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The ProgBlog gig marathon continued with a rare opportunity to see the mythical hybrid beast Gryphon and their mix of early music, folk and prog... ...at the rather obscure Claygate Music Festival

By ProgBlog, Apr 13 2015 03:58PM

During the halcyon days of progressive rock, when bands took time out to recharge their batteries and subsequently, when punk came along and the influence of prog artists waned, there was always an outlet for creative talent (enough to keep up the mortgage repayments) especially for keyboard players: film score work. Instrumental prog has cropped up in a variety of TV and film roles, from the exceptionally famous Tubular Bells overture in The Exorcist to Greenslade performing the soundtrack to the gritty, post-modern criminal gang drama Gangsters, set in multi-cultural Birmingham that began life as a BBC TV play in 1975 and was followed by two series in 1976 and 1978. A portion of Pink Floyd’s Echoes even featured in Jacob Bronowski’s seminal series The Ascent of Man in the early 70s.

The last film soundtrack I listened to was the live performance of Profondo Rosso as an accompaniment to the film at the Barbican in February. I have to admit that even though I enjoyed the entire event, I had just gone to see legendary progressivo Italiano band Goblin.

I’m not really much of a soundtrack person. The first examples I ever owned were Pink Floyd’s Cirrus Minor and The Nile Song which appeared on Relics, having originally come from the album Soundtrack from the film More (marking the directorial debut of Barbet Schroeder.) Whereas Cirrus Minor fits in with my idea of a Pink Floyd song, with its church organ tone and spacey effect-ridden organ that calls to mind the title track from A Saucerful of Secrets, the overtly heavy rock Nile Song, which had previously been released as a single in 1969, seems out of synch with the rest of the Floyd oeuvre. At the time, the only other Floyd albums I’d heard were Dark Side of the Moon and a rather confusing bootleg of Atom Heart Mother and, though I listened to and found Hawkwind’s Silver Machine and Black Sabbath’s Paranoid amusing, I didn’t actually attach any musical value to heavy rock. It’s stretching a point but another soundtrack piece from Relics is Careful with That Axe, Eugene, originally the B side of the single Point Me at the Sky; t was re-recorded as Come in Number 51, Your Time is Up and featured in Michelangelo Antonioni’s Zabriskie Point (1970).

The Floyd also released Obscured by Clouds (1972), music from the film La Vallée (also directed by Barbet Schroeder) and though I’d heard Free Four on Alan Freeman’s Saturday Show and at least one of my friends in Infield Park owned the album, I thought that the material was rather lightweight, similar in nature to the material on the first side of Meddle and the second side of Atom Heart Mother and I was never motivated enough to buy a copy. Possibly the most interesting aspect of the album were the rounded corners of the original sleeve!

Apart from two Goblin albums, Profondo Rosso and Suspiria, I only own two soundtrack albums. The first of these is Rick Wakeman’s White Rock which I think is an admirable fit for the film of the 1976 Innsbruck Winter Olympics and is much better than his two preceding studio releases because it is entirely instrumental. The second is a work by another Italian prog outfit, Banco del Mutuo Soccorso. Wakeman’s first foray into film soundtracks, something that he has since disowned, was Ken Russell’s Lisztomania (1975) where Wakeman interpreted Liszt and Wagner. He would later provide soundtracks to more films: The Burning (1981); Crimes of Passion (1984), another collaboration with director Ken Russell and starring Kathleen Turner in which he used themes from Dvorak’s New World Symphony; and Phantom Power (1990), a remake of Phantom of the Opera.

More recently, during my efforts to acquire as much Italian prog as possible, I bought Garofano Rosso (Red Carnation) by Banco del Mutuo Soccorso. The film, directed by Luigi Faccini was based on the novel of the same name by Elio Vittorini, best known for his much admired Conversation in Sicily. Once again located in Sicily, the story deals with tentative youthful longings set within the charged political background of Italy of 1924. The hero is 18 year old Alessio Mainardi, who receives a red carnation from a girl named Giovanna which becomes a symbol of love, desire and a representation of the struggle for political freedom in opposition to Fascism. This sounds like my kind of film but I’ve yet to see it; Banco had a reputation for left-wing politics though for this soundtrack album the operatic vocals of Francesco Di Giacomo, a sound that defines Banco, are missing and the compositions are much shorter. It’s not possible for me to comment on the fit of the songs to the film but this is my least favourite of the early Banco albums, despite the outstanding musicianship. It’s as though the music never gets a chance to develop and consequently is unfulfilling.

I’d been a fan of director Alan Parker since Bugsy Malone and Midnight Express and though I’d been overlooked for the role of Pink in the film of The Wall (which I’m not counting as a soundtrack album), I dutifully went off to the West End to see Birdy (1984) which had a soundtrack by Peter Gabriel including adaptations of tracks from PG III (Melt) and IV (Security). The film is an adaptation of the novel of the same name by William Wharton, though the setting is changed from World War II to Vietnam; it stars Matthew Modine as Birdy and Nicholas Cage as his long-time friend Al.

It’s surprising that Keith Emerson stuck with writing movie scores after his experience on his second venture into the film business with Nighthawks (1981) after what he considered a massive, unnecessary strip-down of the music he had delivered; his first venture was a move into Goblin-territory, providing the music for Dario Argento’s Inferno (1980), which prompted some unfavourable comparisons with Goblin’s performance on Suspiria. Emerson would go on to perform some not-quite blockbusters Best Revenge (1985), Murder Rock (1986), China Free Fall (1987), Iron Man Vol.1 (2001), La Chiesa (2002) and Godzilla: Final Wars (2004). Patrick Moraz was another of the 70s keyboard greats to provide music for films, beginning with Les Vieilles Lunes (1969), before he’d formed a rock band.

Shortly after I first heard Tangerine Dream I thought that their compositions would be suited to film music, not realising that they had provided soundtracks for films and TV shows that were later to be released via their own fan project, Tangerine Tree. They have now produced over 50 scores but not all of them have been officially released. The first that I was aware of was William Friedkin’s Hollywood action-adventure film Sorcerer (1977).

Vangelis is another prolific film score composer. Blade Runner has just been re-released (as The Final Cut) and it’s this score, along with Chariots of Fire (1981) that I find most memorable. Chariots of Fire features my friend Mark Franchetti as an extra in some running scenes, having to run slowly to let the stars of the film Ian Charleson and Ben Cross beat him. I turned down the chance to be an extra; I refused to get my hair cut...

By ProgBlog, Feb 22 2015 10:54PM

Yesterday evening I rushed from Selhurst Park (Crystal Palace v Arsenal) to the Barbican to watch a screening of Dario Argento’s horror masterpiece Profondo Rosso (Deep Red) on the occasion of its fortieth anniversary, with a live score performed by the band. I first saw Goblin last year at the Electric Ballroom in Camden, where clips from Argento’s films were played behind the band on a cramped stage. On that occasion, I overheard complaints that the music wasn’t synched with the films (I’m guessing they were horror fans, not aficionados of Italian prog); they did it properly this time in the main hall of the Barbican – a good sized stage, great acoustics, comfy seating with unrestricted views wherever you sit, and a big screen. I bought my ticket just a few days before the show and somehow managed to get a prime seat, just off-centre and around mid stalls, not too far in front of the mixing desk. I actually ended up with two tickets; my payment was declined for no apparent reason and when I navigated back to restart the process, I somehow ended up reserving the seat next to the one I’d originally chosen. When the purchase confirmation came through I’d booked two seats, M42 and M43 and, not wanting to pay double for the one seat I required, I contacted the box office by ‘phone. They told me that somehow I’d booked two tickets and only paid for one, so much for complaining!

I hadn’t know quite how performing the live score would work but Claudio Simonetti revealed in an interview that there were times, the longest of which lasted about 20 minutes, when the band wasn’t required to play. During these pauses, they all sat quite still at their instruments: Simonetti at his keyboards; Titta Tani at his drums and percussion (including gong and timpani); Bruno Previtali with his guitars; and Federico Amorosi with his sunburst-finish Rickenbacker bass. I used to watch Hammer Horror films in the 1970s but I’d hardly call myself fanatical about the genre and I didn’t really know very much about the Argento films; the stills from the film set out in my 2012 reissue of Profondo Rosso soundtrack CD (bought second-hand when I was in Genova last year) didn’t really add to my understanding of the plot. The Barbican screening was dubbed into English and though I like my foreign films in their original language, with subtitles, that probably wouldn’t have worked as I shifted focus from Goblin to film and back again. Starring David Hemmings as jazz pianist Marcus Daly who befriends a psychic medium who gets murdered (he lives in the same apartment block), the film follows Daly’s investigation into a series of subsequent, related murders and culminates in a confrontation with the mysterious murderer, the mother of his alcoholic friend Carlo, in which he gets injured with a blow from a meat cleaver but manages to cause the gruesome demise of the murderer when her necklace gets caught in the grille of an old-fashioned lift. Daly calls the lift which subsequently pulls on the necklace and beheads her. This final scene, together with an earlier scene depicting the death of Carlo, provoked an outburst of laughter from the audience. It’s hard to believe that the performance was restricted to those over 18; the horror is dated and doesn’t hold much shock value. In fact, there’s a psychedelic vibe to the film; the blood looks like red paint, the narrative jumps inexplicably and the setting, presumably Turin where much of the filming took place, included some modernist architecture that reminded me of the Barbican because of the mix of residential and leisure facilities. Suspense was created by hiding the identity of the murderer and by the use of a child’s lullaby, played on a tape recorder by the murderer before she commits a crime. I’d never rated David Hemmings as much of an actor and none of the others appearing in the production were much good either but the film was critically acclaimed and became an international success. That’s not to suggest I didn’t enjoy the film, because I did. The soundtrack, originally put together in ten days after Simonetti’s band Cherry Five were asked to step in following a disagreement between director Argento and original composer Giorgio Gaslini, fits the idiom incredibly well. This may come as a bit of a surprise when you consider that Cherry Five were influenced by King Crimson and Genesis and played extended compositions on the jazzy side of prog, but perhaps not when you find out that tracks on the under-rated eponymous Cherry Five album include Country Grave-Yard [sic] and The Swan is a Murderer. In keeping with the nature of the material they were providing music for they changed their name to Goblin and the success of the Profondo Rosso film was replicated by the soundtrack which has sold over a million copies.

The live score stuck fairly faithfully to the original. Whereas the original recording utilised church organ and harpsichord, Simonetti reproduced the analogue sounds with great precision and his Moog playing was absolutely brilliant; however, this was a band performance and whereas at the Electric Ballroom I found the sound indistinct and the guitar somewhat lost, the sound at the Barbican was balanced and clear, including the guitar harmonics and trebly bass. I think that Mad Puppet bears more than a passing resemblance to the section on Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells that leads up to Vivian Stanshall recounting the instruments used in the production; is it coincidence that part of Tubular Bells was used in horror film The Exorcist? A fair amount of the material is quite jazzy and at other times a Keith Emerson influence is evident that reminds me of ELP’s interpretation of Ginastera’s Toccata.

The performance was split with a twenty minute intermission but following the closing credit sequence the band remained on stage and played some more of their soundtrack material, Demoni, Zombi, Suspiria, Tenebre and Phenomena. This was all very well received by the audience and I even liked the version of Tenebre where I found the vocoder parts less grating than when I’d heard it last year. Suspiria, from 1977, is regarded as being the real Goblin sound where it became impossible to hear their original prog influences in the music.


It wasn’t five years since I’d last seen Goblin and it was another very enjoyable gig made even more special because of the 40 year celebrations since the release of Profondo Rosso. I almost forgot that I’d just seen Crystal Palace narrowly beaten by Arsenal...



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