as Pye/Dawn had an impressive roster of artists on the books, even if the vast majority never so much as tickled the public conscious.
Obviously, that’s the style of output HFoS thrives on.
Following on from last year’s wholly unsuccessful Procol Harum week, HFoS has decided to launch another week-long, themed extravaganza – Compilation week. Kicking things off is the just released Looking Towards the Sky:
Reissue imprint Fantastic Voyage have made it their mission to excavate the legacy of long extinct UK label, Ember Records. Following much deep mining they’ve struck upon a rich vein of psychedelic/progressive sounds and Looking Towards the Sky pulls together the first part of this sonic yield.
We’re in obscurity heaven here, with the rarities coming thick and fast. I’m not ashamed to admit I’ve only heard one of the bands included on this compilation, Blonde on Blonde, but it’s safe to say there are one or two more I’d like to hear more of.
In an alternate universe, Chris Squire and Jon Anderson never met, and Yes never formed following the collapse of psychedelic band, Mabel Greer’s Toyshop. Filling the space-prog vacuum left in their non-existent wake was Flash, who went on to rule the world during the seventies before turning a bit shit in the eighties.
Of course, that’s an alternate universe and the one you’re reading this in already had Yes ready and willing to do all of the above. At the same time, we also had Flash.
Flash was formed when Peter Banks, the original Yes guitarist, left the band under a cloud following their second album, Time and a Word. He teamed up with three likeminded spirits and even hauled in Yes’s pre-Wakeman keyboard-noodler, Tony Kaye, to guest on their 1972 self-titled debut, Flash. The result is Yes, in all but name.
Jethro Tull are one of the few groups to have thus far recorded at least one studio album in each decade since the sixties. Even in the realms of prog rock, where numerous bands have made the oft embarrassing mistake of outstaying their welcome, that’s quite an achievement.
But even if Jethro Tull stretch it out to the sixth decade, releasing their 5000th or so studio album, sorting through what has gone before can be like pogoing through a minefield of earache. Pretty much anything studio-bound beyond 1978’s Heavy Horses should be approached with the utmost of caution, and the albums that came to light during that darkest decade of them all, the 1980s, can probably be dismissed outright, dependent upon the individual listener’s pain threshold.
But for a time, namely the ten years following 1968’s debut, This Was, Jethro Tull were nigh on untouchable, laying low all that dared to stand before them.
So with no further ado, here’s five must-hears from the considerable Tull canon: Read more…
Occasional Hawkwind frontman and co-writer of the band’s best known commercial hit, ‘Silver Machine’, Robert Calvert was an all-rounder of the 70s underground scene, knocking out poetry, musical plays and even a novel. He also found time to pursue a solo career, prior to his dying from a heart attack at the age of 43.
Released in 1974, Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters is a concept album based around the American Lockheed Starfighter F-104 aircraft, a modified version of which was sold abroad and proved to be hugely unreliable, claiming the lives of 115 pilots in Germany alone.
Captain Lockheed and the Starfighters is also a collection of cracking Hawkwind-style sonic excursions, threaded throughout by a satirical weave of Pythonesque spoken interludes.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 Brick
Jethro 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.
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.
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. Read more…
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.
Not one for the feint-hearted when it comes to all things jazzy, 1969’s ‘Igginbottom’s Wrench (apostrophe included) was the first recording of progressive-jazz journeyman Allan Holdsworth, and though still within the realms of prog rock, it skirts closer to the borders of jazz-fusion.
Well to the ears of this fully paid-up member of the jazz-philistine club it does.
In 1977, ten years on from ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale‘, Procol Harum delivered what was to be their last album for 14 years. Only lead vocalist, pianist and songwriter Gary Brooker remained from that original ‘AWSoP’ line-up, along with the lyricist Keith Reid (BJ Wilson joining on drums after the hit was recorded).
Something Magic is a fitting end to what began in 1967, seeing Procol Harum return to form following the vaguely disappointing Procol’s Ninth, with a triumphant decisive blast of the progressive, symphonic rock they had made their own over the course of a decade.
In 1975, the question among a great many of those circumnavigating the spheres of post-psychedelic, progressive rock fandom, might well have been: “is Procol Harum still relevant?”
Unlike other bands that had blossomed out of late-1960s psychedelic Britain, only to fall dramatically by the wayside, Procol Harum had left the paisley shirts behind and continued to produce strong albums, clocking up number eight with the previous year’s Exotic Birds and Fruit. Even if, through all this, the spectre of the perennial ‘A Whiter Shade of Pale’ conspired to deny them wholesale global success.
This, the aptly titled Procol’s Ninth, arrived with a new production team and a straightforward, no-frills album cover, signalling a change in – if not the direction that Procol Harum were taking – the sound they were producing.
So begins Procol Harum’s seventh studio album, Exotic Birds and Fruit. Words that give way to the 1974 opener ‘Nothing But the Truth’, a belter of a tune whose intent, and indeed top billing, is to address any concerns that seven years into the band’s lifespan, Procol Harum had become a spent force.
Firing on all cylinders, ‘Nothing But the Truth’ also kicks off Salvo’s final batch of reissues from the original Procol run, with Procol’s Ninth and Something Magic also seeing the light of day in digitally remastered, lushly packaged editions.
Jethro Tull look forward to another year of HFoS
Jethro Tull – Thick As a Brick
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