This year, I’ll dispense with anything that could be held against me at a later date and, instead, leave you with the latest mixtape: The HFoS Prog Rock Xmas Stocking Filler.

Granted, it’s not particularly festive, nor exclusively prog-orientated, but it’s the best you’ll get from me this side of 2012.

There’s a few Christmassy tracks and titles on there; some wintery stuff; Keith Christmas, for obvious reasons; and one or two wildcards such as David McWilliams and Van der Graaf Generator, chucked in just for the hell of it.

So all it remains for me to say is Merry Christmas and HFoS will be back some time in the new year (when we’ll be three) with more of the same.

Hit the play button for a mildly festive feast. (Track list below)

[See post to listen to audio]

^{Jethro Tull – Christmas Song [Excerpt of outro] (from This Was)}

^{The Who – Christmas (from Tommy)}

^{Tomorrow – Hallucinations (from Tomorrow)}

^{Procol Harum – A Christmas Camel (from Procol Harum)}

^{David McWilliams – Lord Offaly (from Lord Offaly)}

^{Keith Christmas – Foothills (from Brighter Day)}

^{Camel – Air Born (from Moonmadness)}

^{Andrew Bown – Tarot (The Ace of Wands)}

^{Lindisfarne – Winter Song (from Nicely Out of Tune)}

^{Gentle Giant – Pantagruel’s Nativity (from Acquiring the Taste)}

^{Cressida – Winter is Coming Again (from Cressida)}

^{Mountain – Nantucket Sleighride (To Owen Coffin) (from Nantucket Sleighride)}

^{The Idle Race – I Like My Toys (from The Birthday Party)}

^{ELO – Whisper in the Night (from The Electric Light Orchestra)}

^{Jethro Tull – Christmas Song (from This Was)}

^{Wizzard – Rock ‘n’ Roll Winter (from Introducing Eddy and the Falcons)}

^{Greg Lake – I Believe in Father Christmas}

^{Van der Graaf Generator – Theme One (from Pawn Hearts)}

^{Jethro Tull – Ring Out, Solstice Bells (from Songs From the Wood)}

^{Wizzard – I Wish it Could Be Christmas Everyday [Excerpt of outro] (from Wizzard Brew)}

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

So what festive fare have I picked randomly from the ether for you spend your Our Price vouchers on this year? Read on, my fine fellows and fellowettes:

Rick Wakeman – Journey to the Centre of the Earth

As it’s Christmas, something supremely daft is in order and they don’t come much dafter than this live recording. A man in a cape, with enough electric pianos, organs, Moogs, Mellotrons and what-have-yous to cause an energy crisis on a small Mediterranean island. The London Symphony Orchestra. The English Chamber Choir. Narration from the preposterously eyebrowed David Hemmings (following Billy Dainty’s scheduling conflict). An audience anticipating something with the subtlety of a broken bottle to the throat… What the deuce were they all thinking?

Thankfully, it’s 1974 and this type of thing was pretty much the norm in progressive rock circles. It is also quite the delightful listen, resplendent in its scope and sheer audacity, with grumpy old Rick in fine noodling form, employing the full range of his synthesised arsenal to create a weird and alien soundscape through which Jules Verne’s 19th century tale is interpreted. With Will Malone also on hand to provide the arrangements, Journey to the Centre of the Earth is a fine, if deranged, melding of the rock and classical genres, relayed via the caped wonder’s extensive modular banks.

Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Rick Wakeman, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Fat Mattress

Formed by Jimi Hendrix Experience bassist, Noel Redding, Fat Mattress’s self-titled 1969 debut is a refreshing cocktail of psychedelic rock and proto-prog, with generous lashings of folk and bluesy elements for good measure. Undoubted highlights of this thoroughly invigorating mix are the darkly baleful and Traffic-esque ‘Mr Moonshine’, the gentle, trippy psych of ‘Walking Through a Garden’ and the soaring ‘How Can I live’, but with neither hide nor hair of a duffer among the original tracks (with 11 further bonuses on the anthology edition), this musical gateway to a mind-altered reality is an essential addition to any Santa’s wishlist.

Fat Mattress, by Fat Mattress, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

The End – Introspection

Included for no other reason than I wrote a feature about The End for Record Collector magazine earlier this year, 1969′s Introspection is a mellifluous collection of psychedelic pop, produced by no other than young William Wyman of popular beat combo, The Rolling Stones fame. Drifting harmonies and a fine line in organ textures, courtesy of sometime Spider From Mars and future record producer, Nicky Graham, provide an otherworldly ambience to tracks such as ‘Dreamworld’, ‘Under the Rainbow’, ‘Shades of Orange’ and ‘Loving, Sacred Loving’. They also add their own unique touch to Larry Williams’ ‘She Said Yeah’, the earlier Stones cover of which is featured on that irritating Bleu de Chanel advert. A full review of Introspection can be found here.

Introspection, by The End, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

The Idle Race – Time Is

Recorded and released in 1971, following Jeff Lynne’s defection to The Move, The Idle Race’s third and final album is often overlooked in the grand scheme of things, overshadowed by the previous offerings featuring their soon-to-be world famous, former frontman. True, it lacks the endearing whimsy of Lynne’s toytown-flavoured songs, but there’s still a good deal of mileage to be had from The Idle Race’s new folk/progressive rock direction. The folk flavourings are particularly strong, with the pastoral opener ‘Dancing Flower’, ‘I Will See You’, ‘She Sang Hymns Out of Tune’ and a cover of Gordon Lightfoot’s ‘Bitter Green’, all making Time Is the perfect accompaniment to slip into a drunken, late-night Christmas Day reverie.

Time Is, by the Idle Race, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Home – The Alchemist

And Christmas would not be Christmas without a spot of the fantastic, ably provided by Home’s epic 1973 concept album, The Alchemist. A tragic tale of schoolboys, wizards, imminent disaster and a Cornish fishing village makes this a narrative worthy of hungover Boxing Day morning TV, effectively set to some thumpingly good music. Previous albums from Home had enjoyed a guitar-based, more hard/country rock vibe, but in the case of The Alchemist, the four-piece roped in a keyboardist – Jimmy Anderson – and with a range of Mellotron, organ and synth arrangements complimenting the tracks, set forth along the prog rock route. The result is an admirably restrained and a sobering reminder that not all the progressive scene was about excess and grandiose statements. Sometimes the musicianship could be understated, allowing the story to shine through.

The Alchemist, by Home, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

And there you have it, the 2011 Christmas selection pack. There should be a special Santa’s stocking prog mixtape on the way in the next few days, so I’ll refrain from wishing you a merry Christmas and making new year promises I won’t hold to, until then.

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

One such purveyor of proto-prog goodness was keyboardist and singer, Norman Haines, who fronted Birmingham band Locomotive – which, following his departure, became The Dog That Bit People – and went on to form The Norman Haines Band. As was often the case with bands from my hometown (for every Move or Traffic, there’s twenty Worlds of Oz) none of these incarnations found the success they sought and were pretty much forgotten to the purple haze of time. Good news for rare vinyl collectors, bad news for the rest of us.

Fortunately, Esoteric has completed the harvesting of these three lost gems, with the recent reissue of the Haines Band’s Den of Iniquity. First up though, is Locomotive’s 1970 album, We Are Everything You See.

An orchestral overture starts things off, leading into the magnificently sinister slice of post-psychedelic, organ-laced reverie that is ‘Mr. Armageddon’. This song, along with the garish, yet vaguely disquieting cover artwork, sets the tone for the rest of the album; a doom-laden, brown acid trip of a record, riddled with a pessimism that crushes underfoot the fading dreams of any flower child, whose head was still lodged in 1967.

This apocalyptic vision is reflected in titles such as ‘Now is the End – The End is When’, ‘Lay Me Down Gently’, ‘You Must Be Joking’ and ‘Time of Light and Darkness’, and puts one in mind of early Van der Graaf Generator. In fact, the comparisons with that infinitely more successful band are begging to be made. Whether it’s the heavy incorporation of horns, the nihilistic lyrics, or Haines’s sneering vocal timbre, which bears an uncanny similarity to that of Peter Hammill; Locomotive were ploughing a kindred furrow, albeit a short-lived one.

We Are Everything You See was completed mid-1969, but remained unreleased until 1970, by which time Haines had buggered off. The remaining two members of Locomotive, Mick Hincks and Bob Lamb, recruited a replacement keyboardist, Keith Millar, and for the first time a guitarist, John Caswell. Following a final single under the Locomotive moniker – ‘Roll Over Mary’, included among a feast of bonus tracks on the Esoteric reissue – they promptly changed their name to The Dog That Bit People and released an eponymous one off for Parlophone in 1971.

Maybe the combination of a terrible name and mind-boggling album cover conspired to ensure The Dog That Bit People remained unappreciated by a record-buying public at large. Certainly, they’d done themselves no favours on either count. A bit of a shame really, as this is not the musical nail a photograph of some old dear perched in a cluttered front room, might suggest.

The departure of Norman Haines left the band without its chief composer and it was the two newcomers who would take on the primary songwriting duties. As such, the progressive rock elements are stripped right back, resulting in a more traditional album that takes its cue, a little disappointingly, from the Californian rock scene of the time, drawing upon aspects of American folk and country rock along the way. Bloody Brummies, eh?

Nevertheless, there are still some fine moments on The Dog That Bit People, such as the Zeppish hard rock workouts of ‘The Monkey and the Sailor’ and ‘Red Queen’s Dance’ , and the very-definitely prog ‘Reptile Man’. The latter is a thrilling blend of distorted vocals, crunching guitars and thumping drums, and easily the best thing on here. Featured on the HFoS Prog Rock Halloween Mixtape (give the terrifying bastard a listen, what’s the worst that could happen?), it includes the lines “Scaly scary yellow teeth with hair down to his toes, Creeping through the slime it’s Reptile Man, They say he comes from Bilston but no one really knows…”, which, as anybody who’s ever been to Bilston will agree, sounds a pretty accurate assumption.

While The Dog That Bit People failed to set the world alight, Norman Haines had been hard at work on his own follow up to We Are Everything You See. With a new band in tow, Den of Iniquity was also released in 1971 on the Parlophone label.

The Norman Haines Band cooks up a heady brew of prog, delicately seasoned by a fine infusion of blues and folk. It is the best of the three albums, tipping its hat to the UK underground scene and the players in that particular arena of hairy, field-based antics, such as Clark Hutchinson, Skin Alley and the Edgar Broughton Band.

None moreso than on the extended (mostly) instrumental excursion that is ‘Rabbits’; 13 minutes of Hammond organ-steeped potency that wouldn’t have sounded out of place blasting from the back of a flatbed truck, somewhere along the perimeter fence at 1970′s Isle of Wight Festival.

The more than welcome misanthropy of Locomotive’s ‘Mr. Armageddon’ makes another appearance, this time titled ‘Everything You See’ and given an extra dimension by the addition of Neil Clarke’s lead guitar. But even without this remake, Den of Iniquity is a highly recommended listen, without the hindrance of filler or duff tracks that sometimes rear an ugly head upon the aforementioned albums.

With an excellent selection of bonus tracks, to boot, Den of Iniquity is the complete package and the one to go for if the budget can’t stretch to all three.

We Are Everything You See by Locomotive, the self-titled The Dog That Bit People, and Den Of Iniquity by The Norman Haines Band are all available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Well, it is Halloween, so what better than a horrifying mix of prog, psych and folk to blow the cobwebs from your proverbial tombstones?

Sometimes (ahem) terrifying, sometimes spooky, other times just plain weird. It’s a tricky treat, all the way.

Press play and prepare for a scare. (Track list below)

[See post to listen to audio]

^{Comus – Diana (from First Utterance)}

^{Kevin Ayers – Song From the Bottom of a Well (from whatevershebringswesing)}

^{Kaleidoscope – The Murder of Lewis Tollani (from Tangerine Dream)}

^{Dr. Z – Evil Woman’s Manly Child (from Three Parts to My Soul)}

^{The Dog That Bit People – Reptile Man (from The Dog That Bit People)}

^{Skin Alley – Graveyard Shuffle (from Two Quid Deal?)}

^{Magnet – Maypole (from The Wicker Man OST)}

^{Names & Faces – The Killer}

^{Caravan – C’thlu Thlu (from For Girls That Grow Plump in the Night)}

^{The Alan Parsons Project [feat. Arthur Brown] – The Tell-Tale Heart (from Tales of Mystery and Imagination)}

^{H.P. Lovecraft – At the Mountains of Madness (from HP Lovecraft II)}

^{Beggars Opera – The Witch (from Pathfinder)}

^{Pink Floyd – Jugband Blues (from A Saucerful of Secrets)}

If this has tickled your fancy, The HFoS Prog Rock Summer Mixtape and HFoS Goes to Toytown are also available.

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Unless, of course, you were New York’s own The Free Spirits, whose sole album, Out of Sight and Sound, is widely regarded as one of the first jazz-rock excursions. Live at the Scene captures the band in February 1967, tearing up the then legendary NYC venue, Steve Paul’s The Scene. Well, perhaps not “tearing up”, but giving it a jolly good seeing to, nonetheless.

Fronted by jazz-rock stalwart and veteran guitarist, Larry Coryell (responsible for pushing the embryonic Spirits in a rock direction), the band was a celebrated live phenomenon, some of the unbridled energy and passion of which Live at the Scene attempts to convey. And if it’s a raw, Mr. Sheen-free document you’re after, of possibly the first fusion band engaging in some psychedelically-charged, sonic livestock-worrying, then this release could be right up your jazz-rock boulevard.

Sound quality is not the priority here. In fact, you could say it’s virtually non-existent; such is the homemade, lo-fidelity nature of this recording. The liner notes make no secret of this. There was no fancy sound desk rigged up to filter out ambient noise and feedback; or ensure that the band benefitted from the cleanest sound reproduction possible. A home tape-recorder and its mono-directional mic, suspended above the stage, is all that was used to capture this performance; giving Live at the Scene the feel of a bootleg, complete with both audience and band chatter, sometimes manifesting higher in the mix than the song currently being played.

But hey, it’s 1967 and The Free Spirits give a spirited (what else?) account of their one and only album, including pared down versions of nifty little numbers like ‘Sunday Telephone’, ‘Cosmic Daddy Dancer’ and the lesser psychedelic rock anthem (here minus its intoxicating sitar), ‘I’m Gonna Be Free’. A fully jazzed-up rendition of Dizzy Gillespie’s ‘A Night in Tunisa’ closes the show, featuring an indefatigably corky guest trumpet from another American jazz-rock doyen, Randy Brecker. It’s an impressive example of a band playing at full strength; the musical cohesion that exists between all the members shamelessly on display for both the enraptured audience and the cheeky buggers, such as us, listening at home a full 44 years later.

Jazz fusion, fuelled by the progressive rock scene, would become a more malleable beast in the 1970s, with blends of the dual disciplines demonstrated in ever more innovative and exciting ways. The Free Spirits were there at the beginning; more a case of psychedelically-infused rock and jazz than the seamless entity that followed; and, as such, their groundbreaking, yet (in this instance) warts and all, labours deserve to be heard.

Live at the Scene by The Free Spirits is issued by Sunbeam Records and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Indeed, and although some of the songs on HFoS Goes to Toytown may stretch the boundaries of what the purist might define as “Toytown Psychedelia”, I believe the term “slightly out of whack” can be applied to all.

They also demonstrate, in varying degrees, a jaunty childlike innocence; a harking back to an imagined, rose-tinted past; and an occasional darkness associated with things lurking under the bed. All characteristics that further define the paisley-patterned pathways of Toytown.

Seasoned HFoS veterans will probably know most of these songs already and you can debate among yourselves (or in the comments below, should the urge take you) whether the likes of ‘In Another Land’, ‘Berkshire Poppies’ and ‘Village Green’ can really be classed as “Toytown”.

It is what it is. If HFoS Goes to Toyland Vol. 2 ever sees the light of day, it’ll probably feature some decidedly more obscure, yet inarguably Toytown stuff… but until that day comes, hit the play button below and embark on a lysergic musical trip of S. G. Hulme Beaman proportions. (Track list below)

If this happens to tickle your fancy, The HFoS Prog Rock Summer Mixtape is also available.

[See post to listen to audio]

^{Tyrannosaurus Rex – Romany Soup [Excerpt of John Peel intro] (from Unicorn)}

^{Kevin Ayers – Joy Of A Toy Continued (from Joy of a Toy)}

^{Traffic – Hole In My Shoe (from Mr. Fantasy)}

^{The Rolling Stones – In Another Land (from Their Satanic Majesties Request)}

^{The Status Quo – Gentleman Joe’s Sidewalk Cafe (from Picturesque Matchstickable Messages from the Status Quo)}

^{July – Jolly Mary (from July)}

^{Mark Wirtz – He’s Our Dear Old Weatherman (from A Teenage Opera)}

^{The Kinks – Village Green (from Kinks Are the Village Preservation Society)}

^{Dantalian’s Chariot – Madman Running Through The Field (from Chariot Rising)}

^{The Alan Bown Set – Mr. Job}

^{World of Oz – Hum-Gum Tree (from The World of Oz)}

^{The Move – Curly (from Shazam)}

^{Alfie Shepherd – The Swallow’s Song (from The Wind in the Willows)}

^{Aphrodite’s Child – Mister Thomas (from End of the World)}

^{Kaleidoscope – Further Reflections In The Room Of Percussion (from Tangerine Dream)}

^{Pink Floyd – Matilda Mother (from Piper At the Gates of Dawn)}

^{Fat Mattress – Walking Through A Garden (from Fat Mattress)}

^{Traffic – Berkshire Poppies (From Mr. Fantasy)}

^{World of Oz – Muffin Man (from The World of Oz)}

^{The Small Faces – HappyDaysToyTown (from Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake)}

^{Keith West – Grocer Jack}

^{The Sweetshop – Barefoot and Tiptoe [Excerpt of outro]}

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Releasing four, increasingly creepy albums between 1967 and 1969, the band has its place cemented in the annals of psychedelic folklore, via the personal tragedies of its individual members and the sleazy predilections of its vaguely sinister frontman, Bob Markley.

Nevertheless, those four albums live on as a testament to what was going on in the sun-soaked Californian psychedelic pop/folk scene of the late 60s, which beggars the question, what does one buy the WCPAEB fan who has it all? Well, you could do worse than Companion, a compilation of rare recordings made by the band members before, during and after the WCPAEB’s moment in the spotlight.

One for the completist, Companion pulls together 29 tracks of varying quality – and occasional tenuity in their association to WCPAEB – which stretch back as early as 1960 and culminate in 1971. The solo Markley stuff is largely forgettable, reflecting the yearning for stardom that drove the heir to an oil tycoon’s fortune to latch onto any trend that would have him during the early 60s.

It isn’t until the other band members enter the picture that things become interesting. For instance, ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’ by The Rogues, featuring guitarist Michael Lloyd and bassist Shaun Harris, is a scorching medley of electric fuzz that predates the psychedelic distortion soon to become vogue. The Laughing Wind, where Lloyd and Harris were joined by the latter’s younger sibling Danny, serves as an embryonic forerunner to the WCPAEB; lighter in tone than The Rogues and featuring the hippy sunshine harmonies that would become a bedrock of the later band’s sound. The four tracks included here prove to be inoffensive slices of West Coast flower pop, with 1966′s folky ‘Good to Be Around’, in particular, evoking a tranquil prelude to the following year’s summer of love

The WCPAEB themselves are represented by the refreshing ‘Sassafras’ and ‘I Won’t Hurt You’, the former recorded prior to Markley’s arrival and the latter a different version to that which appears on the band’s Reprise debut Part One, featuring Lloyd on lead vocals. A cover version of ‘I Won’t Hurt You’, by Brits Neo Maya (also known as Episode Six and featuring a pre-Purple Ian Gillan), is also included, providing a darker-in-tone take on the song.

Various other incarnations of musical collaborations between Michael Lloyd and the Harris brothers also feature, including California Spectrum, Rockit (with a version of ‘Blame it on the Pony Express’ that sounds uncannily similar to the Scooby Doo, Where Are You! theme) and most interestingly Brigadune, with three fine songs from 1971. The emotional ‘I’ll Cry Out From My Grave (God I’m Sorry)’ provides a particularly grim highlight, with its suicidal unburdening of a catalogue of regret to a dead lover, along with the redolent ‘Misty Mornin”.

The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band Companion is a decent collection, made all the better by concentrating on the talent behind the band (Lloyd and the Harris brothers), while sidelining the odious chancer that is Markley and keeping his solo material to a bare minimum.

The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band Companion is released by Sunbeam Records and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Yes, the first – and quite possibly last – ever Head Full of Snow progressive rock mix is here to tickle your royal earholes (track listing below).

So with no further delay, hit the play button and cut a funky rug across that living room carpet, daddio.

[See post to listen to audio]

Note: The HFoS Prog Rock Summer Mixtape Thingy is neither summery nor exclusively prog rock, as it takes in folk, psychedelic and even a smattering of jazz rock along the way. It is mixed, though, by my own fair hand (with varying degrees of success, as you’ll discover when you listen).

^{Soft Machine – Hope For Happiness [live] (from Soft Machine BBC Radio 1967-1971)}

^{Dr. Z – Burn In Anger (from Three Parts to My Soul)}

^{Caravan – Ride (from Caravan)}

^{The Alan Parsons Project – The Raven (from Tales of Mystery and Imagination)}

^{Mark Fry – The Witch (from Dreaming With Alice)}

^{Giles, Giles & Fripp – Under The Sky (from The Cheerful Insanity of Giles, Giles & Fripp)}

^{Illusion – Face Of Yesterday (from Out of the Mist)}

^{Jack Bruce – Pieces Of Mind (from Out of the Storm)}

^{Trifle – But I Might Die Tonight (from First Meeting)}

^{Strawbs – Is It Today Lord? (from Grave New World)}

^{Rick Wakeman – Jane Seymour (from The Six Wives of Henry VIII)}

^{Spirogyra – The Future Won’t Be Long (from St. Radigunds)}

^{Eire Apparent – The Clown (from Sunrise)}

^{Clouds – Union Jack (from The Clouds Scrapbook)}

^{Rodney Bewes – Meter Maid}

^{The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown – Give Him A Flower}

^{Andrew Leigh – Get Myself Together (from Magician)}

^{Beggars Opera – Raymond’s Road (from Act One)}

^{Isotope – Sunshine Park (from Isotope)}

Further mixtape jobbies may be forthcoming (A live at the Beeb one is already fermenting within my fevered mind). Suggestions for themes, tracks etc. are welcomed in the comments below. See thee in September.

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

The numbered days of the label, beyond the collective wombs of the ELP ideas machine, is reflected in the title of this new compilation, Envelopes of Yesterday – The Manticore Records Anthology 1973-1976, brought to us by the good people at Esoteric.

It’s a two-disc box-set, resplendent in a lavish booklet and 26 tracks harvested from the albums released during the label’s modest existence. As such, it is a real mish-mash in both musical style and quality.

Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s own Brain Salad Surgery is represented by the perennial ‘Jerusalem’ and the famous mid-section of ‘Karn Evil 9′, along with live recordings of ‘Lucky Man’ and possibly the fastest ever rendition of ‘Hoedown’ to be committed to tape. It certainly outpaces the live version on the recent Trilogy reissue.

Then there’s the glorious PFM (Premiata Forneria Marconi); often lazily compared to ELP, they put in a strong showing with four tracks from their quartet of English-language studio albums released on the label between 1973 and 1976. ‘River of Life’ and ‘The Mountain’ are particularly epic in scope and appear on Envelopes of Yesterday in all their lavish glory. Fellow Italians, Banco, also make an appearance with a track from their excellent, self-titled Manticore debut.

The problem with Manticore, as a label, is that it didn’t stick around long enough to build a substantial roster of acts; the individual tastes of Keith Emerson, Greg Lake and Carl Palmer pulling in a slipshod raft of musical artists. Therefore, you had the likes of American hard rock cliché Stray Dog, rubbing shoulders with the infinitely more eloquent, and previously praised, PFM. As such, this can only reflect upon Envelopes of Yesterday.

The patchy Keith Christmas offers his excellent post-psych ‘Foothills’ and the elegantly enigmatic ‘Tomorrow Never Ends’, but also the awful ‘Brighter Day’ and the mediocre paean to substance abuse, ‘The Astronaut (Who Wouldn’t Come Down)’. Elsewhere, there are a couple of tracks from Pete Sinfield’s solo album, Still. Now, nobody doubts the formidability of the pen Sinfield wielded as a lyricist. His labyrinthine etchings can be heard in famous collaborations with King Crimson and, among others, ELP and PFM. His own album, although a listenable affair with moments of brilliance, suffers greatly from the revelation that Sinfield is certainly no Greg Lake behind the mic, his voice being somewhat limper than a Tory minister’s handshake and lacking the power to deliver his evocative and serpentine scribblings.

There are varying degrees of contribution from other signings, such as Hanson (thankfully not the three talent bypasses responsible for ‘MMMBop’) and Thee Image, as well as solo singles from Lake and Emerson themselves.

Musically speaking, Envelopes of Yesterday is a very hit-and-miss affair, which it could only ever be due to the limited scope of the Manticore label and assorted hairy types thereon. Nevertheless, the presentation is second-to-none, as is always the case with these Mark Powell assembled compilations, and as an introductory jump-off point to the acts – both good and bad – that signed to one of the lesser heralded vanity excursions of 70′s ELP, it’s invaluable.

Envelopes of Yesterday – The Manticore Records Anthology 1973-1976 is released by Esoteric Recordings and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Strangelands is that album’s follow-up, recorded in 1969 but lost in the wilderness for a further two decades, before earning a 1988 release on the little known label, Reckless Records.

Without wishing to sound too harsh on old Arthur – whose original outing and the later Kingdom Come albums all make the HFoS approved list – it’s not difficult to see (or hear) why this didn’t find favour with Polydor when first hurled in their direction.

You want tunes, lyrics and some notion that there’s a point to all this? No dice! You want Arthur to sing and establish a logical progression between this and the previous album? Still no dice! You want an incoherent jumble presided over by a ranting lunatic? Be my guest.

The Crazy World of Arthur Brown had undergone some changes since the 1968 debut. Gone was keyboardist Vincent Crane, whose swirling riffs carved out the characteristic sound upon which Arthur Brown could layer his crazy, yet tuneful, histrionics. Also gone was bassist Nick Greenwood, choosing to join Canterbury scenesters Steve Hillage and Dave Stewart in Khan, along with the production team of Kit Lambert and Pete Townshend. With Brown and drummer, Drachen Theaker, taking over sound desk duties, the discipline was gone and the sheer chaos that had brought the 1969 US tour, as well as the original band, to a premature close was allowed free reign in the recording studio.

Hence, Strangelands (which was also the name the band was now trading under) is a meandering cacophony of freeform, directionless playing, interspersed with the maniacal ravings of the crazy one himself, who seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that the between-track shouty snippets that acted as links on the first album can make an entire record on their own. It seems the only attempt to produce something listenable and in the vein of the Arthur Brown we knew and would grow to love, with the formation of Kingdom Come, is on ‘Planets of the Universe’, where new organist Jonah Mitchell is given a chance to shine, while Brown sidelines the relentless torrent of hellfire and brimstone vociferation and has a crack at singing again, albeit in his own, bizarrely unique manner.

When it comes to Arthur Brown, you generally know what you’re letting yourself in for. Semi-operatic vocal stylings; musical pyrotechnics, both metaphorically and literally; and something completely different to the norm: avante garde, progressive, stark staring mad.

Unfortunately Strangelands forgets the other two ingredients that knit this formula successfully together. Humour and charm. Without it, your portrayal of the near-rabid, shopping precinct, bible-bashing firebrand, sounds just like that and nobody wants one of those bellowing down their lugholes like a Brian-Blessed-o-gram from the Young Christian Society fundamentalist wing.

It’s worth noting that Strangelands is presented as a suite, divided into four, haphazard portions: ‘The Country’, ‘The City’, ‘The Cosmos’ and ‘The Afterlife’. When the final part arrives with its lo-fidelity cover of Jody Reynolds’s 1958 hit ‘Endless Sleep’, you can almost hear the audible sigh of relief… Hang on a minute… that was me. But you get the idea.

This Esoteric reissue of Strangelands also includes the mini-album T on the Lawn for 3, by Rustic Hinge & the Provincial Swimmers, the band that emerged from the dying embers of TCWoAB, following Arthur Brown’s departure to form Kingdom Come. This features some particularly fuzzy and strung out psychedelic rock, which, even with the inclusion of Mellotron on ‘Crystallised Petard’, still seems lacking in something. Even the arrival of High Tide, resplendent with Simon House’s sawing violin riffs, fails to hold water. Maybe it’s because by the time they get their shot, the listener is drained of enthusiasm by what has passed before. This one was, anyway.

Aside from ‘Planets of the Universe’, I suggest sticking to the original TCWoAB album and the Kingdom Come releases, also reissued by Esoteric. Far better listens.

Right then. The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds beckons. A soothing foil to 40 or so minutes of being shouted at by a man in an unconvincing tin-foil mask and cremated titfer.

Strangelands by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

In the first bit of news, Roger Waters’ current 2011 touring of his criminally overrated snorefest The Wall, threw out a surprise for those fans who’d paid to see it at the O2 arena on Thursday night and somehow managed to stay awake. For only the second time in 30 years, he was joined on stage by the surviving members of Pink Floyd. Former adversaries, Dave Gilmour and Nick Mason.

Now, thankfully, I wasn’t there, but I can imagine it to have been a smug burying-of-the-hatchet type moment, accompanied by the musical equivalent of an overdose of Mogadon. Apparently, Nick Mason played a tambourine.

Of course, this is mere speculation and I’m sure there’s an army of post-Barrett Floydians out there, who actually witnessed this once in a generation spectacle and can tell me just how wrong I am; some in a witty and erudite manner that would put Oscar Wilde to shame and others less so. Such is the anonymity teh internetz brings, where the common-or-garden obsessive can issue death threats without fear of recrimination… or, indeed, having to carry them through.

This reunion of former warring factions – in Gilmour’s case during the performance of The Wall’s centrepiece ‘Comfortably Numb’ and Mason’s during the album’s spoken word tail-end ‘Outside the Wall’ – came in the same week as the second item of news was announced. Coincidence? That’s not for me to say.

This was the moderately more interesting revelation that this year will see the reissue of the complete Pink Floyd backcatalog and, more significantly, that three of the albums had been chosen for so-called “Immersion” treatment. This entails, multiple discs featuring all sorts of rare material, including live recordings, demos, documentaries, footage, as well as vinyl editions, booklets and other assorted “value-added” tat, roped together in a desperate bid to justify its extortionate price tag.

So what are the three albums chosen for this treatment? Should we be jumping for joy at the promise of a Piper at the Gates of Dawn to end all Pipers at the Gates of Dawn?

Well, no. Somewhat predictably, the albums receiving this gargantuan overhaul are Dark Side of the Moon, the aforementioned The Wall and Wish You Were Here… With the exception of the latter, a veritable voyage into the drearier reaches of sonic paint drying. There was also something about these three albums appearing in less extravagant “Experience” box-sets, but I’d completely lost interest by the time I got to these and have since forgotten individual details.

It’s worth noting that all 14 original Pink Floyd studio albums will be reissued in “Discovery” editions: single-disc remasters with absolutely no extras whatsoever. Like there aren’t enough of those already.

So it’s a big well done to Roger Waters, for once again overlooking the Syd Barrett years when it comes to putting these swanky packages together; and well done to EMI, for another shameless stab at fleecing the fans. I suppose new owner Citigroup needs some way of reclaiming that 2.2 billion debt they so “generously” wrote off.

In other news, I fear I may well have just diminished, considerably, my chances of copping hold of a few review copies.

The “Discovery” reissues and all the associated Pink Floyd box-sets are available for pre-order from Amazon.co.uk, should their acquisition be your particular bag.

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Like Marmite, there’s no middle ground here. At least, that’s how I see it. The lack of melodies and anything approaching an approximation of a “tune” would send the casual listener running a mile; as would the fact it’s not unusual for a Tangerine Dream track to stretch past the 20 minute mark without anything as cumbersome as lyrics getting in the way.

Strictly instrumental, Tangerine Dream’s music is not about catchy hooks or hummable ditties. Like many of their Krautrock waffenbruder, when it came to using the recording studio as a canvas upon which to create their complex, sometimes impenetrable soundscapes, there was to be no compromise.

It’s true that Tangerine Dream shared their name with the title of the debut album from psych-folkies Kaleidoscope, but if you were expecting anything sailing close to that particular shoreline, then you’d be in for a huge disappointment. This is psychedelic voyaging of a different variety; pensive, labyrinthine, menacing. Space rock from the deepest, blackest depths of space; stretching further into the sparse, icy extremes of the outer realms than Pink Floyd’s ‘Interstellar Overdrive’ ever dared imagine.

It’s not unusual for a Tangerine Dream track (for can they really be called songs?) to feature something akin to a solar flare firing off across the navy blue twilight of a distant firmament, accompanied by birdsong and the formidable tones of a church organ.

TD’s style of ambient, electronic progressive music not only laid the foundations for much of the so-called Krautrock scene, but also provided the blueprint upon which many of their countrymen, experimenting in the more abstract corners of musical invention, would draw. This would later go on to inspire bands across the globe, back then and to this day, where, I assume, there are bedroom composers hunched over laptops, doing with a single piece of kit, what it took three blokes and a bank of synthesisers the size of a small fortress to do in 1970.

Maybe the hardcore Krautrock aficionado would place Tangerine Dream at the populist end of their chosen genre’s musical spectrum, such was their success on the experimental music scene, but you can’t deny the influence that their name and, in particular, core member Edgar Froese has had in the wider scheme of musical evolution. A couple of leaps of faith and maybe a lysergically-infused Maroc or two, and you could thank TD for the acid house boom and resulting chillout culture that emerged in 80s Britain. Without them, would there ever have been an Orb? Who knows?

Sunrise in the Third System is fantastic stuff, pulling together a tasty mix from the first three years of Tangerine Dream’s recording career, prior to their signing to the Virgin label. This is a fruitful and inventive period that, for my twopenneth, would never be matched again.

Reactive has put together a princely anthology, featuring such lush cinematic excursions into the celestial recesses of your mind as ‘Ultima Thule (Part One)’, ‘Journey Through a Burning Brain’ and the unashamed sojourn to the end of the known universe, ‘Alpha Centauri’.

Like I said at the start, Tangerine Dream is marmite to the musical consciousness. You love ‘em, you hate ‘em, you’ve never heard of them. Whichever it is, my good self scoring this anthology high is not going to change your perspective.

High it is, though. If you know your Klaus Schulze from your Klaus Kinski and you’re looking for a comprehensive overhaul of Tangerine Dream’s early years, without committing to individual albums, then this has to be the one for you.

Tangerine Dream – Sunrise in the Third System: The Pink Years Anthology 1970-1973 is released by Reactive and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Four bank holidays in the space of 11 days? HFoS cannot pass up on such an audacious challenge to one’s liver as this. Therefore, we will be back next week or possibly the week after, dependent, of course, on whether:

A)    I am still alive

B)    I am still alive

Can’t say much fairer than that. In the meantime, treat yourselves – go on, Jesus died so we could have at least two of these four days off – to a bit of The Soft Machine, when they was wee babbers. Well, maybe not “wee babbers”, but in the early days when they were the post-Daevid Allen trio of Robert Wyatt (drums, vocals), Kevin Ayers (bass, eyeshadow) and the mighty Mike Ratledge (keyboard, hairdo). And it’s live!

Yes, it’s their early signature of psychedelic madness, “Hope for Happiness”, from 1968′s enormously enjoyable debut album, Volume One.

Captivating – albeit badly edited – stuff, old chap.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pqsm3C8nvFU

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

This liberal mindset made the Dutch music scene of the late 60s and early 70s a hotbed of psychedelic and progressive experimentation, and Fantasio Daze is a fruity selection of some of the rarest English language singles to hit the Netherlands during this era.

It’s safe to say that every artist appearing on Fantasio Daze is new to HFoS and, as is the case with the majority of compilations, the spectrum of ‘fro-frazzlingly good, to knee-shreddingly awful is enthusiastically covered.

It’s the good that leads the charge, with the thoroughly disturbing ‘The Killer’ by Names & Faces. As an opener, it grabs the able listener by his able undercarriage and squeezes tight, refusing to let go for its five minute duration and rendering everything that follows pretty much redundant.

Yes indeed, the battle is won with barely a shot fired and even the enemy’s secret weapon, the gut-blisteringly dreadful ‘Ode to Jimi Hendrix’ by Phoenix, can’t put a downer on ‘The Killer’s’ victory parade.

Of course, these are just the two extremes of Fantasio Daze and though the earlier assertion of the remainder being “redundant” might seem a little on the harsh side, such is the glorious shadow cast by the ‘The Killer’, it may as well be. Nevertheless, a healthy mix of the sublime and the mediocre jockey for position, looking to win over the hearts, heads and minds of our good selves.

Worthy of recognition are Cinderella’s ‘From Town to Town’, with its all female psychedelic folk harmonies; the wonderfully mad ‘The Doting King’ by The Dream; and the tempered edge of Crying Wood’s ‘Blue Eyed Witch’.

Elsewhere, there’s a curio from Adjeef The Poet, who appears to be a Netherlandic Kim Fowley. His ‘Eek, I’m a Freak’ is as worthy as anything his US counterpart recorded during the psychedelic age. Read into that what you will.

Overall though, Fantasio Daze offers one fantastic song right at the start, followed by the occasional obscure lovely; the festival of fair-to-middling fodder; and a reet bad lot trying its hardest to up heave the uneasy truce holding it all together.

Needlessly offensive national stereotypes aside (see the beginning of review), Fantasio Daze offers an enticing window on the pre-prog stage of the Dutch music scene that resided on the 60s/70s cusp. For that reason alone – and despite the intermittent lapses in quality control – this makes for an intriguing and, nonetheless, enjoyable listen to the connoisseur of psychedelic rock in all its manifold forms.

Fantasio Daze is released by Otherside and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Its follow up, and volume two in the Electric Sound Show series, In King Solomon’s Minds, continues in a similar vein to its prismatic predecessor, trawling the lesser known arcana of late 1960’s psychedelic pop.

Unlike the first outing, In King Solomon’s Minds lacks anything as wonderfully awful as Rodney Bewes’s ‘Meter Maid’ to recommend it. Never mind though, as a frisky selection comprised mainly of jangly guitars, Hammond organ melodies and typically idiosyncratic lyrics still awaits those in search of some of the more inaccessible terrain of the psych-pop era.

The second volume sees the blanket of anonymity ripped aside to cast daylight upon barely known bands such as The Fascination, Thor, The Motives, Grobbert & Duff, Tropical Fish and Charge. They parade across the stage like the final march of the neverbeens; their music last heard oscillating the eggboxed walls of a recording studio somewhere in 1968.

As with We All Live On Candy Green, volume two provides another 25 tracks that, like a mixed bag of psychedelic sweeties, encompass all shades of the quality rainbow, ensuring there’s pretty much something for everyone, regardless of their level of submersion into the lysergic waters of the genre.

Remaining predominately effervescent throughout, In King Solomon’s Mind occasionally departs from this high-spirited recipe of first-across-the-line, post-Mod, power pop guitar energy and delves into the darker recesses of the substance-altered mind. This is demonstrated on the splendidly bizarre ‘Brand New Sky Blue Place’ by The Meek; ‘I Can Hear Colours’ by The Motives; and ‘Plastic Daffodils’ by Atlanta Roots. Also worthy of note are ‘13^th Floor’ by The Fascination (Gary Walker and the Rain?); ‘Lindsay Davis’ by Thor; and ‘Green is My Mind’ by Clown. All of the aforementioned offer a suitably edgy wooziness to the psychotropic ride.

In King Solomon’s Mind is a harmless collection that doesn’t test the listener too much, made all the better by some completely “out there” moments. Many of the tracks aren’t cleaned up either, so hardcore vinyl-fiends can revel in the sound of the needle fluff, retained from the original Incredible Sound Show compilations.

Which brings us to the point where I should tie up this review with an allusion to the Wisdom of Solomon. Unfortunately, I can’t think of one, so feel free to write your own.

In King Solomon’s Mind is reissued by Elastic Cat and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Yes, Roqueting Through Space is finally here and the question on the lips of all those discerning followers of FdM Records will be the one that lies behind 99.9% of what’s etched here on a weekly basis: Is it any ruddy good?

Well hold back one second and give yourself time to ruminate on such a query, while HFoS provides the all important specs regarding the inter-planetary vessel known as FdM 18.

Following on from the first commercially available Fruits de Mer album, A Phase We’re Going Through, the label has once again fulfilled its unwritten remit to provide some of the finest tunes of yesteryear, re-imagined and laced with a little of what you fancy from some of the most esoteric bands doing the rounds today.

Through a fuzz of galactic debris, Roqueting Through Space soars across the celestial plains, harvesting tracks originally recorded by the likes of Neu!, Pink Floyd, Can and Brainticket. Liberties have been taken with the “traditional” definition of what constitutes space rock, with the inclusion of versions of The Tornados’ ‘Telstar’ and Julian Cope’s ‘I Come From Another Planet, Baby’. Neither artist immediately lends themselves to the image of excessively hairy, chemically enhanced voyagers, embarking on a psychedelic trip to the furthest reaches of their mind, but as the FdM press release says, “… it [space rock] means different things to different people – spacey, spaced-out, sci-fi, electronic rock … We decided to drop the pretence of defining the genre, and instead allowed our chosen bands to decide for themselves what ‘space rock’ meant …”

Capital idea! And the end result is a suitably transcendental testament to all things beyond the reach of man and his rubbish inability to fly. Or something like that.

The roster of bands involved in Roqueting Through Space features regular satellites of the Fruits de Mer home world, such as Vibravoid, Cranium Pie, The Luck of Eden Hall and Sendelica, as well as one or two recently discovered life forms, including Frobisher Neck, Vert:x and The Grand Astoria.

With the coordinates set to veer slightly in favour of 70s Krautrock (Brainticket, Can and two Neu! tracks), which in turn lends itself perfectly to the out-of-this-world atmosphere the FdM scientific team set out to explore, the answer to the question you were earlier left to ponder can only be a resounding “Yes”. Cranium Pie’s version of Brainticket’s ‘Blacksand’ is a galaxy-busting treat, swimming in phased vocals, the fuzziest of guitar noise and intergalactic whalesong. Frobisher Neck and The Grand Astoria tackle ‘Isi’ by Neu! and ‘Oh Yeah’ by Can respectively, with riveting results, but it’s Helicon’s 10 minute crack at ‘Hallogallo’, also originally  by Neu!, that impresses the most, fuelled as it is by a decidedly hypnotic Hawkwind vibe.

Away from the contingent of German songs, Roqueting Through Space continues on its five year mission with the determination of James T. Kirk sniffing out some extraterrestrial skirt. Luck of Eden Hall perform a spectacular and thoroughly dynamic version of the Floyd’s ‘Lucifer Sam’, while the main album closes with Diarmuid MacDiarmada’s souped up, spaced-out take on ‘Telstar’; the 1962 instrumental relocated to a Native American campfire, somewhere near Area 51.

Of course, there appears to be one glaring omission from this compilation, one that would see Fruits de Mer expelled from Space Academy forthwith, were it not remedied on the additional 7” vinyl that accompanies the 12”, housed in that most sacred of vessels, by which so many prog albums of the 70s were borne, the gatefold sleeve. The solar anomaly to which I allude is, of course, the apparent absence of any songs by the psychedelic warlords and cosmic voyagers extraordinaire, Hawkwind.

The 7” provides not just one, but three Hawkwind compositions, demonstrating the reverence with which the hairy, ever-changing unit are held in space rock circles. Alpha Omega knocks out a mash-up of ‘Transdimensional Man’ and ‘Paradox’ in fine style, while Sendelica tackle ‘Urban Guerilla’, roping in original Hawkwind member, Nik Turner, to inject his saxophone stylings into what is an astral cherry at the heart of the Roqueting Through Space macrocosm.

As far as starts to 2011 go (although we’re now into March), FdM 18 is a fine one. Raise a goblet of Klingon Firewine to many more such moments throughout the year.

Roqueting Through Space goes on sale at the end of March. Pre-order a copy today from Fruits de Mer Records.

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

As before, it is Record Collector magazine (March 2011) that is the beneficiary of what passes for wisdom within these hallowed halls, with an article penned by my good self, detailing the brief existence of 60s psych band and Bill Wyman proteges, The End.

Those of you whose memory hasn’t been eroded by regular exposure to this blog, may well recall that we briefly covered The End and reviewed their one and only album, Introspection, back in the early days.

If you’re interested in finding out more, then rush out and obtain a copy of Record Collector – the one with Syd Barrett on the cover – for they’re sure to sell out fast.*

*_{There is no evidence to suggest that the latest issue of Record Collector will sell out any faster than the previous, or any other magazine, or, indeed, sell out at all, just because HFoS is gracing its pages. I made that bit up.}

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Psychedelia beckoned and being both an early adopter of the Hammond organ and the first man in Britain to introduce audiences to the wonders of the Mellotron, the underground rock scene was ripe for a dose of Graham Bond exuberance.

A diet of heroin, the occult, depression and his eventual suicide in 1974, meant the creative flame that burned early in his career never really reignited and certainly didn’t rekindle the audience interest previously enjoyed. Love is the Law and Mighty Grahame Bond were recorded and released solely in America during 1968 and 1969 respectively, at a time when personal demons were taking a hold, the money was running out and the offer from a US label seemed hard to turn down. He never received a penny in royalties for either album.

Despite what was going on behind the scenes, neither Love is the Law nor Mighty Grahame Bond sound as bad as such turbulent circumstances might portend.

The cover of Love is the Law depicts a dishevelled and troubled looking Bond stood against the backdrop of a sun-worshipping flower child. This image pretty much sums up the music, with the Hammond and Mellotron-rich sound typical of the West Coast hippy psychedelic vibe, juxtaposed against the raw blues vocal that Bond belts out between gargles of broken glass.

The fact the Americans seemed not only incapable of paying him for his services, but also of spelling his name correctly – with an erroneous ‘E’ finding its way onto the crediting of both albums – didn’t prevent them from managing to coax a full-blooded performance from the anguished artiste. For Love is the Law, Bond played all the instruments aside from drums, setting down a fertile foundation of blues tropes upon which to layer his psychedelic keyboards. There’s undoubtedly a raw energy bubbling away, which gives Love… an almost homemade feel and despite the inclusion of some gospel-styled female backing throughout, it remains very much a Lo-Fi affair.

With a perspective that changes like the weather, from the loved-up flower power of the title-track and the unbridled hope of ‘The World Will Soon be Free’, through to the sour darkness of ‘Bad News Blues’ and pessimism of ‘Strange Times, Sad Times’, Love is the Law is very much a mixed bag of emotions, possibly denotive of Bond’s then frame of mind.

Mighty Grahame Bond broadens the remit of its predecessor to include a full band, but aside from that it is very much more of the same. Bond remains on vocal, Hammond and Mellotron duties; this time injecting a gothic eeriness to the compositions with a heavier organ sound, signposted at the beginning of opener ‘Water Water’, with its Dr. Phibes’ flourish. The slightly queasy ‘Stiff Necked Chicken’ sees Bond affecting a deep Southern drawl and making a departure into Rolling Stones’ territory with a raunchiness that doesn’t quite gel. Elsewhere its mostly psychedelic blues all the way, with a rare tender moment touched upon on the elegant ‘Walk On to Me’, the highlight of Mighty Grahame Bond with its sumptuous Mellotron arrangement.

For some, the clearly untrained, blistering vocal that Bond demonstrates, may well grate. Nevertheless, what his voice may lack in style, it makes up for in sheer bruised character.

Neither Love is the Law nor Mighty Grahame Bond are perfect albums. Far from it, in fact. But when they hit their stride, the combination of richly abundant Hammond organ showboating and the raw, gut-wrenching sadness hinted at throughout, makes for a compelling listen.

Love is the Law and Mighty Grahame Bond are reissued by Esoteric and available to buy on CD, for the first time, from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

Maybe so back then, but nowadays we can appreciate Renaissance for being one of the many voices from the underground that would bring about the genesis of the genre known as progressive rock. With regards to the piano, the reviewer had it spot on.

Renaissance rose from the ashes of legendary Brit-blues battlers The Yardbirds, who during the course of their lifetime had employed the services of guitarists Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page. Prior to the band’s demise they had been exploring, in tracks such as ‘Shapes of Things’, a new experimental sound, in tune with the psychedelic rock/pop that was then very much du jour.

Founder Yardbirds, Keith Relf (vocals and guitar) and Jim McCarty (drums), enlisted bassist Louis Cennamo, Keith’s sister Jane (vocals) and, in a masterstroke, keyboardist and future Strawb, John Hawken. With their musical path signposted by the psych excursions of the band that would go on to become Led Zeppelin, Renaissance was born.

The album is a treasure trove of lush, piano-led compositions. It may be a little on the slim side at only five tracks, but fear not, there’s plenty of ground covered hereon. Taking a post-psychedelic vibe and injecting it with a thoroughly generous helping of classical musicianship, Renaissance provides a cracking 40 minutes of proto-prog listening, flavoured with an often folky seasoning, courtesy of Jane Relf’s angelic voice.

It is, without doubt, John Hawken’s prowess on the piano, and in places harpsichord, that really makes the album. His mellifluous mastery of the old Joanna is impossible to escape; such is its omnipresence throughout. But that’s not to say that the remainder of the contingent aren’t also putting in a sterling performance.

At a slender five songs there’s no room for filler, and from the dramatic ceremony and medieval imagery of ‘Kings and Queens’ through to the extended prog noodling of ‘Bullet’, Renaissance ensures none is afforded.

This seamless fusion of classical music and hippy rock has just received the digitally remastered reissue treatment, incorporating the single version of ‘Island’ and its B-side ‘The Sea’ as bonus tracks.

Renaissance, by Renaissance, is available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed

And there’s an element of blues rock bubbling away beneath the psychedelic/progressive mix that forms The Answer, particularly with regards to Bardens’ vocal delivery, which is a full-bodied blues drawl and, on occasion, remarkably similar in sound to another royal lady-roisterer, a certain Michael Jagger.

The title-track, first up on the album, is awash with energetic blues guitar licks, in this case provided by an uncredited Peter Green, which is bolstered throughout by Bardens’ elaborate organ artistry and pseudo-philosophical lyricism, popular in progressive and underground rock circles of this era.

The blues guitar continues through the eerie mire that is ‘Don’t Goof With a Spook’, where the Jaggerisms are possibly at their strongest, and the excellent acid-soaked freak-rock of ‘I Can’t Remember’, with its hedonistic tribal undercurrent in addition to the masterclass of swirling keyboard extravagance.

‘I Don’t Want to Go Home’ and ‘Let’s Get It On’, both of which also feature an uncredited Peter Green on lead guitar, are more in the standard blues-rock vein and as such a little more formulaic, but following on from something as undeniably strong as the three aforementioned tracks that open The Answer, is always going to be a thankless task.

Which brings us nicely to the B-side spanning closing track of the original album. Running just shy of 14 minutes, ‘Homage to the God of Light’ is a spectacular journey into the outer reaches of psychedelic-prog, bringing to mind the early instrumental excursions of Pink Floyd and the exalted voyagers of space rock, Hawkwind. Bardens really gives the organ a punishing workout on this captivating, and lengthy, illustration of finest, ye olde underground gallivanting. A worthy highlight to an all round worthy album.

The reissue also throws in The Village’s excellent psychedelic single ‘The Man in the Moon’ and its instrumental B-side, ‘Long Time Coming’. Two more reasons, if any more are needed, why Peter Bardens’ The Answer makes a wonderful start to the New Year.

The Answer by Peter Bardens is reissued by Esoteric and available to buy from Amazon.co.uk

Don’t just read and applaud. Subscribe to the rather splendid RSS Feed