ProgBlog

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The possibilities afforded to composers since the birth of electronic instruments together with a willingness to explore different fields ensured that formal music progressed. The appropriation of classical music forms by rock musicians from the late 60s onwards marked the birth of progressive rock.

David Bedford was equally at home in both camps, at the forefront of a movement ensuring that all forms of music could be appreciated by everyone and anyone

By ProgBlog, May 22 2018 06:20PM



With an ever expanding selection of progressivo Italiano on vinyl and CD (vinyl, either new or second hand being my preferred choice) and a library of Prog Italia magazines plus a set of Italian texts on progressive rock, I seem to have found my niche obsessive compulsive disorder. The listening and reading material is sourced on the family trips to Italy, which means I’ve also amassed a substantial digital image collection taken at all the stops I’ve ever made around the country; the Trenitalia app is one of the most used apps I have on my phone. It gets worse: I’ve even imported coffee beans from a small artisan roaster in Venice, Torrefaziano Cannaregio, which I’d recommend to any coffee drinker who finds themselves in the city. Perhaps I’m subconsciously working towards citizenship for when the UK plunges out of the EU...



I was aware of a ‘Little Venice’ region of London, so-called because it’s centred on the conjunction of the Grand Union and Regent’s canals, having started a year-long post-graduate course in Biomedical Sciences immediately after commencing work at the South London Blood Transfusion Centre. One day each week I’d travel from Streatham up through central London, by bicycle in good weather, to Paddington College, an establishment close to the canals and waterways of Little Venice that taught the mysteries of hospital laboratory science. However, it wasn’t until very recently that I discovered London’s Little Italy, on a family outing to the Postal Museum, recently shortlisted for the Art Fund Museum of the Year award – the museum opened the former Mail Rail 610mm narrow gauge railway system to the public last summer.

Desperate for a decent coffee on a cold Easter Sunday, by chance we came upon Terroni of Clerkenwell, which turned out to be the oldest Italian delicatessen in England, not just London, having been established by Luigi Terroni in 1878. Before the influx of (mostly) southern Italians the area bounded by Clerkenwell Road, Farringdon Road and Rosebery Avenue was known as Saffron Hill but subsequently became Italian Hill or the Italian Quarter, before Italians from the north of the country migrated to England and settled in Soho. Terroni’s was busy but we were still able to get a seat at a table, then shortly after our coffees and selection of cannoli had arrived, a huge queue formed at the counter as families poured out of the church next door, the grade II* listed St Peter of all Nations - conceived in 1845 by St Vincent Pallotti, designed by Irish architect Sir John Miller-Bryson modelled on the Basilica of San Crisogonoin in the Trastevere district of Rome, and consecrated in 1863.


Little Italy was transplanted to Islington last week, as Italy’s best-known progressive rock export checked in to play one night at the O2 Academy. It was suggested by Peter Sinfield, who provided the first English lyrics for the band and produced Photos of Ghosts (1973), that non-native Italians wouldn’t understand the group’s name Premiata Forneria Marconi (the first-class Marconi bakery, where the band rehearsed) and that they should call themselves PFM. Drummer Franz di Cioccio explained to Will Romano (in Mountains Come Out of the Sky, Backbeat Books, 2010) that this didn’t really work out at the time because the band members became a bit tired of everyone asking what the initials P.F.M. stood for! It’s interesting that the band name on releases after their signing to Manticore/Asylum Records are a bit schizophrenic: the cover of Photos of Ghosts includes both the full name on the front and the acronym in the form of a recognisable logo on the back but both 1974’s L’Isola di Niente and English version The World Became the World use the band’s full name; Live in U.S.A. (Italian release) uses only the band’s full name whereas Cook (UK/US release) uses PFM; the Italian version of Chocolate Kings (1975) has a large ‘PFM’ at the top and ‘Premiata Forneria Marconi’ in small font at the bottom of the front cover but the chocolate bar pop art of the UK/US release only uses PFM; my Manticore printed Jet Lag LP uses PFM but my Italian CD (on Sony) with its subtly different paper aeroplane cover, has PFM and includes the full name in small text. Even the releases from 2013’s In Classic onwards vary in their use of their full title; this was the first album to feature a consistent logo, utilised through the ‘re-imagined’ albums up to and including last year’s Emotional Tattoos.


I finally managed to get to see them at Teatro Carlo Felice in Genoa last year and was really pleased that the set was primarily comprised of early material. They’ve been touring ever since and added two UK dates to their itinerary; the London show, and one in Southampton. I’d never been to the O2 Academy Islington before, in any of its former guises, but it’s easily accessed from Angel tube station and there’s a pub selling decent beer and food just over the road, The York. On arrival in the hall, a standing-only venue, the first thing to strike you was the noise from the air conditioning unit, so that when Andy Tillison appeared for his solo support slot, from my position the machinery could be heard above his keyboard and vocals. Though I’ve been following prog for over 45 years and Tillison has been playing prog for around 40 years, I’ve not knowingly come across the music of Parallel or 90 Degrees or The Tangent, though I’ve seen articles about the man himself and The Tangent in Prog magazine. Three of the four songs he played, The Music that Died Alone (a Tangent song from their debut album of the same name in 2003), Blues for Lear (from The Time Capsule by Parallel or 90 Degrees, 1998) and the debut performance of Sanctuary in Music, were primarily blues-jazz but the other song was a very interesting instrumental along the lines of early Tangerine Dream. He didn’t provide us with the title of this piece, explaining that it meant ‘progressive rock’ in German, as though his pronunciation would upset the guests from his German record label. He’s not got a bad voice and his keyboard playing was quite impressive, but what came across most of all was that his heart is in the right place; Sanctuary in Music reflected on religious fanaticism and the prohibition of music. The other nice bit of between-song banter was a tale of buying PFM’s Per un Amico from a record store in Florence when he was 13 or 14 years old, asking for some progressive rock and being told it was the only kind of music they sold! It was quite evident he was really honoured to be the opening act for the Italians.




It’s hardly surprising, this being a continuation of the Emotional Tattoos tour, that the set list was very similar to that I’d seen in Genoa. They began with Il Regno, the opening track from Emotional Tattoos (in Italian) and then performed a string of early classics: Four Holes in the Ground (from The World Became the World); Photos of Ghosts; Il Banchetto (from Per un Amico but which also appears on Photos of Ghosts), then four of the iconic tracks from their debut album Storia di un Minuto (1972): Dove... Quando... part 1 and part 2; La Carrozza di Hans; and Impressioni di Settembre. They returned to Emotional Tattoos with a song that kind of linked to Tillison’s Sanctuary in Music, La Danza degli Specchi and followed that with the instrumental Freedom Square, a song that harks back to the classic period of the band in the mid 70s.

This is where this concert deviated from the material performed on the Italian leg of the tour. There had been an intermission at this point in Genoa, restarting with Quartiere Generale and the little-known in the UK Maestro della Voce from the 1980 album Suonare Suonare; Islington was treated to Promenade the Puzzle (from Photos of Ghosts) and, from an album unrepresented in Genoa, Harlequin from Chocolate Kings. I think the UK got the best deal!

Though Franz Di Cioccio, the only remaining original member of the band, is indisputably the leader of PFM, Patrick Djivas is a long-term member and is put on equal footing to Di Cioccio. It fell to Djivas to point out the importance of classical composers to PFM music and joked that though they didn’t have an orchestra on stage they were still able to play Romeo e Giulietta: Danza dei Cavalieri which had been covered on their 2013 PFM: In Classic album. This neatly set the stage for Mr. Nine Till Five appended with Five Till Nine including their crowd-pleasing interpretation of Rossini’s William Tell Overture. It was no surprise that the encore was Celebration (from Photos of Ghosts) which included a playful drum duel between Di Cioccio and Roberto Gualdi.


One of the other differences from last November’s gig was that Di Cioccio spent more time behind his drum kit and left most of the vocals from early PFM material to Alberto Bravin, though when he did sing he displayed the same level of energy as he had done last year. I was a bit surprised to find the sound at the O2 better balanced than at Carlo Felice with its impeccable acoustics; Alessandro Scaglione’s keyboards were nice and distinct and utilised some authentic-sounding patches and you could hear how good Marco Sfogli’s technique was as you watched his fretwork. The only technical hitch was during Il Regno when Lucio Fabbri couldn’t get his violin amplification to work but one of the roadies eventually did something to an effects pedal and everything was OK for the rest of the performance.


This was probably the gig of the year so far for me, and I enjoyed it more than the Teatro Carlo Felice show. The standing audience and the ability to get close to the stage helped the atmosphere – the boarded-over orchestra pit in Genoa made the septet seem quite far away, even when Di Cioccio ran around in the empty space – but the London set list was better suited to a UK audience and the playing was out of this world. During the show it dawned on me that La Carrozza di Hans strongly reflects the original PFM influences, with fast stop-start breaks reminiscent of 21st Century Schizoid Man, a track they used to play at the beginning of their career, and that the old material was full of counterpoint which is less evident on Emotional Tattoos.


It was good to see a number of Italians in the audience (far more than there were Brits in Genoa!) and with the entire venue filled with appreciation for the band and their music, a small corner of Islington was turned into Little Italy for one night.




Grazie London! Grazie PFM!
Grazie London! Grazie PFM!

(Photo from the Offical PFM Facebook page)



By ProgBlog, Mar 26 2017 08:54PM

The latest edition of Prog magazine (Prog 75) arrived last week with a somewhat surprising cover story: The 100 Greatest Prog Anthems of All Time. Not only had I missed the call for voting but I wasn’t sure what readers were supposed to have voted for. It turns out that what they had asked for was our favourite track, and their feature was actually a list of ‘the 100 Greatest Prog Songs of all time’, also described as ‘pretty much the definitive list of prog songs old and new’. Not surprisingly, the Prog website anticipated the response to the published list; a byline predicting ‘feverish debate’.



As happy as I am to wade through a comprehensive list, knowing I’ll disagree with a good proportion of it (although in this instance I have 17 of the top 20 in my collection, just not in the same order of preference), I do think compiling lists is lazy journalism. However, I wouldn’t want to diminish the not inconsiderable task of compiling the list, as it’s likely that there were very large numbers of votes cast. The feature also includes some new insight into the making of some of the albums highlighted, such as David Cross providing background thoughts on King Crimson’s Larks’ Tongues in Aspic from 1973 and a decent-length interview with Steve Rothery.

My gripe isn’t with the list, although Close to the Edge should have been at number 1 instead of Supper’s Ready, not number 2, but with the magazine’s cover and headline. According to the on-line Oxford English Dictionary, the word ‘anthem’ derives from old English antefn or antifne, a composition sung antiphonally, itself a derivation from late Latin antiphona (see antiphon); the alternative spelling with ‘th’ was probably adopted in the 16th century. Whereas there’s a nationalistic connotation to anthems, solemn or patriotic songs officially adopted by a country as an expression of national identity, and a subtly different appropriation where a rousing or uplifting song becomes identified with a particular social grouping, political body or cause, I’m not convinced that what we now recognise as anthems have any place in progressive rock.

This may not always have been the case, as Aldo Tagliapietra, bassist from Le Orme, has described the use of ‘stereo’ choirs in the Basilica di San Marco in his native Venice. This is an example of an antiphon, a hymn or a psalm performed by two groups of singers chanting alternative sections like a call and response and whether you believe in a Christian God or not, progressive rock has roots in liturgical music.

Call and response isn’t limited to either church music or prog but forms an interesting device in narrative songs. Perhaps it’s not surprising that Genesis, with their moniker and background in Charterhouse public school (and public schools had strong church links; Charterhouse was founded by Thomas Sutton in 1611 and built on the site of the ruins of a Carthusian monastery) should employ multi-character vocal parts on a range of albums: Harold the Barrel from Nursery Cryme; Get ‘em Out by Friday (Foxtrot); The Battle of Epping Forest (Selling England by the Pound); Robbery Assault and Battery (A Trick of the Tail); and All in a Mouse’s Night (Wind and Wuthering). There are some examples where a call and the response aren’t vocal, the best of which are on Between Nothingness and Eternity by the Mahavishnu Orchestra; normally a duel, Mahavishnu use three lead instruments in fiery exchanges, interplay that hints at the difficult nature of the quest for spiritual enlightenment.



The common understanding of an anthem involves a short, distilled message, largely because this is the easiest way to get a message across, be it a patriotic call or an environmental protest. That’s not to say progressive rock can’t be used to highlight some ecological or political concern; Yes’ anti-war themes in Yours is no Disgrace and Starship Trooper and their use of ‘green language’, especially on Close to the Edge and Tales from Topographic Oceans embrace counter-cultural thinking but the message isn’t clear-cut, relying on a deeper engagement with the audience. On the other hand, Don’t Kill the Whale, although still not an anthem, is a direct call to humankind to respect sentience in another species which cynics thought was simply the group jumping on an environmental band-wagon, but in fact their musical philosophy pre-dates the realisation that we were hunting whales to extinction.


An anthem has to include vocals and, in the context of pop or rock music, not only requires a structure that invokes euphoric feelings, it has to serve as something that is closely associated with a particular band. It’s a sweeping generalisation to say that minor chords are gloomy and major chords are ‘bright’ but, apart from increasing the tempo (which gives a sense of urgency or striving) it’s possible to make a chord sequence sound more rousing by opening up the chord; taking the middle note of a triad and raising it by an octave. In terms of association with a group, sticking to a pre-existing structural verse, chorus, bridge formula helps a little, as does revisiting familiar lyrical tropes, but in a world where visuals are as dominant as sounds, subscribing to a group’s visual identity is also a helping factor. A tendency towards style over substance is more rock than prog rock which is why I’d include Asia’s Heat of the Moment in the anthemic class. It just seems to me that there’s a propensity for stadium AOR and heavy rock acts to churn out this sort of music, so that wearing the patch on your cut-down denim jacket becomes an emblem of belonging, waving devil-horn hand gestures and singing along with 50000 others who have lost their own individualism to bask in the enveloping identity of the group.

As a season ticket holder of many years at Crystal Palace I can see, and I’m very wary of mob behaviour. It’s no surprise that national anthems are sung at the beginning of international matches; the sub-text is that two teams are going into battle. At league level we wear the club shirt and sing and chant club anthems in lieu of violence and, for some die-hards, the result is everything, not simply entertainment. I’m a bit intimidated by this fervour and though I always want Palace to win, playing well and demonstrating cohesiveness is nearly as important as coming away with three points. I think that immersion in the mob, whether it’s at a sporting event or at a gig is a repudiation of your individuality, whereas progressive rock is about inclusivity while retaining individualism; a realisation that different cultural influences makes more interesting music, that diversity is to be celebrated.



I suspect that the Prog editorial team simply made a poor choice of words when it came to putting together the front page of the magazine, which leaves us with the question: Are there really any prog anthems? I may go to gigs and sing to myself, sometimes with my eyes closed like some old dope, but I don’t like a singalong or to be encouraged to clap along to a piece of music because it interferes with my appreciation of what is being played. I suppose these moments get as close as anything to being anthemic but the complexity of the music normally brings audience participation to a premature close. The use of encores, playing well known and appreciated tunes, kind of fills the requirement for an anthem without necessarily being anthemic. Heat of the Moment, the culmination of John Wetton’s search for commercial success while retaining a relatively high degree of musicality would fit the bill, but stomping out verse-chorus-verse-chorus isn’t really prog.

If there was a Yes anthem it would be I’ve seen All Good People. Not surprisingly, I’m least disposed towards it out of all the songs on The Yes Album because the All Good People section comes close to straightforward rock. It remains a live favourite however, the second most played song by the band, where it frequently appears as an encore and audience clapping is encouraged. The most played tune is Roundabout which, despite the success brought about by the truncation into a radio-friendly single, chops and changes too many times to be an anthem.


The answer lies with Emerson, Lake and Palmer who covered the William Blake / Hubert Parry Jerusalem. This may seem like a return to the theme of church music, or even the idea of a national anthem but Blake has also been appropriated by a wide range of people who recognise a spirit of utopianism in his writing. Rugby fans may bellow out the hymn in an effort to galvanise their team while right-wing commentators remind them that perhaps Blake wasn’t quite as patriotic as they thought; rationalists like Dawkins and Bronowski and Marxists like EP Thompson have sided with him; he inspired Gordon Giltrap’s excellent prog-folk Visionary. His Complete Works was the first book of poetry I ever bought. It may be the Elgar’s orchestration of the hymn provides much of the uplifting feel but the ELP version, with Greg Lake’s clear voice ringing through, is a call to all followers of progressive rock.







By ProgBlog, May 8 2016 06:52PM

The past ten years or so have been taken up to a worrying degree with expanding my collection of progressivo Italiano, such that family holidays to Italy always include time for seeking out record stores to scour for releases that remain on my ever decreasing list.

Aided to a large extent by Andrea Parentin’s excellent Rock Progressivo Italiano: A guide to Italian Progressive Rock (CreateSpace Independent Publishing, 2011) and the handy-sized Progressive Italiano by Alessandro Gaboli and Giovanni Ottone (Giunti, 2007), the former for the translation of the lyrics and a sense of social setting and the latter for the depiction of album sleeves and a rating system that broadly matches my opinion of the albums by the most recognised acts Premiata Forneria Marconi (PFM), Banco del Mutuo Soccorso and Le Orme, I've explored cities and towns for any signs of record stores. I can even make out some of what is written about the groups in Italian but it’s opportune that Parentin’s book is in English.


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My first full foray into Italian record shops was on a trip to the Veneto in 2005 when there were two stores in Venice and another a short train ride away in Treviso. In those days I was aided by Jerry Lucky’s Progressive Rock Files (Collector’s Guide Publishing, 2000) when I’d scour entries for remarks like “if you’re a fan of PFM then you’ll like this” and, following up a reference to Celeste that described them as “...influenced by early King Crimson but their sound is very original. You’ll hear elements of Genesis circa Trespass and even bits of PFM’s Per un Amico. A very beautiful, symphonic pastoral result. Lots of Mellotron. One of the genre’s highly rated bands” I began to seek out their 1976 release Principe di un giorno and looked for references to Celeste in the listings. One of these was Finisterre, described as “Symphonic progressive rock with long tracks containing restrained hints of bands like Celeste or Banco. They’ve chosen to create a moody and atmospheric sound that relies more on the classical style than neo-prog. Long passages of dissonant harmonies and jazzy chord voicings”. It wasn’t until I updated to Lucky’s The Progressive Rock Handbook (Collector’s Guide Publishing, 2008), that I heard of Höstsonaten and La Maschera di Cera and was able to fathom out the relationship between them. I began to collect Maschera di Cera CDs in 2009 and Finisterre CDs some time later but it wasn’t until 2014 that I bought my first Höstsonaten release, the CD and DVD of the live performance of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. It was experiencing a live version of Rainsuite by the Z Band that really turned me on to Höstsonaten, revealing a very symphonic progressive rock style that Fabio Zuffanti himself equated with The Enid. Zuffanti’s projects are all essential listening for fans of the original progressivo Italiano movement and though I really enjoy Maschera di Cera’s albums for their modern take on the original genre, remaining true to the spirit of the work of bands like PFM and Banco, the instrumental work by Höstsonaten comes closest to symphonic rock and the Enid comparison is well founded

I pre-ordered a copy of Symphony N. 1 – Cupid & Psyche in early April and after negotiating a redelivery to my local post office, having been out at work when the postman attempted to deliver the item, I finally got hold of the LP on Friday and listened to it for the first time yesterday. I was not disappointed.

The music was conceived by Zuffanti but he has stepped away from the limelight and is only responsible for bass pedals ‘treatments and devices’, leaving Luca Scherani from La Coscienza di Zeno and a collaborator on Zuffanti’s 2015 project La Curva di Lesmo, to handle the arrangements and orchestrations in addition to playing keyboards; guitar, bass and drums are provided by long-term Zuffanti collaborators Laura Marano, Daniele Sollo and Paolo Tixi respectively.


There are many precedents of full orchestration in progressive rock and progressivo Italiano has some very notable examples including the New Trolls’ Concerto Grosso (1971, 1976, 2007) and Contaminazione by Il Rovescio della Medaglia (1973) but enhancing the symphonic scope of Höstsonaten seems like a logical step, one that is true to the principles of progressive rock as it attempted to bridge the gap between high and popular culture. The melange of influences that inform their output, their RPI predecessors, jazz and Mediterranean folk are enhanced with inspiration from Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky. I’ve thought quite hard about other orchestrated prog albums and there aren’t many that genuinely seamlessly blend the rock and the orchestral moments; the pieces by Keith Emerson with the Nice were predominantly divided into distinct sections, band then orchestra then band. There are times when Yes’ Magnification (2001) works well but this mostly comes across as orchestra instead of keyboards and has hints of Tony Cox’s imperfect arrangements on Time and a Word (1970). There are long passages of orchestral music on Chris Squire’s Fish out of Water (1975) but the most satisfying orchestrated pieces of progressive rock are Camel’s Music Inspired by the Snow Goose (1975) and Mike Oldfield’s Hergest Ridge (1974). In terms of orchestration in progressivo Italiano, Passio Secondum Mattheum by Latte e Miele (1972) impresses, but I think that Höstsonaten have come up with one of the most balanced mixes of rock and orchestra that at times reminds me of Pink Floyd’s Atom Heart Mother (1970) and the eponymous 1972 release by Il Paese dei Balocchi, both of which, like Cupid & Psyche, are predominantly instrumental; Laura Marano provides some epic, melodic Gilmour-like guitar lines but it’s the inclusion of classic prog keyboards, Moog, Mellotron, organ and piano which fit in so neatly with the strings and brass that bestow a sense of harmonious union between the classical and the rock instrumentation. Not surprisingly, there are refrains that hint of Höstsonaten’s previous output and it goes without saying that the execution is highly consummate.

Another important link with the foundation of the genre is the appropriation of literary myth in a manner similar to Genesis writing The Fountain of Salmacis, with Zuffanti utilising the Apuleius story Metamorphoses. A translation by author, columnist and philosopher Pee Gee Daniel, providing a synopsis of the chapters that make up the ten tracks, is included in the gatefold sleeve.

Maschera di Cera produced one of my all time favourite albums Lux Ade (2006) based on the Orpheus story but that was an entirely rock affair. With Cupid & Psyche, Zuffanti has realised his dream of creating a symphonic suite with group and orchestra that is also able to serve as the soundtrack for a ballet, in the manner of Stravinsky or Tchaikovsky. Beginning with an array of musical ideas suitable for the project, enlisting Luca Scherani to create a score for string, wind and brass instruments, the album easily succeeds in presenting a coherent piece of symphonic progressive rock and the ballet based on the music of the album is expected to debut in theatres later this year under the direction of the Genoese choreographer Paola Grazz. October 22nd is already reserved in my diary.












By ProgBlog, Mar 25 2014 09:15PM

Croydon may not be the best town on the planet but in its time it has played an important part in the history of progressive rock. I’d heard of Croydon long before I came to live here; sitting in the dining room at Infield Park in Barrow, holding the gatefold sleeve of Five Bridges by the Nice and studying the liner notes: Recorded ‘live’ at FAIRFIELD HALLS, CROYDON. October 17, 1969. 34 Years (and five days) after that concert was recorded I went to see a reformed Nice at the Fairfield Halls and it was evident that all three members of the band had fond memories of both the place and the event and they played a couple of tracks that featured on the Fives Bridges album, Country Pie and the intermezzo from the Karelia Suite. This was something of a big event for me too, because the Nice were the second band I ever got into and though Patrick Moraz had helped Lee Jackson’s singing in 1974 by transposing the key of songs to fit Jackson’s range – something that hadn’t happened in the Nice, the vocals that night seemed affected by the poignancy of the occasion.

Despite personnel changes, Caravan’s career was at its peak when they recorded what was to become Live at the Fairfield Halls 1974, though the tapes of the recording were not discovered until Decca had begun reissuing the Caravan back catalogue in 2001. Bits of the recording had appeared before, notably For Richard on the compilation album Canterbury Tales (released by Decca), and a French release on former manager Terry King’s Kingdom label, The Best of Caravan Live. The live sound on the remastered Decca release from 2002 is quite stunning. The set list was superb and the band sounded great, despite it being the debut performance for Mike Wedgwood on bass.

The fantastic acoustics of the 1800 seat Fairfield Halls wasn’t the only attraction in Croydon. It wasn’t too difficult to find good beer (The Ship, 47 High Street; The Dog and Bull, Surrey Street; The Builders Arms, Leslie Park Road were all favoured haunts) but there were also some fantastic record shops. Beanos was once the largest second hand record store in Europe and regarded as one of the best record shops in the country. It was founded in 1975 and after my arrival in the borough in 1984 I witnessed it grow and evolve up to its eventual closure in 2009. 101 Records was situated at 101 George Street until the redevelopment of East Croydon station in the early 1990s. 101 had a bit of history because it was formed after the demise of Bonaparte Records, a key part of the story of punk in Croydon. It removed to Keely Road and continues to trade. Memory Lane Records (Frith Road) is no longer in business, though it was good for second hand vinyl and CDs and another haunt, L Cloake (St Georges Walk) has been gone for a few years.

I used to spend a lot of time in record stores, often with insufficient funds to buy anything but always on the lookout for a bargain, just in case... As vinyl gave way to the CD format (I first bought a rather nice Yamaha CD player from Richer Sounds at London Bridge in 1988) I continued to play music in both formats but opted for new releases and compilations on CD. We have never particularly been a holiday-by-the-beach kind of family, tending to stick to centres of culture and architectural interest. This, coupled with work-related conferences which tend to be in large cities, has opened up the possibility of exploring record shops around the world with the intention of locating prog from the host country, though it’s only relatively recently that I’ve felt comfortable stuffing my return luggage with CDs. We have a rule: if you see something you want, buy it because you may not see it again. This rule does not necessarily help me feel better about buying music.

I’ve been to the four corners of the USA both on holiday and as a conference delegate: New York, Miami, Los Angeles and Seattle. New York has a lot of music shops where I’ve tended to buy non-native music, things that were difficult to obtain in the UK or were very much cheaper than in the UK. I was pleased to pick up Exiles by David Cross from one of the many, slightly downtrodden-looking shops on a short lease that has now long since gone. The only time I set out to buy some American prog was in 2003 on a day off from a conference in Miami Beach and I listened to a few tracks of Day for Night by Spock’s Beard before deciding to invest.

Australia boasted the excellent Sebastian Hardie but when I was in Melbourne in 2005 I couldn’t find any of their music though I was allowed to sit and listen to a pile of CDs that the staff thought might be of interest to me. This was in the rather good Metropolis Music, Swinston Street which covered a large floor area. Being able to chat to staff in English was quite helpful, even though they didn’t have what I wanted. This was not the case when I was in Prague in 2007 and visited a couple of record stores, one just off Wenceslas Square where I wandered in and wandered pretty much straight out again, and Bontonland in the Centrum Chodov mall at the end of subway line C. This was a large, rambling store and although there were major communication difficulties between the staff and myself, they brought me a handful of Czech CDs and a remote and left me plying through the selection for about an hour. Searching for Spanish prog in Barcelona didn’t present such a communication problem because I’d researched the bands and the shops and I’m not too uncomfortable attempting Spanish. Daily Records was closed when I visited, but I managed to find a good selection of Triana and Iceberg albums in the labyrinthine Revolver and Impacto.

Sometimes it’s not too difficult to find the prog music in stores. Cover Music in Berlin has a brilliant international prog section (including many German bands) and, rather like Dublin’s Tower Records, more straightforward prog acts can be found in the ‘rock’ racks. The Italian music shops can be problematical, though they’re always a joy to spend time in: I first began seriously searching for Italian prog in Venice in 2005 when there were two music shops, Discoland (on Dorsoduro) and Parole & Musica in Castello and a day trip to Treviso that year also turned up a record shop; Rome the following year was something of a revelation, though it was only a couple of years later that I was told about the highly-regarded Elastic Rock that I’ve not yet had the opportunity to visit; Galleria del Disco in the station underpass in Florence had a good Italian prog section; Vicenza has Saxophone, where the staff were appreciative of my choice of purchases, but also has an open market with a CD stall. This yielded three Area albums that I’d not seen anywhere else up to that point and the stall holder was very happy to chat to me about prog and his children who live in Clapham! Corsini Dischi in Siena was a bit of a disappointment because the owner seemed more interested in talking to a local woman rather than serve me but GAP Records in Pisa was the total opposite. Alessandro Magnani was happy to let me browse but was equally happy to talk about RPI. If I’d had more cash (they don’t accept plastic) I’d have bought more. Pisa’s Galleria del Disco is an impressive shop with a good Italian prog section so there was no need to engage the staff in any conversation.

Red Eye Records in Sydney deserves a special mention. Having failed to find any Sebastian Hardie in Melbourne, the situation was set to rights by Red Eye in Pitt Street when I went there to visit my son in 2012. Not only did they have the full set of Sebastian Hardie albums, they also had Symphinity by Windchase, the offshoot of Sebastian Hardie. Owner Chris Pepperell was a font of knowledge, walking me around the store and suggesting Australian bands. There was nothing else in the symphonic prog mould, but Dragon and Pirana are both on the progressive side of psychedelia. My son subsequently managed to get me a copy of Clockwork Revenge by Oz-based Kiwi band Airlord, an album some regard as a Genesis rip-off but it has its personal charm and is really only Genesis-influenced.


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