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It was the 70th anniversary of the founding of the NHS last week, with Nye Bevan making possibly the most important contribution to social democracy.

I'm incredibly happy that such an egalitarian institution has lasted so far, but I didn't get caught up in the celebrations...

By ProgBlog, Jul 9 2018 04:58PM

Britain’s National Health Service celebrated its 70th anniversary last week, having come into effect on July 5th 1948. Despite a relatively limited personal use of the Service with only one hospital stay for overnight observation following a head injury sustained during a mountaineering accident in the Lake District in 1976, and continued checks in the ophthalmology department to monitor for trauma-induced glaucoma after being hit by a squash ball in the eye in 2007, it’s good to know that a comprehensive health service, free at the point of delivery for everyone, exists in the UK. Sadly, free universal and comprehensive healthcare in the UK has been under attack for much of the last 40 years, even when Blair’s New Labour was increasing health spending by an average 5.4% per year, selling the public the idea of new hospitals (and other major projects) but actually committing the coffers in the public purse to fatally flawed PPI ventures from which hospitals in particular continue to suffer.

It’s widely remarked that the NHS has a special place in the hearts of British citizens although it’s always been highly politicised. Conceived by health minister Aneurin Bevan and introduced by Clement Attlee’s post-war Labour government, there was considerable opposition to the scheme amongst those with vested interests. Many doctors did not want to become employees of the government; hospital consultants wanted to continue to charge private patients for treatment and 64% of GPs opposed the NHS, preferring to treat patients privately, leading to the BMA to organise a campaign to ‘boot out Bevan’. Even nurses were against the plan, as it threatened their income from private family visits. Bevan finally won round doctors with the promise of new hospitals and badly needed equipment but significantly also agreed to allow doctors to continue to treat private patients in addition to their NHS work.


NHS 60th anniversary edition of Bevan's In Place of Fear
NHS 60th anniversary edition of Bevan's In Place of Fear

The Principles of the NHS:

Universal Access: The NHS was for all

Comprehensive: The NHS would treat all medical conditions. Doctors, dentists, opticians and hospital treatments would all form part of the service

Free at the point of need: Patients would not pay for treatment

The new NHS was to be paid for out of National Insurance contributions and would provide free medical services for all

Ambulance services were set up to cope with emergencies


I’ve been involved the service since 1981, one of the behind-the-scenes staff in a laboratory. Initially employed by the National Blood Transfusion Service immediately after graduation, within five years I’d expressed a few hundred litres of plasma from whole blood, pooled platelets, washed blood, made clotting factors VIII and IX, provided reagents derived from blood donations to hospitals in the South East, screened ante natal blood for antibodies to prevent haemolytic disease of the newborn and selected and crossmatched units of blood for patients requiring transfusion. I was working there in 1983 the virus responsible for AIDS was independently discovered by Gallo in the US and Barré-Sinoussi/Montagnier in France, naming the novel retrovirus HTLV-III and LAV respectively, before it became known as HIV in 1986 and, to reflect the importance of that discovery, changed the name of the band I was in at that time to HTLV-III.

In 1984 I moved to the section that covered bone marrow transplantation but after a successful two years in that post, I was told I was to be moved to a different department. Fortunately my predecessor, who had left to join the kidney transplant team at Charing Cross Hospital, was moving on again to Scotland; I applied for and was appointed to fill that vacancy, delivering a leaving party speech that criticised the management of the Transfusion Centre for virtually forcing me out. It’s satisfying but disappointing that things got much worse there after I left, all due to poor strategic decisions, in search of ‘efficiencies’.

The lab at Charing Cross was small and friendly and though much of the work was for renal transplants, we were actually part of Rheumatology. It’s good to have a different perspective and meeting professionals from other disciplines helped me see healthcare from a holistic point of view. With rumours of a pathology reorganisation circulating in 1988, a post at Guy’s Hospital offering research potential and an annual international conference proved too good to resist.


The Guy’s lab had something of a mixed reputation when I joined but within a couple of years we started to make some astute personnel changes and began to build up one of the most successful renal transplant teams in the UK, no longer treated as just a laboratory but sharing expertise with the medical and nursing teams.

The Conservatives introduced the National Health Service and Community Care Act 1990 which created an ‘internal market’ for the supply of healthcare so that the state would no longer be the main provider, but act more as an enabler, forcing local authorities to assess people for social care and support to determine a patient’s requirements and to purchase the care from providers – the new NHS Trusts. Guy’s and Lewisham joined forces and became the Tories’ flagship Trust but hospital reorganisation in London, to make the service yet more efficient, meant that the Guy’s – Lewisham partnership was dissolved and Guy’s & St Thomas’ NHS Foundation Trust, complete with a level of autonomy from the Department of Health, was created in 1993. A few years before, Guy’s had been singled out for major improvement, what was to have been the £140m Philip Harris House, a state-of-the-art seven storey wing designed to be conducive to effective healthcare. However, the inexplicable transfer of acute services to St Thomas’ Hospital, considered by many to have been a political move disguised by that reorganisation (Tommies was in a parlous state before the formation of the Foundation Trust) led to Philip Harris, a carpet magnate and Conservative Party donor withholding his £6 million from the project; the building sat empty for some time before being reassigned for outpatient services and some research facilities under the name of Thomas Guy House.


The creation of NHS Trusts immediately increased the running costs of a hospital because of the number of managers required to oversee the internal market and to control budgets. Cutting waste and making efficiencies has long been the mantra of officials but they failed to see the hypocrisy of paying management consultancies huge sums of money to produce reports to validate decisions made by hospital boards to circumvent discussion. This continued after Blair replaced John Major as PM in an attempt to show the public that New Labour was both a prudent manager of the public purse and that it was business-friendly. The machinations of GSTT managers or ministers in the Department of Health didn’t impact on me directly until 2008 when, encouraged by a government which delighted in ‘a third way’ but based on poor data collected pre-2006 for the Carter Report, it was proposed that pathology at Guy’s and St Thomas’ (also to include Bedford Hospital) should be part-privatised in a joint venture between the hospitals and outsourcing darlings Serco. Despite opposition from staff throughout the hospital and sympathy from the chair of the board of governors, the Joint Venture commenced operating under the title of GSTS Pathology on January 1st 2009 so, to ensure I couldn’t be singled out for my outspoken opposition to this development, I became a union representative and campaigned vigorously to stop all forms of NHS privatisation and the unfair treatment of staff.


Protesting against the privatisation of Pharmacy by Sainsbury's
Protesting against the privatisation of Pharmacy by Sainsbury's

GSTT was at the forefront of removing staff from its books through a series of privatisations; Pathology, the Post Room, Pharmacy, seemingly simultaneously oblivious to the wishes of staff and mounting evidence to show that in fact, privatisation was a contributory factor in declining standards of delivery of care. When the coalition government was formed in 2010 they quickly revealed a major shake-up in the provision of healthcare, Andrew Lansley’s Health and Social Care Bill (enacted in 2012), despite a Conservative manifesto pledge that there would be no NHS reorganisation. Now largely scrapped though still adversely affecting the NHS, other changes to public sector pensions and terms and conditions of work introduced by the coalition shortly after they came to power were part of a strategy to entice private sector providers to take over services; unfortunately the strategy worked, but not without seriously affecting provision of comprehensive, universal healthcare (according to a report by the NHS Support Federation, £7.1bn worth of NHS clinical contracts were awarded through an NHS tendering process in the year up to April 2017.) The changes were sold to the public as being necessary in an age of austerity but the government was defending its friends and the failed ideology that caused the collapse of the global financial system in 2008; George Osborne’s imposition of austerity measures to eradicate the budget deficit was really another strategy to break up any power remaining in the hands of the state and politicians and economists alike have criticised the approach, which is responsible for a continuing weak, low-growth economy.



On the occasion of the NHS’s 63rd birthday, I predicted that unless there was a change in administration, it would barely make it to 68. Fortunately I was wrong, though how it managed to survive the last three winter crises and a lengthy doctor’s strike is a miracle. It appears that the cuts to NHS funding have now been stopped but there’s still insufficient movement on the investment required for integrating health and social services. However much money we put into health is never going to be enough but it’s pleasing to see that the British public would accept a tax rise for the NHS. Bevan’s guiding principles for the service illustrate a willingness to eradicate inequality and what he founded may stand as the highest achievement for social democracy. To ensure his legacy continues to have a future we need to recognise the value of everyone who plays a role in healthcare provision, from the cleaners and the porters and post room staff and catering staff upwards. Jeremy Corbyn’s recent call to end the NHS internal market is also a key move, as competition between providers is likely to lead to unrealistic tenders, an uneven provision of care or a diminution of quality; the Lansley Act had the detrimental effect of splitting effective care pathways and raising costs through inefficiency.



I left Viapath (the re-branded GSTS Pathology) in 2015 to restart as an NHS employee in a different NHS Trust. Despite a national celebration of the service on its 70th birthday, I didn’t join in because the cheerleaders for the day, the higher managers who sanction privatisation of services and impose punitive sickness policies were handing out free muffins to all staff... The passion that many millions share for the NHS, despite its shortcomings, is the reason it’s still going and anyone who cares to can check that it ranks very highly on efficiency and social equity; the US with its private insurance-based system favoured by some of the more right-wing members of the Conservative party, spends far more on health per person with poorer and dreadfully inequitable outcomes.



So what’s the NHS got to do with progressive rock? Apart from the excellent band National Health (see ProgBlog’s February 2014 post National Health), it’s about the prevailing social conditions in the late 60s and the notion of equity of access; the founding of the NHS is one of the defining features of advanced social democracy, along with the provision of decent social housing, and opened the door for further democratising movements like access to higher education for students from all backgrounds. The prime movers in progressive rock appealed to the burgeoning student groups but also envisioned a better world and even attempted to challenge accepted norms through bridging the two worlds of high- and popular culture; I don’t believe that progressive rock would have developed in Britain in the same way if we’d not already made moves to make society more equal.


So the next challenge is to see how the NHS fares post-Brexit, but I agree with the words attributed to Bevan: the NHS will last as long as there’s folk with faith left to fight for it.








By ProgBlog, Jul 2 2018 04:39PM

One of my recent purchases, on a short trip out to Crystal Palace, was a £1 copy of Short Stories (1980) by Jon and Vangelis, from Bambinos in Church Road. I’d been told that this album, the debut full-length release from the duo, was quite good, but never having heard anything from it other than the single I Hear You Now, I was only really interested in it as a curio, being a fan of both Jon Anderson and Vangelis. There are moments which are reminiscent of Anderson’s solo album Olias of Sunhillow (1976), which some say has the stamp of Vangelis over it, plus plenty of vintage Vangelis soundtrack electronica. What took me by surprise was the first track Curious Electric, not because of its portentous Blade Runner-like opening bars, but the unexpected strangeness of the vocal section, with Anderson getting round to introducing the concept of ‘short stories’ after telling us he was “...sitting it out Watching "Match of the Day..."


Jon and Vangelis - Short Stories
Jon and Vangelis - Short Stories

That struck me as being quite pertinent, as we’ve just entered the knockout rounds of the World Cup and I thought I’d explore the connections between progressive rock and (association) football...

I’ve lived within shouting distance and more recently within easy walking distance of Selhurst Park for the past 32 years. I didn’t follow any particular football team when I was at school or university though I do remember changing the words of hymns in a junior school hymn book to reflect the glory of Chelsea FC who had just won the FA Cup; I later professed an admiration for Derby County, who happened to be winning the league and playing in Europe at the time. I once went to see Barrow AFC thrash Cambridge United at Holker Street when Barrow were still in the old Third Division and graffiti at the top of the Arc de Triomph proclaimed ‘BBB rule the World’, Barrow Boot Boys being the thuggish element of the Holker Street crowd. I’ve been back to Holker Street a few times since with my son Daryl and brother Richard, after I’d seriously begun to support Crystal Palace; in the 70s we were really a rugby family and I spent quite a lot of time on the terraces (and later in the stand when I was offered a free ticket) at Craven Park, home of Barrow RLFC.

So why did I start paying my hard earned money to a football club, and not a particularly fashionable club out of all the teams available in London? Palace was my local team and the noise of the crowd was easily audible from our flat in Edith Road. One drawback was the road was convenient for travelling fans, so taking the car out on a Saturday afternoon or Tuesday evening often meant parking round the corner when we returned home. Selhurst Park was so local that it genuinely felt like part of the community; the local paper had pages devoted to the team and my wife’s family were long-standing supporters. As a new home-owner I was cementing my relationship with my adoptive community.

The first match I attended was against a second-tier fixture against Reading on the 4th November 1995 and the first match I took Daryl to was against Norwich, the last home game of that season (95-96.) Richard had come down to visit to go and see a gig and the opportunity to see a football match presented itself. Richard takes his sport somewhat more seriously than me but this was also the chance to introduce a young Daryl to his local team, a father-son thing. That was such a long time ago...


Out of all the football teams, Crystal Palace has the most progressive rock sounding name. In the early-mid 80s I used to live in Crystal Palace (Upper Norwood) and it is rumoured the players used to hang out in the Holly Bush, a five minute walk up Gipsy Hill from the flat I used to live in at the time. But progressive rock doesn’t really go with football because prog isn’t about a mob mentality. When I started to go to Selhurst Park regularly I’d get tickets as close to Block A of the Lower Holmesdale stand as I possibly could, just for the vibe. This was the section frequented by the hardcore supporters and, at the time, close to the seating reserved for the away support. Detached, I’d watch the fans get carried away, frequently abusing their own team for underperforming and creating an atmosphere that had a tendency to normalise sexist, racist, homophobic and other unpalatable behaviours, despite the signs warning that the use of offensive language would result in ejection from the ground. Though it’s improved over the years, with racism pretty much eliminated from the crowd at Palace, there remains work to be done to further reduce unacceptable behaviour and unforgivable vulgarity.


CPFC season ticket
CPFC season ticket

The club may have survived in the Premier League for a run of five seasons (and counting) but the inevitable pessimism that accompanies Palace fans on the rollercoaster ride as the team yo-yos between the top two divisions, flirts with relegation into the third tier and goes into receivership, twice, and hires and fires managers runs counter to the ethos of early 70s progressive rock. Test match cricket is probably more in tune with prog, requiring patience, considerable thought, lasting five days and being incomprehensible to many. Sadly, cricket has become commercialised in the fight to survive and new forms of the game have the same relationship to former test matches as 90125-era Yes had to the classic line-up of 1972. Furthermore, pessimism associated with supporting a team, whatever the sport, seems to be an English disease.


So is there any sort of link between soccer and prog? I can’t imagine any footballer being conversant with progressive rock, although Palace goalkeeper and cult hero Julián Speroni has been known to attend the after-show parties of London heavy-rock outfit Thunder. It may be that somewhere out in Italy one of the players knows something about the genre because it's embedded in the nation’s psyche. I’m quite tempted to get a ticket for a Genoa CFC home game (the oldest club in Italy, founded 7th September 1893) next time I’m in Liguria during the football season: their strip is in the same colours as Crystal Palace and, despite nine championship titles, seem to spend their time oscillating between Serie A and Serie B.


Crystal Palace FC vs Inter Milan - pre-season friendly 270705
Crystal Palace FC vs Inter Milan - pre-season friendly 270705

Those high up in the politics of the game have attempted to make soccer more inclusive, if only to attract corporate sponsors, but I still think songs about football tend to be more rock ‘n’ roll, more Rod Stewart than King Crimson, a music more mainstream than prog, despite Focus’ Hocus Pocus being used by sportswear manufacturer Nike for an advert during the 2010 World Cup. Genesis released an out-take EP of songs that didn’t make it on to Wind and Wuthering in 1977 that included the song Match of the Day, a surprising homage to the beautiful game and an encouragement to spend your Saturday on the terraces. Back in 1973, Peter Gabriel used extensive football metaphors in The Battle of Epping Forest and, to his great credit, held an anti-apartheit festival at Selhurst Park in 1983, but Match of the Day from the Spot the Pigeon EP (its cover sleeve displaying a photo from a spot the ball competition) was a straightforward song about football as lifestyle; Genesis even managed to get in a football reference in Mad Man Moon from A Trick of the Tail “...For a gaol can give you a goal and a goal can find you a role / On a muddy pitch in Newcastle...”


There is a photo of a Pink Floyd FC on the cover of A Nice Pair and a related photo, with cheerleaders, in Nick Mason’s personal history of Pink Floyd, Inside Out. This is dated January 1972 and depicts the team about to take on opponents made up of members from Family.

Rick Wakeman is a confessed football addict. It may have been his influence, but a photo from the Yes biography, Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes by Chris Welch shows Yes United, from 1976. This is likely to have been at the time when soccer was starting to take off in the USA, and Wakeman, along with 10 others, bought the franchise for the Philadelphia Furys. He was instrumental in getting a number of former UK stars to go over to the States, including Alan Ball, Peter Osgood and Johnny Giles. His admiration for Brentford FC, first made public in the booklet that accompanied Fragile, led him to become a director of the club in 1979 for a year though when an Isle of Man resident he seemed to shift his affections to Manchester City. Jon Anderson was also a committed football fan and even went for a trial at his local boyhood club, Accrington Stanley but was turned down because he was too small, though he remained a loyal supporter.


Yes United (photo by Scott Weiner, in Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes)
Yes United (photo by Scott Weiner, in Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes)

I’m an advocate of using sport as a democratic lever, much as I once naively thought progressive rock could contribute towards creating greater peace and understanding throughout the world. Systemic corruption of world football’s governing body was exposed in 2015 but it seems to me that there’s been insufficient change in the stewardship of the organisation since Sepp Blatter’s election run for a fifth term as president was wrecked by the arrests of FIFA executives for the ‘World Cup of fraud’. FIFA pays a low rate of tax in Switzerland due to its Charity status and has also been accused of enabling tax evasion, but it’s in the stands of grounds up and down the country where fans can directly witness the effects of ineffectual governance: the appointment of owners unfit to run a club; pricing many true supporters away from watching their team; the empty corporate seats after half time; and over-rewarding players in an age of austerity. I‘m in favour of the English FA attempting to set up a rival governing body and once Russia was confirmed as host nation for the competition this year, thought that a general boycott of the World Cup (and the Sochi Winter Olympics in 2014) might have had some genuine influence over the direction of Russia’s foreign policy. To avoid any charge of hypocrisy, I ought to highlight the UK's role in human rights abuses, clearly set out in a recent report by the parliamentary intelligence and security committee.



However, I’m pleasantly surprised how well the competition has been managed, apparently without intimidation or violence. I’m still concerned that the globalisation of the game and the concomitant awarding of ‘official partners’ and branding rights subverts the democratic running of world football and increases the divide between the players and the fans and I'm desperate for real change.

Prog? I don't think so. Football is stadium rock, corporate rock, not prog.


(Part of this piece was originally posted on ProgBlog as 'Match of the Day' on 13th January 2014)










By ProgBlog, Jun 26 2018 02:59PM



It doesn’t take much to get me on an aeroplane to Italy, but the promise of a good band is an added incentive. The last trip to Milan for the FIM Fiera Internazionale della Musica was primarily about getting to see Anekdoten, something of a coup for the Black Widow Records-organised Prog On evening, with a support slot from La Fabbrica dell’Assoluto whose excellent 1984: L’Ultimo Uomo d’Europa was added to my record collection earlier this year. I’d also been informed that the third band on the bill, Hollowscene, was another amazing symphonic prog band well worth looking out for.


Originally a duo called Banaau formed in 1990 by guitar player Andrea Massimo and keyboard player Lino Cicala, they recruited drummer Davide Quacquarella and bassist player Dino Pantaleo to perform long-form suites inspired by T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men and The Love Story of J Alfred Prufrock and Edgar Allan Poe’s The Conqueror Worm, but didn’t spend any time recording the material. There was a hiatus following the departures of Quacquarella and Pantaleo lasting from the early 90s until 2011 when the pair met again and agreed to continue working on songs written by Massimo during that almost 20 year gap. In 2015 they officially re-emerged as a septet, augmented by Andrea Zani on keyboards, Elton Novara on guitar, Tony Alemanno on bass guitar and bass pedals, Matteo Paparazzo on drums and Demetra Fogazza playing flute and adding vocals, and released a highly-acclaimed 20 minute-long EP The Burial inspired by The Burial of the Dead, the first of five sections of T.S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922).


For their first full-length album, Massimo and Cicala changed the band name to Hollowscene and replaced Novara with guitarist Walter Kesten. The new moniker recalls T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men but is also a play on the current geological era, the Holocene, and could even allude to the general state of music, a hollow scene. Once again, this features a lengthy concept, a five-part suite Broken Coriolanus and the album also includes a reworked version of The Worm, one of their original compositions, plus a cover version of The Moon is Down, a 1971 Gentle Giant song taken from Acquiring the Taste.


‘Broken Coriolanus’ is another T.S. Eliot reference, appearing in line 215 of The Waste Land:


Only at nightfall, aethereal rumours

Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus


This itself is a reference to Shakespeare’s tragedy Coriolanus, based on the life of the legendary Roman general Caius Marcius Coriolanus who, following military success against uprisings challenging the government of Rome becomes active in politics. A proud, rude but genuine character whose nature, according to Menenius in the play


...is too noble for the world:

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident,

Or Jove for’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth:

What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent


Such a temperament made him unsuited to popular leadership and he is quickly deposed but, being true, he sets about trying to right wrongs in his own way and is forced to choose between his pride and his love for his family, ultimately bringing about his sad death.


Through no fault of theirs, Hollowscene’s performance in Milan was disrupted by a change to the published running order and a shortage of time during the soundcheck. I was expecting them to be the second act to play, following Prowlers, allowing them plenty of time to complete the entire Broken Coriolanus suite but they were actually the first band on stage which meant I missed their first track. What I did hear soon dispelled any disappointment because it was first-class symphonic prog that reminded me alternately of Tony Bank’s keyboard work for Genesis and, perhaps because of the double keyboards, occasional jazz phrasing of the guitar and the flute, National Health circa 1978. When they were rather hastily removed from the stage without completing their full scheduled set, presumably to keep the evening running to time, many of the audience were rather disbelieving; I’d just have to wait to get to hear the album.


I picked up a copy of the CD at the gig and the moment you click play it’s obvious that this is a very fine piece of rock progressivo Italiano. First track Welcome to Rome is simultaneously modern-sounding and a classic progressive rock piece. It begins with a fairly brief sinuous synthesizer and guitar line in an uncompromising time signature and gives way to a military rhythm which is very fitting with the theme, just before the vocals begin over harmonic flute lines. You get the immediate impression that it’s an uplifting (welcoming!) song, aided by fluent synth parts, yet there’s a rhythmical complexity underlying the entire piece. All the singing on the album is in well-delivered English. Massimo has a good voice that suits the story-telling requirements of the music; he’s not over-flashy and confines himself to a fairly narrow range, but he sings with a studied confidence. The group have a full, well-balanced sound, both live and on disc, and it’s clear that Genesis, Steve Hackett and Banks in particular, are a major influence.

A Brave Fellow follows in much the same vein; highly melodic, again with the same clean lead guitar which gives way to some excellent synth. A flute passage gives way to emotive piano and vocals, with constantly changing instrumentation and sounds. When the second set of vocals finish, they’re followed by an eerie synth with a staccato rhythm, replaced by organ that harks back to classic 70’s progressivo Italiano; slightly threatening, building gradually towards the denouement.

Traitor is played with a slightly increased tempo. It’s a predominantly vocal piece punctuated by relatively short but tasteful guitar breaks, the second, soaring, more lengthy than the first. That’s not to say there isn’t a great deal going on underneath the singing; there are busy keyboard parts, some strong melodic flute and the contrast of a short burst of more breathy flute.

Slippery Turns is more sedate than the previous track, beginning with more of the emotive piano and vocals before being joined by flute. It departs from the expected with a passage in Japanese from Atsumori, a classical musical drama by Zeami Motokiyo who lived from around the late 14th century to the mid 15th century, narrated by Takehiro Ueki:


Human life lasts only 50 years, Contrast human life with life of Geten, It is but a very dream and illusion. Once they are given life from god, there is no such thing don't perish


Atsumori was a 16 year-old killed in the battle of Ichi-no-Tani in 1184 who is said to have carried a flute into battle, evidence of his peaceful, courtly nature as well as his youthfulness and naïveté. Eliot is believed to have invoked Coriolanus for The Waste Land as an allusion to death in battle.

The tone on the Japanese-spoken section is solemn but gives way to one of Hollowscene’s trademark guitar breaks. Massimo speaks the last section over another staccato rhythm that reminds me of Watcher of the Skies, without the Mellotron, but with some bright synth.

Rage and Sorrow is a mini-epic and, at a little over 13 minutes, the longest track on the CD. The development of the composition takes in the full range of keyboard sounds you’d associate with prog and there’s a really good balance between vocal and instrumental passages. Fogazza takes on shared lead vocal duties at the beginning of the piece, which I thought were reminiscent of Amanda Parsons singing on National Health; a strong, clear, unaffected voice.

A truly dynamic conclusion to the concept, one of the sections that most transports me is an emotive 12 string guitar accompanied by highly melodic flute akin to the classic Genesis sound on Foxtrot or Selling England by the Pound but throughout the track the twin guitars really work well, with nice angular riffs providing a framework for the vocal melody lines.


The Worm commences with an extended passage of gorgeous early Crimson-like flute, floating above picked guitar chords and keyboard washes which I think represents the best of progressive rock. The keyboard line which is introduced prior to the vocals is closer to neo-prog, perhaps reflecting the era in which the song was originally written, demonstrating that Hollowscene aren’t simply attempting to recreate a 70’s vibe but selecting suitable references to make some outstanding modern symphonic prog. The song undergoes a number of tempo changes, injecting a sense of urgency with the use of triplets and even gets quite dark.

Gentle Giant’s The Moon is Down is relatively sparse, containing brief flashes of texture, with phased clarinet, sax and multi-tracked vocals and a relatively urgent instrumental middle section which could be seen as a template for the GG medieval sound; Hollowscene stamp their own form on the song with different instrumentation, beginning the piece with piano and flute but using fuzzed guitar behind the vocals, adding lead synthesizer to their middle section. It’s a nice nod to one of the classic 70s progressive rock bands.



The band have used the same cover image for the Burial EP and Hollowscene, taken by acknowledged master photographer Ernesto Fantozzi in 1961. The photo appears to be a view towards the Via Biscegli in Milan from the west or south west where the frozen ground fits the imagery of Eliot’s opening lines for The Waste Land. This attention to detail reflects the care in which the album has been put together. It’s altogether a really satisfying and very fine piece of work.


Hollowscene by Hollowscene is available on Black Widow Records BWR207









By ProgBlog, Jun 18 2018 03:41PM

In addition to progressive rock, I harbour an interest in architecture and last Saturday I signed up to a London Society lecture by Urban Design academic Dr Jane Clossick ‘The Plan for London and the Concrete Better World’ at London Metropolitan University. Highlighting her talk with pertinent case studies to explore themes of civic, economic, social and architectural change, she began with Abercrombie’s Plan for London (1943-44) which represented a shift from cities simply growing around people to the modernist notion that man was able to plan the city using the view from above, with pedestrians and vehicles spatially separated and distinct zones for industry, commerce and housing, with the housing soaring above the smog of the city. Her enthusiasm for this unique phase in the history of the capital’s architecture and how it has left its indelible print on the urban grain of the city was not a straightforward paean to concrete because she was dismissive of some of the social housing schemes, citing the deliberate design of spaces which had not historically featured in neighbourhoods and how these became the focal points for antisocial behaviour; what she did admire was the idea of the Southbank which facilitated access to high culture for all social strata.



I’ve previously blogged about the mistaken idea that progressive rock was elitist, personally believing that efforts to bridge high culture with popular culture coincided with a flourishing of civic architecture in concrete and that a wave of expansion of higher education institutions, often featuring iconic buildings in concrete, created a particular zeitgeist that allowed prog to develop. I found myself surrounded by the former-imprinted concrete of the Southbank again last week, to hear the BBC Concert Orchestra conducted by Michael Seal performing pieces for David Bedford at 80 at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. Bedford died from lung cancer aged 74, in October 2011; he would have been 80 this August.



Bedford was one of the foremost proponents of providing universal access to high culture, whether through his best known work, orchestrating Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells and his time as arranger and keyboard player for Kevin Ayres’ The Whole World or with his approach to composition; charts using pictures, rather than staves and notes and advocacy for unusual instrumentation, employing balloons, kazoos and even suggesting at one time that cans of dog biscuits were just as good as maracas.

One of the pieces last Tuesday was Orchestral Tubular Bells, marking a return to the Queen Elizabeth Hall for Bedford with Oldfield’s music; Bedford played keyboards for an ensemble created to promote Tubular Bells in the Hall a month after it had been released in 1973, alongside Oldfield and a cast of musicians associated with Virgin Records, including John Greaves and Fred Frith of Henry Cow and Steve Hillage from Gong.


My interest in the work of Bedford was first sparked by Oldfield’s 1974 sophomore release Hergest Ridge when I bought it in 1975. It remains my favourite Oldfield album, largely because it seems to have been influenced by the style of Romantic composers, its development and execution aided by supplementary musicians playing instruments associated with classical orchestras. Around this time I’d have also picked up the sleeve of Star’s End (1974) and later Instructions for Angels (1977) while browsing in record stores, though I never bought either record. In my opinion, developed over the last 45 years, Bedford’s scoring and arrangement for Camel’s Music Inspired by The Snow Goose (1975) is the best example of seamless blending of rock group and orchestra but it was The Song of the White Horse, a piece originally commissioned for BBC TV’s Omnibus and aired in 1978 which most made me appreciate his music. The programme showed Bedford in the process of writing, rehearsing and recording the score as well as performing it, interspersed with footage of him riding his motorcycle along the route of the Ridgeway to the White Horse at Uffington, his inspiration for the commission. He utilised a small ensemble with brass and strings, borrowed Soft Machine’s Mike Ratledge to help out on keyboards, and used the hand-picked female Queen’s College choir from his place of work and even employed another avant garde innovation, helium gas to increase the pitch of Diana Coulson’s vocals by around two octaves (speed of sound in air = 331 m/s; speed of sound in helium = 972 m/s) as the piece reached a climax of the libretto, GK Chesterton’s poem The Ballad of the White Horse celebrating King Alfred's victory over the Danes at the Battle of Englefield in 870.

The White Horse dates from around the Bronze Age, created by carving trenches into the hillside which were filled with crushed chalk. Part of a wider ancient landscape which includes the Blowing Stone, a perforated sarsen stone used in Bedford’s composition, the horse can be seen from miles away, as though leaping across the head of a dramatic, dry valley. One of my friends from university may have bought the Instructions for Angels LP in lieu of The Song of the White Horse, because the latter wasn’t available until 1983. It wasn’t until much later that I started to collect Bedford’s music; first a 1977 live recording of The Odyssey on CD which is a relatively formal rock piece, then Star Clusters, Nebulae & Places in Devon/The Song of the White Horse (1983) located at a second-hand vinyl fair in Brighton, and then The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1975), first on CD and subsequently on vinyl from a Brighton flea market.


Seduced by the promise of a performance of The Orchestral Tubular Bells though quite happy to experience any of Bedford’s music I’d not heard, I signed up to the concert well over a year ago; it was only later that I learned that we’d also be treated to Alleluia timpanis, Symphony No.1, and a guest composition, the world premiere of A Little Bit of Everything by Robin Rimbaud aka Scanner.

Alleluia timpanis was commissioned for the King’s Lynn Festival in 1976 and incorporates the medieval Alleluia psallat theme, a joyous, uplifting refrain that interrupts, and contrasts with an ominous four-note descending line that is varied, developed and inverted throughout the piece, which forms the finale of Instructions for Angels. It was a rather good introduction to the evening.


Programme notes written by Bedford’s daughter Tammy explain why Scanner’s work was included that evening; any celebration of his work had to include an acknowledgement of his support for fellow composers throughout his life, so commissioning someone whose compositional style was different from her father’s but who would be inspired by Bedford’s work, fitted in neatly with the idea of his 80th anniversary. Tammy Bedford had known Scanner since 2002 and was aware of his works created in response to other musicians, but also that he respected her father’s work, so he was invited to write a piece for the concert. Interviewed just before the composition was premiered, Scanner explained that A Little Bit of Everything wasn’t a cover version or arrangement of Bedford’s music, but used phrases from the works, much like Bedford himself had borrowed from other texts such as the Worcester Fragments in Alleluia timpanis, and presenting a form of time travel, highlighting the exploratory nature of Bedford’s compositions and combining the orchestra with live electronics played by Scanner himself, closing with synthesizers in a nod to Bedford’s use of the instrument in the mid 70s. The stage was mostly cleared for this piece, leaving only a small chamber orchestra with Scanner towards the edge of the platform on the left. In good Bedford tradition, the music brought the best out of the players, sounding fairly challenging though ultimately very satisfying. The one drawback was that from my seat, the electronics were a little under-mixed.


When I first took my seat and saw the musicians appear I was a little surprised that a conventional orchestra was being used for a celebration of David Bedford; it was less surprising to see multi-instrumentalist, composer, instrument designer and Stick Men guitarist Markus Reuter, whose compositions share some traits with Bedford’s, sitting in the row behind. For those who like their avant-garde, there had been a performance of Bedford’s Balloon Music 1 in the foyer using members of the public before the concert proper but Symphony No. 1 (1984) conforms to a more traditional compositional style than the works associated with his atonal avant-garde output and rock (specifically crossover prog), employing a strongly melodic, tonal approach. Sitting in the third row was the first time I’d been close enough to an orchestra to relate to the instrumentation with a clear view of the ensemble slightly raised above the floor of the auditorium. The BBC Concert Orchestra is not the biggest, with around 60 members on stage, but I found that being able to discern its organisation was helpful in discriminating how the piece had been scored, how the overall composition fitted together, and even how Bedford had so successfully blended Camel’s melodic progressive rock with (an unnamed) orchestra which I now see has his stamp all over it.



Orchestras have changed very little in composition during the course of the 20th century, having expanded in the 18th and 19th centuries, the size and make-up dictated by the writing of prominent composers of the time who were in turn largely influenced by the possibilities of the instruments available to them. The clarinet was not invented until around the turn of the 18th century, so it doesn’t appear in accurate renditions of Baroque music and valves for brass instruments were not invented until the early 19th century, at which point there was a rapid growth in both the number and the prominence of trumpets and horns, coinciding with the Romantic period. As the number of woodwind, brass, and percussion instruments increased, the size of each string section also increased in order to balance the output of the different sections of the orchestra.


Orchestral Tubular Bells was everything that I’d hoped for. I hadn’t heard the album since around the time of its release, but had to agree with the comment from Neil Jellis, who had organised the tickets for the evening, that if you hadn’t heard the original, the music could well have been a classical composition. It’s possible that Bedford’s arrangement, while true to the recording, was the spur to Oldfield’s remastering of the classic album in 2009 in an attempt to bring out buried layers; the orchestral version does this so well. One of the very few weak spots on the original, as much for the stomping rhythm as the vocals, is the ‘Piltdown Man’ section on side two, a nod to the perceived belief it was necessary to have singing on the album, which is covered much better by an orchestra. Another of the highlights was the guest appearance of Steve Hillage on guitar. There’s a brilliant YouTube clip of Hillage with the London Philharmonic playing Orchestral Tubular Bells at the Royal Albert Hall in 1974, causing consternation or confusion (or both) for one of the double bassists. Invited to play the music again, he had swapped his Stratocaster for a Steinberg GL2T, lost the woolly hat and wore his hair at a more conventional length. After a cautious start he provided a surprisingly clean-toned blues-heavy solo, before switching on the distortion and giving us a tantalising glimpse of his trademark glissando guitar at the end of his appearance. He left the stage to rousing applause while the orchestra ploughed into the Sailor’s Hornpipe section, and they too were given an ovation that may have taken some of them by surprise.



The possibilities afforded to composers since the birth of electronic instruments together with a willingness to explore different fields ensured that formal music progressed. The appropriation of classical music forms by rock musicians from the late 60s onwards marked the birth of progressive rock. David Bedford was equally at home in both camps, at the forefront of a movement ensuring that all forms of music could be appreciated by everyone and anyone.









By ProgBlog, Jun 11 2018 01:43PM



The resurgence of prog in the 90s was in no small part down to two seminal Swedish bands, Änglagård and Anekdoten. Änglagård’s Hybris (1992) was on my wish list for a couple of years before I managed to get hold of a reissued CD in 2014 for a sensible price from a stall at the Prog Résiste festival in Soignies, when up until that point the CD was selling for in excess of £30 on Amazon, but I first bought Anekdoten’s Vemod (1993) as a download in 2010 having read somewhere that the album sounded like King Crimson would have done had they not ‘ceased to exist’ after Red, due to their use of Mellotron; the album title, which roughly translates to ‘melancholy’, is very fitting. Wheel would have fitted very nicely on Red, especially as it includes cornet played by guest musician Pär Ekström.

I managed to see Änglagård on their first ever UK performance at the Resonance Festival later in 2014, something of a coup for the organisers of the event, and was more than impressed, subsequently being given Epilog (1995) and 2014’s Prog på Svenska - Live in Japan as presents. My wife traditionally asks if there’s any music she can get me on her annual New York trip, so on the occasion a month after buying the download, I asked her to look out for a physical copy of Vemod. Unable to locate a copy in a record store-depleted Manhattan, she phoned me from the States to tell me the bad news but that she had seen Anekdoten‘s 2009 2CD compilation Chapters and asked would I like that instead? I said yes. I then added Nucleus (1995) to my wish list and that arrived as a Christmas present in 2011. I’m attracted to the density and darkness of the music, and fully agree with the imagined post-Red King Crimson theory, so when Massimo Gasperini, the owner of Black Widow Records in Genoa contacted me to say he’d signed up Anekdoten to headline his Prog On evening at the FIM Fiera della Musica in Milan, it proved difficult to resist.




My experience of the FIM Fiera was in 2014, one of three times it was held in Genoa, where the line-up of bands for the prog stage over three days was really stellar, indicating the importance of the city for Italian prog. In 2016 and 2017 the Fiera was held in Erba (near Como) due to redevelopment of Genoa’s exhibition site and landed in Milan, at the Piazza città di Lombardia (the largest covered square in Europe) this year, with Prog On and other more formal presentations held in the adjacent Auditorium Testori.



This being a family trip, I’d identified a couple of other nearby cities to visit, to tick off more medieval squares and interesting churches, but the day of our arrival was dedicated to Milan. We wandered off towards the FIM venue via the Porta Nuova development, just to see what was around, immediately coming across the Black Widow Records stand where Massimo pointed out the one drawback with the piazza – June sunlight streaming in through the glass canopy and no shade. He then gave me a preview of the Auditorium Testori where ex-PFM guitarist Franco Mussida was giving a lecture to local schoolchildren, Cos'è davvero la Musica? (What really is music?); education in all aspects of music was a major part of the theme this year and Mussida, born in Milan in 1947, founded the CPM Music Institute in 1984, an organisation that offers 400 different programmes in music from certified instrumental courses to journalism to studio techniques.




It’s impossible to visit Black Widow Records, wherever it pops up, and not buy anything. I couldn’t say no to an LP I’d been interested in since I’d seen it had been re-issued by BTF earlier this year: a vinyl copy of Concerto delle Mente, the only release by Pholas Dactylus from 1973. I also bought re-issued vinyl copies of Museo Rosenbach’s Zarathustra (1973) and the pre-Goblin Cherry Five (1975) by Cherry Five and picked up the just-released Broken Coriolanus by Hollowscene (formerly Banaau) who were on the Prog On bill.

The day of the gig was mostly spent in Pavia, a short train journey away from Milan though I popped into Libraccio, the book and record store next to our hotel to buy Maxophone’s La Fabbrica delle Nuvole from 2017 and a Record Store Day picture disc of Tormato by Yes. We had lunch in Pavia’s Piazza della Vittoria looking out at the Broletto, the 13th Century town hall, then wandered off in search of Matrix Music only to find it had recently moved, to within 50m of where we’d had lunch, right by the cathedral. They were still unpacking and stacking when we visited and, because it’s getting ever more difficult to find progressivo Italiano that I don’t already own, I only bought a copy of King Crimson’s Live in Vienna CD from earlier this year.


Back in Milan, I set out to the FIM Fiera after a bite to eat and headed for the Black Widow stall, correctly believing that I might be able to find a copy of Vemod on vinyl but also buying the recently-released Rings of Earthly... Live CD by Ancient Veil. I couldn’t find anywhere to buy the album on-line but the band is on the Black Widow label and Black Widow were promoters of the two gigs at Genoa’s La Claque where the performances were recorded; my applause features throughout this release because I was present at both of those concerts.

While hanging around Black Widow I was introduced to another Genovese band, Fungus Family, whose music sits somewhere between the prog and psyche camps and relies on improvisation then, just as we were chatting en route to the beer tent, I bumped into Mauro Serpe and Giorgio Boleto, respectively the vocalist/flautist and bassist from Panther & C. Deep in conversation with Fungus Family about their forthcoming album and an unannounced change in running order meant that I missed some of Hollowscene’s set but what I heard was impressive – some nice Tony Banks-like synth runs and some moments of complexity akin to National Health. Prowlers, hailing from nearby Bergamo, have had a stop-start career and have been releasing music since 1994. Their Prog On performance featured songs from last year’s Navigli Riflessi but, apart from their last song which had sections in 7/4, they didn’t really conform to prog and the performance lacked dynamism. This was disappointing when you consider that in the past they recorded versions of Camel’s First Light and ELP’s The Sage for tribute albums. The contrast with La Fabbrica dell’Assoluto, on next, couldn’t have been greater. Plying their brand of heavy, high energy prog tinged with psychedelia and utilising a vast array of keyboard patches, the passion associated with RPI was forcefully clear; apart from drummer Michele Ricciardi they even dressed up in boiler suits to perform, a humorous reference to the band name. Witnessing them play live made me think of Museo Rosenbach, something I’d not really detected while listening to the record 1984: L’Ultimo uomo d’Europa. I spoke to the band at the end of the evening to congratulate them on an excellent set and, like all the other members of Italy’s prog community I’ve met, they were really easy-going and a pleasure to chat to.



Anekdoten have recently expanded to a five piece with the addition of British guitarist Marty Willson-Piper, best known for his work with Australian band The Church, but who was a guest on Anekdoten’s 2015 album Until All the Ghosts are Gone, and his playing adds even more depth to the sound. Communicating largely in English, the audience was reminded that 2018 was the 25th anniversary of Vemod so we were treated to not just a good proportion of the album, but Anna Sofi Dahlberg also played cello, something they’d not used live for some time. Though there’s a progression from foreboding, brooding dark prog to almost Radiohead-like post-rock through the albums, with each subsequent release involving a subtle change, I still prefer Vemod to the others when many commentators see Nucleus as their definitive release as it includes more mature writing than its predecessor, so I was very happy with the set list. The Rickenbacker bass, seemingly something of a staple in Scandinavian bands, provided by Jan Erik Liljeström along with the drumming of Peter Nordins are equally as important as Nicklas Barker’s angular guitar lines played over Dahlberg’s Mellotron (which was under-mixed for the first couple of songs) in defining the band’s sound. I personally prefer Liljeström’s singing to Barker’s because it complements the plaintive lyrics, much like John Wetton on Fallen Angel. Willson-Piper’s guitar provided extra density (if that’s possible) but he also helped out on percussion duties when his guitar was not required, and generally served as a source of energy propelling the ensemble onwards. My favourite moments were The Old Man and the Sea and Karelia but it was an all-round excellent performance; a major triumph for Massimo Gasperini (who was thanked by the band) and well worth the trip to Milan.



I was also very pleasantly surprised to see prog-fixer Marina Montobbio who had made the trip across from Genoa. Slipping easily between Italian, French and English she was involved in highlighting Plongée au coeur du rock progressif italien by Louis de Ny, a French book about Italian prog, and trying to persuade me to attend the 2 Days of Prog + 1 Festival in Veruno in September.

Fortunately it was only a short walk back to the hotel so I managed to get a decent night’s sleep despite an early start the next day: a trip to Bologna. This was mainly for the architecture because the record stores were all closed, and to see if it was worth a longer visit (it is.) Our flight home on Monday was late in the evening, the last flight out of Malpensa which meant we had time to explore some more. Monza was about the right distance away so we spent a full afternoon there. Though quite pleasant, I wouldn’t have recommended anyone making a special trip there if we hadn’t visited Carillon Dischi. A fifteen minute walk away from the centre under humid June skies, Carillon is another of the brilliant record shops that you find in small Italian cities; walls lined with classic rock and prog posters, plenty of vinyl and CDs including some rarities, a good range of memorabilia, plus a friendly, helpful and knowledgeable owner, Massimo. Browsing was restricted by train times, otherwise I’d have listened to some first US tour live King Crimson, I bought Un Biglietto del Tram by Storm Six (1975), something I’ve been after for a few months and an In the Court of the Crimson King T-shirt. I’d return to Milan any time and Monza really isn't out of the way...









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