So, you create a commercial monster, change the rules of rock, have all sorts of people laud you as the greatest musical happening since Wolfgang Mozart (all of which happened after DSOTM). What do you do next?
The greatest compliment you can pay to Pink Floyd is that they resisted the temptation to create a direct sequel to DSOTM. Instead, they came up with an album which feels and sounds wholly different, is far more symphonic, and lays to rest the ghosts they had carried with Syd, not just by the way they said goodbye and paid tribute to him on the album, but also finally put aside all psychedelic rock to a very straightforward symphonic collection of songs.
David Gilmour has long stated that he regards this as the band's finest moment, and it is also the highest rated Floyd album on many a site. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, an absolute classic, and a very important album in the annals of rock music, not merely progressive rock. Roger Waters revisits his major theme of madness, but also very cleverly integrates this into a none too subtle rant against the record companies (and EMI in particular). In hindsight, the massive commercial success of DSOTM, and the wealth that this brought to the son of a Communist Party activist, provided extremely mixed blessings. I would also wager that many of the record company executives listening to this at the time just before release probably didn't have the wit to appreciate that it was they who were being confronted in such a brazen fashion.
It is also a very clever album in terms of its music. That massive chord change five minutes into Shine On, the exemplary sax solo by Dick Parry, and the (then) ground-breaking special musical effects, particularly on Welcome To The Machine. They also manage to create quite possibly the most laid back and understated rock anthem of all time in the title track, proving yet again that, in most cases, simplicity was as, if not more, effective than long- and complex-time signatures from their peers.
It is not, though, to these ears, the epitome of Pink Floyd in the studio. That would wait for the follow up and The Wall in my opinion. The Wright keyboard mid-section in Welcome To The Machine sounds slightly dated now. In addition, Have A Cigar, whilst lyrically scathing and hilarious, does have a touch of the record filler attached to it. These are, though, minor quibbles. The symphonic suite that is Shine On is nigh on perfect, and the band never sounded as good musically as they did on this, and the Gilmour riff on the second part has, rightly, been lauded as one of the finest of all time.
I feel that its immediate predecessor and two sequels are utter masterpieces, whilst this just, only just, falls short.
As I said on my DSOTM review, though, I can't see how anybody reading this hasn't already got it.
There are some old albums in my vinyl collection that I, frankly, didn't care about when my lovely old stereo system broke down after years of faithful service. I couldn't afford to replace them all with CD's, and I resigned myself to losing out on many pleasures for ever.
However, with a present of vinyl to digital hardware, and software, I can now revisit those pleasures, and this is most certainly one of them.
There is not much to say about this album that has not already been said, and I will keep this review shorter than most of my other efforts.
Suffice to say, I am genuinely of the opinion that great instrumentals can speak to you as well as, and in some exceptionally rare cases, more so than any concept album with lots of verbosity.
This is one such album, a glorious symphonic album which epitomises all that is great about that sub-genre.
The piece must be listened to as a whole because it tells a story. The musicianship is incredible, and this is, in essence, a modern piece of classical music.
At times this is beautifully moving, and it remains to this day one of the most important works in the progressive canon.
A true masterpiece in every sense of the word.
1975, and the band had decamped to America to record the follow up to Crime Of The Century. The broken-down Britain they left behind, the intensely hard job of making such an album, even to the point of the title itself, gives us Crisis, What Crisis? (an exclamation uttered by Jim Callaghan)
There are some excellent tracks on this album, but, perhaps not surprisingly, it fails to live up to its illustrious immediate predecessor. The production itself is far more spartan, and, in retrospect, it has the feel and sound of a band drawing breath a little before moving on and finding their full mojo again on the subsequent two releases.
Sister Moonshine is, in my opinion, a vastly underrated Supertramp track, based around a mellow tune and whimsical Hodgson lyrics. Ain't Nobody But Me is also very good, perhaps coming closer than most to being a truly joint composition between Davies & Hodgson. What it doesn't have, and I think quite purposefully, is the pomp that would have characterised it on Crime.
There are two tracks, though, which absolutely rank as Supertramp classics, alongside wonders from more accessible and famous albums.
A Soapbox Opera is classic Hodgson. Symphonic, classical, catchy, and, most of all, sung and performed in a wave of such melancholy and yearning for a better world you almost weep listening to it. This is easily the track which comes closest to recreating the feel of Crime, and it is a wonder, exceptionally performed on the Live In Paris album. There is also a wonderful You Tube video of Hodgson performing it solo on his latest tour.
The album closer, Two Of Us, is also very special. Deliberately scaled back, I have always thought of this track as a paeon to the country that the two main protagonists left behind, and, in the face of that, so long as they always worked together, then all would be alright. In hindsight, this was spot on, because neither Hodgson or Davies prospered commercially or creatively after the band split. A fantastic way to close an album, this is one of my all-time favourite pieces of music.
Elsewhere, there is still much to admire. The bluesy love song, Another Man's Women, is classic Rick Davies, and, as with much of his output, is given greater punch and status by the band backing him and his marvellous piano. The sax by Helliwell is especially impressive.
On side two, the closer aside, what we have is a collection of decent Supertramp tracks, but that's about all they are. Lady is about as close to throwaway as it comes. Poor Boy opens and closes with Davies doing a neat impression of a chicken being throttled for Sunday lunch, but there is a very pleasant tune in between, with Davies at his most melancholic. Just A Normal Day features some gorgeous woodwind and orchestration, whilst The Meaning is one of Hodgson's least impressive creations and becomes deeply annoying at times.
The high spots on this album do definitely outweigh the low points. There are some exceptional tracks, and the musicianship is never anything less than brilliant. It is not, however, the place to start your exploration of Supertramp. In fact, it is probably the last of the "classic" era to begin such a journey.
A good album, but far better had preceded it, and was certainly to come.
1975, and Blackmore had finally had a terminal fallout with Deep Purple, although it seemed to mainly be the funky direction set by Hughes & Coverdale that really lay at the heart of the problem. So, he formed a band with himself and Elf, led by the, well, elf-like Ronnie James Dio from the States.
Right from the word go, with the eternal classic Man On The Silver Mountain, Blackmore began to set his imprint of a band going back to basics, focusing on hard rock as an art form, with blues and folk based leanings. He also, of course, set the ultimately terminal course of his baby by beginning to sack anyone who he didn't like the look of first thing in the morning. By the time this rather good debut was released, only he and Dio remained, with the remainder of Elf probably feeling like the jilted bride at the alter after the promise of future riches being blown away.
This is a solid album, without ever really approaching true classic status. Rather, it should be regarded as the initial statement by two heavy rock gods laying down their initial template, from which great things would be built.
The opener is a genuine classic, still sung by Dio on stage up until the point of his passing away. Sixteenth Century Greensleeves, with its medieval influence, is a very early foretaste of the direction Blackmore would take when he finally left Purple and hard rock forever and moved in with his missus. Temple Of The King is the one almost forgotten Rainbow track that every completionist should definitely own, a beautifully sung track with subtle backing by Blackmore, who makes his instrument sing with the vocalist.
My personal favourite is Catch The Rainbow, extended to ridiculous lengths on the classic On Stage live double album, but here a track of exceptional feeling, maturity, and heralding, to me, the onset of a writing partnership that was to define the maturation of hard rock in the late 1970's and influence a huge number of post rock bands in later years. Dio rarely sounded better, and the true musicianship of Blackmore is very much to the fore.
Elsewhere, the album closer, Still I'm Sad, a cover of a classic Yardbirds track, is poignant when one considers the split from Purple and extremely well performed. Much of the rest is simply high quality mid 1970's rock, nothing more, nothing less, no bad thing if, like me, you were awakening to the joys of such music at about this time.
This is a rather difficult album to rate. It is, in parts, excellent, but, in others, a template upon which to build greater things. It is an important album that any fan of hard rock with progressive leanings should own, if only to see where one of the greatest exponents of the genre at that time started it all off.