The maestro returns! Wakeman came back to the fold with this album, recorded in Switzerland. This was my first ever Yes album, and not only do I retain a great deal of affection for it for that reason, but I also regard it as being their finest album.
The opener, and title track, is untypical Yes, and moves along at a rate of knots. I do especially enjoy the Howe guitar at the end accompanying Anderson Talk about sending love sequence.
What follows, though, is a track of such breath-taking beauty that it is the single piece of music I want to be played at my funeral. Turn of the Century tells a simple story wonderfully - it is a tale of a love that is so intense and important that it transcends our ultimate test, that of death. You feel for Roan when his love passes away, following much suffering. Then Roan moulds a clay statue of his love which comes to life in a fantastic burst, dancing and singing in a celebration of life and love. Steve Howe's guitar solo in the interim still makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, it is that beautiful. This song is not a mere track, it is a whole experience, and I especially like the fact that Anderson is able to tell a story that we can all relate to and understand. Sheer perfection in music.
Parallels is a great track and is the first to feature the Wakeman church organ. The maestro is on top form on this album, playing as if his life depended upon it.
Wondrous Stories, of course, attracts a fair bit of criticism because it's commercial and a pop song. As with much of the Collins era Genesis, this doesn't bother me at all - I think it’s a great pop song, and the best testimony you can write about it is the fact that it became a huge UK hit at a time when punk was raging across the country in a flurry of snot and filth.
The original album ends with what I regard as being the ultimate Yes epic, Awaken. The passage of church organ by Wakeman is his finest moment with the band, utterly majestic and alive. The track also contains some excellent Howe guitar bursts and Anderson is on great form. An incredible track, it is even better live in my opinion. Deservedly one of the greats in the band's extensive cannon.
For those people visiting this site who are looking to start purchasing Yes, I would recommend this as the ideal place to start your journey, before progressing to the earlier stuff. An incredible album and utterly indispensable as part of any prog collection.
Rush, with the success of 2112, had become a huge band. Certainly in 1977 they were about the biggest live draw in classic rock in the UK, and I still have fond memories of the numbers of correspondents to Sounds music paper calling themselves By Tor.
A Farewell To Kings is, in every way possible, the natural follow up to the record that broke them, and it was also recorded in my (now) home country of Wales. It starts off in fine bombastic fettle with the title track.
Full of fantastical lyrics, nods to poetry greats, mythical references, and commentaries on society, this is an incredibly good album, one that sounds as fresh now as it did when I first bought it. It's one of those towering works that never ages, and, unlike 2112, there is barely a weak link on it. Listening to the first of the two great epic tracks, Xanadu, you are very much struck at how good the synths utilised are, most definitely giving us all a glimpse of the future direction, the band would take.
For now, though, this was, essentially, carrying the torch for epic classic rock at the time since the demise of Deep Purple and the sad decline of Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin.
Closer To The Heart remains, to this day, a huge live favourite and is a wonderful piece of music. I love the way that Neal Talbot (the band's first external collaborator) brings us his lyrics with a tale of how we can all pull together to forge a greater and brighter future. The other radio friendly track, Cinderella Man, is also an enjoyable track, and showed us at the time how a heavy rock band could forge together commercial success without jeopardising their artistic integrity. Madrigal is a pleasant, acoustic, interlude prior to the second major epic track on the album.
This is the album closer, Cygnus X-1, and is the type of track which the band did so well, full of sci fi and mysticism and heavy rock, prior to the eventual time when Peart realised, he had had enough and that the band could not prosper in a new decade continuing to produce this type of music. It pulsates throughout. Witness the extremely good Lee bassline after the alien announcement at the start, through to guitar riffs and synth backing which clearly carry on where 2112 left off.
I've owned this album for over 30 years now, and I still get as much pleasure listening to it now as I did when I took it home as an excited teenager for the first time.
Very close to being an essential masterpiece of progressive rock, this was the start of a sequence of excellent releases by this Canadian trio.
An exceptional release in 1977 from a band who I have been listening to and revisiting quite a lot lately. In fact, I believe that it might be a good time for them to be generally re-evaluated in a far more positive light than they presently are for their contribution to the genre.
This album contains three genuine classics, and a whole lot more good stuff besides.
Hymn, the opener, is simply beautiful, and one of my favourite tracks of all time. Listening to it again tonight, it certainly carries a bittersweet irony in the wake of the tragic suicide of Woolly Wolstenholme. On the face of it, this is an overtly religious song, but one which has at its heart a definite gentle cynicism, allowing the listener to make his/her own mind up about its true intent.
Poor Man's Moody Blues, which, if you close your eyes and mind, is Nights In White Satin retold, was a deliberate act by John Lees, obviously absolutely fed up with all the (sometimes extremely unkind) comparisons to the band that were, by then, described as The Stockbrokers of British Rock. A song dripping with irony, I never felt, as others did, that it was a true tribute, just Lees way of hitting back. Whether it was unintentional or not, what he came up with was a lovely song, and I don't think he ever sounded better singing, nor, indeed, the band in their lush sound and harmonies. Perhaps, in hindsight, it is better to listen and regard it as a wonderful love song that was in stark, and welcome, contrast to the chaos of punk that was raging around our country at the time.
Taking Me Higher closes the album and is a portent of the direction the band would take with later releases. Only just over three minutes in length, this is another gentle ballad, this time written by Les Holroyd, backed especially by some fine keyboard work by Woolly.
So much for the highlights. Elsewhere, the remainder ain't half bad, either. Hard Hearted Woman is more upbeat that anything else on the album and features some great bass work by Holroyd especially. Almost funky and danceable to, it's a very good piece of music.
Sea Of Tranquility is Wolstenholme's sole compositional contribution to the album, and it is a blinder. Spacey (no pun intended) and written and performed as just the type of symphonic masterpiece that made the band's name in the first place, it is a joy.
The rest is just what makes me enjoy the band. Melodic, flowing vocals and harmonies, and very easy listening compositions, which, in the hands of a band as good as this, is by no means a bad thing.
It is not good enough to be a masterpiece, and I don't think that the band themselves would place it there. It is, however, an excellent album and one of the finest such albums I own.
Highly recommended to those who wish to explore these unsung heroes of English melodic rock further.
Following the relatively disappointing Too Old To Rock 'n Roll & etc., the Tull came roaring back with this exceptional album, the one that is, to my mind, the exceptional prog folk album.
Anderson, by turns, educates us, for instance in Jack in The Green, amuses us, whiplash across buttocks for Hunting Girl, calls us all to celebrate ancient festivals in Ring Out Solstice Bells, or invites us to join us in a farewell nightcap in Fire At Midnight.
In other words, this album has just about every aspect of our great and good rural society that you could possibly wish for. It is an album which screams out against the metropolitan elite that was, by this time, increasingly destroying vast tracts of British rural life (it hasn't got any better since), but it is better for the fact that Anderson does not preach or scream. He merely celebrates, and what a celebration it is.
This does not, of course, make a great album on its own. Because I don't think the band ever sounded as good as it does in this particular incarnation. Martin Barre displays a rich and thoughtful acoustic texture throughout in addition to his trademark blues licks & riffs, whilst Barriemore Barlow was, to me, the finest percussionist they ever had. He shines throughout this album. John Glascock proves himself a perfect foil on bass and his backing vocals complement Anderson's throughout, and the keyboards provided by David Palmer and John Evan provide the backdrop to it all.
To come out with this album at a time when punk was raging across the UK was Anderson's very typical way of cocking two fingers up at the musical establishment in my country. He was, of course, stating that his band would do their own thing, as ever, but also that there was a rich folk tradition that should never be ignored, and one that was perfectly compatible with a band who played the blues and progressive rock. Pibroch is just about the ideal example of this, the start of which has a glorious bluesy feel that really does take the band back to its roots, before taking us into symphonic territory with exceptional keyboards, and then into the nearest that Anderson ever got into space rock, then reverting to the overall folk feel of the album as a whole before stunning us with more blues. Staggering to have so much within the space of just eight minutes.
This is truly an essential album, one that every single prog collection should include. This is the definitive Tull musical statement. Get it if you haven't already.
An album that receives more than its fair share of mixed ratings, the debut solo effort by Gabriel, following his self-imposed hiatus after leaving Genesis, is, on first impressions, a mixed bag, but, ultimately, an album which rewards patience and, above all, an appreciation of an exceptionally talented artist starting on the long road to breaking free from his past and shouting out his own voice in the musical world.
An eclectic mix of guest artists was brought in to assist, although only one has lasted the course to still be with Gabriel to this day, that being the great Tony Levin on bass. Fripp featured on guitars, although not, pointedly, on the two most blazing exemplars of that instrument, Slowburn and Here Comes The Flood, both of which were played by the incredible instrumentation of Dick Wagner, who, this reviewer is quick to admit, has remained unheard of ever since. Fripp's more direct influence on proceedings would await the disappointing follow up, and this, in hindsight, is recognisable as Gabriel in his own right.
The opener is a deliberate attempt to resurrect the story telling he was famous with in Genesis alongside the humorous side so brilliantly portrayed on Harold The Barrel. It is a magnificent opener, but the other attempt at eclectic humour, Excuse Me, featuring a barber shop quartet, is less effective, to the point of being an annoyance, which is a shame because the lyrics are interesting in their depiction of a breakup.
The album spawned a hit single in the still evergreen and popular Solsbury Hill. A beautiful and aching paeon to the England he loved and found in spades in the West Country, it remains to me one of the most evocative short songs of all time, crying as it does to the need to belong and not be torn between conflicting loyalties and people. Talking of evocative, first side closer Humdrum is exceptional, giving us a lovely flute solo, almost jazzy backing, to a most incredible depiction of life in the "normal" lane. Almost certainly written as a description of life outside the music business and career he left, this is a track which, if anything, worked even better live, as the example on "Plays Live" shows more than adequately.
With the exception of Down The Dolce Vita, which is a little bit too knowing an attempt at something different for its own good, the second side of the vinyl LP I first purchased over 30 years ago now remains to this day a highlight of this great man's career.
Slowburn is simply amongst the best that Gabriel ever released, inside or outside Genesis. Wagner's guitar cannot be praised highly enough (it is simply to die for), and the rest of the band excel in both quieter and rockier passages backing a simply superb vocal and lyric that drags Gabriel, gloriously, back into Rael territory in its telling of a forlorn and doomed troupe.
Waiting For The Big One is another palpable attempt to move away from the Genesis heritage, but this one is more successful. The idea, in 1975, that Gabriel could possibly record what is, at heart, an old-fashioned blues number, was unthinkable, and it is enlivened by some great guitar work in the solo bursts.
The album closer, though, saves the best until last. I am one of the few, I think, who believes that the solo Gabriel with piano and vocals version of Here Comes The Flood is better than the original heard here, but that statement is absolutely not made to denigrate at all the sheer beauty of this piece of music. It is, perhaps, the earliest example of Gabriel's later infatuation with bringing us stories of unsung heroes, those who willingly give up their lives and liberty for those less fortunate. The lyrics that expand the story are so painfully beautiful. "Stranded starfish have no place to hide", "and as the nail sunk in the cloud, the rain was warm and soaked the crowd", "we'll say goodbye to flesh and blood", "it'll be those who gave their islands to survive, drink up dreamers, you're running dry". I could go on, but how such poetry can be transformed to such evocative music is, to me, the stamp of a true genius.
There will be people reading this who love classic Genesis but, for whatever reason, are reticent to explore the career of solo Gabriel because of mixed ratings. Don't be. The man is a truly exceptional artist, and this was the start of a very long and deeply satisfying journey. It has its faults, but, ultimately, its merits far outweigh those. An excellent addition to any prog rock collection.
This album is a historical one in a few respects. It was to prove to be Steve Hackett's swansong in a band to which he had given so much. It was deliberately intended to mark an epoch in the band's career by providing fans with a definitive handover from the "classic" era to a new, simpler, era under the direction of the three remaining members. It was, also, the tour (combined with Yes Going For The One) that finally persuaded the late John Peel that prog was, as an artistic force, dead and buried, and he went on to champion the emergent punk rock movement.
Wow, that's a lot of history associated with just one double live album. But does it live up to this in terms of performance? The answer is a resounding yes. This is THE definitive Genesis live album, although I would here mention the one gripe that I have with this, and other official live releases by the band, and that this also has barely any interaction between Collins and the audience, in the same way as the interaction by Gabriel in Live is minimal. In truth, of course, Collins was an excellent frontman, always telling stories, jokes, and inviting the audience to participate.
This, though, is a minor quibble. The album features five tracks from Trick Of The Tail and Wind & Wuthering, including quite easily the finest version of Afterglow ever committed to tape, and seven from the Gabriel era. Thus, it features a live catalogue of the band's career from Trespass to W & W. Yes, Trespass is included - listen to the instrumental passage within I Know What I Like, and you will hear the instrumental from Stagnation. The last tour still featured this, by the way.
Given that Suppers Ready was acknowledged by Gabriel to be his early period masterpiece in terms of one track (The Lamb being the successor in album form), it was a mighty brave thing for Collins to throw himself into it with such aplomb, and it is pulled off fantastically well. In addition to this, the closing section of The Musical Box pulls off the almost impossible task of beating the original live album for sheer intensity, scope, and emotion.
There is not a weak moment here. This is the sound of a band who have sweated blood over years to arrive as probably the finest live band in the world. This is also, by the way, the sound of the band at the precise moment when I fell in love with them, a love affair that remains to this day.
A pleasure to listen to from start to finish, and fully worthy of the ultimate accolade. The one live album every self-respecting prog collection should include.
On this 1977 release, Supertramp recovered from the relatively average Crisis, What Crisis? and produced an album that gave us all that very rare beast - an album dripping with classic prog yet instantly accessible. It also garnered commercial success for the band, including a hit single in the album opener, Give A Little Bit, a Hodgson track which is wonderfully catchy and relentlessly upbeat. It is, actually, a nice way to open as a comparison to the contrasting downbeat mood on the predecessor album.
As per usual, there are the entirely separate Davies & Hodgson compositions, and, equally as per usual, it is easy to dismiss the former as being the throwaway compositions. That would be unfair. Lover Boy is an amusing, and very well performed, piece of whimsy about an erstwhile playboy. Downstream is a lovely piece of music, taking the listener on a quiet barge down a lovers’ river trip. It is, of course, quintessentially English, somewhat ironic given the band's now permanent residence in America.
However, Davies saves his best for his last track on the album, From Now On. This is an utterly superb composition, and right up there with his best from Crime. It proves once again that Davies is at his best when writing and performing tracks rooted in real life social experiences, in this case the drab reality of working-class life and worthlessness in 1970's Great Britain, but twisted with a wonderful irony of the subject dreaming of a life of luxury and riches. Davies sings his heart out, especially when stating that he will be losing everything he has. As with a lot of classics, this is a simple song brilliantly executed, and is up there with the band's best. Helliwell's solo is wonderfully mournful, and the climax builds to a huge crescendo.
So, to Hodgson. As stated before, the opening hit single is a joy. The title track is beautifully produced and performed (get the remastered CD for the full effect), with one of the best oboe performances in the history of prog. Its mood is in complete contrast to Give A Little Bit - Hodgson drips with mournful regret at his lot in life, although I really do think that Davies is more convincing in the fact that his contributions are rooted in real life, as opposed to this being a mere fantasy whinge.
Babaji is fun without coming anywhere near classic status, and is, I believe, the result of Hodgson moving onto his religious cult camp stage, where he met his wife. Hippies are us, I suppose.
However, he, too, saves his very best until last. Album closer, Fool's Overture, is a genuine prog classic, a powerhouse of a track which gives a lie to those who believe that all the band did was short nonsense. Right from the first, bluesy piano opening, to the electric finale, this track oozes class, brilliant orchestration, and symphonic joy. It is also one of those pieces of music which really allows the listener to take from it whatever meaning he/she wishes. My take on this is the folly of politicians, their wars, and general preponderance to make life miserable for the ordinary person, but whatever it means, Churchill makes a grand entrance in the Never Surrender speech, and Hodgson proves that he, too, is at his very best when he sings with real passion and conviction. The band never sounded better backing him, especially Thomson on bass during the "rip it up, let's go crazy" sequence.
This is not an easy album to rate. It is, overall, an excellent piece of work, but, in my opinion, the throwaway nature of Babaji and the slight disappointment of the title track render it short of a masterpiece. It does, however, quite easily rate as an excellent album, and a very important one in the band's and genre's history.
If you don't have it, then this one comes very highly recommended.
This is the first solo release by former Genesis guitarist Phillips, some six years following his departure from the band owing to severe stage fright. In Armando Gallo's definitive biography of the band, he cites this album as being the reason why he ached at the fact that Phillips had left his favourite band. That is, in my opinion, mightily unfair to Steve Hackett, who made a tremendous contribution in a unique fashion. However, you can see why Gallo made the comment, because this is, undoubtedly, a magnificent piece of work, one that makes you wonder why vast commercial success has eluded this incredibly talented man.
There is, of course, a very strong Genesis connection at play here. Mike Rutherford contributes both musically and in production, whilst Phil Collins gives lie to all those who think he cannot sing by appearing on two beautifully performed tracks, and John Hackett, Steve's brother, also contributes with his distinctive and perfect flutes.
This album embodies, to me, just about the perfect combination of pastoral, symphonic, classical English progressive rock. Without a shadow of a doubt, the quite incredible Henry: Portraits from Tudor Times was a direct influence on much of the medieval themes that Ritchie Blackmore was to develop with the excellent Blackmore's Night, and if you are an admirer of that type of folk prog, you will find yourself falling deeply in love with this fourteen-minute opus. Proof positive that you do not need raging guitars or swirling keyboards in order to create a symphonic, pastoral masterpiece. Just combine a virtuoso guitarist and, in a move that surprised many, also an extremely talented multi-instrumentalist, with a strong sense of classical music, and a host of classical and talented musicians, and you get just about the perfect suite. Quiet and melodic, it never once fails to excite or move the listener.
The two Collins contributions are quite brilliant. Which Way The Wind Blows is the first and is quite achingly beautiful. You leave this track wishing that Collins & Phillips had done far more work together.
The second is God If I Saw Her Now, a duet with the late, great, Viv McAuliffe, and if there has been a better male/female vocal collaboration this side of 1800, then I would like to know what it was. Gentle, but exhilarating in its mellowness, your heart aches with the vocals and lyrics with the sense of love lost, never to return. Combine this with just about the finest exhibition of acoustic guitar and flute, and you have just about the perfect love song.
About the only criticism I can offer is the almost criminal brevity that Chinese Mushroom Cloud has to offer. A dark and extremely foreboding instrumental piece that evokes said catastrophe, quite why he left it short of a minute long is rather beyond me. This leads into the two-part title track, which is wondrous. Almost deceptively simple, this track is, perhaps, the one which reminds you most strongly of the Trespass connection, certainly in some of the darker acoustic guitar passages, and the sparse, but effective, electric guitar bursts, merged with Phillips' surprisingly adept use of the mellotron, and this at a time when it was virtually a capital crime to utilise this instrument in the wake of all things punk. To prove Phillips' worth as a composer, it sounds as fresh in 2011 as it did in 1977, perhaps more than Trespass does now (although I am a big fan of that LP). The orchestration utilised, in particular woodwind, fully enhances the experience, and the second part brings us some more experimental sounds that would have been interesting in the Genesis context.
Phillips himself sings the rather lovely Collections. I would never state that he has the strongest voice, but, strangely, his voice does tend to suit his own compositions (in the main, there are exceptions in the catalogue), and this gentle vocal over piano and swirling flutes can bring no cause for complaint.
The album closes with the orchestral piece Sleepfall: The Geese Fly West, and, if you close your eyes, you can see them do so as the music concludes in a marvellous display of classical symphonic music.
Anthony Phillips' solo career has been a long one now, and he has released some exceptional works. This was the first, and it remains one of the finest albums released by any artist. An album which will appeal to all of those who appreciate the finer, classical, side of symphonic prog, this is a work which every single discerning lover of class music should own in their collection.
A masterpiece of progressive rock music. This review is, by the way, of the original vinyl release, but there is now a two CD version for sale with "extras". Get it. You won't be disappointed.
I find it staggering that I have been here so long, and yet it has taken me until now to review one of the most fundamentally important albums in my collection, and, indeed, my life.
In 1977, punk rock was raging across the UK (to a lesser extent elsewhere as well), and THE band that the gobbing yoofs decided to target more than any other was The Floyd, supposedly the epitome of dinosaur rock; boring, overlong symphonic suites, and with no relevance whatsoever to life in the depressed mid 1970's. I should add as a backdrop that Britain in 1977 was not exactly a bundle of fun. The economy had stalled, unemployment was a real issue, especially for the disaffected youth, strikes abounded, and nobody seemed to have a clue as to how to address this (if this sounds familiar to the present situation, then that is because it is). Punk was the reaction against all of this.
So, what does a band of the "old guard" go and do? Well, what they release is easily the finest punk rock album of all time. Yes, that's right, a punk rock album, because, as a teenager around this time, I remember the movement and its supposed raison d'etre very well. It was supposed to rail and rant against the established order, thus providing the kids with an outlet with which to change things.
Just listen to Dogs, quite possibly Waters' finest lyrical moment amongst a crowded field. It exemplifies the bitterness that many felt (and continue to feel) against the idol, greedy, selfish classes. Content to feed off of others’ labours, living a life of a leech, bleeding others dry until, one day, your life crimes catch up with you, and you die of the massive stroke your indulgences and life crimes deserve, unloved, and missed by none except, possibly, close family. Heavy stuff, this track, more than any other, shaped my lifetime political views.
Pigs takes the mickey perfectly out of the ruling classes (the establishment), whilst Sheep is a direct pop at the rest of us, the "ordinary" people, for following said classes like lemmings into oblivion.
Musically, it is unrelentingly gloomy, again capturing perfectly the times. Richard Wright, although not contributing a single note in the writing, performs perfectly on the keys to cast an overall cloudy feel. Gilmour is nigh on perfect, whilst Mason provides a steady hand at the tiller.
The star, though, is Waters. His bass performance is workmanlike, but this is an album that is as important, no more so, for its words as it is for a musical performance. He was, of course, revolting against the untold riches that the success of the previous two albums had brought him and his colleagues, this going against the grain of all his personal beliefs.
At the end of it all, Waters has the sound and feel of a man who has laid himself open to the world, and tries to redeem himself - "You know that I care..... what happens to you".
Pink Floyd released many albums that were easier on the ear. You simply cannot compare this to the likes of Meddle or Wish You Were Here. However, in terms of the relevance of the band in the society in which they played, this is their definitive work. It is an extremely difficult album to enjoy, but patience rewards itself amply. For when you "get it", you realise that Waters speaks for an entire generation.
This is a masterpiece of progressive, or, indeed, any other form, of rock music. Utterly essential in my opinion, and an album I will take to my dying day.
I Robot is the second opus by Parson's grandly named "Project", and is, of course, based upon the series of novels written by Sci-Fi great, Isaac Asimov. As an aside, it would have been interesting to have seen this updated alongside the later fusion by Asimov of these with his Foundation series. I digress, however.
This album, perhaps more than a lot of others, divides opinions amongst prog heads, mainly owing to two factors. Firstly, it was extremely successful commercially (never a good thing in more than a few minds), and it contains more than a splash of the prevalent commercial pop phase of the time, namely disco beats. Gasp!
If you can get past these things, and broad-minded people reading this review are more than capable of doing so, then a treat is in store.
Not only do we have an extremely well-produced work (not for nothing did Parsons twirl the Floyd knobs), but we have a marvellous fusion of the grandiose, such as on Some Other Time, electronica fused with cool beats, such as on the opening title track, pure electronic prog with Nucleus, and the wonderful, beautiful ballads which were, to me anyway, the hallmark of this entire Project over the years, and there is no better example anywhere than Day After Day, which has at its heart the most delicious Jack Harris vocal. In addition, you also have a couple of power pop rock tracks, Breakdown being perhaps the best, and it was this, of course, which gave such albums a wide commercial appeal. However, in such a mix are some decidedly sharply observed and executed dark passages, well in keeping with the subject matter.
There is a wonderful range of guest artists, and Parsons and Woolfson made this particular facet of the "experiment" last very successfully. Of note are Dave Townsend's gorgeous vocals on Don't Let It Show, a dreamy ballad, and the absolute highlight of a wonderful album, the dark, foreboding, The Voice, which simply would not have worked as well without the ridiculously talented Steve Harley at the vocal helm.
I am in the process of revisiting the collection of APP albums I own, and this is a good starting point, as it would be for anyone who wishes to explore this eclectic group of albums from a fresh perspective.
This is progressive rock music strongly tinged with knowing commercial nous and is quite superb from start to finish.