Ask most lay people about their favourite Who moment, or record, and it's a fair bet that they will respond with Tommy (specifically Pinball Wizard), or Who's Next, or maybe a single such as Who Are You. However, to this, and I suspect other, long term Who fans, this wonderful album is the absolute pinnacle of an incredible band, but more to the point I think, that of a hugely important and influential songwriter, one Pete Townsend.
On the face of it, this double album is a tribute to the young Mods who followed the band in the pill popping, bright lighted, halcyon days of the mid 1960's. The band were the very embodiment of cool then, and in these recession-soaked days, it is easy to forget that in my lifetime, Britain, and London in particular, were seen as the cultural and social centre of the Western world.
In fact, this is the ultimate expression of the lyrical obsession Townsend had - that of youth, its traumas, its journey, and, very importantly, its end and the passage into death. It is split into four themes, with each band member identifying with that theme: Helpless Dancer (Roger's theme), Is It Me (John's theme), Bell Boy (Keith's theme), and Love, Reign O'er Me (Pete's theme). The narrative tells the story of Jimmy, a young mod utterly bonkers about Mod culture, and The Who in particular, and his descent into rebellion, and, ultimately, a quadrophonic split personality leading to his untimely demise.
It is, in my opinion, utterly essential for anyone wishing to explore, or in my case re-visit, the distinct and difficult adolescent passage for young men in our utterly dystopian modern culture. For the passages Townsend writes about in the 1960's (but written in the mid 1970's) are as relevant now as they were then, and that is the true genius of the man and his writing. The fact that one's parents either don't listen, or don't care, mates are not true mates, you have to "fit in" to be a "part of the crowd", and any failure is punished bleakly in life by accepting having to literally clean the shit off the streets in a no hope, no opportunity, dead end job/life, the way that many of us get sucked into "the system", when there is an innate and keen intelligence or talent just bursting to break out. Jimmy broke down under these pressures - to me, the real message that Townsend puts across is that the wonder is that any of us get out the other side, and huge kudos to those of us that do.
Musically, the band simply never sounded better. Just as I have described the poetical wonder of Townsend's lyrics, he, more than anyone else, realised the true value of the band that supported him in this journey. Entwistle simply never sounded better on either his incredible bass, or on brass on 5:15. Moon, caught here just before his own sad descent into alcoholic and drug ridden torture/death, gives us a lesson in just how a rock drummer should sound. And we must never, ever, forget just what an incredible voice that Daltrey possessed. On the 5:15 and the album closer, Love Reign O'er Me, he comes about as close to vocal perfection as it is possible to get.
There are so many highlights, it does seem rather churlish to list them, because the album is never anything less than superb all the way through. However, Townsend's beautiful paeon to the dreams of youth, I'm One, the walkout I've Had Enough, the pill popping, nightmare, journey of 5:15 which features the most incredible combination of hard rock and brass laid to record, the betrayal bitterness of Bell Boy, and the final act of the play and a life, Love Reign O'er Me, stand out.
Elsewhere, for more "traditional" prog fans, the superb title track features some distinctly proggy effects, to which could also be added the lengthy The Rock.
This, however, is a rock album, pure and simple. It is a hugely important rock album, and should, if there were any justice, be essential curriculum listening for all schoolboys over the age of twelve.
Listening to it now, as I always do, I get a true sense of what song writing and performing genius really means.
It's difficult to write anything fresh about an album which has been reviewed so many times across the world, and is, rightly, held up as an icon of progressive rock music.
It has sold so many millions of copies, the band probably stopped counting many years ago, and its success, in my opinion, was owing to two main reasons aside from the fact that the performances were simply so good. It was made at a time of economic recession in the UK, when everything was becoming extremely bleak and the lights were, literally, starting to turn off at night. In addition, its release coincided with the boom in reasonably priced hi-fi equipment, made even more accessible to the great unwashed masses by the advent of hire purchase repayments. This, and Tubular Bells, took full advantage.
This is the first of the great quartet of albums the band released that more or less defined the progressive rock era of the 1970's, bringing that genre to the masses in a way no other artist had managed before (or since, for that matter). The compositions, at a time when the band were still fully functioning as a coherent unit, were incredible, and the lyrics, in which Waters gave a treatise on life, war, insanity, and the general unfairness of it all, touched a massive raw nerve. Forget the whoary old chestnut about lying down to have sex stoned listening to this, it was, and is, an album which demanded to be listened to, and one of those greats which brings something new every time you listen, no matter how many times you listen.
Although a collection of individual tracks, the whole thing moves along so seamlessly, you could be forgiven for thinking it was one whole piece. There are also far too many highlights to list, but special credit goes for the sheer bleak emotion that Gilmour wrings out in his solo during Time, the incredible vocal performance of Clare Torry on Great Gig In The Sky (Richard Wright's last great moment writing for the band), the iconography of Money and the finest sax solo ever delivered on a rock album, the sheer manic intensity of Brain damage. It goes on and on.
A masterpiece not just of progressive rock, but of rock music as a whole. An album that literally changed the world, those who belittle Roger Waters should really dig this out, give it a spin, and wonder in astonishment as to the genius behind such a lyricist.
I won't say buy it, because surely there is nobody left out there who hasn't got it?
Okay, everyone else is doing it, so why not me? The next in my series of Genesis reviews, and a great album it is, too. I don't think it is their best - that one goes to Nursery Cryme, but this is mighty close.
What I love about this album is the story behind it - the longing and yearning for an England that is passing, never to come back, and the realisation that what is to follow is nowhere near as sweet and as innocent. That is exemplified by Dancing with the Moonlit Knight...Can you tell me where my country lies...? Gabriel almost pleads with his audience. A moving, perfectly played song.
I Know What I like was the first single success in the UK and is fantastic.
Firth of Fifth is a magnificent achievement, with Hackett towering above all others - indeed, it is his finest moment with the band, and you get goosebumps listening to this solo.
More Fool Me was not Phil's first vocal effort (that was on Nursery Cryme), but it is fantastic. The live version on the Archives Boxset is even better, with acoustic guitars ramping up the tempo.
The Battle of Epping Forest is PG's go at being a punk before the punks were even heard of! This one tells of changes in society from the white working-class perspective, and I thought of this today when reading reports of strikes about migrant workers in the UK. After the Ordeal is a fantastic interlude and coming down before The Cinema Show, which is simply a tour de force of a love song told from both genders point of view and featuring a magnificent Banks keyboard solo which is still a live favourite to this day.
Aisle of Plenty is the perfect bookend to Dancing.... and ends the album's theme with a gentle and perfectly played rant against the power of the emerging corporate supermarkets destroying the traditional English town. Thankful for her Finefare discount indeed!
A great LP, and apologies to those who might think it has been reviewed too often, but there is a reason for this. It is an LP that speaks to us all in a deeply unique and personal way. You do not have to hail from Middle England to appreciate the sentiments behind it, and you certainly marvel at the musical accomplishment. Utterly essential to any prog collection.
Purely on a whim, I put this on today for the first time in an age, and, on even more of a whim, decided to write down a few thoughts. This is, more than any other, the one Tull album which divides fans of the band between exceptional and god-awful.
In truth, I think that it falls somewhere in between. It's an important part of the band's extensive canon, but, by Anderson's own admission, does not stand up as amongst the best. However, one thing that does rather amuse me is that whilst albums of the time such as Tales From Topographic Oceans are (still) regularly slated by the music press as heralding the fall from grace of prog as a commercial art form (too pretentious and all that), this album, released in the same year, never gets such a mention, something which I find somewhat strange, to say the least.
For this was Ian Anderson's "proper" concept album. By that, I mean that Thick As A Brick was deliberately conceived as a mickey take by its author, as a riposte to all those who saw the "deep meaning and concept" in Aqualung which was never there in the first place. This, however, was done in deadly earnest, and is Anderson’s extremely irreverent take on the afterlife.
Musically, it is very mixed, and, ironically, whereas Thick stood together extremely well as a concept both lyrically and musically as a whole, this one still feels as "bitty" as it did the first time I listened to it all those years ago. Of course, many of the musical themes are very similar to Thick, and I do especially love the sax to the fore, and wish it was an instrument that Anderson had allowed on more of his work. Further, this is the finest keyboard led album the band did, without a shadow of a doubt. John Evans shines here and is very ably supported by Barriemore Barlow on drums and Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond on bass. The only real disappointment is the near total absence of a meaningful contribution by Martin Barre on guitar - he makes himself heard about 19 minutes into side two in marvellous form, almost as if someone had woken him up and asked him to do something. It is also, in my opinion, the best part of the album, the best saved until the end, so to speak.
As has been said by many reviewers before me, side one of the old LP is generally, the close apart, superior to side two, and it is on the latter side that matters fall apart for me. As with many of the albums released by classic prog bands of the time, in hindsight a bit less would have been far more. Having said that, with both sides, when it is good, it is very good.
Also, a brief word about The Hare Who Lost His Spectacles. This is, to blokes of a certain generation who worshipped and recited all things Python, brilliant nonsense. To most others, I suspect an awful amount of head scratching would be undertaken. You had to be there I suppose.
1973 to 1976 was not my favourite Tull period. That would come later with the superlative Songs From The Wood, and this album is, for me, the start of a rather indifferent period, peppered by flashes of genius, and, of course, the work is not bad, given that Anderson and the band were simply incapable of releasing an album with that description.
Good, and certainly recommended for those who wish to complete or expand their Tull collection. It might be, though, perhaps best to start looking elsewhere first!
The Yes LP that, more than any others, attracts both ridiculously high praise and equally ridiculous opprobrium. Yep, you either love it or hate it, and there aren't many who, like me, fall somewhere in between.
After the incredible heights that were reached with Fragile, and especially Close to the Edge, Messrs Anderson & Howe embarked on writing a concept, a very lengthy concept, based upon Autobiography of a Yogi by by Paramahansa Yogananda - it's not exactly easily accessible stuff. Sprawling over four vinyl sides with an equal number of tracks, the album was, either bravely or stupidly (depending upon your viewpoint) premiered live in front of fans and critics in London in 1973 before anyone had even had the chance to listen to it.
The rock critics response was, to put it mildly, not exactly very kind, and many people point to this album as one of the main reasons why punk simply had to happen. Curiously, the quality press in Britain reacted far kindlier, with one actually stating that The Ancient would, in twenty years, come to be regarded as an all-time classic of any musical genre. I'm sorry, but it simply is not, and only diehard fans would, I suspect, now make that statement, although I do think that it stands up better in 2009 than it did in 1973.
It is a shame because there are many good points to the album. I regard sides one (The Revealing Science of God) and four (Ritual) as being amongst the band's finest. Once you get past Anderson wittering incomprehensibly at the start of Revealing..., a rich, complex tapestry of music unfolds. In addition, the opening sequence of Ritual (Nous Sommes Du Soleil) is quite lovely, before giving way to a complex jazzy sequence ending in a very brave and well played percussion solo by Alan White on his debut with the band. All that, though, pales into insignificance when you hear what follows this - quite simply one of the most beautiful, hair-raising guitar solos of all time by Steve Howe preluding the end vocal and instrumental sequence.
This, though, summarises the album's problem - it is simply too long. In addition, nobody had a clue what they were on about - I still don't after all these years. The two tracks reviewed above, on their own, would easily attract a masterpiece descriptor, of that I have no doubt. I listened to the other two for the first time in some while today, The Remembering & The Ancient, and whilst they have some very pleasant parts, in particular Howe's acoustic guitar on the latter, they are simply too long, overblown, and pretentious to make the entire album an essential listening experience.
Also, Wakeman is simply dreadful on the entire work. He clearly had no interest in it, ate chicken biriyani on stage during some of it, and even had to endure bathroom tiles in the studio on Anderson's insistence during its making. He left the band, and he still loathes the experience to this day, although I am glad to say that his Ritual performances live were latterly fantastic.
This album is, in my experience and opinion, a flawed masterpiece from a great band. I must make the point that it is still an essential purchase to add to any prog collection, if only to understand the history of both the band and the genre. Don't, however, make it your first ever Yes purchase.
This is an album born of its time. Listening to it again as I write this review, I am struck by how much I still enjoy the music and themes, at least 30 years after buying it, but one thing strikes me above all else.
In 1973, even with a damned lucky break when half the country tuned into The Old Grey Whistle Test, having been let down by ITV pulling a controversial film, featuring the blond maestro performing parts of this, his debut solo album, the world seemed curiously receptive to an album based upon the six wives of England's most colourful, and perhaps controversial, King which featured absolutely no lyrics whatsoever, and, in reality, did not even seem to be easy to decipher the characters of said wives from the score itself.
Put it another way. If a musician, no matter how brilliant, were to attempt a similar feat in 2014, the album would die a commercial death, and be consigned to the dustbin of history. Actually, it probably would never be funded in the first place by any modern record company. Even then, A&M thought it would bomb.
Wakeman was assisted by his new mates in Yes, and his old ones in The Strawbs, in making this, and the performances are uniformly excellent, and the music rather moving in places. I still shiver when I hear Catherine Howard, and the gorgeous prayer, The Day Thou Gavest Lord Hath Ended, in Anne Boleyn, easily the most tragic of old Henry's Queens. The end track Catherine Parr rollocks along at a fair old pace, and, yes, the modern live performances, either solo at Hampton Court, or during Yes gigs, are far better produced and modern, but for its day, this album was right at the cutting edge of musical technology and thinking. It is a testament to its genius that it still holds up extremely well now, 41 years after its initial release.
Quite excellent, and a must buy for all you youthful keyboard aficionados to see where it all really kicked off.
A masterpiece and one in a series of epitomes of English rock by the greatest exponents of the art in history. This is a masterpiece, and one never gets tired of hearing it.
Watcher of the Skies is an exceptionally prescient piece of music dealing with a potential Earth catastrophe, which we now know as global warming. Banks' mellotron set the standard amongst all '70s prog bands.
I love Time Table, which is another example of Gabriel and the band looking back in history for inspiration in a period of huge upheaval. Beautifully played and sung, it is an underrated track.
As for Get 'Em Out by Friday, I lived in Harlow as a child, and this song always brings out some memories in me, but, more than anything else, it was a great track which dealt with avarice and greed before the world ever switched on to such ideas. Some excellent guitar work and storytelling make this far more than a filler.
Can Utility and the Coastliners is another underrated song, with Gabriel especially giving his all in the final sequence with Banks' mellotron in strong support.
Horizons is the moment when, as much as you admire Anthony Phillips, you realise that Steve Hackett is much more than a worthy successor. Hackett plays a lovely solo which can be played in any personal mood.
As I write this review, Suppers Ready is playing on the PC. What can be said about this piece that hasn't already been said? Pretty impossible really! An exceptional work which, I believe, has unfairly been described as a precursor to The Lamb - it isn't - it stands up on its own merits more than enough.
We walked across the fields to see the children of the west. I am listening to Banks ploughing his mellotron and Gabriel shouting bang bang bang - I want this potion!
The start inspires pictures of love and other worldly activity. The end makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you imagine the light rising from the darkness, accepting the Christian Revelations inspired madness.
This is an essential addition to any prog rock collection.
A flower??
Sometimes you just feel like a break from listening to, and reviewing, new music, or evaluating stuff for the site. You want to put your feet up, relax, put on a hoary old classic, and indulge yourself (and, hopefully, others) with a few well-chosen words.
This evening is one such moment, and what better hoary old classic than this one, eh? So, let's skip back to the heady days of 1972, and consider the album that is considered by many to be THE epitome, and, indeed, the height, of this crazy genre we call progressive rock.
So many words have been written about this, it's hard to see what one could possibly add. The first thing to say, of course, is a fact that, to this day, many people really do not seem to appreciate. This album was deliberately designed as a send up of the entire genre that we all love so much.
Jethro Tull were a blues band, with some progressive sensibilities. When the awesome Aqualung was released, a great load of critics with beards (in those days, you were a bloke if you did rock reviews. Women still tended the sprogs and did the household tasks. Germaine Greer had not, at this time, changed the world) declared it to be the most important concept album of all time, indeed a tome that would rank one day alongside the Holy Book itself as influencing human philosophy.
All fine stuff, except that it was not, of course, any such thing. Anderson had, very cleverly, included an overarching theme about the nature of religion amongst some exceptional blues rock tracks, but it was not a concept album. So, rather typically for the rascal, he decided to give the critics what they wanted - an overblown, to hell with all good taste, concept album to defeat all concepts.
It came wrapped up in its own newspaper. This was almost as well produced as the vinyl itself. The "story", or concept, is based upon a poem written by Gerald Bostock, a boy. Except, of course, that there was no such boy, and the very title itself, Thick As A Brick, was rather old English slang for one of exceptionally limited intellect, an accusation that Anderson threw with glee at the majority of both the English rock press and, indeed, most of the blokes sat at the gigs and buying the records (again, not many women attended. Prog was almost exclusively a spotty blokey thing).
Of course, the whole thing took on a life of its own, and is regarded as the archetypal prog concept album, and, to be fair to Anderson, what he produced, although a parody, was, musically, virtually beyond reproach. Quite deliberately a symphonic suite, awash with swirling mellotron, other keys, complex rhythms, time signatures, and repetitive themes, it ironically became very quickly representative of an entire genre and way of producing music. Not to be seen on Top Of The Pops this, with The Sweet, Bolan, Bowie et al, this was the album to end all albums, and fans of "serious" music lapped it up.
In hindsight, I do not regard this as being Tull's finest hour. For me personally, this was still to come in the more folk orientated phase of the band's career. The pastoral representation of a fast-disappearing Britain spoke volumes to me, certainly far more than a pastiche of a concept. In addition, the album at almost forty-four minutes of a single track does make one lose attention somewhat, certainly at either end of the old vinyl sides and a rather unnecessary (if very good) set of drum solos. Cut down to the length of the version which appeared on the seminal Bursting Out live album, it would have been perfection.
As it is, I will rate it as being an excellent addition to any prog rock collection. In terms of the genre's history, it is essential. But I feel that Anderson, the rest of the band, and music historians, if all were to be utterly honest, would proclaim that musically and socially Tull had, and would have, better moments.
There you have it. Looking at the vast majority of reviews written of this, I have written what most would consider to be blasphemy. Damn good, yes, but not damn perfect.
Cue Nancy & Ronald Reagan......"The drugs don't work". There you go, simple, isn't it? Take the wicked weed and evil powder, and all will fall around you. Drunk, blind, nose falling off, you're incapable of producing anything memorable, let alone decent music.
Well, this little pearler, originally intended to be entitled Snowblind, does rather make a mockery of such "sensible" debate. I speak here as one who doesn't touch anything illegal, never has, would never recommend such action. However, whilst there is no doubt that the collective addictions and snorting eventually became an albatross around the band's collective necks, in 1972, at the start of this long process, those self-same "pleasures" catapulted the band towards sounds and experiments that were to begin a run of incredibly creative albums, mixing proto heavy metal, stoner rock, and progressive music that made them unutterably unique. And mighty fine.
This is a fantastic album, probably only matched in its creativity by Sabbath Bloody Sabbath, although I think that this one pips it, because there is barely a weak moment included. It includes many tracks that became staples to the present day. The incredibly uplifting and creative Tomorrows Dream, the wonderfully mournful chameleon that is Changes, probably my favourite Ozzy vocal, where he proved beyond doubt, he could actually sing rather well, although I doubt I will ever forgive him for that blasted awful remake with his screeching offspring.
Snowblind itself, both as a proposed album name, and the track itself, a tribute to the highs a certain white powder will bring, made many a record company executive mess himself with worry as to how "polite society" would take to it (the song, not the powder!). They needn't have worried. This was never a band designed to appeal to said polite masses. The kids loved it, as did many adults who loved their rock dirty, heavy, and intelligent, telling a story.
Contrasts abound, as described above. The opener, Wheels of Confusion, is a classic rock track, brilliantly executed. FX is a piece of experimentation with sound that comes across, perhaps, as rather naive now, but was rather good for its time, Supernaut is more of a "traditional" Sabbath song, albeit turbocharged by habits, Cornucopia is downright dark and evil, with a wonderfully messy riff at its heart, St Vitus Dance probably adequately describes Ozzy at this time, whilst closer Under The Sun/Every Day Come is a track that would easily have fitted on the debut album. We even have time for a lovely Iommi solo piece in Laguna Surprise, where he proves himself as accomplished a fret man as virtuosos that abounded at the time.
Although most of my reviewing time is taken up these days by rating newly released music, it is nice every now and again to revisit old classics and jot some thoughts down. To my mind, Black Sabbath are a band who must be revisited at odd intervals at least, in order to remind oneself of just how damned good they were.
Old sweats reading this will undoubtedly have this fine album gathering dust in their collection somewhere. Younger readers, carry on enjoying Opeth, and the likes, but why not dabble in the "dark side" for a bit, and see just where it all started?
Baby James Harvest is an album I have owned for a fair old number of years, now, and, each time I play it, the more it plays as a sort of curiosity, something I am never quite sure how much to take seriously.
At the time, it was really serious for the band. This was to prove the last of their four albums for the EMI imprint Harvest (they had helped with the name!), but poor sales, and the enormous amount of money chucked away with the touring and recording orchestra, meant that they had become a commercial liability. They left and signed for Polydor after this.
It is a good album but really nothing more, and certainly, in my opinion, the weakest of this particular period, although there are some aspects that serve to keep us all interested. I like the experiment with brass instrumentation on Delphi Town Mum, and, of course, as scions of Northern towns, the boys will have been familiar with the magnificent colliery bands that flourished thereabouts.
There is a genuine classic, and a track which makes the price of the album worth its entrance price alone, in Summer Soldier, widely believed to be a (bitter) commentary on the escalating Troubles of Northern Ireland of the time, and this track, perhaps more than most others, added to the long held satirical blast of BJH as kaftan clad, hopeless, hippies. I love this track, and, in truth, the lyrics were rather brave at the time, commenting as they did on just how damned awful the times were from all perspectives, and how a little bit of peace and love might just be the answer. Oh well, only 30 years ahead of its time. Musically, it was a mix of the experimental (certainly in the way that it was, in reality, two distinct tracks in one) and classic symphonic psych prog, and, all told, it came off very well indeed, and stands up very well in 2014.
Elsewhere, Woolly only really contributed largely to album closer, Moonwater, which was recorded with orchestra separately from the remainder of the album, and this also stands up extremely well as a delicate, pastoral piece of beauty, musically and lyrically.
The remainder is fine, without being remotely exciting or memorable, more like BJH by numbers, I suppose. Thank You, especially, is a strange one, with a glam sort of backdrop, thanking the entire globe for riches had and to come, and Les Holroyd produces a sort of Poor Man's (pardon the pun) David Bowie in One Hundred Thousand Smiles Out
Two tracks, then, which were, and are, superlative, amongst competence and pleasantness, something which could, I think, rather be the final epitaph of this act when we write the final narrative.
A good album which fans will have to have, and others might wish to.
An incredible achievement, this is the LP that catapulted Yes to the stratosphere commercially and artistically. It was so good that Bill Bruford decided it couldn't get much better and promptly left to see if he was ready for King Crimson, as Fripp put it to him.
Much has been written about this album, and I am not sure if I can add much more, but as I am going through each Yes LP, I must try!
For me, this LP marked the proper emergence of Rick Wakeman as a world class keyboardist. Fragile, as I previously noted, was too bitty and his solo spot too short. On CTTE, Wakeman is allowed to shine and express himself properly in the band for the first time, and what a result it is.
It is impossible for any rock fan, let alone progressive rock fan, not to marvel and get carried away with the exceptional organ solo Wakeman produces in the title track's I Get Up sequence. You realise just what an incredible combination Anderson's soaring voice and the majestic organ sound are, and the blasting sequence that follows with Squire's thundering bass is magnificent.
Everything about this track shouts out BIG. It was an incredibly complex piece of music that absolutely stayed away from the pomposity that many complex pieces fall into. It holds the listener's interest right through the 18 minutes plus it runs. Incredible, and rightly a classic of the genre.
Many might think that having produced such an incredible side one, that the flip side would fall into comparative obscurity and ordinariness. Not a bit of it. Both And You and I and Siberian Khatru are amongst the finest tracks committed to vinyl that the band produced. The former is a beautiful piece of music, with Steve Howe's sympathetic guitar very much to the fore, whilst the latter is another incredibly complex track which means you cannot single out any individual. From the beauty of Anderson's lyrical performance to another incredible Wakeman performance, via very complex drums by Bruford, Howe's virtuosity, and Squire's huge bass, the song again holds the interest all the way through.
There were still some great LPs to follow from this band, but this was the first that convinced the world as to the fact that progressive rock was not merely a phase - it was possible to make exceptionally complicated pieces of music that rocked and entertained, and, crucially, sold by the truckload.