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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, Apr 17 2017 09:20AM

The scourge of anyone writing an essay is the charge of plagiarism and though I may have put personal academic involvement behind me, in a career that began pre-PC when my undergraduate essays were hand-written, I retain a professional training role and have a duty to check the work of a couple of my colleagues. The easiest way to avoid accusations of cheating is to use multiple sources, fully reference your work and include a comparative analysis as a summary to indicate your understanding of the subject. There are no shortcuts to essay writing when there is a multitude of plagiarism-checking software, free on the web, for use by both markers and students.

As an experiment, I ran the first 100 words of this article through Quetext which suggested I may have copied the sentence “The easiest way to avoid accusations of cheating is to use multiple sources, fully reference your work and include a comparative analysis as a summary to indicate your understanding of the subject” from a Wikipedia article on Fair Use! It may sound paranoid but I’ve written blogs and reviews on subjects that subsequently appear in Prog magazine where my phrasing and ideas, which I believe are characteristic of my personal style, have been included. There’s actually a rational explanation for this phenomenon: I mostly write about contemporary events, about artists touring or releasing material or appearing in the news for another reason, such as the support of Pink Floyd for the ‘Women’s boat to Gaza’; I’m writing about progressive rock so it’s likely to be something experienced by a fairly limited number of people who have similar expectations; our commentary will be largely based on audible and visual observations, though these may be perceived differently.

The feeling that just when you think you’ve come up with a great idea, somebody comes along and steals it took a further twist this week, following an article in the main section of The Guardian reporting that Ed Sheeran had settled out-of-court for $20 million after a plagiarism claim. My colleagues tend to tune into the radio at work, playing nothing that interests me and some things which really infuriate me (Sigala’s Sweet Lovin’, for example, which has undergone subtle mutations and is still being played as though it’s a current hit even though it originally came out in December 2015.) To my ears, a large number of pop songs are indistinguishable and this lack of musical diversity in pop music in general is a result of commoditisation, manufacturing and packaging which stifles creativity. The potential ground for borrowing the work of other song writers, particularly within dance music, gave me an idea for a blog and I emailed myself a few ideas and a rudimentary plan so I wouldn’t forget. Imagine my dismay when I opened G2 on Friday, with a front page headline “Has pop run out of tunes?” and a lengthy article inside the supplement by Peter Robinson The songs remain the same, dealing with the complexity of copying and plagiary.


The first time I noticed an obvious similarity between songs was not long after I’d seriously started to listen to music. Block Buster! by The Sweet (written by Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman) was released in January 1973 and I thought that the main riff was heavily derivative of David Bowie’s The Jean Genie, released a couple of months before in November 1972; with fairly good reason, It transpires that the Jean Genie riff has itself been compared to The Yardbirds’ cover of Bo Diddley’s I’m a Man.

The mixture of influences on progressive rock make it an ideal genre to scour for appropriation, though in its nascent form the influences were far less likely to be other rock bands than from the jazz and classical worlds. Rondo on the debut album by The Nice, The Thoughts of Emerlist Davjack was a reworking of Dave Brubeck’s Blue Rondo à la Turk but, according to Martyn Hanson in Hang on to a Dream – The Story of The Nice, Immediate Records boss Andrew Oldham somehow managed to credit the band with the composition, but never explained how. The main difference between the two pieces was Brubeck had composed the piece in 9/8 time but the Nice played it in 4/4 but when I first heard the Nice version in 1972 or 1973, it was instantly obvious that they had lifted, wholesale, Brubeck’s piece. According to Hanson, the band had never considered claiming composition responsibility. Whether through naivety or by design, Keith Emerson would go on to have further issues with the lack of credit for other composers when he started ELP.



Peter Robinson’s G2 article touches on the legal arguments used to define plagiarism and it seems likely that a plaintiff will lose their case if they themselves have borrowed from a source that is out of copyright. This means that Emerson didn’t have to credit JS Bach for The Three Fates (on the first ELP album) even though he’d previously name-checked Bach, and other composers, on various Nice albums. When I eventually got around to buying Passio Secundum Mattheum by progressivo italiano band Latte e Miele and listened to the track Il Calvario it sounded like a note-for-note rendition of Emerson’s Clotho, indicating the original source.



Surprisingly enough, the next instance where I detected what I thought was undue influence was listening to Relayer at 12’47” into The Gates of Delirium, at the moment the battle sequence commences to resolve. At this point Patrick Moraz plays a lead synthesizer line that I thought was straight out of a Beatles song book but, when put into context where there’s so much going on in the Yes song, it’s obviously not The Beatles. At the time I was becoming aware of the spread of influence of the Fab Four and it didn’t seem such a ridiculous notion.

Robert Fripp famously made an out-of-court settlement over a plagiarism dispute with the producers of soft-core porn film Emmanuelle for misappropriation of Larks’ Tongues in Aspic (part II). There are at least three short pieces of music credited to Pierre Bachelet and Herve Roy that occur in the film, which are remarkably close to Fripp’s instrumental piece. A more recent example of possible copying a King Crimson song is on Astra’s 2009 release The Weirding, where the title track comes close to quoting from Cirkus on Lizard. Of course this may be accidental, but it’s evident the band are inspired by early Crimson because apart from the use of doom-laden Mellotron there is a great deal of Sinfield-like imagery in the lyrics: ‘All the blind sight kills the white light / Fire blood raven screams / Spreading influence through waking dreams / The world spins out of tune / And there's nothing we can do...’ and again: ‘Blindly follow twisted tales / It seems forever without fail / Cat's paws mind their fairy stories dear’. Kanye obviously got around any potential problem by including the appropriate credits to his song Power, which sampled 21st Century Schizoid Man.



The distinction between copying and source of inspiration may appear to be a grey area but, as Robinson points out, you can apply maths to the problem. In this way, based on pitch, rhythmic placement and harmonic context, you can make a statistical judgement whether two pieces of music are similar. The chances of two songs, independently written and sharing an identical 39-note sequence backed by similar chords and with the same rhythmic accentuation is really remote; this was the case with Sheeran’s Photograph and Amazing by Matt Cardle. Inspiration is something entirely different. Marillion used to be labelled a Genesis-clone and though the original members will no doubt admit that their music was informed by Genesis, and (ex-) vocalist Fish used to apply grease paint and, to a lesser extent don costumes for his adopted persona in the manner of Peter Gabriel, the similarity remained superficial. I’m more interested in Fish’s lyrics because he’s spoken of Peter Hammill as being one of the musicians who influenced him. Hammill recorded Flight from A Black Box in 1980 which includes the lines: ‘The lines on the road trail the arrow in the sky/ I search for the mote in my brother’s eye’ and four years later Fish penned the words to IncubusYou played this scene before, you played this scene before / I the mote in your eye, I the mote in your eye’. These are the only two lyrical references to a mote in an eye that I can think of but that doesn’t mean that Fish has copied Hammill.


There appear to be more cases of alleged plagiarism going to court than ever before, something I think is a reflection on the current state of the music business. I genuinely find it difficult to distinguish between many of the songs played on daytime radio, and find it even harder to like any of them. The idea of the music star and celebrity means that a record company has to invest in protecting the image of artists and the sum of $20m (£16m) was obviously worth it to Warner to ensure that Sheeran’s reputation and artistic integrity wasn’t too badly affected by alleged copying – unless the money came out of his own pocket. Such ridiculous sums of money spawn a culture of claims and that can’t be good for music, as money is diverted into the legal aspects of the industry rather than nurturing creativity. On the other hand, if it means we get less manufactured music, which stands more chance of accusations of copying, then that would be a great deal better.


There’s only one sure-fire way to avoid accusations of copying: cite your references.


Peter Robinson’s article appears here:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/apr/13/has-pop-finally-run-out-of-tunes-ed-sheeran-plagiarism







By ProgBlog, Jun 26 2016 10:08PM

This looked a very attractive prospect when it was first advertised so, having no recollection about the capacity of the O2 Arena and no idea about the likelihood of tickets selling out, emails and text messages were dispatched to friends and family in early April and four tickets were purchased (thanks for organising, Jim.) The last time I attended the O2 was to eat at one of the restaurants but I had also visited the Dome (as was) at the start of the millennium and witnessed The Story of Ovo, The Millennium Show with music written by Peter Gabriel.

I’ve written before about my preference for indoor festivals but this, the first Stone Free Festival, was being held in a venue that I’d consider to be a bit out of the way, served only by the Jubilee Line and one that was also getting on with its day-to-day business of being an entertainment and eating hub, so there wasn’t much of a festival feeling. Jim had organised meeting up at the Barclays Premier Lounge where we had complimentary hot/soft drinks and nibbles and though there were a series of other Festival events going on elsewhere around the site, we were only interested in the acts on the main stage, beginning with Wish You Were Here Symphonic, performed by the London Orion Orchestra (who would be appearing with Rick Wakeman later in the evening.)

I don’t know why I was surprised to find that I enjoyed the performance so much. I liked the way that Shine on You Crazy Diamond began with tuned percussion, mimicking Rick Wright’s barely perceptible twinkling, descending arpeggio, but this piece proved to be structurally suited to an orchestrated version and sensibly eschewed vocals, unlike the Orion Orchestra album version which features Alice Cooper (and who had headlined the previous day.) I don’t know if it’s a feature of orchestrated rock music in general or part of the transposition process, but I was reminded of passages on Sgt Pepper’s and Days of Future Passed, with the key changes providing some nice drama. The orchestra was augmented by guitars and featured vocals on Welcome to the Machine, Have a Cigar and the title track, which didn’t convert so well to the orchestral format. The performance was concluded with a triumphant, truncated, vocal-less version of Eclipse. The inclusion of the orchestra in the programme was perfectly apt. This was an alternative way for fans to experience the album, exposing subtle nuances that may have been buried in the layers of the 1975 release. I’m not entirely sure that it would have been appropriate for classical music aficionados and it’s certainly not the first orchestral adaptation of a progressive rock album but it demonstrated that it’s not unreasonable to turn symphonic prog into symphonic orchestra music.


Introduced by a caped Jerry Ewing as one of the best prog guitarists, I thought the running order of the acts was somewhat awry with Steve Hackett appearing next as part of the Acolyte to Wolflight tour. Hackett is an artist that I’ve seen on a number of occasions but this was the first time since February 2012, when I went to see him at Brighton’s Komedia on the Breaking Waves tour that he played anything other than Genesis material. My favourite Hackett solo albums are Voyage of the Acolyte and Spectral Mornings and, after a technical glitch, he opened with Every Day, archetypal melodic Hackett. The acoustic Loving Sea from latest release Wolflight came next, followed by an undiluted prog duo of A Tower Struck Down and Shadow of the Hierophant; dark, brooding and complex. Nad Sylvan then came on stage for three Genesis tracks to finish the rather short but excellent set: Dance on a Volcano; The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway and Firth of Fifth. Hackett’s band is well versed in this material and it shows; the performance enhanced by Sylvan’s theatrical movements and some dramatic lighting and smoke. Hackett’s initial trouble with no signal, the malfunction of his tuning pedal and Nick Beggs’ signal problems when he switched to a double neck guitar could all have been minor mishaps from a gig in the 70s, overcome by the power of the music. It’s just a shame his set didn’t eat into the slot provided for Marillion, who were on stage next.



Apparently fresh from appearing alongside Queen at a festival in Switzerland, Ewing described Marillion as ‘prog rock royalty’ and I was looking forward to seeing a decent set. The only other time I’ve seen bits of Marillion was at 2010’s High Voltage but that performance was bleeding into the start time for ELP on the main festival stage and I don’t remember any of The Invisible Man or Neverland, two tracks that were played at both events. This show was spoiled by a poor, distorted sound that wasn’t helped by Steve Hogarth shouting, rather than singing. Not being over-familiar with the post-Fish repertoire, I found it surprising that the opening number The Invisible Man and the subsequent track, You’re Gone, both from 2004’s Marbles, sounded as though they featured rhythm machine. It was difficult to class any of the set as prog, other than the unexpected inclusion of neo-prog medley Kayleigh/Lavender/Heart of Lothian, so I was left feeling disappointed.

Headlining the day was Rick Wakeman, performing The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table in its entirety for the first time since the 1975 tour. I’ve seen Wakeman on a number of occasions, the first in Leeds in 1976 when he was promoting No Earthly Connection and the most recent performing the entire, reworked Journey to the Centre of the Earth at the Royal Albert Hall in 2014. There were a number of parallels between the Journey show and this one, with Stone Free seemingly created for the Arthurian epic. In both cases Wakeman provided more music and though a couple of years ago I questioned whether or not Journey was progressive rock, concluding that it was more musical theatre, only in a bad, Lloyd-Webber kind of way, I also wondered about the provenance of Myths and Legends. I have recently listened to the original recording a couple of times and, because the album was conceived as a studio piece, the singing is slightly better and I like the music more. The additional music on the updated version is not too bad but these tracks appear to have been written to highlight the vocal talents of Hayley Sanderson... only I don’t think she has a voice suited to prog and the lyrics are as bad as the originals; Merlin the Magician was spoiled by the addition of vocals.

Permanently ensconced behind his keyboard rig until coming down to take a bow at the conclusion of the performance, sporting a green and silver cape, Wakeman played some awesome Moog parts (the original album is also full of them) but left the narrations to Ian Lavender, seated front left on the stage. There was no encore and I think the crowd were a bit bemused, clapping politely but not enthusiastically for a couple of minutes before the house lights went up; a damp squib of an ending.


Overall the gig was enjoyable but I’m left with doubts about Marillion and Wakeman, when it was the idea of seeing the live premiere of the expanded Myths and Legends that originally caught my attention. On the plus side, I know Hackett always gives a great performance and the symphonic Wish You Were Here is worth catching. It also rained but there was no mud...




By ProgBlog, Nov 10 2014 09:42PM

There’s something magical about a live performance, unless it’s to see a band that you don’t actually like. My personal nightmares include The Sweet (Barrow, May 1973 which fortunately cost me nothing because I accompanied a friend on his birthday), Slade (Goldsmiths’ College, December 1979) and UFO (Hammersmith Odeon, February 1980) but I’ve also seen performances from artists that I do like that have disappointed (Rick Wakeman’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth show at the Royal Albert Hall, earlier this year.) I think the disappointment stems from failed expectations. Wakeman had touted the format of the show beforehand but I was too stupid to take in what he’d said and I think that a full concert, rather than the Journey back-story peppered with jokes, some of which could be interpreted as offensive, that took up a good portion of the evening, would have been far less dissatisfying.

I think it’s generally true that musicians, of whatever genre, put a great deal into their live performances. Thematic or conceptual stage shows evolved in the 70s, especially amongst the more successful acts who graduated from small theatres to arenas. This coincided with the golden era of prog where the trilogy of recorded music, album design and stage set were fully thought through to provide what an economist might call ‘value added’. There was a shift from straightforward atmosphere to total immersion in a concept; from a light show to Yes and their fibreglass moulds to fit in with the Topographic Oceans iconography, ELP with their model of Tarkus, Rick Wakeman with inflatable battling dinosaurs or presenting Myths and Legends on ice, and culminating in the architectural designs of Pink Floyd, enhanced with models of crashing aeroplanes, flying pigs and giant puppets. There was no intention to downgrade the importance of the music but the increasing distance of the audience from the stage meant that there was a requirement to offer an alternative view to tiny dots on the stage. This became spectacle and, though many current rock and pop acts continue with the tradition, at the time it was seen as confirmation that progressive rock had become overblown and out of touch.

Though costume changes and make-up were seen as innovative by fans of David Bowie and the wider emerging glam rock scene, Arthur Brown was donning bizarre headgear and sporting makeup in 1968. A couple of years later, Peter Gabriel had also began to experiment with facial makeup, costumes and masks and wore his wife’s red dress and a foxes head for performances of The Musical Box before the release of Foxtrot, where it would be depicted on Paul Whitehead’s sleeve painting. [Have you looked closely at the horse ridden by the green headed huntsman on the cover of Foxtrot? It’s actually in a state of excitement.]

Gabriel’s theatrical touch served two purposes; to help him overcome his lack of confidence as he literally hid behind a mask and to provide a visual focal point as the other four musicians sat, barely moving, concentrating on playing their respective instruments. The costumes evolved from the basic ‘old Henry’ mask used on The Musical Box; through the bat wing head gear of Watcher of the Skies and the flower at the end of How Dare I be so Beautiful? and beginning of the Willow Farm sections of Supper’s Ready; Britannia on Dancing with the Moonlit Knight; culminating with Rael as a Slipperman on The Lamb Lies Down, a suit featuring inflatable genitals. Gabriel continued to wear face paint into his subsequent solo career and when I briefly played in a live band, I attempted to copy the makeup depicted on Plays Live – keyboard player Alistair Penny sported a Bowie-inspired flash and guitarist Eric Whitton wore makeup reminiscent of SAHB guitarist Zal Cleminson. It’s hard to believe that Gabriel was not responsible for inspiring the face painting of Fish, who wore makeup from the live inception of Marillion up to the end of the Real to Reel tour. Part camouflage and part refection of the Jester that appears on the sleeves of singles and albums up to Misplaced Childhood, a study of Fish’s greasepaint seems to show a thematic relationship with the venue. Though Fish denies any conscious adoption of colours relating to his surroundings, such as the black, red and yellow used for Marillion’s first indoor gig in Germany in October 1983, he does admit to putting some thought into occassionally going for specifics, such as a Union Jack and an RAF roundel design used at a gig at a base near Aylesbury in 1981, a design that was resurrected for the Reading Festival headlining gig of 1982. It's also of note that Peter Nicholls, vocalist with classic neo-prog band IQ, was also into face paint and costumes - the cover of The Wake depicts a character with make up very similar to that sported by Nicholls.

It’s difficult to know if Gabriel influenced Progressivo Italiano outfit Osanna. Genesis were certainly a very popular in Italy, where Nursery Cryme was a surprise success, reaching no. 4 in the Italian charts. L’Uomo was also released in 1971 and the cover depicts the band in costumes and theatrical makeup but their sound was rather different to that of Genesis, mixing jazz, psychedelia, folk and blues, indicating that Jethro Tull were a likely influence. They would later work with David Jackson from Van der Graaf Generator, Charisma label-mates of Genesis and another successful UK musical export to Italy. It’s not even coincidence, but VdGG had a track called ’Masks’ on World Record, allowing Peter Hammill to extemporise on the subject of presenting a false persona. The theme of acting a part was also visited in the surrogate band that featured in the live shows of The Wall, wearing masks.

The vast majority of prog was about concentrating on the music. The visual additions to live shows were intended to enhance the musical experience but when theatrics became the dominant force like on the tour of The Wall, or Rick Wakeman performing The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table on ice, it’s as though the entertainment is making up for deficiencies in the music. I certainly don’t regard The Wall as progressive rock and I’ve previously questioned whether Journey to the Centre of the Earth is really prog. A good light show and effects is all you need to add to good music but some costume changes and face paint don’t do any harm; over-reliance on gimmicks, however clever, is slipping on a mask to hide what’s underneath.


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