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Recently returned from the 2018 Porto Antico Prog Fest in Genoa, where ProgBlog met up with last year's star turn Melting Clock, and discussion turned to the artwork for their forthcoming album which is due to begin recording in the next couple of weeks...

By ProgBlog, May 19 2018 08:29PM

If you choose to go to a pub, which will more likely than not be showing some desperately important sporting event and could, theoretically, be showing more than one, you know that the combined volume of the clientele, competing with televised commentary, is going to make casual conversation with your mates somewhat difficult; this is to be expected. Similarly, you don’t go to a football match for serenity or a quiet chat. My team, Crystal Palace are well known for their vociferous supporters and the atmosphere at Selhurst Park is acknowledged as being one of the best in the Premier League; even Palace’s away support is regarded as acting as a twelfth man. Having realistically secured continued top-flight status with a couple of games to spare before the end of the season, our final match of 2017-18 last Sunday, against already relegated West Bromwich Albion was free of nerves for both the fans and the players, so the crowd behaviour was loud and uninhibited. On this occasion too, the Baggies fans were splendid, corrupting a well-known chant to ‘Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be. We’re going to Shrewsbury...’


Crystal Palace vs West Bromwich Albion 13.05.18
Crystal Palace vs West Bromwich Albion 13.05.18

I had always thought that you go to a gig for the music but it’s becoming increasingly evident that not everyone thinks that way. A comment in the Paper Late column in Prog magazine (Prog 87) nicely illustrated that the matter is getting seriously out-of-hand and, in my experience, it doesn’t matter what form the venue takes whether that’s the Royal Festival Hall, the Royal Albert Hall, the Shepherd’s Bush Empire or some small club on the outskirts of some Italian city.


My first experience of irritating mid-gig conversationalists where I genuinely couldn’t concentrate on the music was at one of London’s hippest venues, the Shepherd’s Bush Empire, where I’d gone to see a double bill of Caravan and Curved Air in October 2011. Part of the problem was that I was in the unreserved seating on the third level where the proprietors had deemed it sensible to install a bar. This meant that there was a steady stream of punters going up to buy drinks joining those who had taken up positions from which to survey the proceedings while enjoying their beers, and to talk loudly. Noise from the bar at the Troxy (Steven Wilson, March 2015) also dented my enthusiasm, making me wish that all venues would restrict sales of drinks to an area outside the auditorium. Even this contingency is not enough to eliminate idle chat; there are a number of bars outside the concert halls at the Royal Festival and Royal Albert Halls, but sitting next to me at the Dweezil Zappa performance (RFH, October 2017) were a couple of Zappa experts who were unable to let the music speak for itself, providing a running commentary and critique and dulling my enjoyment.


The gig fatigue I experienced at the end of March this year, following a weekend in Milan with a late-running event on the Friday and a dash back to London for Yes on the Sunday, culminated in a disappointing show from Steven Wilson at the Royal Albert Hall on the Tuesday. After that Troxy gig, I’m wondering if Wilson attracts loudmouths to his shows, willing to pay a not insubstantial sum for their seats but who don’t seem to be very bothered with the music, the spectacle, or those around them who do want to watch and listen. My companion on that particular occasion, someone I wouldn’t describe as harbouring violent thoughts, did confess that he wanted to punch the guilty pair seated behind us but rationality prevailed and, after a word to one of them during the interval, the second set was largely comment-free. On the other hand, having any number of bars outside the hall does not prohibit concert-goers from becoming inebriated either before or during the performance, irritatingly demonstrated by a couple immediately in front of me at the same Steven Wilson show.


Large venues make money from ticket pricing and inflated food and drink charges; small venues like The Half Moon, Putney tend to have moderate pricing for tickets. ESP 2.0 last month cost a very reasonable £10 in advance (£12 on the door) and charged normal London beer prices; a couple of the clubs I’ve attended in Italy seem to mark-up the cost of a drink so that you’re paying a little more than you would in a local bar without music, though the admission charge for two, three or even four bands is exceptionally good, ranging from €10 - €15.


Most of the more intimate gigs I attend, both at home and in Italy are in pubs or clubs where there is no physical barrier between the bar and the stage and with only the rare exception the audience is content to listen. After the Palace match it was straight up to the Fiddler’s Elbow for a prog night, organised by Malcolm Galloway of Hats Off Gentlemen It’s Adequate, one of three bands on the bill (the others being Servants of Science and The Tirith); fortunately the crowd was only there for the music, because the stage area and the bar were only a few metres apart.



It was my first visit to the Grade II listed venue (the building dates back to 1856), even though it has been putting on gigs since the 1970s. It’s co-owned by Dan Maiden, a musician and promoter, and local businesswoman Nancy Wild who pride themselves on their professional approach, offering a platform for unsigned music and acting as a showcase for up-and-coming talent. It’s fair to say that both Servants of Science (based in Brighton) and Hats Off Gentlemen It’s Adequate are relatively new to the scene; the former released a widely acclaimed album The Swan Song at the end of last year and HOGIA have somehow managed to put out three CDs since they formed: Invisible (2012); When the Kill Code Fails (2015); and Broken but Still Standing (2017). Their 2015 offering won plaudits from Steve Hackett but the writing shifted from post-rock towards prog on Broken, where the first fifteen minutes includes some stunning flute, putting it firmly in the prog category – they also featured on the covermount CD of the latest edition of Prog magazine (Prog 87) with Last Man on the Moon. The Tirith have been around since the very early 70s when they were called Minas Tirith and, after going their separate ways (though keeping in touch), they reformed in 2011 and released Tales from the Tower, which included reworkings of some of their early material, in 2015. Shortly after their reformation, the three-piece (Tim Cox, guitar/keyboards; Dick Cory, bass/vocals and Paul Williams, drums) acted as support for Focus in Leicester but by the time of the CD release, Carl Nightingale had taken over on drums. They played at last year’s HRH Prog VI (where HOGIA also appeared, parachuted in to fill a slot vacated by Touchstone) but I’d seen them previously, at the Resonance Festival in 2014, where I described them as being a bit unadventurous; I’m not sure that it’s possible for a guitar-bass-drums trio to be prog, though Cox did elicit some interesting sounds out of his guitar and occasional keyboard.


On this particular Prog Night Servants of Science were first on stage, playing through The Swan Song in its entirety. The album is based on a few musical ideas from keyboard player/guitarist Stuart Avis which were bounced off and added to by bassist Andy Bay. Avis turned to long-term collaborator Neil Beards (The Amber Herd) to add vocals then, through his studio connections he recruited Helena DeLuca on vocals when a female part was added to the story, drummer Adam McKee and guitarist Ian Brocken. The live recreation was pretty faithful to the album, with the Floydian Another Day and the mini-epic Burning in the Cold which best demonstrate the band’s prog-leanings, bookending the set. They even had time for an encore of Comfortably Numb, wearing their influences on their sleeves. My only complaint would be that with four guitars playing simultaneously the subtlety and sweeping cinematic feel of the record became a bit blunted; even Brocken’s solo during the encore was too low down in the mix, meaning you could barely discern it above the other players; the one instrument that cut through the wall of sound was the bass. However, despite being a bit loud for the venue, I did enjoy the performance and it cements the ensemble as being a group to watch out for.



I didn’t get to see The Tirith play, having a very early start the next day, and I nearly missed Hats Off Gentlemen, being forced away from the pub to find some hot food. When I saw them at the beginning of the year only 40% of HOGIA, that is Malcolm Galloway and Mark Gatland performed, aided by a rhythm machine, a small keyboard and lots of effects which was still quite impressive. This time 60% of the band was present, with Kathryn Thomas providing that amazing flute and backing vocals, though she didn’t stay on stage for the whole set. It’s quite remarkable what the two or three of them can do with loops, effects and a drum machine which put the performance at a level close to that on the recent album; what you don’t get on the CD is the incredible punk-like energy Galloway and especially Gatland project. Opening with the dreamy prog of Vent/Almost Familiar HOGIA are another band who aren’t afraid to semaphore their influences and when it gets towards the end of their slot, Galloway pulls off an excellent Gilmour-like solo on Last Man on the Moon... ...but it’s the flute that I love the most!



Palace won 2-0 and this was followed by a night of prog. Hardly peaceful, but a totally enjoyable Sunday.









By ProgBlog, Apr 30 2017 11:20PM

The Crystal Palace was originally built in Hyde Park for the first World Exposition in 1851, a structure designed to be temporary with the exhibition, themed around the industry of all nations, lasting from April to October that year. The success of the venture, attracting 6 million visitors (and subsequently spawning a litany of world fairs, the most recent of which was Expo 2015 in Milan) prompted architect Joseph Paxton to look for a permanent home for his Crystal Palace. He had tried to have the building remain in Hyde Park but, aware that there was considerable opposition from within parliament, he busied himself raising £0.5m to form a company to buy the building and a new site for its reconstruction. The materials that made up the structure were bought from building contractors Fox and Henderson (who had lowered their original Hyde Park bid in return for ownership of the materials when the structure was dismantled at the end of the Great Exhibition); the land chosen was an area of wooded parkland on Sydenham Hill and the Crystal Palace reopened in 1854.


Joseph Paxton
Joseph Paxton

The remains of the Crystal Palace, which burned down in 1936, are in the suburb of Upper Norwood, an area falling into four London Boroughs: Bromley; Croydon; Lambeth and Southwark. I moved to Upper Norwood from Balham while working at the Blood Transfusion Centre in Tooting. During 1985 I shared a basement flat in Colby Road, opposite Gipsy Hill railway station, with fellow Barrovian Eric Whitton; my friend Jim Knipe lived on the ground floor with his girlfriend Amanda. I’d shared a flat in Beechcroft Close, Streatham with Eric and Jim during my last year at university, so this was something of a reunion. From bass/guitar/reed organ/tin plate jam sessions in 1981, with the recruitment of Alistair Penny in 1984 we evolved into BCC2 and in 1985, augmented by vocalist Shirley Singh, became HTLVIII and played a fifteen minute set on each of three nights as part of a community revue. This fledgling outfit fell apart because Eric moved out to Clapham and my bass was stolen when the flat was burgled while I was on holiday in Tenerife.



HTLV III  in 1985
HTLV III in 1985

A further Crystal Palace - Barrow connection was future Hairy Biker Dave Myers, another Goldsmiths’ graduate who lived a short way up Gipsy Hill. The cost of renting Colby Road wasn’t too high in the overall scheme of things, but the facilities were challenging. The bedroom, at the back of the flat, was rarely blessed with sunlight and was consequently somewhat cold, though it was apparently ideally placed to receive a Sunday morning pirate radio show, Alice’s Restaurant, despite the transmitter being somewhere in ‘East London’. Alice’s Restaurant became London’s biggest rock station but at the time I discovered it, I was only interested in the two hours of progressive rock that I could pick up on my Technics SA-101 receiver on Sunday mornings, where I first heard Caravan’s Nine Feet Underground in full and promptly set off to buy the Caravan collection Canterbury Tales which included that particular masterpiece.

At the time, Upper Norwood was hardly the most salubrious of areas but it had all the right amenities. Gipsy Hill station was very convenient for trips into London and I could use it to get to work on the days I was too lazy to cycle (Gipsy Hill is long and steep!) and there were some good pubs selling good beer (the Two Towers at the bottom of the hill and the Railway Bell half way up were regular haunts); the library on Westow Hill was extremely useful; the Tesco supermarket where we’d donate food to the families of striking miners; some good restaurants (Joanna’s and The Penny Excursion, the latter frequently changing hands and cuisine after I left the area); and Crystal Palace Park, including the site of the former Crystal Palace with its poorly barricaded entrance to the undercroft of the former High Level Station, a hidden vaulted space of beautiful Victorian brickwork (Grade II listed) and, for fans of palaeontology, the dinosaurs on islands representing different geological eras on the lower reservoir, creating a snapshot of paleontological understanding in the mid 19th century.




Crystal Palace dinosaurs
Crystal Palace dinosaurs

My time at Colby Road drew to a close when the shower in the ground floor flat above leaked into the hall and my hot water pressure became so low it wasn’t practicable to run a bath. The landlord was an unpleasant individual who wasn’t interested in getting things fixed, so I eventually left in the middle of one night and stopped paying him any rent.

Crystal Palace Park was also home to the National Sports Centre and athletics track. A couple of my school friends had spent some time training there in the mid 70s and I became a member for the squash courts and still play there today, though I now better appreciate the brutalist architecture (Grade II* listed) and the concomitant egalitarian nature of the facility, bringing affordable leisure facilities to local residents; a new People’s Palace on the site of the old. The FA Cup used to be held on the football pitch which was where the athletics stadium now stands and Crystal Palace FC used to play there from when they were founded in 1905 until they were relocated due to WW I and moved to current ground Selhurst Park in 1924. I’ve been supporting them, through all their ups and downs, since 1995.

Crystal Palace Bowl was the venue for the Crystal Palace Garden Party between 1971 and 1980, originally a concrete semi-dome structure with a small lake in front, located in a natural amphitheatre at the northern end of the park. Pink Floyd played there in 1971, featuring a band-only version of Atom Heart Mother and famously killing off all the fish in the lake when they attempted to inflate a giant octopus, pumping smoke into the water. Yes performed there in 1972, which must have been one of the first gigs for Alan White, and Rick Wakeman performed Journey to the Centre of the Earth during the 1974 Garden Party, where he used inflatable dinosaurs during The Battle but more dramatically, was admitted to hospital the day after the gig having suffered three minor heart attacks. He had intended to perform there again in June 2012 headlining a one day rock festival, but there were structural concerns over the stage and the event was cancelled.



This neatly brings us to the present. Upper Norwood has undergone something of a renaissance since the opening of the East London Line of London Overground in 2010. This linked West Croydon and Crystal Palace in the south to Dalston Junction in the north, via Surrey Quays and Canada Water. The ease of the commute to the City meant that the area was a prime site for gentrification and property prices were relatively low in the down-at-heel suburb; the parallels with Shoreditch (the Overground stops at Shoreditch High Street) are quite remarkable and it’s evident that hipsters have marked their territory around the Crystal Palace Triangle and that some of the old businesses have adapted to meet their needs. There used to be a rambling flea market down from Westow Hill, where amongst other things I picked up a copy of the 1972 debut LP by Tempest, featuring the extraordinary talents of the recently departed Allan Holdsworth. On the site of this former bazaar is Crystal Palace Antiques, where my wife likes to pick out reasonably priced art-deco items and I like to ogle the modernist furniture, at unreasonable prices, on the lowest of the four floors. There had been a spate of pub closures in the area but there’s now an even better selection, covering a huge range of real and craft beers. There used to be an ‘open mic’ gig every week in the White Hart (on the corner of Westow Street and Church Road) to which a friend from squash, a Brazilian drummer, invited me and although I brought along a plectrum, I felt I was too rusty to participate and I knew very little of the music they played.

There are a multitude of cafés and bars where it’s easy to find a decent lunch and a good coffee but there are also a couple of excellent second-hand record stalls. One is in Hayes Lane Market, a well kept secret just off Westow Street. Hayes Lane is a narrow, mews-like street where the terraced houses are resplendent with blooms and the market is a genuine flea market where it’s easy to while away many hours; the other is in the less well developed Church Road in the basement of Bambinos. Bambinos is run by Andy Stem and has been around for over 20 years, perhaps most famous for its leather jackets (the photo of Kate Moss by Mario Testino for Vogue.) Best of all, downstairs from the eclectic mixture of items that spills out onto the street, is the vinyl basement, run by Mark Hill of the Crystal Palace-based electronica trio Metamono. My most recent visit yielded the first two Steve Hackett solo albums, Voyage of the Acolyte and Please Don’t Touch; Alan White’s solo debut Ramshackled; the first Sky album; Phaedra by Tangerine Dream and an early copy of Switched on Bach. Mark Hill commented on Phaedra, suggesting he had been interested in buying it himself, and the connection with the excellent sub-section for electronica became clear; the last time I was there, about a year ago, I bought a copy of Aqua by Edgar Froese from a consignment of vinyl that hadn’t made it downstairs to the basement

I retain an affection for Crystal Palace; the record shops, the sports centre, the remains of the former palace, the football team. A great deal has changed since I lived there but it’s a much better place to visit now, and much easier. The local history is fascinating but better still, there are some genuinely friendly people who feed into the vibe, whether they’ve recently arrived or have been around for some time. It’s an uplifting atmosphere, very prog. ...Must be the prevailing wind from the coast...












By ProgBlog, Dec 18 2016 09:32PM

After the death of Greg Lake and a subsequent marathon session of listening to very early King Crimson and ELP albums I’ve not really had much opportunity to listen to music over the past week, my leisure time being taken up with two home games for Crystal Palace, a variety of reunions and a work Christmas party. Not being someone who rejoices in either the religious or commercial nature of Christmas, I find it a bit of a challenge when it comes to interacting with those that do get into the Christmas spirit. One of my gripes is the radio at work which is either tuned to a station broadcasting non-stop Christmas singles, other than Lake’s I Believe in Father Christmas which I wouldn’t actually mind hearing, or tuned into something with more edge playing more contemporary chart rubbish; another is the seasonal TV programming which invariably excludes me from being part of the stereotypical family and which becomes ever more tired each year; and another is the general encouragement to eat and drink too much.

The idea of a reunion is to catch up with old friends but it’s difficult to communicate effectively in a crowded pub where the televised sport competes with the piped music. Having said that, en route to the work Christmas meal, we stopped off at Turner’s Old Star in Wapping where the vanguard were able to drink, talk and play pool for over an hour with only a couple of locals in attendance. This turned out to be the calm before the storm as the meal was held at Tobacco Dock and we were a small group amongst around 1000 other revellers. The live band seemed very professional but they weren’t likely to play anything remotely interesting or challenging, unlike the entertainment at the gala dinner for an American Society for Histocompatibility and Immunogenetics (ASHI) annual conference in Dallas in 1995 where the band were unable to perform the King Crimson I requested but did play some Talking Heads as compensation. When I was a student I occasionally used to take a pair of cushioned over-ear headphones to discos (only if they were held at my hall of residence – I wouldn’t have wanted to lug them all over south London) which was done primarily to indicate my disapproval of the music but also to partially reduce the volume; putting in a pair of in-ear headphones at the Tobacco Dock party was rather pointless, such was the overwhelming din coming from the disco.


Turner's Old Star
Turner's Old Star

The little music I have managed to play for my personal pleasure in the past week includes King Crimson’s Red (1974). I’d seen a tweet about the album and made a mental note that it was something I should make a point of listening to again. Red was one of the Crimson LPs I’d sold to a second hand record store when I got a copy of the original issue of the CD, but that has been replaced with the mighty Road to Red box set. It was also one of the first Crimson albums I’d heard, a copy was owned by a friend from across the road in Infield Park in my youth. Along with the heavy prog of the title track and the soaring Starless which has gone on to inspire a host of other works with its killer melody line, Providence is a track which I found particularly inspiring; at the time of the album’s release I didn’t have a clue that this was a live improvisation, despite the rather truncated ending, but the structure formed the basis of a composition by my late school - early university group where, dependent on our rehearsal space, we would utilise found objects like bicycle wheels and door keys. I think Fallen Angel and One More Red Nightmare point the way to John Wetton’s future musical course but both are carried off with distinct aplomb and fit in with the feel of the entire album. The most recent version of Starless I’ve heard was by the David Cross Band at The Lexington earlier this year which rivalled the three drummers King Crimson version (Hackney Empire, September 8th 2015) in terms of excellence.


The Road to Red
The Road to Red

Next on my list was the debut self-titled album by Banco del Mutuo Soccorso (1972). Desperate to find some Banco, my first purchase was the sub-standard Donna Plautilla (released 1989) which I didn’t have on my list but it was the only Banco album available from a store in Treviso when I visited in 2005. Donna Plautilla is a compilation of pre-1972 material which doesn’t really fit the progressive Italiano tag, unlike the excellent first album. My current version of the album is a (2012) 40th anniversary 2CD edition where the second disc contains previously unreleased tracks Poilifonia, Tentazione and Padre Nostro and live versions of R.I.P, Metamorfosi and Traccia recorded in 2012.

The original album is one of the classics of the genre and, thanks to the vocals of Francesco Di Giacomo, truly operatic. I’d always associated the Banco sound with ELP because of the predominance of organ and piano, provided by the Nocenzi brothers Vittorio and Gianni respectively, but this time I was struck by the similarity to Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick, released in March 1972. There may not be very much flute on Banco del Mutuo Soccorso but the stop-start nature of the music, plus the organ/piano which also feature heavily in TAAB (one of the main reasons I really like that album) sound as though they could all have come from the same sessions. Tull were undoubtedly a major influence on the early Italian prog acts but it’s hard to imagine Banco having time to rearrange their material to sound more like Jethro Tull in the two months that elapsed between the availability of the two records.


Banco del Mutuo Soccorso 40th Anniversary edition
Banco del Mutuo Soccorso 40th Anniversary edition

Though I didn’t get much time to myself I did manage to squeeze in, over two days, the DVD of The Golden Compass (2007), the somewhat unsatisfying cinematic adaptation of Philip Pullman’s brilliant Northern Lights. I can’t work out if it was the characterisation which was off, despite thinking that Nicole Kidman might actually make a suitable Mrs Coulter, or if it was just Disneyfication, stripping away all the darkness and complexity of the novel. As with all fantasy books, the film version relied heavily on CGI, mostly successfully but sometimes less so. I found the stage version of the Pullman trilogy (His Dark Materials, an adaptation by Nicholas Wright) which had a couple of seasons at the National Theatre more in keeping with the original work despite the necessary condensing, with an ingenious depiction of the daemons. The arctic setting made it an appropriate season to watch the film but I hadn’t realised, until I was distracted and left the credits running, that Kate Bush sang her own composition Lyra at the end of the film. I must have been walking out of the cinema as this began playing and missed it but apparently it was a commission which utilises the Magdalen College choir, a nice Oxford-related fact, and it is a genuinely beautiful song.

My inability to enjoy Christmas is becoming hardened with every passing year but I see decorations and other Yule-related paraphernalia go on sale in October and, apart from a couple of recent Decembers when we had a healthy sprinkling of snow even in the south east, the country has been subjected to some record-breaking flooding. Isn’t it supposed to snow at Christmas? We all know about the chances for peace on earth... I may find it hard to find any decent music being broadcast at this time of year but it’s incomprehensible that a large proportion of the human race has an inability to even consider working together for the common good, whether it’s finding a meaningful accord on climate change, cancelling third-world debt, halting the civil war in Syria or ending violence against women.

Merry Christmas?









By ProgBlog, Jan 17 2016 07:56PM

I’ve barely touched upon the fourth music playback format, cassette tape (and I’m not going to mention the short-lived 8 track!) but guest blogger Richard Page hinted at this, a time before CDs when the domination of vinyl was slipping. The compact cassette was immensely portable, sparking the invention of the Sony Walkman and hundreds of imitations and allowing drivers to choose their own music rather than being subjected to a limited range of radio stations with their playlists of narrow choice. During the period, the mid 80s, I was attempting to get enough money together to get a mortgage so I did extra work for the Anthony Nolan laboratories, then based at St Mary Abbots Hospital in Kensington, and took my wife’s genuine Sony Walkman to listen to music of my choice while I sat at a microscope and read HLA typing plates.

Driving off to Crystal Palace National Sports Centre to play squash last weekend with a CD I’d burned of the Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii soundtrack, I realised my current car has a radio and a USB port but no CD player. Since learning to drive relatively late in life at the age of 26, my wife and I have got through a number of automobiles, buying new or with delivery mileage and simply budgeting to keep each for an average of three years before selling them on. Our first car bought together was a 1986 Ford Fiesta that only had a radio. The husband of a work colleague who worked in a car audio shop fitted a (high end) removable radio cassette player that lasted into the next car, a new shaped Fiesta with a joystick device that allowed you to pan around the speakers embedded in the upholstery. I normally took public transport to get to work but used the car for on call and later, to drive to Brunel University every couple of weeks when I was doing my part time MSc in Applied Immunology. I’d got hold of Mainstream (1975) by Quiet Sun, the eponymous GTR album (1986) and Pink Floyd’s Momentary Lapse of Reason (1987), all on vinyl and taped them specifically for the journeys between Croydon and Uxbridge. Mainstream is an incredible album that seems to have missed out on the big time; mainstream it is not and for further discussions see my blog post http://progblog.co.uk/the-blogs/4583484660/Mainstream-(originally-posted-3-3-14)/7811326.The sound on GTR has dated but I still like the songs, even though this isn't really prog whereas Momentary Lapse is prog, cinematic, daring and true to the spirit of early-mid 70s Floyd.

The final days of my relationship with cassette tape unravelled on an out of hours car journey to work, just outside Crystal Palace’s Selhurst Park football ground when I was playing Trey Gunn’s The Third Star (1996). I’d bought the CD for my brother Tony and he repaid the favour by sending me a tape which decided to fade away to silence in the player even though it had been recorded on what was considered to be a decent quality Maxell C90. At this stage I had sold off my original Technics deck that had served me for the last year at university, through the damp of a sequence of basement flats and the rigours of an on-stage appearance as the sound source for three gigs I played in 1984. It’s strange how cyclical fashion can be. That silver-finished piece of hi-fi, originally chosen for its beautifully damped ejection mechanism and the ability to cope with ‘metal’ tapes, was replaced by a Technics RS B106 cassette deck, finished in black, in the late 80s; my new system is largely silver. I also bought myself a high-end Aiwa walkman-like player and two hefty miniature HD speakers from a mall in Saudi Arabia when I was seconded to Jeddah for six weeks in 1992 so that I didn’t get prog-withdrawal. I bought the double cassette Yes anthology Yes Story (1992) from the same store and picked up some locally compiled tapes from elsewhere in the souk, including a best of early Marillion that was frequently aired in the hire-car (christened ‘the mobile lecture theatre’ for its outrageous size) that had been made available to my colleague, Consultant transplant surgeon Geoff Koffman.



Technics RS B106 cassette deck
Technics RS B106 cassette deck

I never owned many pre-recorded cassettes though the bargain bin of the Tooting branch of Woolworth allowed me to expand my music collection with some more obscure prog and jazz: TONTOs Expanding Headband’s Zero Time (1971) and Neil Ardley’s Kaleidoscope of Rainbows (1976) plus some of the more usual fare (McDonald and Giles, Steve Hackett, Caravan, Colosseum II, Greenslade) for knock down prices. There was even a stage where I owned more Gentle Giant on cassette than I did on any other format. To a greater extent my tape collection comprised albums recorded from vinyl lent to me by friends and family. Preferred manufacturers were TDK, BASF and Maxell and I tried to buy a quality above the basic, like the TDK AD. I was also happy to put together what would later be called ‘mix tapes’ for others, including recordings for a couple of women students at Goldsmiths’, Sue Aspinall who was into classic prog and Jo Dziuba who was more interested in Afterglow type Genesis.

There aren’t many albums that I home-recorded that I haven’t subsequently bought on another format. One that didn’t make it into my collection was Ian Anderson’s Walk into Light (1983) lent to me by my friend Jim – we were big Tull fans at the time – but I thought the material rather sub-standard and my recording was discarded years ago. Other albums took a considerable time for me to own, sometimes through lack of availability: I eventually got Bruford’s One of a Kind (1979) when Winterfold Records started up in 2005, having only had access to a taped copy for 25 years and bought The Third Star from Red Eye Records in Sydney in 2012, the first time I’d seen it in a shop since buying it for Tony. One of the very few albums that I taped but never bought myself is psychedelic masterpiece Mass in F Minor by The Electric Prunes (1968). The original disc belonged to Tony and my cassette recording dated from the late 70s. Like with most of my tapes, in an exercise to preserve the music, I burned this to CD when home-burning software became standard on PCs. I now have the album transferred to my mp3 player.

Warning notices that ‘home taping is killing music’ appeared on the inner sleeves of LPs in the mid 80s to be ignored by everyone. I’ve thought about this and, though I understand that it reduces royalty payments to artists, I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s a deep irony in record companies putting out a statement like that when it’s unscrupulous managers and the labels themselves that have controlled the income of musicians. What is really killing music is the trend towards conformity, the predictability of manufactured product and insidious influence. This may make merged global entertainment businesses attractive to shareholders but it makes for a less diverse musical scene; the requirement for financial control stifles creativity. In the end the message boils down to ‘home taping is reducing shareholder dividend.’




Home taping is killing music. I don't think so
Home taping is killing music. I don't think so

A more recent example would be the issues over illegal downloads where control over output was ceded to the consumer and the cry from the labels was the same. Then Apple plonks a largely unwanted U2 album onto the devices of everyone with their iTunes software...

Home taping didn’t harm progressive rock and prog itself has prospered in recent years through the adaptation of alternative business models where the artists retain the copyright to their material and funding for new ventures is independent of the majors. The pound, euro and dollar of the fan go to the artists through crowdsourcing and album sales, with multiple platforms available to promote and provide examples of music. Let’s hope that home taping went some way to help kill off the old way of doing music business.




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