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At the start of a four-day immersion in gigs and record buying, ProgBlog attended the album launch of Gryphon's first studio release for 41 years, ReInvention.

More akin to the eponymous first album from 1973 than the more proggy later material, it's a worthy addition to the Gryphon canon

By ProgBlog, Aug 12 2018 09:30PM

There was relatively short notice for this year’s Porto Antico Prog Fest and it was only held on one day, Friday 3rd August, so the event was made up with two bands performing original music, Ancient Veil and Sophya Baccini’s Aradia, plus two bands contributing towards a ‘tribute night’, Get ‘em Out from Milan playing Gabriel-era Genesis, and Outside the Wall playing Pink Floyd from 1973-1980.



Ancient Veil began proceedings with a really enjoyable 45 minute set that included pieces from their three studio albums, Rings of Earthly Light (as Eris Pluvia), Ancient Veil and last year’s I am Changing, reflecting their live album Rings of Earthly... Live, with performances taken from two 2017 appearances at Genova’s La Claque club, released this year. Their music is predominately prog-folk, largely due to the variety of wind instruments played by Edmondo Romano which are sometimes used to give a Celtic feel, but Alessandro Serri adds some jazzy acoustic guitar and, during the epic 17 minute Rings of Earthly Light suite, played guitar parts with the Steve Hackett-invented finger tapping technique. The scope of this song, which at times invokes Genesis and Focus, is the reason it’s my personal favourite.


Ancient Veil - Porto Antico Prog Fest 2018
Ancient Veil - Porto Antico Prog Fest 2018

I took a break for almost an hour to have dinner with my wife and came back to witness Get 'em Out embark upon their last number of the evening, Supper’s Ready. It’s impossible to underestimate the affection that Italian prog fans hold for early Genesis but there are a couple of explanations for the appeal, one offered by long-time band associate Richard MacPhail who thought the appreciation came from the emotional content of Genesis’ music, presented as long-form, romantic, almost operatic suites which form an important part of the country’s musical heritage. Steve Hackett linked their success to the theological association of the storylines in many of the songs which, as well as in Italy, seemed to strike a chord in fans from other catholic countries, and also thought that the Italians especially, picked up on the Greco-Roman myth told in The Fountain Of Salmacis.


Enhanced by back projections and the costume changes of vocalist Franco Giaffreda, decent reproductions of Gabriel’s Narcissus flower and Magog head, Get ‘em Out proved to be an excellent act providing an accurate interpretation of the classic 1972 Genesis song, including the set design and instrumentation and, much as MacPhail describes in his book, even for a tribute act each section was cheered because so many of the audience knew every note and nuance of the song, singing along or mouthing the words.




Get 'em Out - Porto Antico Prog Fest 2018
Get 'em Out - Porto Antico Prog Fest 2018

I’d been looking forward to Sophya Baccini, even considering buying one of her albums from the pop-up Black Widow Records stall but on reflection I maybe should have gone for dinner an hour later so I'd not have missed Get 'em Out. Hailing from Naples, Baccini is a flamboyant vocalist with involvement in a number of musical collaborations including her heavy rock band Presence and her work with some of the most recognisable names in Italian prog, like Banco del Mutuo Soccorso’s Vittorio Nocenzi, Lino Vairetti of Osanna, and appearing as a guest on Delirium’s 2009 album Il Nome del Vento. Sophya Baccini’s Aradia is her current project and the band focused on their second album Big Red Dragon (William Blake’s Visions) from 2013.

Intrigued by the ‘dark prog’ tag and her ability to combine operatic vocal and experimental electronic elements, I was immediately disappointed with the quality of the sound, muddied by the use of delay on the vocals so that it was difficult to determine whether her vocals were in Italian or English (she sings in both); the only track I could fully discern was Satan from Big Red Dragon. Keyboard player Marilena Striano was also plagued with monitor problems at the beginning of their set but she did go on to provide some of the most interesting moments in a performance that conformed to ‘dark’ but was lacking in prog. The rhythm section of Isa Dido (bass) and Francesca Colaps (drums) was solid enough but lacked invention and the guitar lines provided by Peppe Gianfredo, despite the nice tone, were fairly predictable, devoid of the creativity and experimentation I was expecting.


Outside the Wall is a well known and acclaimed Italian Pink Floyd tribute band and, judging by the enthusiastic reaction of the crowd, easily met expectations. I thought they did a decent job if you ignored the frequently forgotten words, though they rhythm section of Mauro Vigo (drums) and Fabio Cecchini (bass) were, in common with the Waters-era Floyd, arguably the weakest link; Vigo’s timing was a little off and Cecchini added a few too many redundant funky frills. Performing most of The Dark Side of the Moon, including accurate sound effects, the title track and Shine On You Crazy Diamond from Wish You Were Here, plus Comfortably Numb, Another Brick in the Wall (part 2) and Run Like Hell from The Wall (even though the audience, when asked, appeared to want a selection from Animals), the most accomplished piece was The Great Gig in the Sky, with an outstanding vocal performance by Elisabetta Rondanina. Martin Grice from Delirium, a reliable presence at the prog fest (his band hail from Savona, a short distance west along the Riviera), added the Dick Parry saxophone parts on Money and Us and Them which he reproduced accurately and with feeling. I also enjoyed the film that they used to accompany them, made up mostly from genuine Floyd footage for Dark Side and The Wall interspersed with original cuts.


Although I would have preferred a bill of all original acts performing over two days, the size of the crowd, possibly reflecting the draw of the music of Genesis and Pink Floyd, seemed much bigger than at the 2017 Porto Antico Prog Fest. This is important because the event has to draw in punters to ensure it can continue. I had a great time, meeting up with the Black Widows Records team who organise the event, saying hello to Mauro Serpe from Panther & C. and watching proceedings with all the members of last year’s surprise star turn, Melting Clock.


I can exclusively reveal that Melting Clock is booked to begin recording their debut album later this month and, if everything goes smoothly, have a record ready for sale in November. Part of our conversation related to cover artwork and I was shown the design for the album sleeve, then asked what I thought about their proposed cover and about album artwork generally. It was something of an honour to preview the cover art (I like it a lot) but I didn’t back up my opinion with a full explanation why I think an appropriate album sleeve is an important part of the whole package, which I think should also take the music and (where possible) the live experience into account.

My preference for an album sleeve is a photographic image, because the medium, though both easily digitally manipulated and suitable for abstract work, best represents realism; I’m also an avid photographer with an inclination for scenery and architecture. I love much of the work of Hipgnosis but one of my favourite pieces is John Pasche’s design for Illusion by Isotope (1974) with a cover photo by Phil Jude - the depiction of headphones with a mercury-like fluid connecting the two ear-pieces was part of the reason I bought an Isotope LP and listen out for more jazz rock. However, I’m also partial to a good painting, graphic design or some other form of artwork, like Henry Cow’s iconic sock imagery.


The presentation of an album used to be one of the factors I took into account when I was first attempting to discover new music in the early 70s, a time when the 12 inch LP format offered the best possible option for displaying images, innocently believing that art direction was more the responsibility of the group than the label and hypothesised that a band that invested in decent artwork was likely to have taken equal care with their music. Pre-prog, The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (1967) with a design by Peter Blake and Jann Howarth pioneered a new form of album presentation, opening the doors for cover art to reflect the musical and lyrical content of the release.


The presumption, good artwork equates to good music, didn’t always stand up. Examples I use to illustrate the failure of the theory are Gentle Giant’s Acquiring the Taste and the second Italian release by PFM, Per Un Amico, where the covers are awful but the music is excellent, and the alternative situation with a great Roger Dean cover but music not to my liking, Badger’s One Live Badger, but there are many other examples of good music wrapped in awful artwork and vice versa.

There are a number of artists and design teams who have a strong association with progressive rock but the most famous has to be Roger Dean, predominantly for his work with Yes. Whereas Hipgnosis images sometimes only obliquely refer to an album title or lyrical references, there is usually some allusion to the subject matter. On the other hand, Dean’s paintings have less of a concrete relationship with the subject matter because, on the two studio albums Close to the Edge and Tales from Topographic Oceans, Jon Anderson was utilising the sounds of words rather than their meaning when penning lyrics. Even though there is no concept linking Fragile and Close to the Edge, Dean constructed a coherent narrative thread, explained in the paintings adorning the triple gatefold of Yessongs and later revisited in a number of live releases from Yes and Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe, that nevertheless formed an instantly recognisable visual brand.


I believe there are tangible benefits to a long-term partnership between a musical entity and a particular designer, where music, lyrics and visual motifs create a coherent artistic vision, a gesamtkuntswerk, readily recognisable to the record-buying public. For a band like Melting Clock embarking upon their debut album that have yet to build up such a relationship, it is essential to be comfortable with the trust placed in the artist to interpret their musical ideas to grace the album sleeve. Those of us who have heard their demo EP or seen them live know how good the music is; I think the cover artwork fits their vision.

By ProgBlog, Apr 24 2018 08:36PM

i) 50 years of Yes (25/3/18)


Less than 48 hours on from standing in front of the stage for some intricate, symphonic progressivo Italiano (plus UK guests Joe Payne and Heather Findlay) at a modest club in Milan to a venue that I had previously associated with some awful UK TV entertainment, taking my seat for the Sunday Yes50 date at London’s Palladium Theatre was something of a revelation.



I’d booked the tickets for myself and three family/friends only a couple of weeks before the gig and was relieved to find four seats together in the Royal Circle. Labyrinthine below the auditorium, choosing a sufficiently short merchandise queue or, for gentlemen of a certain age, a WC without a lengthy wait wasn’t easy; the theatre had hosted a Fan Convention earlier in the day and had even set up some exhibition space for Roger Dean artwork where the man himself was signing pieces for a trail of fans.



The sight lines to the stage were really good, though I should have expected that from a premier London theatre, and I was very pleasantly surprised by the vibe of the place considering that before this concert I couldn’t have ever imagined I’d have wanted to step inside its doors.

The opening remarks, delivered by special guest and ‘only original member available’ Bill Bruford, were a reminder that Yes had begun making music in 1968 and in the intervening years, despite the personnel changes, continued to produce incredible, inspirational music. One of the reasons I felt I had to attend this tour was the promise of sides one and four of Tales from Topographic Oceans so I thought it appropriate that the introductory music was a few bars from The Firebird Suite, as I strongly associate Tales with Stravinsky. It’s always been my favoured introduction, more so than Britten’s Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra or the theme from Close Encounters of the Third Kind.



The first set included material spanning from Time and a Word (an excellent version of Sweet Dreams) up to Tormato (Onward, the tribute to Chris Squire), what I’d consider a ‘fan’s favourite’ choice, and the second set was comprised of The Revealing Science of God, the Leaves of Green section of The Ancients and Ritual. Up to this point, back surgery had prevented Alan White from spending too long sitting on a drum stool and his role had been dutifully carried out by the excellent Jay Schellen, with a style more reminiscent of Bruford. White entered the fray for the percussion movement on Ritual while Schellen descended from the drum rostrum to help out with percussion, staying for the three-part encore of Tempus Fugit (with vocals by another special guest, Trevor Horn), Roundabout, and Starship Trooper.


The sound in the theatre was exceptionally good and well balanced. I liked the fact that as a celebration of 50 years of Yes it was kind of a ‘best of’ performance, plus a hint of the idea of the ‘album series’ of concerts and the inclusion of two and a half sides of Tales. I don’t believe Tales divides the fan base anymore and however difficult it was for audiences to take in around the time of the album’s release in 1973, with insufficient time to assimilate the complexity and scale of the piece as a whole, the shift from 70s boundary-pushing compositions to the slick AOR of the 90125 line-up caused a greater rift.


A few of my friends have commented on how the dynamic has changed within the group since the death of Chris Squire (Trevor Horn humorously hinted at this when he came on to sing Tempus Fugit). Having been in Yes since 1970 Steve Howe is the de facto leader although Alan White has been involved in the group for a longer period of time; Howe was responsible for most of the cues and retains an amazing energy although I’m not sure if he struggled a little on some of the more demanding guitar parts, which would be totally excusable considering the complexity of Yes music. Jon Davison does an admirable, if unenviable job of performing lines originally sung by Jon Anderson and Billy Sherwood is without any doubt the best stand-in for Squire the band could have chosen, in playing, in mannerisms and in presence. The one minor disappointment was Geoff Downes’ soloing; the bulk of his keyboard work was fine but the runs and arpeggios lacked fluidity and even, during certain passages, seemed to lag behind time.

It’s difficult to imagine quite where the band will go from here. Detractors will suggest that continuing without any original band members is just a tribute band, though the Yes family tree shows the pedigree of the players still on stage. I can’t say if they’re capable of producing any new, classic Yes material but without a return to the ideals of the early 70s and a willingness to re-embrace challenging, symphonic long-form compositions, I doubt that they will. Still, 50 years in the business of making and playing Yes music isn’t bad; I’m pleased I went.



ii) New king of pop - Steven Wilson 27/3/18


Another 48 hours later and I’d made my way to the Royal Albert Hall for the first of three nights of Steven Wilson. My good friend Neil had organised tickets back in May 2017, a couple of days after Wilson had begun to put out videos of his new music but before I’d got a hint of the direction the music from the forthcoming album was taking. Thinking back now, Pariah, one of the first tracks I heard, forms a kind of a sonic link between Hand.Cannot.Erase and To the Bone and I don’t think it’s a bad song; it just doesn’t challenge me. At the end of June 2017 he released the video for Permanating and I wasn’t impressed.

On the walk up to the Albert Hall doors I was still optimistic that the set would include sufficient Raven and Hand material to provide a worthwhile evening of entertainment, having seen him play on a number of occasions before and apart from the show I attended at the RAH in September 2015, where I was unfamiliar with a fair proportion of the material, I’ve enjoyed his performances. However, the shift from the full-on prog of Raven to the post-rock blend of electronica, industrial with a decent dose of prog on Hand should have indicated, especially when backed-up by Wilson’s own words regarding his influences, together with his immutable right as an artist to make whatever music he wants, that the music on To the Bone and subsequently the tour of that album, was not going to be wall-to-wall progressive rock.


The show started on a promising note with another clever though slightly disturbing video, announced by a rather stern voice as if narrating a public service broadcast, based on the themes of the current album, but I couldn't really engage. Ninet Tayeb was introduced for Pariah but even her excellent voice didn’t really do anything for me; I did enjoy Home Invasion which segued into Regret #9 which I thought were the highlights of the evening. It’s possible that the behaviour of a pair of loudmouths behind me, talking for the entire first set and a couple in front, behaving as though they were very, very drunk throughout the whole show, affected my ability to enjoy the music but in the second set, just before the rendition of Permanating, Wilson delivered a speech about making the music he wanted to, including an unbridled, joyous pop song and hoped that the tattooed and bearded gents in their Opeth T-shirts would stand up and submit to the euphoria and maybe dance a few steps. To be fair to a large portion of the audience they did get on their feet but I, bearded but not being interested in either Opeth or tattoos, remained seated, unmoved by what is indisputably a potentially infectious pop structure.

For much of the rest of the gig I found the sound a bit blurred and indistinguishable; it wasn’t that it was over-loud but it was quite heavy and it wasn’t until the third encore of The Raven that Refused to Sing that my gloom lifted a little.

I can’t fault the musicianship or the presentation and I certainly can’t criticise a Wilson for changing the form of music he writes. That the songs played on that Tuesday night weren’t to my satisfaction is no one’s fault but a matter of personal taste and I’m not going to burn the CDs that I own because I didn’t like this show. I’m simply not going to commit to buying a ticket for the tour of his next album until I’ve heard the next album.

Maybe gig fatigue is setting in...










By ProgBlog, Aug 2 2017 01:05PM

For all the problems with London, the locals’ belief that it’s the centre of the universe, the ridiculous property prices, the clogged up roads and packed and pricey public transport which make the commute from the outskirts into the centre almost unbearable, there’s a lot to do and see. I don’t mean it’s like Italy where it seems there’s a prog gig or festival almost every weekend but if a professional band is going to play anywhere, they are likely to include a date in the capital. When I came down to London as a student I don’t believe I ever thought I’d stay but then I didn’t really expect to embark on a career in blood and transplantation; if the head of the Transfusion Service in Tooting felt he needed to offer me a job just after I’d graduated, it would have been churlish to refuse and anyway, I though the post, working for the NHS, was really worthwhile. Three years into the job, I’d switched from red blood cells to white and I attempted to follow an opportunity at the Transfusion Centre in Lancaster, a city close to my roots and one I really like; I was shortlisted and interviewed but wasn’t offered the post and remained in south London.

Two-thirds of my undergraduate life was based in North Cray, a hamlet in the amorphous London-Kent boundary between Sidcup and Bexley. If getting to and from college was a bit of a drag, getting up to the West End for gigs and exhibitions was even more so but realising that the delights associated with being around the cultural capital of the UK was too good a prospect to ignore, especially with student discount, I travelled up to town almost every weekend. This was the tail end of the golden era of progressive rock so there weren’t many good gigs to go to, though a few of early examples of a truly worthwhile shows were Yes at Wembley Arena (28/10/78, matinee performance, a copy of which I’m listening to as I type – thanks for the link @timcwebb); UK’s only British performance featuring the Danger Money line-up at Imperial College (3/3/79); and Camel at the Hammersmith Odeon (11/10/79) kicking off the I Can See Your House From Here tour. The final third of being a Goldsmiths’ student was spent living in Streatham which, even without the access to a flatmate’s car, provided easy routes to both Victoria and London Bridge stations. This period of my life was the only time I’d travel by car into central London for entertainment purposes because parking on Whitehall was free from around lunchtime on a Saturday and there were abundant free spaces behind Oxford Street in the evenings, handy for the 100 Club.



I may have still just been a student when King Crimson reformed in 1981 but I was working when the neo-prog movement started up and though the 80s was generally a poor time for the sort of music I like, throughout my life I’ve always managed to ensure I get to almost all the gigs which interest me including, in recent years, an increasing number on the European mainland as the incredible world of progressivo Italiano has resurfaced and developed.

Music plays the most important part in my life after family but it’s the easy availability of other cultural asides such as Their Mortal Remains or You Say You Want a Revolution at the V&A, the accessibility of a huge variety of architectural forms visited informally with family or as part of the Open London and Walk London programmes, the permanent or special exhibitions at the Design Museum or the Royal Academy, there is always something to do in and around London. This weekend I went to see Into the Unknown – a Journey through Science Fiction at the Barbican Centre.




I’ve previously mentioned that I used to be a big science fiction fan and the exhibition, covering art, design, film, literature and music included around 800 works some of which had never been shown in the UK before, arranged in four main themes: Extraordinary Voyages; Space Odysseys; Brave New Worlds; and Final Frontiers. The first section included some of the material I’d describe as proto-SF, adventure literature exploring the possibilities provided by the deep ocean and undiscovered lands or islands, including the works of Jules Verne who famously inspired Rick Wakeman with his novel Journey to the Centre of the Earth (1864) and combined his writing with the latest scientific understanding.

The first successful powered flight by the Wright brothers at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina in 1903 opened another chapter for science fiction, celebrated in the second section of the exhibition: Space Odysseys. The early twentieth century writing may have centred on conquering the skies but the use of rockets in WW II, the invention of the atomic bomb and the escalating cold war pushed imagination to the moon and the stars. Many of these stories still relied upon adventure-explorer narratives, some containing West vs. East allegory (cf. The Omega Glory, Star Trek episode #52). The 1953 film of HG Wells War of the Worlds was on TV the night our family moved to a new house when I was about 10 years old and it’s the only movie that’s ever really frightened me. Jeff Wayne’s 1978 musical interpretation was a huge commercial success and though it contained some soft-prog (Justin Hayward’s quite pleasant Forever Autumn) it wasn’t really to my taste. If there are any progressive rock links to space travel it’s the early Pink Floyd period, more linked to psychedelia than prog, with titles such as Astronomy Domine, Interstellar Overdrive and Let There be More Light; Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun may have a cosmic title but the lyrics are based on Taoist poetry with Roger Waters’ own space-rock refrain thrown in; the Floyd performed a live five minute long jam titled Moonhead during the BBC TV programming for the first lunar landing in 1969. The gloomy Negative Earth by Barclay James Harvest also counts as being representative of journeys in space. From 1974’s Everyone is Everybody Else, it’s a telling of the near-disastrous Apollo 13 mission in April 1970. I say gloomy, but it’s a powerful track on an album filled with social commentary.


The section which most interested me was Brave New Worlds. The imagined harshness of extra terrestrial conditions brought out the best in SF writers, who carefully crafted viable worlds based on mass, proximity to their sun(s) and orbits, so that climate could be inferred and the development of societies could be explored. The best anthropological studies, including questioning racial and sexual stereotypes, are by Ursula Le Guin whose The Dispossessed (1974) is set in an ambiguous utopia and can be cited as feminist and anarchist literature. The concluding part of The Handmaid’s Tale was shown on TV at the weekend and the book was also highlighted in the exhibition as portraying a dystopian near-future. The serialisation of Atwood’s novel has come across as essential viewing, originally written at a time when the religious far-right were whispering in Ronald Regan’s ear and turned into a TV series as self-confessed sex-pest Donald Trump’s presidency displays alarming instability, fuelled by right-wing ideology and cutting the budget for family planning which puts the lives of millions of women at risk. (Maybe it’s age or maybe it’s the poor sound from our TV, but we watch the program with subtitles and have started to quote from these aids for the hard of hearing: Door opens; door closes.)

The mega-cities of the future are often portrayed as dystopian, whether the product of inequality or destroyed by some natural disaster which is usually traceable to the folly of mankind. The seedy underbelly which exists in our present is massively amplified in the futuristic cities committed to film including Blade Runner, Minority Report and the off-world frontier town in Total Recall (1990). Synthesizer soundtracks were still something of a novelty in the early 80s but Vangelis was a master and his original score for Blade Runner (1982) fits the mood of the film perfectly; equally, Brad Fiedel’s score for Terminator (1984) works well, from the haunting main theme to the industrial beat used in chase sequences.



The final thread, Final Frontiers, eschews geography and looks instead at subjects like the enhancement of the human body and other life-forms through techniques like mutation, cloning and prosthetics. Roger Dean’s artwork for the Fragile to Yessongs series may have inspired Jon Anderson’s Olias of Sunhillow, an album which I think comes close to SF with its tale of planetary disaster and the organisation of the evacuation and search for a new world but I’d class this as fantasy, however original the story and successful it is in being converted from concept to recorded music, but Dean’s painting has also touched on the mechanisation of living things, fusing a gull’s skull onto the Lockheed SR-71 ‘Blackbird’ fuselage for Budgie’s Squawk and the equine enhancements for the cover of Paladin’s Charge!

The paradoxes revealed by time travel were also covered, and one of the displays was footage from BBC TV series Dr Who. It was good to see an article about the BBC Radiophonic Workshop in a recent edition of Prog magazine (#78) – where Delia Derbyshire was responsible for the original Dr Who theme tune but also where Paddy Kingsland would write music for The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (but not the title tune, which is Journey of the Sorcerer by The Eagles) and some classic children’s TV programs like The Changes.



Outside the main exhibition are three ‘media pods’ where those queuing can play games or listen to ‘science fiction’ music. I wasn’t interested in the games but the music pod featured a diverse range of genres, from Disco, Funk & Hip Hop (there was a series of videos in the main exhibition, mashing classic SF and sci-fi with Sun Ra and Kraftwerk) to Psychedelic and Prog Rock.




One of the first pieces you see as you enter the exhibition is a painting by Chris Foss, Asteroid Collision. Foss was my favourite SF book cover artist (and he did have imitators) where the detail of his spaceships or space architecture matched the sonic designs of my favourite prog bands.

Only a little progressive rock was inspired by SF but for me, the two are inextricably linked. Get to see Into the Unknown if you can.











By ProgBlog, Jan 29 2017 08:18PM

One of my Christmas presents was Yes is the Answer and other Prog Rock Tales edited by Marc Weingarten and Tyson Cornell. I’d added it to my wish list within the previous month, seduced by the very fitting looking cover (a watercolour illustration by Nathan Popp in the style of Roger Dean’s crash-landed and colonised mountains from Yessongs) together with some four and five star reviews on Amazon.com, there being no reviews, at that time, posted on the UK site. Though there wasn’t a great deal to be gleaned from the reviewer comments, the publicity quotation sounded promising: Progressive rock is maligned and misunderstood. Critics hate it. Hipsters scoff at it. Yes is the Answer is a pointed rebuke to the prog-haters, the first literary collection devoted to the sub-genre. Featuring acclaimed novelists Rick Moody, Wesley Stace, Seth Greenland, Charles Bock, and Joe Meno, as well as musicians Nathan Larson, and Peter Case, Yes is the Answer is a book that dares to reclaim prog-rock as a subject worthy of serious consideration.


Yes is the Answer
Yes is the Answer

The book is a collection of short essays by respected journalists, writers and musicians, each relating a personal progressive rock story in an almost ProgBlog-like manner, only I’m rather ignorant of US writers. It‘s a slim volume which fits the hand nicely and the quality of the paper used for the dust jacket is very pleasing. However, the standard of writing plummets immediately after a rather brilliant opening disclaimer: Some of the essays in this book are prolix and self-indulgent. These are essays about Prog Rock. This is as it should be.


It’s not that I think it has limited literary merit; I instantly disagreed with the opinion of Weingarten in his introduction that the progressive rock fan fraternity frowned upon the exponents of jazz fusion because of their propensity for ‘noodling’ and that fusion adherents were sad for their obsessive appreciation of the instruments used to make the music. On the contrary, Brand X were a successful jazz fusion act who were fully appreciated by the prog rock crowd and, speaking as someone who came into progressive rock fairly early on, long before peak-prog or the rise of punk, part of the attraction for me was the ability to obsess over the instrumentation, because without the technological advancements the music would never have been created. I'm responsible for reproducing the console of a mini-Moog on my desk at school when I was 13 and later, when I first started work after university, spent a lunchtime in a local music shop playing a Mellotron 400D. I'm sure many would agree with me that the best album sleeves are those which list the make and model of all the equipment used to make the record.

I know that there have been factual inaccuracies in my blogs pointed out by readers, but my pieces are mostly opinions, streams of consciousness posted without any proof-reading. When I come across an unchecked fact in a publication (Jerry Lucky repeatedly calling David Gilmour ‘David Gilmore’ in his 20th Century Rock and Roll - Progressive Rock, new copies of which are selling for £68 on Amazon in the UK, or Dave Ling writing in Prog magazine that the opening chords of Watcher of the Skies were played on organ, for example) it offends my sensibility.


20th Century Rock and Roll - Progressive Rock by Jerry Lucky
20th Century Rock and Roll - Progressive Rock by Jerry Lucky

Imagine my indignation when the first article, Here Comes the Knife by Seth Greenland states that Rondo (by The Nice) is on Ars Longa Vita Brevis. No, it’s on the first Nice album The Thoughts of Emerlist Davjack. Why hasn’t anyone picked this up before it went to the printers? This lack of attention to detail is un-prog but it soon becomes clear that many of the contributors discovered this music at the tail-end of the golden period or later, that the majority of them have not remained fully committed to the genre and that their views have more often than not been forged under the influence of mostly soft but occasionally hard drugs. There’s no doubt that marijuana was the recreational substance of choice for some of the artists but many eschewed drugs either through ascetic lifestyle choice or because of the technical difficulties of playing a piece made ingestion unwise. The book highlights the American experience which is very different from the UK where progressive rock developed; traditionally, rock ‘n’ roll has been romanticised in a very Hollywood way as a rite of passage, a time of teenage rebellion. Progressive rock didn’t really fit into this scheme, because the exponents were attempting to legitimise their form of rock music, with Keith Emerson building bridges between the worlds of classical and rock and all of them were looking at other idioms to expand their musical vocabulary. This is what they exported and a small number of them did well in the US, the music and underlying philosophy chiming with a nascent ecological movement and a general feeling of hope. There were only a few proper progressive rock acts from North America during the golden era (Happy the Man and Fireballet spring to mind, those being bands with albums in my collection, but I think what I’ve heard of Starcastle who received air play on Alan Freeman’s radio show in the UK might also include them in that small club) and it wasn't until the resurgence of prog in the mid-90s that there was any significant American input. Even then, this latest phase had its roots in metal and was sort of retro-fitted to the original. The short biography after each essay reveals a dearth of specialist music magazine contributors; if you like short, personal stories about coming-of-age presented in a sex and drugs and rock and roll context, you may like this book and the high-scoring reviews from Amazon US make perfect sense. However, there's nothing analytical or even enlightening about progressive rock within the pages; it's not actually about the music but about the individual contributors who at some stage in their emotional development have come across prog.

One of the articles is by British author Nick Coleman who was an NME journalist and has written a well regarded autobiography The Train in the Night: A Story of Music and Loss after suffering sudden neurosensory hearing loss – totally devastating when your livelihood revolves around music. Though progressive rock evidently played a major part in his youth, his essay Hung Up on these Silver Strings (a line from the song Axe Victim) concerns Be Bop Deluxe. Be Bop Deluxe isn’t prog but fit in to the closely-associated Art-rock sub-genre. A vehicle for the talents of Bill Nelson, the band was favoured by prog fans and dutifully, though I don’t own any of their studio releases, I bought a copy of Live! In the Air Age in lieu of a ‘best of’ album.


Live! In the Air Age by Be Bop Deluxe
Live! In the Air Age by Be Bop Deluxe

Part of the attraction for me was that Nelson was a northerner, forgiven for being from the wrong side of the Pennines, from Wakefield. The follow-up band Red Noise created an interest within my circle, possibly because they played Leeds University where my brother Tony and another of my associates were studying medicine but I wasn’t too impressed by Furniture Music, not really liking the shorter songs or the electronics. However, I did go to see Bill Nelson performing The Invisibility Exhibition at the Dominion Theatre in March 1973, an enjoyable gig where Nelson played guitar, synthesizer and percussion to backing video from 1950s art films. Shortly after that I purchased a copy of his solo album Quit Dreaming and get on the Beam, written as a second Red Noise album but held back by EMI because they didn’t like it. This is an album of clever electro pop but I had been under the impression that it came with a free LP called Sounding the Ritual Echo (Atmospheres for Dreaming), a basic, home recording straying into ambient electronic territory, and that’s what I was really interested in.


Bill Nelson's Invisibility Exhibition
Bill Nelson's Invisibility Exhibition

Nelson may have been the recipient of Prog magazine's Visionary award in 2015 but I still regard him as an exponent of Art-rock. Another Art-rocker, who has had a much heavier involvement with prog, is Brian Eno; these are the only two representatives of this form in my collection. From his Roxy Music beginnings, Eno branched out into progressive pop territory and collaborated with a wide range of prog luminaries on his accessible solo albums. This directly led to involvement with Genesis on The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway and he also assisted on the Mainstream album Quiet Sun with former band-mate Phil Manzanera. His experimentation with tape loops and twin Revox tape recorders in collaboration with Robert Fripp for the ground-breaking (No Pussyfooting) began before the release of Here Come the Warm Jets and though dismissed at the time, it is now rightly regarded as a seminal piece of music. What makes Eno stand out is his way of thinking; from the bed-stricken origins of Discreet Music to the entire ambient genre where his modus operandi, subscribing to systems that once set into motion require little or no further input from Eno himself and divulged in the sleeve notes of Discreet Music, still hold true to his output today, neatly exemplified by his Bloom iPhone app. Musical collaborations and pathfinding aside, Eno was appointed the youth affairs adviser for the Liberal Democrats in 2007, at the age of 59. He’s also interviewed Yanis Varoufakis for The Guardian and caused something of a stir last week when a Guardian interview with him ran under the headline “We’ve been in decline for 40 years – Trump is a chance to rethink”; he was obliged to clarify that he thinks Donald Trump is a complete disaster.


Prog and Art-rock obviously have a degree of crossover but the latter has always been more respected by mainstream media. Part of this is inherent re-invention along the lines of fashion, whereas prog is deemed to have ossified, like a lumbering dinosaur without an original thought in its head, being wiped out by the brash, brightly burning punks. Prog resurfaced and, since the mid 1990s has been going pretty strong. That books like Yes is the Answer are being published is testament to its longevity.

By ProgBlog, Oct 16 2016 06:32PM

Ever since Tales from Topographic Oceans was released in 1973, I’ve been entranced by not just the music, but also by the Roger Dean cover artwork. I’ve blogged about Tales before http://progblog.co.uk/the-blogs/4583484660/Tales-of-division-(posted-22-6-14)/8315138 and up until the release of the Anderson/Stolt Invention of Knowledge earlier this year, there hadn’t really been anything of such scope released by anyone else. If we believe the review of the Steven Wilson remixed Tales by Chris Roberts in Prog 70 at the beginning of the month, there appears to be a consensus emerging that regards The Ancient (side 3) as being the weak link. I disagree. I think that Giants Under the Sun is Yes doing Stravinsky, a brilliant interpretation of primal human belief, neatly brought to resolution by the under-rated Howe acoustic guitar in the ‘leaves of green’ section; The Remembering, on the other hand, meanders too much and when Wakeman criticised the album as lacking sufficient material for a double LP, I assumed the ‘filler’ he was referring to was on side 2, as I think the ebb and flow of the Topographic Ocean has a more limited dynamic range.

If the artwork on Fragile, Close to the Edge and Yessongs represent a unified narrative allowing the listener to piece together the story of a doomed planet and the recolonisation of a new home, Tales was a mini-story all on one gatefold sleeve, the juxtaposition of disparate elements selected by the members of the band, carefully placed so that both the front cover on its own and the front and back images together have a symmetry that works visually. Being interested in Stonehenge and Avebury provided a degree of familiarity but the fish swimming through the air added a sense of of mystery which I always associated with the ‘topographic ocean’. There’s an incongruity to the painting but it doesn’t detract from the overall scene. Why, for instance, would you put one of the geoglyphs from the plain at Nazca in front of a Mayan temple? I simply accepted the explanation that these were suggestions from the musicians themselves and marvelled at their exoticism.




The golden era of progressive rock coincided with an increased interest in science fiction, possibly catalysed by the moon landing on July 20th 1969 when it seemed that the future had arrived; Armstrong’s giant leap for mankind heralding a technologically-fuelled optimism. As we expanded the frontiers of our knowledge, probing out into space and preparing for lunar exploration, the imagination of a number of cod-science writers was sent into overdrive. Erich Von Daniken published Chariots of the Gods? In 1968 and within the next few years it had become quite widely read by school friends and associates. Alan White’s wish to have a Nazca geoglyph on the cover of Tales was roughly synchronous with the popularity of Von Daniken’s book and whereas I’d far rather listen to archaeological explanations than some spurious New Age theory involving ancient aliens, I still had a desire to see the markings at Nazca. Von Daniken compares photographs of American space centre launch sites to the constructions on the plains of Nazca but current archaeological evidence suggests the markings had a magical-religious purpose pertaining to water, which was in very scarce supply and they had an astronomical purpose that related to seasonal changes. Over the past 30-odd years I’ve ticked off Stonehenge, Avebury and the Carnac alignments in Brittany and last month I finally got around to visit Peru, taking in Machu Picchu and, equally importantly, a flight over the Nazca lines. Both were unforgettable experiences though sadly the monkey geoglyph, as used in the illustration for Tales, appeared a little indistinct from the air. It’s strange that Dean has painted the monkey as a mirror image, with the tail to the right and the hands to the left; in real life this 110m figure has the coiled tailed to the left and the intricate hands to the right.




The whole Peruvian adventure was amazing. We arrived in Lima 48 hours after Steve Hackett had begun playing with local Genesis tribute band Genetics but there was no way I could have got to see the performance without taking extra days off work (when it had already proved difficult to get the leave I required) because the 15 day tours all began on a Monday, meaning we had a little over 24 hours before getting together as a tour group.




Rather than head off to the old centre of the city, we spent Sunday in Miraflores, where our hotel was located, and the adjacent district of Barranco because these were areas where gentrification was well under way, reflecting the modern Lima of restaurants, cafés and restored architecture. I’d done some homework before setting off, saving a list of the cream of Peruvian progressive rock bands on my phone and, after finding the first decent espresso for three days – I've been told that South America has a thing about Nescafe and it turns out that Madrid, the international hub for direct flights to South America, isn’t well supplied with good coffee either – we came across Phantom Music (Av. Jose Larco 409, Miraflores 18, Peru) which looked a little unpromising at first with a window display comprised of advertising for computer games. Don’t judge a book by the cover; The shop had CDs by Flor de Loto and Frágil and also a CD by Ultimos Incas bearing the legend on its shrink wrap: “El rock progresivo en su más original propuesta peruvana, las raices de una cultura en diálogo soberbio con lo contemporáneo” which roughly translates as “Peruvian progressive rock at its most original, the roots of a culture in superb dialogue with the contemporary.” How could I resist?





I missed out on two of the albums I’d most wanted, Frágil’s first album Avenida Larco (the road on which Phantom was situated) from 1981 and Flor de Loto’s eponymous 2005 debut but, applying the ProgBlog rule that if you saw an album that was on your radar you had to buy it because you might not see it again, I came away with a Frágil compilation, Ultimos Incas' Naturaleza Luminosa (2011); and four CDs by Flor de Loto: Imperio De Cristal (2011); Volver A Nacer (2012); Nuevo Mesias (2014); and the live offering Medusa: En vivo en Buenos Aires (2015).

Frágil, named after the 1971 Yes album, are a highly regarded band that have only managed to release five albums in their career, having undergone numerous personnel changes. The songs on my compilation CD reveal some world-class progressive rock (the earliest material which calls to mind early Genesis) through neo-prog to pop-rock in the style of post-Hackett Genesis. Los Ultimos Incas have been going for over 10 years and play a fusion of traditional Peruvian music and rock, resulting in a prog/world music sound, without keyboards. Some of this is genuine prog-sounding but there are tracks which are slightly less inspiring, more Andean folk and reliant on old influences rather than mixing past and present.

Henri Strik, writing for Netherlands-based Background Magazine has described Flor de Loto as ‘refined progressive rockmixed with elements taken from progmetal and Latin influences’ but they have been described elsewhere as ‘prog-folk.’ Regarded as being the biggest progressive rock act in Peru at the present moment, I find the more recent material leaning towards prog-metal, though they can also handle prog. The ‘folk’ tag comes from the use of flute and their first release displays some Jethro Tull influence.

Of the three bands, I think I prefer Frágil, because their first album is closest to the sort of music that I like and they include more keyboards. Flor de Loto, despite great musicianship, have a tendency to fall back on metal-edged lines that sit a little incongruously with the flute. Los Ultimos Incas come closest to how you’d imagine a Peruvian folk-rock band with their uses of pipes, but there is far more sophistication than your average group of musicians carrying their instruments around from restaurant to restaurant in Aguas Calientes or Puno with their extended versions of El Condor Pasa, and way more authentic than the Andean pipe player in town centres up and down the UK, playing over backing tracks on a Saturday morning...

Peru is an incredible country with amazing scenery. It’s also got an established progressive rock scene to go along with the amazing sites and scenery. Our Quechuan tour guide impressed on us how Peruvians were proud of their mixed gene pool; disparate influences are necessary ingredients for progressive rock.








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