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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, Mar 12 2018 10:28PM

The small group of family and friends that share my interest in prog can all trace their appreciation of the genre to the golden age. I grew up with almost all of them and most are regular gig companions but I was still blown away by their response when asked to submit their nine ‘life changing’ albums. Some just provided me with a list, one a list with bullet points and the remainder of the submissions were roughly along the same lines as my selection last week, including explanatory notes. My guidelines were deliberately woolly but included the following points: to list the nine albums that had the most significant impact on their lives, or were at least associated with significant events in their lives; to provide a short summary of their choice should they wish to do so; and to compile their choices before I revealed my own list, published the blog last week.

These are their 9 albums:



The albums are arranged in chronological order of their release. Thick as a Brick I didn't discover until about 1975 but is the best Tull, saw IA perform it in Newcastle a few years ago along with TAAB2. Close to the Edge is the best Yes and any prog album and one of my earliest discoveries. The Dark Side of the Moon still sets the bar and was another of my early favourites. Refugee is still Patrick Moraz's finest work along with Relayer. The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway is another early find and remains brilliant. Red runs close with In the Court of... as the best Crimson album but I chose it as it features Bill B. I got Harbour of Tears last year on holiday in Krakow and is as good as any Camel album. Dust and Dreams and Rajaz both from the 90s are also up there with their best work. AD 2010 I got on holiday in Sienna which was a great holiday made even better by this find and I have been seeking out other recent post-2000 PFM albums which are really good. Rattle that Lock is DG's best solo effort and compares favourably with any Floyd. I was very tempted to include a Water's Edge album for personal reasons but probably not prog enough! Number 10 would have been Aerie Faerie Nonsense by The Enid.

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Days of Future Passed

A linked piece (concept) with varied writers and instrumentalists contributing to a fine album supported by a full orchestra, it was one the first pieces of progressive music I heard. Having grown up in a house where classical music was enjoyed by my dad, it was as if ' pop ' music was going somewhere and albums were works in themselves.

Argus

Loved the music, harmonizing guitars, lyrics and extended progressive middle sections. Although Wishbone Ash have a rocky sound at times, it had sustenance in its tracks and delivered open lengthy pieces.

Music Inspired by The Snow Goose

Had read the book and someone lent me the album. Hooked and to this day I enjoy it as much as ever. The sounds and progression! A great work.

Tubular Bells

One man's concept album or was it? But life was never the same after hearing this and subsequent albums were certainly more fluid and impressionistic. It was different!

Nursery Cryme

Ahh, Genesis. Perhaps the one band I committed to wholly. This really was 'fantastic' music, story-telling, picturesque, album after album but it started for me with Nursery Cryme in the mid 70s.

Tales from Topographic Oceans

Of all the YES albums, I came to this first! Fascinated by the other worldliness of its sounds, by the album sleeve and its escapist, visionary nature. You travel with the music.

Brain Salad Surgery

I had a friend who had Pictures at an Exhibition (I knew the classical work) and had enjoyed it, then this. Big, brash, funny and a moment of sublime love (or so it seemed to a teenage girl). Played my dad Jerusalem over a cup of tea. Even my sister (not her usual stuff) played it ...well, some of it. You had to be in the mood to go through all the three movements of Karn Evil 9 but it anchors me to a time and place.

Meddle

I'd had an amazing first listen to Dark Side of the Moon; lights out, candles lit, a group of us listening in an attic bedroom but it was Meddle that I returned to in 1975 as a soundscape when revising for my O Levels. Experimental, varied influence, perhaps no real concept but some tremendous pieces. A favourite to this day.

The Condensed 21st century Guide to King Crimson 1969-2003

Essential inclusion for me and with thanks to [ProgBlog]. I had heard In the Court of the Crimson King at parties (the lads in a room wowing at whatever) but it is, criminally, only in relatively recent times that I've immersed myself in KC as a unit and this collection is stunning. This may has enhanced my prog listening. Am still on that journey.

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The albums represent: 1st single purchased; 1st album purchased; 1st prog album I heard; 1st gig attended; 1st album heard at Uni; 1st CD purchased; 1st double album purchased; favourite prog album; favourite prog track; favourite album cover; favourite album; favourite non-prog album; album with the most versions in my collection (vinyl, half-speed remastered vinyl, hi-res 24 bit download, CD, picture disc CD); album I play the most often (but not necessarily my favourite)

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Pink Floyd – The Dark Side of the Moon

The very first album I bought, second hand from Paul Thompson for £3.50 in 1980, mint condition with the posters and stickers. What a way to start your music listening career! The first album being prog-related set a tone for the music I got into in the immediate years following, and a lifetime of listening beyond that.

Jethro Tull – Repeat the Best of Jethro Tull Vol.2

A 14th birthday present from [ProgBlog] and Bill Burford. Having struggled a little at first with the Songs from the Wood album this pulled me in hook, line and sinker. Several years of Tull obsession followed. A very good compilation from the classic Tull prog years.

Martin Stephenson & The Daintees – Gladsome Humour & Blue

“Who?” you may ask. A former carpet fitter from Washington, Tyne & Wear, that’s who. Rather like Dark Side, an album written by a man with immense maturity for his tender years. Heart melting stuff bought second hand at the record shop in the Newcastle University student union. Martin’s almost a shaman character, who shunned the majors for a simple life doing music his way, which he still does to this day from the Highlands of Scotland.

Johnny Cash – American III Solitary Man

Early 2000s, I’d heard Folsom Prison and thought it was quite quirky, so bought this on the hop for a fiver at Fopp. The (on the face of it) bizarre collaboration of hip hop producer Rick Rubin and Johnny Cash produced heavily stylised recordings that turned ok originals into probably the most dramatic music I’ve ever heard.

Various Artists – The Best of Blue Note Vol.1

Introduced me to the world of Blue Note, and very heavily influenced the next ten years of listening and purchasing. Included the Donald Byrd version of Cristo Redentor, a beautifully pure trumpet tune with eerie backing “woos” (not words as such) from a gospel choir. A song which will be played at my funeral. Included other future faves like Horace Silver and Art Blakey.

Genesis – Live

Bought this for a pound off John Carrott, when he was selling his albums. Played to death then replaced on CD. Played very frequently to this day, and I keep hoping they’’ issue an expanded version one day. Five songs, all great, but side 2 with The Musical Box and The Knife is surely one of the greatest sides of music ever issued.

Gil Scott-Heron – The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

A 1974 compilation bought at Hitsville in Newcastle. Poetry meets jazz meets funk meets politics meets human rights. A pioneer of rap from the late 60s, but with really strong messages, from the very raw at the start to really sophisticated pieces near the end.

Various Artists – First Time I Met The Blues

I’d started seeing some live roots music, then picked up this Chess compilation, which led me to Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters and Chicago blues that had come from the fields originally, very raw black music, the punk of its day.

Various Artists – Blue Brazil

A Blue Note compilation of very melodic Brazilian jazzy numbers, laced with fantastic rhythms and beautiful voices. Strange because none of the music had been released on Blue Note originally. Set off another investigation into rhythmic music from other countries that picked up some things I already liked including funk rhythms and jazz, Afro-centric music, and pulled at my own South American heritage (albeit much more interesting music than the native stuff from Chile and most of South America).

I know these compilations are cheating a bit, but they’re random purchases that opened doors.

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A Nice Pair – Pink Floyd.

This release of the first two Floyd albums was my real initiation into music that was to become ‘mine’. Although I had heard my brother playing albums in his bedroom in the early 1970’s it wasn’t until I was played A Saucerful of Secrets in a music lesson at school that I began discovering music outside the charts. I will forever be thankful to that teacher, Mr Peter Nurse.

Evening Star – Fripp & Eno.

I first heard this when visiting my brothers flat. The music had an otherworldly quality that resonated with me and indeed still does.

Tubular Bells – Mike Oldfield.

This is an album I remember hearing my brother play and it became one of the first albums I bought, the first was actually Hergest Ridge also by Oldfield. However, if I hadn’t heard this album as much as I did I’d never have bought Hergest Ridge. It’s not my favourite Oldfield album, that remains Ommadawn, but without it, a love of instrumental music may never have been forged.

Journey to the Centre of the Earth – Rick Wakeman

This one album sparked my love of electronic keyboards and synthesisers. I was introduced to it by a friend called Richard Key who used to give me lifts when we went to fishing matches. One day on our return he invited me in to hear this album and I was hooked. Much was to follow from that day.

Close to the Edge – Yes

Having discovered Mr Wakeman it didn’t take long to discover Yes. This remains the quintessential progressive rock album to me and the best that Yes released. Other individual Yes songs may have come close, The Revealing Science of God, Gates of Delirium, Awaken, Starship Trooper and Heart of the Sunrise immediately spring to mind but this album had it all in just three songs.

The Dark Side of the Moon – Pink Floyd

This is another album that isn’t my favourite from the band, that would be Wish You Were Here, but when I first got the album, bought as a Xmas present on cassette, I played it to death. I’ve since had the album on vinyl and CD (4 times) and I never tire of it.

Phaedra – Tangerine Dream

I believe I first heard this album in the ‘Tracks’ record shop in Royston where I grew up. The guys in the shop were beginning to suggest albums to me knowing my interest in electronic keyboard based music and the decision to purchase was immediate when I heard the sequencer kick in. This has been a really important album for me and gets played at least once a month even now. It may not be as technically proficient as subsequent albums but it retains a distinct charm all of its own.

Oxygene – Jean Michel Jarre

This was another of those albums that just had to be bought once I’d heard the single from the album, Oxygene IV. This was really accessible electronic music which couldn’t be said so easily of Tangerine Dream. I’ve followed Jarre’s career ever since. He’s released some real duds in the last 40 years but Oxygene is an electronic music classic and is another of those albums that I still get real enjoyment out of listening to.

Deadwing – Porcupine Tree

This was my introduction to both Porcupine Tree and Steven Wilson who has since become a very important musical personality in my listening. Strangely, I only started to find out about the group when I discovered that Robert Fripp would be the support artist on the second UK leg of the Deadwing tour. As I wanted to see Fripp performing his soundscapes live I thought I’d find out more about the group he was supporting. I’d be a lot richer now if I hadn’t bothered but I’m so glad I did. I now have nearly every album that Steven Wilson has released either with Porcupine Tree, as a solo artist, with Blackfield, Bass Communion or No-Man. Tickets for four gigs on the upcoming UK tour might give an indication of how important his music is to me

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Yes - Close to the Edge

Yes - Relayer

King Crimson - Larks' Tongues in Aspic

King Crimson - Starless and Bible Black

ELP - Trilogy

Miles Davis - Kind of Blue

Miles Davis - Star People

Camel - Music Inspired by The Snow Goose

Focus - Best of Focus

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Probably think of some album I'd rather include but can't check record collection. All oldies, number 1 has remained so since age 14, the others might move about a bit

1) Close to the Edge

2) Larks' Tongues in Aspic

3) Fragile

4) Tales from Topographic Oceans

5) Starless and Bible Black

6) Nice

7) The Dark Side of the Moon

8) Pictures at an Exhibition

9) The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway

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The group of respondents, including me, have an age range of 47 – 61; the mean age is 56 and the median age is 58. Six of the group spent their formative years in a relatively close-knit community, separated by only a very few houses and three of the six are closely related; one is from the Birmingham area, one from a small town in Hertfordshire and one from Leeds. More importantly, the musical tastes of this cohort don’t appear to have changed during the intervening years. With the exception of one respondent, all were teenagers at a time when progressive rock was a recognised and commercially successful genre, though competition from other musical styles was fairly restricted to outright pop (appealing to the predominantly pre-pubescent), blues-based rock, glam-rock and soul; my household was filled with a wide spectrum of jazz and at least one household featured a range of classical music. The oft-observed gender imbalance of prog fandom is evident here, with only one of the eight being female.


What comes across that respondents were discovering music which has informed their choice; most have stuck with the music of their teens but there is an element of tastes branching out. The influence of older siblings and friends is also clear, so that both Close to the Edge and The Dark Side of the Moon albums feature heavily but different examples of works by ELP, Genesis, King Crimson, Pink Floyd and Yes, five of the leading exponents of prog, are scattered throughout the lists, potentially indicating personal preference for one of a band’s albums over another. The degree of homogeneity between respondents is further demonstrated by Camel, Focus, Jethro Tull, Mike Oldfield, PFM and Tangerine Dream all appearing in more than one list.

There’s also an indication that some of the choices aren’t the favourite albums by a band, though they still appear in the list. My personal choice wouldn’t all be in my favourite nine albums as I prefer Hamburger Concerto to Focus 3, Refugee’s self-titled LP from 1974 would be in my top five and however good Starless and Bible Black may be, I like In the Court of the Crimson King, Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Red and USA even more. I looked upon each choice as a gateway to further discovery so that I couldn’t include Refugee or Snow Goose or any Genesis.


Thanks to everyone I asked for their nine albums for their illuminating replies – you know who you are.










By ProgBlog, Sep 4 2017 10:23PM

I’ve just watched the 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger sci-fi/adventure film The Running Man which, when it begins, is set in 2017, jumping to 2019 after Ben Richards (Schwarzenegger’s character) is framed, and imprisoned for a mass murder of innocent civilians. Based on a Stephen King novel published under the pseudonym of Richard Bachman (with the Bachman borrowed from Canadian rockers Bachman Turner Overdrive) the 2017 of the future hints at the 2017 of today: “By 2017 the world economy has collapsed. Food, natural resources and oil are in short supply. A Police State, divided into paramilitary zones, rules with an iron hand. Television is controlled by the State and a sadistic game show called ‘The Running Man’ has become the most popular program in history. All art, music and communications are censored. No dissent is tolerated and yet a small resistance movement has managed to survive underground” but it’s the plot relating to editing video footage, the use of ‘fake news’ to manipulate the masses, along with the quest for ratings, which most resemble our present. It’s quite incredible that two actors from the film, Schwarzenegger himself and professional wrestler Jesse Ventura (who plays Captain Freedom) would make the shift from entertainer to politician: Schwarzenegger was the Republican governor of California for two terms from 2003 and Ventura was the Reform Party candidate and elected governor of Minnesota in 1999, deciding not to stand for re-election in 2003; current POTUS Donald Trump has no previous political experience but he has featured in the reality TV business.

The Running Man also serves as a vehicle for the acting talents (!) of Mick Fleetwood (Fleetwood Mac) and Dweezil Zappa, who happens to be playing 50 Years of Frank in the UK over the next month. Stephen King’s novel was written three years before Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and the two books share that near-future (our present) dystopian world-view.



The Running Man and Mick Fleetwood and Dweezil Zappa
The Running Man and Mick Fleetwood and Dweezil Zappa

We live in worrying times. The very recent planned detonation of a hydrogen bomb, ten times more powerful than the previous device tested and allegedly capable of deployment by one of their ICBMs which have also been tested with alarming frequency in recent weeks in response to joint military manoeuvres by the South Koreans and the US, represents a disturbing testosterone-fuelled escalation towards a potential devastating conflict between the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea and almost all of the rest of the world. Whereas I personally wasn’t worried by the Cold War stand-off between the US and its allies and the Communist Bloc, even though my youth was spent living in a potential target for Soviet missiles and I moved to London, an obvious target, just before the Thatcher-Reagan years; a period when bullish rhetoric was backed by American-controlled cruise missiles sited on UK soil and of Reagan’s proposed Strategic Defense [sic] Initiative. However, the behaviour of Trump on the one hand and Kim Jong-un on the other, two megalomaniacs who simply refuse to back down, is an increasing cause for concern.

According to the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, the Doomsday Clock is currently set at two and a half minutes to midnight, indicating that the probability of global catastrophe is very high, the highest it has been since 1953 when the US decided to pursue the development of the Hydrogen bomb. Throughout 2016 and 2015, the clock stood at three minutes to the hour, the closest to midnight since the early 1980s; this year the danger is even greater. My lack of concern during the 80s was partly due to my belief that the USSR economy, ploughing ever more resources into the military-industrial complex and away from the staples needed by the ordinary people was unsustainable, though there was always the possibility of initiating a strike by accident. I attended CND rallies and laughed at the ridiculous Civil Defence plans for a nuclear attack on the UK, its forced public dissemination five months after it had been ‘officially’ released in January 1980 following an investigation by the (pre-Murdoch) Times newspaper. In March 1984 David Gilmour released his second solo album About Face which included the jaunty and ironic Cruise, featuring innumerable puns about atomic warfare and fading out with a cod reggae groove. My current anxiety is fuelled by the actions of a paranoid dictator in North Korea who ignores the basic rights and requirements of his people and a clueless, populist, not-particularly-successful-businessman-turned-TV-personality who wouldn’t know diplomacy if he had to shake it by the hand.



Dave Gilmour, Hammersmith Odeon 30.04.84
Dave Gilmour, Hammersmith Odeon 30.04.84

If there is going to be a future despite Trump’s best endeavours to scupper it through either total war or climate change denial, what is prog going to look like? In 2017 we have the benefit of being able to look back at almost 50 years of prog, but is reflecting on the changes in both the music itself and the industry since Sgt Pepper’s, The Piper at the Gates of Dawn and Days of Future Passed any help in imagining future-prog?

I propose that we define prog rock along temporal lines to provide an indication of general stylistic attributes. If we restrict the term ‘progressive rock’ to music produced between 1969 (the year of In the Court of the Crimson King) and 1978, which equates to the so-called ‘golden era’, there were a couple of years beforehand where blues-based rock and psychedelia began to push at the boundaries of conventional popular music which we could call proto-progressive, append neo-prog (early-mid 80s) which combined progressive rock traits with an almost punk attitude, and further append the early 90s prog revival which has gone from strength to strength and flourishes today; to avoid any arguments over semantics and how ‘progressive’ implies continuous development, these four ages, plus future-prog should be scrutinised under the overarching umbrella of ‘prog’.


It’s quite remarkable that prog should be as strong as it currently appears. If the original proto-prog and progressive rock success was down to the baby boomer generation, it’s not unreasonable to suggest that our children are maintaining the continued interest. However, this is not necessarily always the case. My son may recognise classic progressive rock and buy me prog but I couldn’t get him to learn an instrument or get serious about the genre! At least part of the driver for prog was a series of technological advances from the 60s onwards and innovators like Robert Moog who took these ideas and turned them to practical, musical uses, though there have been some duds. I’ve never been happy with the sound of the string synthesizer, seen as a reliable alternative to the unwieldy Mellotron, but which had an equally short life cycle. The Elka Rhapsody was produced in Italy between 1975 and 1980 and became something of a favourite, despite what I’d describe as a thin sound; even my band used one in 1979-80, before our keyboard player John Carrott bought himself a Juno 6 and the band dissolved. Perhaps the biggest offender was the Solina String Ensemble before the Prophet 5 and Yamaha DX7 polyphonic synthesizers came along to make the string synth redundant. Fortunately, after a number of hiccoughs Mellotron are going strong and it’s virtually impossible to go to a prog gig in Italy without seeing a Mellotron on stage. However, there are two mellotron companies: Mellotron run by Markus Resch in Sweden who own the brand name and produce the Mk 6 and digital M4000D model, and Streetly Electronics, the original UK manufacturers of the Mellotron who produce the M4000. The accurate digital reproduction of 70s analogue sounds is a feature of much of the current keyboard-based prog and while appearing retrograde, it’s the culmination of technological advancement to achieve the widest range of sounds without compromising portability. This refinement is hardly a major leap forwards compared to the pace of change within the recording side of the business. Digital recording and file sharing have facilitated a near revolution in record production, so that The Invention of Knowledge (2016) was made over a two-year period without Jon Anderson and Roine Stolt meeting up, apart from for a Los Angeles photo shoot; Anderson sent his vocals from the US to Stolt in Sweden, where the instruments were recorded with other musicians.


Anderson-Stolt - The Invention of Knowledge (2016)
Anderson-Stolt - The Invention of Knowledge (2016)

This lack of a geographical centre of the movement is associated with the prog revival and it’s a very good thing. Progressive rock wouldn’t have emerged without the political and social changes experienced by the UK in the 60s, quickly exported to our continental European neighbours who had both similar and their own unique conditions for developing the genre. Some of the original proto-prog and progressive rock philosophy remains and has been applied to some of the woes of the modern world: Steven Wilson’s latest release To the Bone (2017) covers topics like the divisiveness of President Trump and his notion that truth isn’t always the truth, the everyday lives of refugees, terrorists and religious fundamentalists; Roger Waters also wades into current affairs and Trump on Is This the Life We Really Want? in a continuation of a thread running from Animals (1977).


Roger Waters - Is this the life we really want (2017)
Roger Waters - Is this the life we really want (2017)

But what of the future? Is the recycling of classic progressive rock sounds and the return of vinyl a step into tomorrow? Is the cause helped by the remnants of original acts touring their old material? I suspect that the genre is time-limited and we’re currently approaching the twilight of a second ‘golden age’ though through recorded media it has the chance to live on.

There’s nothing wrong with playing the greatest hits from your back catalogue because that’s what bands of all eras and all genres have done; if the creative spark has gone then continue to please audiences with old favourites and let newcomers, the next generation of prog rockers, reinterpret the idiom in whatever way they can. Prog has used a myriad of diverse influences to create wonderful, amazing, challenging music and whether good or bad, there will be plenty of unimagined future legends to inspire the prog musician.



Photograph: Scott Olson/Getty Images
Photograph: Scott Olson/Getty Images








By ProgBlog, Aug 7 2017 02:46PM

I pay £1.47 for four pints (2.27 litres) of milk at our local Co-op, and I choose to pay almost half as much extra than is strictly necessary (there are supermarkets like Sainsbury’s, which is also very close to me, where that volume of milk only costs £1) because a supermarket price war over essentials which began in 2015 depressed the price of milk to a level below production costs, threatening the UK dairy industry. Consumers suggested that they were willing to pay more for the product and the supermarkets, faced with protests involving cows being herded through their aisles, agreed to pay a minimum price for processed milk to the dairies, which was set at around 26p to 28p per litre. However, guaranteeing a minimum price for milk doesn’t necessarily mean that dairy farmers will benefit because the large dairies supplying the supermarkets might not pay the minimum cost to the farmers. Something is broken in the economy when a staple like milk is sold for less than what it cost to produce so it’s fortunate that consumers, who stand to benefit in the short-term from this high-street competition, have decided that paying 47% more is worth avoiding the collapse of the industry.



I’ve been buying a fair amount of vinyl recently, both new and second-hand, and I’ve started to wonder if today’s prices are anywhere near equivalent to what I paid for albums in the 70s and 80s. Inflation in the UK was recorded at 2.9% in June and is expected to average out at 2.8% for 2017 and an online calculator shows me that the total inflation in the UK economy since 1973, the year I first bought an LP, is 1113.42%; if the laws of economics have held true, the equivalent of a new release costing £2.50 in 1973 would now set you back a little over £30 so it would appear that a new release 12” LP is good value for money compared to prices in the 70s. Of course I used to seek out bargains if I could but these tended to be old releases (my copy of Fripp and Eno’s Evening Star for example, bought for £2.99 from Simons Records in a large basement on London’s Oxford Street in 1981), and ‘cut outs’, sleeves with small slits in one corner or punch holes just off centre which would also penetrate the label in the middle of the LP. These items were slow selling records that had been returned to the record company by a retailer, subsequently bought by a third party at a reduced cost (they weren’t selling well anyway) and put back into record stores where they were sold at a discounted price. During the late 70s and early 80s it is hardly surprising that albums by prog acts were slow selling and ended up at sale prices. My cut out edition of Livestock by Brand X cost £2.49 from Virgin Records in Oxford Street in August 1981.


It’s interesting that a full price album, using Bryan Ferry’s Boys and Girls as an example because it’s still got the Our Price sticker on it, which cost £5.29 when it was released in 1985, would sell for £15.64 at today’s prices and that the total inflation since 1985 is only of the order of 195%. The massive hike in inflation occurred in the mid 70s with CPI inflation peaking at around 24% in 1975 and high inflation persisting into the early 80s. The oil crisis of 1973, precipitated by an embargo by the Organization of Arab Petroleum Export Countries in response to US support for Israel in the Yom Kippur War, generated inflationary forces which increased energy and commodity prices, quadrupling the price of oil in less than four months. At the same time, the world economy was in recession and this was mirrored in the UK economy. It was a period of 'stagflation', in which recession combined with inflation; inflationary wage increases were accompanied by a rise in unemployment, reaching one million in early 1976. High unemployment required increased government expenditure and borrowing.

The oil crisis had a direct effect on vinyl, a petrochemical offshoot, causing shortages and a concomitant rise in LP price. Some vinyl got thinner and my copies of The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Rick Wakeman and Fruupp’s Seven Secrets from this time are semi-transparent (with a red hue.)



The Labour Party was elected to government in February 1974 without an overall majority and they pursued a commitment to the 'social contract' (voluntary wage restraint in return for better bargaining rights) and public spending. Unfortunately, an international loss of confidence in sterling followed due to the combination of recession, instability and commitment to social expenditure, and led to the devaluation of sterling. Labour was again voted into power, this time with a tiny majority, after a further election in October 1974 and the subsequent budget in April 1975 attempted to reduce the deficit by increasing the basic rate of taxation to 35%, cutting the rate of growth of public expenditure and restricting the supply of money but it was viewed critically in the financial sector; the Wall Street Journal advised against investment in Sterling. By mid-1976 the economy was under extreme pressure and Chancellor of the Exchequer Denis Healy made a nationwide broadcast on TV in an attempt to reassure the markets and investigated the possibility of loan arrangements with the chairman of The Group of Ten (richest countries.) Late that year the government was forced to apply to the International Monetary Fund (IMF) for a loan of $3.9bn, with IMF negotiators insisting on deep cuts in public expenditure, which had a huge effect on immediate economic and social policy but also on the politics of the 1980s and beyond.

At this stage I’d like to point out that I have no faith in economic theory because movement of capital seems to be reliant on whim or the perception that a country or organisation may be at any given time in a state of stability or instability, and built on exploitation. The inflexibility of thinking within the IMF and the European Central Bank dragged out austerity and caused near-irreversible damage to most of the southern European countries and Greece in particular, spawning groups of right-wing nationalists looking for someone to blame for their economic misery. Furthermore, I believe that the global financial system is run by chancers and geared towards enriching those already with great wealth. When a government intervenes to bail out some venerable banking group because it’s too big to fail, the bank denounces regulation and carries on as though nothing happened.


I should also make it clear that I’m not buying vinyl as an investment but because it has always been my preferred medium for listening to music. If there’s anything nostalgic about my habit, buying LPs I used to own but got rid of because the music/band fell out of favour so that I stopped playing the records (Rubycon by Tangerine Dream, L by Steve Hillage, The Civil Surface by Egg, Camembert Electrique by Gong and Rick Wakeman’s The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table) or because I needed to fund the replacement of old vinyl with shiny new CDs and maybe get some bonus material), it’s the desire to hold a gatefold sleeve in my hands and look at the artwork as originally presented and maybe to count my leisure hours in (roughly) 20 minute chunks.

I don’t buy very many LPs where I have some updated form of CD though replacing my original King Crimson and Pink Floyd albums was a must; I tend to look in second-hand stores for particular recordings or bands that interested me when I was a youth but never took the plunge – Spyglass Guest by Greenslade, Ricochet by Tangerine Dream, Aqua by Edgar Froese are examples, along with Mother Focus. One of my first excursions from home to see a gig at Lancaster University was for Focus, promoting the just-released follow-up to the excellent Hamburger Concerto. It was one of the most disappointing performances I’ve ever witnessed, where Philip Catherine had replaced Jan Akkerman and the new material was not of a good standard.



I thought it was worth testing the inflation theory some more, wondering if it applied to beer. I go to the pub perhaps every couple of months and on a night out earlier this month I was paying £4.50 for a pint of Shepherd Neame (the oldest brewery in the country) Bishop’s Finger in the Bishop’s Finger pub between St Bartholomew’s Hospital and Smithfield market. I accept that’s central London but when I first started drinking in 1977, a pint of Hartley’s XB (‘best’) bitter cost 28p and by the same calculation I’d expect to pay £1.85 today. Of course Hartley’s was brewed in Ulverston and there’s a documented price disparity between northern and southern beers. I can’t remember how much I paid for a pint of bitter when I first arrived in London because I actively had to seek out decent beers in an era when real ale in London was in decline and I was never a fan of Courage – the CAMRA Good Beer Guide was an essential part of the student survival kit. Two worthwhile London breweries were Young’s of Wandsworth and Fuller's of Chiswick but there were a few free houses where the 70s equivalent of the ubiquitous Sharp’s Doom Bar, Ruddles County, could be found. I’m pretty sure this used to sell for a little shy of 50p in 1978 so I shouldn’t really expect to pay more than £2.86 for a pint in London today.

A final piece of economics: Ruddles brewery was based in Langham, in Rutland, the smallest historic county in England and produced a good-quality bitter (allegedly at least part due to the unique Langham water) which travelled well. This independent brewery was bought out by Watneys in 1986 and sold on again, to Grolsch in 1992. Following a downturn in fortunes, the beer and brewery were valued at £4.8m and sold to Morland & Co. in 1997. The brewery was closed down in 1999 and production moved to Abingdon but Greene King bought Morland in 2000 and shut down the Abingdon site...


The bottom line (as economists might say) is that whether I’m searching for second-hand or new vinyl, in real terms I’m paying less than I did when I started collecting albums. Yes, you might see pristine original pressings of In the Court of the Crimson King selling for £50 but equally, it’s possible to come across an original pressing of Tubular Bells with the black and white Virgin labels, etched stampers without matrix numbers, laminate sleeve, pinched spine top and bottom and a back cover which states "Printed in England by Robor Limited" in the bottom right corner (later sleeves were printed by E J Day), for just £5.50 and in excellent condition.



Vinyl, please!








By ProgBlog, Dec 11 2016 08:03PM

It’s interesting to see how progressive rock faces the future. One of my latest gig attendances was for newcomer act ESP launching their debut CD Invisible Din, though the combined pedigree of the performers both on the new album and those playing live hardly warrants the ‘newcomer’ tag. ESP performed an updated symphonic prog rock which acknowledged some of the most influential movers from the first wave of prog but still managed to sound relevant and contemporary, not unlike some of the newer Italian bands, expressive and almost operatic. The stylistic contrast with Lazuli, who I witnessed at London’s Borderline last week could hardly have been greater. Lazuli have been around since 1998 and are well known and respected in their native France and around mainland Europe but have not had very much exposure in the UK, despite wowing crowds at Summers End in 2011 and 2013. Their music falls within the prog sphere but it is closer to the Peter Gabriel end of the spectrum, more akin to world music, especially their take on North African sounds and scales. Somewhat surprisingly given the heavy edge to much of their material and subject matter which includes a message supporting the cause to end violence against women and an indictment of the rise of the right-wing in France, it has an infectious joyfulness. Lazuli first came to my notice when I saw them at the Prog Résiste festival in Belgium in 2014 and it was quite obvious they were not only unique but that they had a devoted following on the continent so I wrote to Prog magazine to tell readers to make sure they went to see them when they next played in the UK. It’s likely that Lazuli will get a live review in the next edition of the magazine but ESP, who did have a Prog Italia journalist and photographer in attendance, have had neither an album nor live review.


Lazuli at The Borderline 5/12/16
Lazuli at The Borderline 5/12/16

From the recent to the beginning

If we accept that the progressive rock genre started in 1969 it’s hardly surprising that, given there have been 46 intervening years, a number of the main protagonists should no longer be with us. The prog world has once more been rocked by the death of one of the most important members of the prog family, Greg Lake, who succumbed to cancer earlier this week.

Lake’s influence can’t be underestimated. As a member of the first incarnation of King Crimson, it could be argued that he was one of the five young men at the vanguard of the movement, the coalescence of a musical idiom which was served fully formed as the LP In the Court of the Crimson King but also, according to music journalists and critics, a perpetrator of excess and pretentiousness, one of a handful of individuals responsible for the downfall of the genre at the end of the 70s. I first heard him on the self-titled ELP debut which I originally picked up because I was interested in Keith Emerson’s career development following the demise of The Nice. Emerson, Lake & Palmer remains one of my favourite albums, where despite my adoration of Emerson’s previous musical vehicle, there’s a noticeable qualitative improvement and cohesiveness on the first ELP album. This can be partly ascribed to the nature of the Nice albums, where The Thoughts of Emerlist Davjack (1967) was really psychedelia and Ars Longa Vita Brevis (1968) a mixture of psychedelia and proto-prog; these two albums are entirely studio efforts but suffer from poor production. The subsequent three albums Nice (1969), Five Bridges (1970) and Elegy (1971) all contain a mix of studio and live tracks. Although, in my opinion, Emerson Lake & Palmer is dominated by Emerson, in recognition of the status of the bassist and the drummer, both having come from successful bands, the contribution of Lake and Palmer is essential to the sound and feel of the album. Lake’s crystal clear voice was key to the sound of the first Crimson LP and made ELP far more accessible than The Nice, where Lee Jackson took on main vocal duties. Though all members of the band seemed happy with adaptations of classical pieces I’d always credited Emerson as the main proponent, balanced with the acoustic sensibility of Lake. Take a Pebble ticks all the right boxes for me by virtue of the amazing piano and the ensemble playing and if I’m honest I could live without the solo acoustic sections. Lucky Man is a different kettle of fish, where Emerson’s Moog is simply the icing on a near-perfect song. His experience with King Crimson coupled with reluctance from Emerson and Palmer to get involved meant that record production duties became the responsibility of Lake; the result is a well-balanced sound on the majority of the tracks tough I find The Three Fates a bit muddy. It’s clear that there were personality clashes between Lake and Emerson and initial splits over the direction of Tarkus (1971) seemed quite serious. Fortunately, Lake got on board and the Tarkus suite has become one of my most admired ELP long-form pieces, but there’s a lack of consistency on side two. Trilogy (1972) suffers from a similar fate, where the longer tracks are brilliant but there’s an abundance of shorter, throw-away music.

I suspect the mix of the serious, multi-part compositions and the short, not necessarily progressive rock songs was part of the reason for ELP’s success, where they could attract both the prog crowd and more adventurous rock ‘n’ rollers. I also think that the approach of ELP helped to bridge the gap between popular and classical music, introducing a new generation to the delights of Sibelius, Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky and Bach but also opening our eyes to Copland and Ginastera. Brain Salad Surgery (1973) was a more consistent album but the production was thin and biased towards the treble. The triple live Welcome Back My Friends... (1974) may have been a triumph but the years spent touring, putting on huge shows with equipment unloaded from three articulated lorries, became another stick with which to beat the band as the music industry was changing in their absence; ELP’s excess was in stark contrast to the pared back ideology and sounds of punk. Even I wondered about Lake’s ‘plutonium’ bike mentioned in one of the music papers! All of this meant that the pretentiously-titled Works Vol.1 (1977) was hardly likely to be greeted with open arms by the critics. The band material was good but I thought it was spoiled by Emerson’s predilection for the Yamaha GX-1. I loved his Piano Concerto but much of the writing on the Lake and Palmer sides wasn’t really up to scratch and as a whole, the double LP was a bit like Fragile taken to extreme.

After Works Vol.1 I gave up on ELP, foregoing Works Vol.2 and Love Beach and not realising the three protagonists had toured in 1992 having reformed for Black Moon. The live album recorded at the Royal Albert Hall captures the band back on form and I wish I’d paid more attention to listing magazines at the time. I went to see Greg Lake at the Fairfield Halls in 2005, based on the mooted set list and was very pleasantly surprised. His voice wasn’t as clear as it had been 30 years previously but his band performed admirable versions of ELP and King Crimson numbers.

I finally got to see ELP at the High Voltage festival in 2010 on the 40th anniversary of their debut album which featured prominently. Despite a couple of minor problems they were totally amazing and I’m really pleased to have been there because it turned out to be their last ever gig.

I’m not a fan of the 45rpm single but, like many prog fans, I have a soft spot for Lake’s I Believe in Father Christmas – Lake and Sinfield at their concise best with a bit of Prokofiev thrown in. Lake is likely to be remembered for this single more than his contribution to progressive rock but he was there at the beginning of prog and shaped those early years with his choirboy voice, deft bass and acoustic songs. His death marks another major loss to the prog world.




Greg Lake b. 10th November 1947 d. 7th December 2016







By ProgBlog, Nov 6 2016 09:12PM

I’ve just visited the You Say You Want a Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966 - 1970 exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum and come away very pleased that I made the excursion. Having arrived in London (the suburb of Bexley) in 1978 from what was then the parochial, cultural cul-de-sac of south Cumbria, I proceeded to take in as much art, music, theatre and as many museums as possible, but this was the first time that I’d been to the V&A. It had been a conscious choice to avoid walking through those particular doors but a decision taken because of my bias towards the sciences and ignorance in equal measure. South Kensington boasted the Science Museum and the Natural History Museum and what I understood to comprise the V&A collection or their special exhibits never appealed. It seemed to me that it was all about fashion, past and present, and it would be hard to imagine anyone more unfashionable than me, then or now, as I clung on to progressive rock music and the associated early 70s dress sense. I even branded it as imperialistic... Dressing like a dunce in a trench coat didn’t stop me attempting to broaden my horizons, seeking out things like minimalist sculpture Equivalent VIII, better known as the pile of bricks by Carl Andre at the Tate Gallery, or going to see Warren Mitchell in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman at the National Theatre, though my more regular jaunts tended to be student concession seats at the Aldwych Theatre for Royal Shakespeare Company productions or the National Gallery where I could indulge in more mainstream culture without charge, but it was the galleries at the Nat His Mus and Science Museum which most interested me, where I was delighted to discover links to my home town: a large plug of haematite in the former and a Bessemer Converter in the latter.

How times change, because The V&A turned out to be a bit of a revelation. As far as I’m concerned the attractiveness of the venue increased under the directorship of Martin Roth so it’s a shame that he felt he had to return to his native Germany after reflecting on the decision by a tiny majority of the British voting public to leave the European Union. The building itself is quite stunning and whereas I’m not interested in all the decorative arts (things like the jewellery collection, for example) there are rooms devoted to architecture which are jaw-dropping. It would be impossible not to be impressed by the (closed off but still visible) gallery containing the enormous plaster cast of Trajan’s column.





You Say You Want a Revolution? was a sociological snapshot of 1826 days described through music, performance, fashion, film, design and political activism, a truly revolutionary five years representing a seismic shift in attitudes. Some of these revolutions remain unfulfilled but it’s not unreasonable to suggest that this short epoch had profound effects on our present and will affect the way in which we approach our future. It was the music and the politics which most interested me: the advent of psychedelia, forerunner to progressive rock; countercultural values including the birth of ecology and anti-war causes; and the sometimes forceful rise of equality movements; all issues which continue to define my thinking. What the exhibition also highlighted was that the rise of consumerism was responsible for the unfulfilled promises of the times, neatly summed up by the deeply ironic (though not meant so at the time) quotation by Milton Friedman “The great virtue of a free market system is that it does not care what color people are; it does not care what their religion is; it only cares whether they can produce something you want to buy.”


A small proportion of the album covers spread around the exhibition reflect releases which make up the proto-prog of my own collection: Days of Future Passed; Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band; A Saucerful of Secrets; Ummagumma; Abraxas; Procol Harum; Shine on Brightly; John Barleycorn Must Die; The United States of America; Music in a Doll’s House; Stand Up; Hot Rats; Tommy; Trout Mask Replica; The Madcap Laughs; and Bitches Brew but the only true progressive rock album included in the display was In the Court of the Crimson King. Not having been terribly aware what was going on at the time, it was these items, accrued in the intervening years, which allowed me to relate to the experience. One unexpected article on display was a sales manual for a Mellotron 400-D!

Although it was the Pink Floyd connection which first drew my attention to the exhibition there wasn’t that much Floyd-related material on display – there’s much more in the exhibition book. However, I also went to see the Dr Strange film this weekend and that also has a Pink Floyd association. There’s a depiction of a ‘freak’ in one of the panels on the back cover of the late-1973 budget-price repackaging of the first two Floyd albums A Nice Pair, a man attired in hippy clothing holding a giant spliff and, whereas most of the outer sleeve is a series of visual puns (a different kettle of fish, a fork in the road, laughing all the way to the bank) I have never been able to grasp the significance of this photo, other than to challenge the stereotypical image of someone who listens to early Floyd. Anyway, scattered on the floor is a pile of comics and one, quite clear, is a Dr Strange magazine.




A number of my school friends were into fantasy books and some of the more esoteric comics and I asked one to source a Dr Strange for me. When I was much younger I used to buy DC comics on a Saturday morning from a newsagent on Salthouse Road, near my grandmother’s house, but they were all staid compared to the Dr Strange universe; a neurosurgeon who had lost the use of his hands and had become the master of mystic arts. The imagery of alternative dimensions fitted in with my adolescent world of Tolkien, Ursula Le Guin, Alan Garner and Arthur C Clarke, and I was pleased that rather than a simply possessing a super power, Strange’s ‘magic’ seemed to be derived from a more rational source, channelling the natural forces of the different universes. I was also developing an interest in mysticism, partly fuelled by the release of Tales from Topographic Oceans at around the same time as A Nice Pair. The character acquired counterculture acceptance, setting him apart from almost all other Marvel stable mates, as he wasn’t portrayed as patriotic in any way; one of the early gigs by Grateful Dead forerunners The Warlocks was at an event called Tribute to Dr Strange.




I enjoyed the film which contained just about the right level of humour, though the representation of a successful surgeon as arrogant is a rather tired trope; I’ve worked closely with surgeons and yes, some may be a little conceited or disdainful, but it wasn’t surgeons who caused the global financial crash in 2008. There are plenty of politicians, healthcare managers and even some bloggers who demonstrate self-importance... What was good was the deference to the comic book artwork in the depiction of alternate dimensions and in the poses of Dr Strange. There were scenes reminiscent of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey placing it firmly in the psychedelic genre and best of all, director Scott Derrickson included a section of Interstellar Overdrive to accompany the clip leading up to Strange’s life-changing accident.




Two things worth going to see: Dr Strange is on general release; You Say You Want a Revolution? Records and Rebels 1966-1970 is at the Victoria and Albert Museum until 26 February 2017






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