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By ProgBlog, Feb 4 2019 10:27PM

Whether by conscious choice or directed drift, the latter part of 2018 saw me adopt what the media are calling ‘flexitarianism’. My son had started out on this road towards the end of last year but quickly shifted to a full vegan diet and when he’s invited to dinner, I prepare vegan food for the whole family.


Not yet prepared to give up meat entirely, this casual vegetarianism is an attempt to reduce my carbon footprint by taking a more environmentally sustainable approach to what I eat by consuming less meat. For someone who shuns almost all fast food (I eat supermarket pizza, occasionally go to pizza restaurants, I might have takeaway fish and chips once every couple of months or buy-in an Indian takeaway perhaps twice a year) and is entirely happy in the kitchen, it’s not as onerous as many might imagine. If statistics are to be believed, 26% of Millennials are either vegan or vegetarian and supermarkets, eager to maintain market share, have been quick to produce suitable ranges of ready-to-cook vegan dishes; the fad has also been matched by the availability of varied recipes. I mostly cook from scratch which means it’s fortunate that the Co-op, our nearest supermarket, is one of the better outlets for identifying vegan produce but it’s equally handy that Coughlans, our local bakery chain, has an extensive range of vegan cakes. My first visit to Coughlans with the specific aim of buying an appropriate treat for my son involved an almost conspiratorial approach from another customer, a young woman who asked me if I was vegan like her and her young son; I fear she was a little disappointed with my truthful response that I hadn’t increased the number of vegans in Addiscombe. Rather than go the full extreme, I attempt to eat a balanced diet and if my comparative zoology lectures taught me anything when I was a student, we have the ideal dentition for an omnivorous diet, although I admire anyone who chooses to go vegan for ethical reasons. The recent family skiing holiday to Bardonecchia showed how well veganism has spread; I needn’t have feared that we weren’t going to find suitable foodstuffs to cook on the two hotplates and small oven that served as our apartment kitchenette – Carrefour (which has a supermarket near-monopoly in the resort) carried a wide range of alternatives, including one awarded a ‘product of the year’, for our vegan skier.




The best known examples of prog vegetarians are Yes. It’s well documented that in the early 70s all the members of the band bar Rick Wakeman, along with many of their road crew, stopped eating meat, initially influenced by producer Eddie Offord who was already into health foods. This chimes with the cosmic image of Jon Anderson, the man primarily responsible for the band’s mystically-themed lyrics and concepts which include recurring motifs of environmentalism, pacifism and pantheism. Anderson let his vegetarianism slip, though in a 2006 interview with Howard Stern he spoke of maintaining a healthy diet. In fact it was Steve Howe who was the first of the band to stop eating meat and continues to maintain this stance; In the January 1992 edition of Vegetarian Times he related that the group was in New York during the 1972 Fragile tour when he ordered his last chicken dinner but was unable to eat it.



I’m not sure what the musical equivalent of flexitarianism is, but over the last couple of weeks I’ve allowed myself to be exposed to genres other than symphonic prog and progressivo Italiano, from a Philip Glass CD received as a Christmas present to the protest folk-psyche of Twilight Fields who invited me to listen to their forthcoming release Songs from the Age of Ruin which featured in a recent ProgBlog DISCovery post (their track Prologue: The Ruined City is included on the covermount CD of Prog 95). The lesson is clear, although it’s unlikely to have any environmental impact: it’s good to listen to a wide spectrum of musical genres.




Compared to last year, live prog has not yet featured heavily in my schedule for 2019 but the two events I have attended were not run-of-the-mill gigs. A last-minute decision to see London-based electronica musician Amané Suganami (who performs under the stage name Amane) at Camden Assembly for an event tagged as ‘the spirit of Brian Eno’ was my first ever prog date and the first time I’d gone to a gig with my wife since Chris Rea at Wembley Arena in December 1988! Strictly sticking to Eno’s ambient music with interpretations of Ambient 1: Music for Airports, Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror (with Harold Budd); Ambient 3: Day of Radiance (Laraaji, produced by Eno) and Apollo: Atmospheres & Soundtracks, of which I only recognised An Ending (Ascent) from the latter, this was an enjoyable, well-attended event with a distinctly un-prog demographic, spoiled only by the suggested start time of 7pm – doors were at 7.30 and the performance began at 8pm.



The second event wasn’t really a gig and it wasn’t strictly live; it was Steve Hackett’s At the Edge of Light album preview held at the Everyman cinema in Crystal Palace, a run-through of the record in 5.1 surround sound four days before the official release, organised by Prog Magazine and Inside Out records. I ‘won’ tickets by sending Prog a selfie, holding a copy of Prog 94 with Steve Hackett on the cover, taken in my dining room (photos of the magazine taken in newsagents were disallowed!) I’d been to two King Crimson playbacks in the mid-late 90s for the releases of the Epitaph box set and The Night Watch CDs, both unmissable because they were relatively small gatherings of like-minded fans and featured the assembly of the musicians responsible for the performances but which also included fascinating side events: the offering of home-made cakes (I baked a date and walnut loaf); a Mellotron display; and John Wetton performing a solo acoustic version of Book of Saturday. An even more exclusive gathering, the At the Edge of Light playback was a chance to hear the latest Steve Hackett release before the general public and had the distinct advantage of being held on my doorstep, a short 410 bus journey from home.



When I lived in Crystal Palace/Upper Norwood the former Rialto Cinema, opened in 1928, was being used as a bingo hall. The cinema had shown its last film in 1968 and Gala Bingo, in a restructuring exercise following diminishing profits and questionable financial viability partly blamed on the 2007 ban on smoking in enclosed public spaces, closed the premises sometime around 2009. It was bought by Kingsway International Christian Centre but they failed to gain planning permission for change of use to an evangelical church partly because the development would result in the loss of an important leisure venue, deemed to be "harmful to the social, cultural and economic characteristics of the area." Repurposing as a church also incurred opposition from an active local group, founded in 2010, who campaigned to return the prominent Art Deco building to its original function and so, with the building listed as an asset of social value (ASV) ensuring KICC had no prospect of planning approval, they decided to sell up in 2017.

The building has been lovingly restored and given a new lease of life by Everyman, with the original main auditorium divided up to form four screens. Screen 4, the venue for the playback, seats 75 on plush two-seater sofas and provided a warm, intimate setting for the event. I had wondered why Hackett and the record label had chosen Everyman Crystal Palace but Steve Hackett’s live film Wuthering Nights: Live in Birmingham was given a screening at Everyman King’s Cross on 15th Jan 2018, prior to its official release eleven days later; Marillion’s 2017 Royal Albert Hall concert film was screened at Everyman cinemas around the country in March 2018 prior to the release of the DVD/Blu-ray for home consumption; and Steven Wilson held a pre-release screening of Home Invasion at Everyman King’s Cross last October. There’s a rumour that someone high up in the Everyman organisation is partial to prog...


It’s unclear how many ordinary punters were present, not industry insiders from Inside Out music or Prog magazine or members of the Hackett family (Steve’s wife, Jo; brother and collaborator John; their mother; aunt Betty) but regardless of status we were all treated to a signed card from Steve and some Green & Black’s chocolate. Prog magazine editor Jerry Ewing commenced proceedings with a short introduction, declaring At the Edge of Light the best offering from Hackett for 20 years; he handed over the mic to Hackett who thanked quite a few people present and said a little bit about the music and the guest musicians, and then we settled down to listen.


Having already watched three available YouTube videos and being fully aware of Hackett’s diverse styles through building up a comprehensive library of his recorded output, I wasn’t surprised by any of the material. It’s a natural successor to Night Siren though with a more cohesive sound despite the eclectic mix and, as Ewing suggested, probably his best album for many years. The fact that it’s not all-out prog is one of the album’s strengths, the eclecticism providing an almost commercial level of accessibility but without being ‘commercial’. My least favourite track was Underground Railroad although I do love the story of the inspiration behind the song. It was written following a visit to Wilmington, Delaware, where he found out about the network that helped slaves escape in pre-Civil War America, spearheaded by people like Harriet Tubman; it’s just that I’m not a great fan of the Blues or, however well it’s played, harmonica.

I thought that there were a number of highlights; from the brief opening tune Fallen Walls and Pedestals with its archetypal guitar sound to the prog mini-epic Those Golden Wings to the three numbers forming a kind of suite closing the album, Descent which channels Holst or King Crimson, Conflict, and Peace but the overall quality of song writing on the album is really high, including the infectious prog-pop of The Hungry Years! At times I was reminded of Cured-era Hackett which I think has a distinct overall sound. On completion of the album presentation he remained in the auditorium and chatted to the attendees, graciously posing for selfies with fans.



More than just the music, I admire Hackett’s viewpoint, expressed in both Prog 94 and in his explanation for the album’s title. He described the thread linking the songs as different interpretations of the contrast between light and dark, expressed at its most basic on Beasts in Our Time as good versus evil, but also the more mystical interplay of dark and light magically combining in cultures such as that which provides the heartbeat of India (Shadow and Flame). In summary, Hackett takes a hopeful stance: “In these dangerous times, deep shadows feel even sharper than usual and we find ourselves standing at the edge of light. Ultimately, this album embraces the need for all musical forms and cultures to connect and celebrate the wonder of unity in this divided world."


I think it’s time for us all to go culturally flexitarian.









By ProgBlog, Jan 1 2019 05:22PM

2018. A year like no other, with global politics stooping to a new nadir as so-called world leaders lie, cheat and bully their way through life. I’ve always tended towards optimism, which is one of the reasons I have an affinity for progressive rock, but when humanity is fast-approaching the point where man-made climate change is going to have irreversible, accelerated effects on the biosphere and some of the largest economies in the world argue about the wording of a document at the end of the (extended) COP24 Climate Conference in Katowice relating to the implementation of the 2015 Paris agreement, I may have reached my personal tipping point. For the US, Russia, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait, with tacit encouragement from Australia and Brazil, joining forces to prevent the conference fully embracing the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) findings that any warming of above 1.5oC of pre-industrial levels would be disastrous for many species seems criminal to me. As forest fires rage across California and Australia and Japan once again break their local temperature records, it’s time surely for anyone with children or grandchildren to think globally and, at the earliest opportunity, use the ballot box to facilitate change.


The Guardian headline 15 December 2018
The Guardian headline 15 December 2018

Change appears to be the kryptonite of anyone with a vested interest. Colonial expansion allowed Europeans to profit from indigenous mineral wealth with little or no trickle-down benefit for locals (usually the opposite); the dirty energy that fuelled the industrial revolution made a small number of people very rich; the sell-off of former Soviet state industries made a smaller number of people super-wealthy; now our fondness for technology has created an even smaller group of unimaginably rich who are responsible for the way we get our information. I’m not going to deny that there’s no philanthropic disbursement of funds but however well-founded donations are, there’s always a return for the sponsor through free advertising and access to political power, and even something as outwardly benign as the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation has come under scrutiny for purportedly cornering the market on global health issues. Thanks to some stunning work by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists (ICIJ), it has been revealed that the accumulation of wealth by a limited proportion of the global population, including politicians, is driven by self-interest and that they utilise schemes which although falling within the letter of the law, are actually complex constructs to preserve that wealth and ergo, influence or power. The employment of offshore structures is the equivalent of smoke and mirrors, a device to distract and confuse and ultimately avoid transparency; the influence is exerted to avoid regulation, the same red tape that might have prevented the Bhopal disaster, the Sandoz chemical spill, the Deepwater Horizon explosion, the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster, the Flint, Michigan water crisis and many others. There’s a salutary lesson here: cutting regulations may save you money, but cutting costs may cost lives.


Climate change appears to be rather low on the UK government’s list of priorities, along with rising homelessness and providing appropriate care for the elderly, those with disabilities and the unwell. Currently paralysed in a mess of her own making, bounded by red lines and surrounded by a party disunited over Europe, the Prime Minister continues to rely on DUP MPs to hold the government together even as she decries almost half of the population who voted to remain in the EU as undemocratic for suggesting a second referendum; her pro-Brexit allies from Northern Ireland don’t actually represent the majority ‘remain’ sentiment to be found in the province but she continues to allow them to hold her to ransom. It’s easy for critics of Jeremy Corbyn to lambast him for not holding Theresa May fully to account for her Brexit bungling but there are some equally pressing issues which, if satisfactorily addressed, might persuade those who voted to leave that their voice is being heard and that there was nothing to gain from leaving the EU. If May had taken more of a consensus approach to work out the best solution for the country and not attempted the impossible, the reconciliation of the pro- and anti-Europe wings of the Conservative party, the UK might not be three months away from the worst possible scenario – no deal.


Extrapolating from what I’ve seen in Prog magazine and in tweets posted by the individuals I follow on Twitter, I imagine that the majority of UK prog musicians are in favour of remaining within the EU. The challenge of restriction to movement throughout Europe effectively putting a kibosh on touring the mainland continent for all but the best resourced bands by erecting barriers to seamless touring not seen since the early 1970s, cutting off a previously accessible market. The reciprocal arrangement will undoubtedly deter artists from some of our former EU partners from gigging in the UK. The following argument could be made by not only anyone who has enjoyed the benefits of cheap intracontinental travel but by NHS senior managers, hoteliers and other owners of hospitality, catering or drinks businesses, even farmers requiring a large seasonal workforce; any restriction or barrier to EU citizens working in the UK is going to have an adverse effect on our daily lives, whether that’s longer waiting times in hospitals, no one to staff care homes for our elderly relatives, food shortages and concomitant rising prices, or just finding it harder to enjoy a night out. Doesn’t that make us look grown-up?

The Brexit-fantasy nostalgia even puts my infatuation with 70’s prog in the shade. I resent the barriers being erected that will inconvenience me on my quest to witness the last few classic progressivo Italiano bands I’ve not yet seen, and flourishing my blue UK passport at the end of a slow-moving immigration queue at Genoa’s Cristoforo Colombo airport isn’t actually something I’m going to feel proud about.


2018 did turn out to be good for one thing; the number of concerts I managed to attend (22) was the most I’ve ever managed in a year; I had thought 2017 was busy with 14 (that’s including two days in Genoa for the Porto Antico Prog Fest and five nights in Rome for the Progressivamente festival.) At times it felt as though I was chasing gigs and was certainly flagging by the end of March. Having recommenced semi-retirement towards the end of 2017, it became easier to take extended weekend breaks so on my return from a midweek skiing trip to Chamonix in early January I discovered that Banco del Mutuo Soccorso had a gig in Brescia the following week which, thanks to its proximity to Milan, made travel arrangements relatively easy.


ProgBlog's list of gigs, 2018
ProgBlog's list of gigs, 2018

The true gig marathon began on the 23rd March with my second venture to the Fabio Zuffanti-organised Z-Fest in Milan and ended with my first attendance at a Tangerine Dream performance at the Union Chapel, Islington, on 23rd April. Between those dates I got to see Yes at the Palladium, the first of Steven Wilson’s three nights’ residency at the Royal Albert Hall, had a week skiing in Austria after which I dropped off my gear and immediately headed out to the ESP 22 Layers of Sunlight launch party at the Half Moon, Putney, and flew off to Brescia again, this time for another classic Italian prog band, Le Orme, who were augmented by David Cross on violin. The complexities of getting back the hotel from some of these Italian venues can be something of a logistical nightmare after public transport has shut down for the night. Walking the streets of Genoa after a show poses no threat when the club or theatre is in the heart of the city but the 11km between L’ Angelo Azzurro and the NH Genova Centro, though only a 90 minute walk at most, might not be the best idea at 2am. I am deeply indebted to Marina Montobbio for arranging my lift back from an excellent gig. BMS at Brescia would have been less problematic if I hadn’t followed my wife’s instructions not to use public transport to get back to our hotel. Circolo Colony, the venue for the show, was hidden away on an industrial estate about 20 minutes walk from the light rail terminus to the east of the city. Though the last train was scheduled for 1am, the walk to the station would have involved a section behind the Armco protection from a dual carriageway, so I was told to get a taxi. I had pre-programmed a mobile phone app to get my return cab but despatch phoned me to tell me nothing was available at the time I requested, 00:45am, and the last taxi was at midnight. Apart from missing a chunk of the BMS set, I had to hang around the car park for almost half an hour and had to phone the company to ask where the driver was. When he appeared, it turned out that he was familiar with progressive rock so the journey back to the hotel wasn’t unpleasant. On my return to the city three months later I’d worked out not to bother trying to pre-book a return taxi journey. I made a note of where the taxi dropped me off on the way to the Brixia Forum, returned to that spot at the conclusion of the performance, and called a taxi; mine was the third to arrive. As a result of making the trip for the BMS gig, I was able to explore more of Italy. I really like Brescia with its three record stores (special mention has to go to Kandinski, Via Tartaglia 49c, 25100 Brescia) but it also hosts a UNESCO World Heritage site and the railway provides easy access to other cities including Cremona, and to Lake Garda.


While the variety of live events I attended spanned the inaugural local electronica festival (part three of Palace Electrics was held at Antenna Studios, Crystal Palace and included an interpretation of Steve Reich’s Pendulum Music) to Camel at the Royal Albert Hall and the fabulous Lucca Summer Festival for an outdoor experience of King Crimson, I was also being exposed to a lot more music that I’d describe as being outside my comfort zone. Requests for me to review new music, which came from all parts of the prog spectrum, led to the creation of a new section on the ProgBlog website, DISCovery, which had the aim of exposing new artists to a wider audience. So far it has featured a diverse range of styles including classic Floyd-like soundscape prog, pop-prog, prog with a metal bias, and RIO-inflicted free jazz.

I hope that my contribution to the prog world, however small, inspires someone to go out and explore, whether that’s just the sonic adventure of trying something new or a geographical quest to unearth the inspiration behind the music, where an understanding of physical and cultural artefacts help to piece the world together. 2019 certainly needs everyone to display a little more understanding.


Wishing everyone a peaceful new year.







By ProgBlog, Oct 7 2018 11:44AM

The three days between Gryphon at the Union Chapel and the original reason for my brother Richard’s visit, Camel at the Royal Albert Hall, included trips to Wanted Music in Beckenham where I bought the eponymous debut LP from Gryphon and Cured by Steve Hackett, something I’d only ever owned on cassette, a bargain from the long gone Woolworths in Tooting and long gone itself, and a trek out into leafy Surrey for the W&W Vinyl Records and CD Fair in Ashtead, held in the Ashtead Peace Memorial Hall. This trip was quite successful as I’d identified a number of omissions from my vinyl collection and managed to tick off two of them; Camel’s Rain Dances and Romantic Warrior by Return to Forever, then added to my record count with Live at the Fillmore (November - December 1969) an unofficial King Crimson 2x LP that duplicates material that can be found on the Epitaph CD box set, and The Orchestral Tubular Bells, bought because I’d enjoyed the David Bedford at 80 concert at the Queen Elizabeth Hall earlier this year. This was a good-sized record fair; not too big to be intimidating, yet big enough to be able to spend over an hour sifting through containers and to pick up some good-quality progressive rock at bargain prices.



Also squeezed in between these LP buying sprees were a necessary trip to my optician and a cultural event, the London Design Biennale at Somerset House. My optician was based in St George’s Walk, a pedestrianised, semi-covered parade of shops incorporated into a 1960’s office and retail development that included the 79m tall St George’s House (architect Ronald Ward and partners, completed 1964), home to the headquarters of Nestlé UK until 2012 and potent symbol of the combined effects of a broken planning system and austerity politics. Other shops of note, pre-dating the short-term lets that proliferated once the area had been earmarked for redevelopment included Croydon’s only dedicated ski shop, Captain’s Cabin, and Cloake’s Record store which migrated from inside St George’s Walk to the High Street frontage of the arcade sometime after 1969; I only discovered the shop in the late 80s, possibly around the same time as signing up with Young’s opticians, watching the vinyl get replaced by CDs and DVDs. That was where I bought the Caravan CD Live at the Fairfield Halls, 1974 – Fairfield Halls (architect Robert Atkins and partners, 1962) is opposite the northern end of St George’s Walk. Plans for redevelopment were originally submitted long before Nestlé departed but a Chinese-led consortium, who bought the buildings in 2017, gave a month’s notice to the tenants in August indicating that they were about to commence work. My optician was the last of the businesses to leave so I stopped by to pick up supplies of contact lenses and solutions and took some photos to document the area before the parade was demolished.



In contrast to the rather sombre atmosphere of shuttered units in Croydon, the Design Biennale was based around the theme of ‘emotional states’ and was interpreted in a variety of optimistic ways by artists from participating countries. Less difficult and less provocative than the Venice Biennale, it was a very enjoyable way to spend a few hours before the main event of the extended weekend, the Camel gig.



The last time Camel played the Royal Albert Hall was when they performed (and recorded) The Snow Goose with the London Symphony Orchestra on October 17th 1975; the last time I saw them was at the Barbican Hall, performing a re-worked Snow Goose in its entirety on October 28th 2013. Though this tour was the first ever to include all of Moonmadness, it didn’t represent any special anniversary that I was aware of but it was nevertheless greeted with heartfelt appreciation by all their fans; in my opinion Moonmadness is a contender for the best album of 1976.

The last release by the original line-up, Moonmadness was a deliberate move by the band to create something other than ‘son of Snow Goose’, and the result was an album loosely held together with the notion that each of the main tracks was a musical representation of the traits of the band members: Chord Change was keyboard player Pete Bardens; Another Night was bassist Doug Ferguson; Air Born was guitarist/flautist Andy Latimer; and Lunar Sea was drummer Andy Ward. The album title comes arose from a feeling that the farmhouse where Bardens and Latimer were writing the material was haunted, as strange things happened, especially at full moon. References to the moon appear throughout the album, from the track title Lunar Sea, lyrics on Another Night, and the title of the concise opening track Aristillus, a prominent impact crater that lies in the eastern Mare Imbrium. This song features Andy Ward reciting ‘Aristillus’ and ‘Autolycus’ (a slightly smaller crater due south of Aristillus.)

Though I don’t think it can be called a forgotten classic, it does seem that in the panoply of progressive rock that Moonmadness has been overlooked. All the preceding Camel albums contained material of a uniformly high standard though of all their releases, Snow Goose stands out as a remarkable work that never dips in quality. However, Moonmadness has not just exemplary song-based music but also has a very satisfactory balance where neither Bardens nor Latimer comes out as particularly dominant; the two lead musicians giving each other ample space to conjure those beautiful, melodic lines. Lunar Sea, with its odd meter and alternating lead guitar and keyboard lines, and where the solid, unflashy Doug Ferguson positively bubbles, remains one of my favourite instrumental tracks of all time.




Aristillus was a recorded introduction, at the end of which Latimer, Colin Bass, Denis Clement and new recruit Pete Jones (the gifted mastermind behind Tiger Moth Tales) took to the unadorned stage to enthusiastic applause. Thinking back, this was the first time I’d ever seen the band as a quartet: for the 1979 I Can See Your House from Here tour there were two keyboard players; on the 1982 Single Factor tour they expanded to a sextet with two keyboard players and a second guitarist, Andy Dalby; they reverted to a quintet for the Stationary Traveller tour in 1984; and when I last saw them in 2013 they were a quintet with two keyboard players. This year’s four piece pulled off a magnificent performance of the full Moonmadness album, with Jones faithfully recreating Peter Barden’s keyboard lines and tones, delivered in album running order with minimal interaction with a spellbound, appreciative audience. Only Another Night was noticeably different from the original recording but it was good to have another vocalist in the line-up, with Latimer struggling to reach his former standard, modified as it was by effects and kept fairly low in the mix on their albums, and Bass faring only a little better, but these two were effective enough singing three-part harmony alongside Jones’ much stronger voice. I had thought that for the London show, the last performance of the tour, we might have seen a guest appearance from Mel Collins before King Crimson commence their UK dates. Sadly we didn’t, but Jones added saxophone, reprising a little of the role Collins played in Camel during the mid 70s.



It seemed pretty strange to have an interval after only 40 minutes of music but this provided an opportunity to invest in some merchandise. There were some bargains to be had, notably Dust and Dreams and Rajaz CDs for £10 each (I’d been encouraged to get these when I met up with my old school friend Bill Burford in August) but there were no tour programmes and T-shirts were selling for £30. The second set kicked off with the excellent Unevensong from Rain Dances (1977), pretty much the same vintage as Moonmadness and continued with the brilliant Hymn to Her from 1979’s I Can See Your House from Here, both of which were faithful to the respective studio versions and consequently really enjoyable. I thought the remainder of the set was a mixed bag; Ice, humorously introduced by Jones with a tale of the track being his audition piece, is an undisputed Camel classic (though I think Hymn to Her might be the best track on I Can See Your House) and Coming of Age is something like a reprise of all the best themes from Harbour of Tears (1996), but the Dust and Dreams (1991) tracks End of the Line, Mother Road and Hopeless Anger, and to a slightly lesser extent the title track from Rajaz (1999), came across as more straightforward rock, lacking any form of progressive edge. Rajaz included a lengthy, crowd-pleasing saxophone solo from Jones which added a welcome new texture to the band’s sound but I didn’t think it was terribly dynamic. The final number of the set, Long Goodbyes (from Stationary Traveller, 1984) was largely forgettable rather than an inspired conclusion so it was fortunate they played Lady Fantasy as an encore.



While I appreciate that the band might like to air material from a full range of albums because playing only 70s songs only tells a small portion of their story, I can’t believe that I’m the only one to have missed Rhayader and Rhayader Goes to Town or even anything from the first album. It may be that I’m hard to please; I was disappointed with the inclusion of two tracks from A Nod and a Wink on the last tour in 2013 when everything else was superb. I am well aware that they don’t devise a set list just for me.

I had a couple of other gripes, too, beyond the control of the band. The house lights remained on throughout the first half, illuminating the crowd and detracting from the sense of occasion, and the resurfacing of an old grumble; the sound in parts of the auditorium is quite poor. I originally disliked the venue because I’d experienced it from the gods and the upper gallery but a string of performances witnessed from the arena floor, the rising tier and the ground level seating won me over. However, for the Steven Wilson Hand.Cannot.Erase tour my seat was in-line with the front of the stage and I was surprised that the sound was rather muddy; for the Camel show I was seated in the arc that extends behind the line of the stage, behind the speakers suspended above the stage.



Overall, I enjoyed the show. Camel never quite managed the commercial success enjoyed by some of their contemporaries that their music deserved, possibly because they were relative latecomers to the genre, and though industry changes affected them more than the big names, they continued to ply hyper-melodic rock and occasionally, before their activity was curtailed by Latimer’s illness, managed to recreate some progressive gems. It’s great that they’re back.







By ProgBlog, May 19 2018 08:29PM

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


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

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


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


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


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


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



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


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



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



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









By ProgBlog, May 8 2018 10:01PM

Until last month, I’d never been to see a Tangerine Dream performance; the closest I’d ever come to witnessing the TD sound was seeing ‘Berlin school’ devotees Node at the Royal College of Music in 2015 (a performance that is just about to be released on CD), and I was also present at the rather intimate premiere of the Edgar Froese/Tangerine Dream film Revolution in Sound, part of the Doc ‘n’ Roll Festival, screened at the Barbican Centre last November.


My appreciation of Tangerine Dream spans back to being introduced to Phaedra (1974) by school friend Alan Lee and I bought 1975’s Rubycon shortly after its release based on the promise of its predecessor. I can’t remember where I first heard Ricochet which was largely recorded at a gig in Croydon’s Fairfield Halls on 23rd October 1975 but I remember not being over-impressed with the next studio release Stratosfear (1976), which I thought made too many concessions towards mainstream rock, including the use of harmonica. I imagine it was becoming ever more difficult to maintain originality and find new things to write in the idiom they’d created but I also think the change in use of the sequencer from pulsed rhythmic intervention to near-rigid substitute electronic drumming had the overall effect of making the group more industry-friendly. I sold my copy of Rubycon some time before I left school in 1978 but regretted it, believing that it remains one of the ultimate albums to listen to in the dark through headphones. I bought a compilation CD From Dawn ‘til Dusk 1973 - 1988 in the early 90s, a CD of Phaedra in 2005 and replaced my Rubycon on CD in 2009 and finally replaced both Phaedra and Rubycon CDs with original vinyl last year; over the last couple of years I’ve bought a second-hand vinyl copy of Ricochet, plus Stratosfear and soundtrack Sorcerer (1977) on CD and I inherited CDs to plug the gap from Encore (1977) to Hyperborea (1983) from friend Neil Jellis as he replaced his original CDs with remasters.



Their brand of electronica was swiftly accepted by the fans of British progressive rock, like myself, who were exposed to the band when Richard Branson signed them to Virgin Records. Though not virtuoso, the application of electronic keyboard-based instrumentation to the thinking of minimalist composers like György Ligeti put them at the forefront of a radical musical movement, with atmospheres created by sonic washes, sequencer pulses and haunting Mellotron, mapping both outer- and inner space.

My favourite line-up is the classic Froese-Franke-Baumann trio, responsible for the early-mid 70’s classics, and who performed in some unusual places for a rock band, like the cathedrals at Reims in France, Liverpool and Coventry. The latter two are modern architectural masterpieces but Reims Cathedral (Notre Dame de Reims) is an 81m high gothic building dating from 1211, lacking in facilities for a crowd of rock fans whose behaviour would lead to TD being banned from ever playing in a Catholic church again. The idea to perform electronic meditations in these sacred places, whether or not you hold religious beliefs, was a stroke of genius because as a layperson with an appreciation of architecture, I find this thoughtful, sometimes reflective and often searching music is somehow very fitting for the space.


The journey from Brescia to the gig at the Union Chapel, Islington, was dictated by the easyJet flight schedule from Verona to Gatwick which fortunately ran on time. There were no disasters at Gatwick’s railway station, or East Croydon or Victoria and I arrived at the venue to join the end of what was one of the biggest queues I’ve seen for a long time (that being for Steven Wilson at The Troxy in March 2015). This queue also contained Neil, who happened to be holding my ticket, and who fortuitously called me before he’d reached the entrance and disappeared inside. The one slight drawback with this rush was the rather stark temperature difference between Italy and the UK; it had been 26oC when I boarded my flight but the evening temperature in London was 14oC. I was wearing a T shirt and had no jacket.


The performances at the Union Chapel invited comparisons with the Reims show, and Bianca Froese-Acquaye suggested, as she introduced the evening’s proceedings, that Edgar would have approved of the setting. I get the feeling that many of the fans did, too, certainly on the night I attended, Monday 23rd April. Froese-Acquaye had been present at the screening of the documentary at the Barbican, where she read an extract about meeting Jimi Hendrix from her husband’s autobiography, Tangerine Dream: Force Majeure which had been published a couple of months before, and held a Q&A session following the film. She had obviously been given instructions that the group should carry on following Edgar’s ‘change of cosmic address’ and the trio with the responsibility for the musical legacy, Thorsten Quaeschning, Ulrich Schnauss and Hoshiko Yamane, proved well qualified to do so, building on the critical acclaim of Quantum Gate (2017). I was a little concerned about the way Edgar Froese was addressed by his widow as she dedicated the performance to ‘our master’; this may have been accidental miscommunication but it did come across as though we were being initiated into some form of cult, with Quaeschning named as Froese’s ‘chosen successor’.



The set list seems to have been comprised mostly from 80’s material, plus a couple of tracks from Quantum Gate: It is Time to Leave When Everyone is Dancing and Roll the Seven Twice, compositions I really wasn’t familiar with but thoroughly enjoyed because it sounded as though each piece had the right balance of instrumentation despite the reliance on midi-triggers and programming; during the mid 80s Froese reworked some of their tracks and added new layers of keyboard, guitar and rhythm, a move regarded by many as detracting from the stark elegance of the originals. One of the songs in the first set reminded me of Phaedra and I wonder if it was part of the 2005 reworking of that album, which featured Quaeschning, especially as a little research suggests that the selection includes more recent, post-Froese reworkings. The second set was more reminiscent of 70’s TD; not only did they play Stratosfear but they also performed an extended improvisation, a Session in TD parlance, like one of the improvised pieces that made up their seminal live albums.



I had thought that the enigmatic Yamane was responsible for very little of the soundscape, as there were lengthy sections where her violin was held by her side, but I’m reliably informed she was responsible for triggering and controlling effects using Ableton Push. There were a few moments where the electronic drums became a little cheesy but the sequencer-driven beats, a trademark of the Berlin School acts, were always imaginative. Some of the projections appeared a little dated, too, though most seemed apt, fitting in with the music and making it difficult to work out whether to watch the band or to watch the lights play over the neo-gothic interior of the chapel. On balance I was probably more impressed with the second set; especially the improvised piece which shifted in unpredictable ways and where the involvement of the whole trio was much more evident.



The whole event was really enjoyable, from the setting to the playing to the music itself. It didn’t matter that my preferred era of the band was one where there was less reliance on continuous sequences and the evolution of the tracks seemed more organic and free-form; I love Froese’s Mellotron work, rating both Aqua (1974) and Epsilon in Malaysian Pale (1975) as Mellotron classics but their adoption and employment of digital technology can’t be faulted, creating multiple layers of sound of uncertain origin that weaved and flowed over the crowd seated on the chapel’s pews. Like Froese before him, Quaeschning picked up a guitar during a couple of pieces but I wasn’t able to attribute a particular sound to the instrument; perhaps everything will become clear when the DVD is released because the entire performance was filmed.



...It was well worth the dash from Brescia to Islington.








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