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ProgBlog doesn't go to Milan for designer goods. Milan excursions are for progressivo Italiano with a bit of the spirit of Leonardo da Vinci thrown in...

By ProgBlog, Mar 12 2017 07:55PM

The Burning Shed email announcing pre-orders for a 4LP King Crimson Live in Toronto box set is rather tempting, especially if the audio quality is of the same order as Radical action to unseat the hold of monkey mind. I’m a fairly avid record and CD collector but my criteria for choosing music are somewhat rigid, so that my music library isn’t really very big at although I’m pretty sure I have a progressivo Italiano collection that’s as good as anyone’s in the UK. In the past it wouldn’t have been unfair to label me as completist as I was prepared to invest in an album that I knew was substandard in the hope I’d get around to liking it, Talk and Open Your Eyes, both poor fare compared to Yes’ early benchmark being prime examples but over time I’ve accepted that tastes and musical directions change, so I don’t have to like everything by a particular group.



The bulk of the material that makes up my library is symphonic progressive rock and RPI with a bit of jazz rock, jazz and RIO thrown in, the majority of which is from the golden period between 1969 and 1978 but I’m now shifting towards new vinyl (if possible; hence my interest in Live in Toronto) and I’m becoming a sucker for special editions. I’ve got the Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, the Starless and the Road to Red box sets and, having seen Crimson play the Hackney Empire on the same tour as the Toronto and Radical Action recordings, I bought the special edition 3CD, 2DVD, 1 Blu-Ray box set of Radical Action. I have a copy of the original Great Deceiver box set and picked up my 4CD Epitaph box set when I attended the Epitaph playback in London. I was never a member of the King Crimson Collectors' Club even though I was interested in the ProjeKcts and virtually everything else DGM were doing at the time; I have a couple of these releases and have heard more – my brother Richard subscribed in the early days of the KCCC and I think if the series restarted I’d probably now sign up.


So what is it about collecting different versions of the same material? The answer, in respect to Crimson, relates to a couple of things: the historic-cultural-sociological value of the music and the innate variation-development of each individual song. In relation to Yes, up until the release of Progeny: Seven Shows from Seventy Two, there was no live recording from any part of their history which fully captured both the sound and the spark of the band in full flight. The dynamism of Yessongs was hampered by muddy production but the discovery of the master tapes used as source material for Yessongs a couple of years ago meant that, with the benefit of current digital editing, a sound accurate to the original instrumentation, including radio interference on Rick Wakeman’s Mellotron, could be presented to the listener for the first time. The packaging of this box set does full justice to the audio from nine tracks presented on each date, which over three weeks display a subtle musical development as the group becomes ever more familiar with presenting complex songs to each audience. It’s also clear how Jon Anderson’s voice becomes stronger as he recovers from influenza!


The first Yes gig I attended was a matinee performance at Wembley Stadium on October 28th 1978. I had thought that the concert had been broadcast live on BBC radio and that the Yesshows version of Don’t Kill the Whale was from that afternoon’s performance but Alan Freeman’s last ever Saturday Rock Show was broadcast two months previously, on August 26th 1978. A check of various sites suggests there were multiple radio broadcasts and it’s likely that the Yesshows version of Don’t Kill the Whale came from the evening show, which was broadcast on Tommy Vance’s first ever Friday Rock Show on November 24th. I did buy an official copy of the Yes gig on November 17th 2009 as I walked out of the Hammersmith Apollo post-performance, saved onto a USB memory stick, and had to download the encores later.


There was a bit of a craze for producing immediate post-concert releases around this time and I also bought a copy of a Caravan gig, a performance to mark the 40th anniversary of In the Land of Grey and Pink, the majority of which was burned to CD during the show at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire in October 2011. Unfortunately, Pye Hastings appeared to have a cold and his vocals suffered as a consequence.



I don’t own any live Crimson recordings at which I’d been present. If any was to be released, I’d immediately buy it without a second thought. This constitutes fanaticism and I’m a little ashamed by such obsessive behaviour which is certainly unnecessary and borders on the irrational.

I’m not interested in any form of material value of these releases based on their rarity and however limited their print runs are, but I do get a feeling of deep satisfaction listening to music that I like. I’m far more interested in ensuring the artists get the best deal possible so I prefer to buy through Bandcamp or a store like Burning Shed where it’s possible to pick up a limited edition that might come in coloured vinyl or come with a poster or postcard. When AMS re-released the English version of Le Orme’s Felona and Sorona this came on blue vinyl and their re-release of Terra in Bocca by i Giganti, one of first and most difficult to find progressivo Italiano records came with a poster on red vinyl; Anderson-Stolt’s Invention of Knowledge came with a CD of the album and, also from Burning Shed, Kaipa’s re-released self-titled debut came on blue vinyl and included a CD of the album; Höstsonaten’s Cupid and Psyche came on red vinyl, with a postcard and signed by Fabio Zuffanti. One more example, though there are plenty more, is the limited edition box set of Caution Radiation Area I bought in Alessandria last October which came with a vinyl LP, the CD and a set of postcards featuring the individual band members.


There’s not usually any extra charge associated with ‘special releases’ but they do demonstrate more of an engagement with fans. I first noticed this extra effort when Dark Side of the Moon came out in 1973 which included posters and stickers. This was the start of my acquisition of progressive rock-related memorabilia and though the posters and stickers eventually found their way into the bin, having become torn after application and removal from too many bedroom walls as I moved around London as a student and during my early employment. Fortunately, the 40th anniversary vinyl edition included reproduction posters and even my 20th anniversary CD came nicely boxed with individual pieces of specially commissioned artwork. I still have the Wish You Were Here postcard and robot handshake graphic from the black shrink wrap, stored in a Mr Men scrapbook along with other bits and pieces which charted my adolescence. Despite the fall in popularity of prog during my student days, I still managed to fill the scrapbook with ticket stubs and flyers from a variety of events, each announcement and receipt marking a point in time of particular personal relevance; a source of reference for the future. I was fairly impoverished as a student and my prudent streak extended into my early working life, since NHS laboratory work wasn’t particularly well-paid. Instead of buying an official tour program when Pink Floyd played Wembley Stadium in August 1988, I picked up an unofficial program for half the price. As the 90s wore on and it was once more possible to seek out regular suitable gigs, DGM issued a number of promotional postcards alongside a couple of sampler CDs which I collected.



There was a short time where I’d buy a T-shirt instead of a program, rarely both, and when musicians realised that there was a viable livelihood from playing more intimate venues, the post-show merchandise stand became a place of engagement between artist and fans, acting as an encouragement for the audience to perhaps spend a bit more money than anticipated; prog-mate Gina Franchetti had a long and involved conversation with Thijs van Leer about Italian cuisine at the Focus merchandise stand after a gig at the Beaverwood Club but you can also pick up some unusual objects. I’ve liberated A3 sized posters from the walls of venues on my way out after the show on more than one occasion and even got Sonja Kristina to autograph one of these, a Curved Air promotional poster, for me.

I used to have a large collection of badges until I got rid of it about 20 years ago. This included a few rather obscure items like a Brand X crocodile (from Do They Hurt) a Gradually Going Tornado pin and an Enid Touch Me pin but I’ve started to buy badges again – for no obvious purpose. I’ll continue to buy T-shirts and programs but it’s most worthwhile to buy the music at the gig; the signed copy of at the last Steven Wilson Concert; the official release-date copy of Invisible Din by ESP. On another occasion I was all fingers and thumbs attempting to remove the shrink wrap from a just-purchased Anna Phoebe EP so that she could sign it; in the end she did it for me. It’s this degree of connectivity and personal generosity that makes the prog world stand out as a beacon of inclusivity and which makes it worthwhile doing the collecting.












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.








By ProgBlog, Aug 21 2016 08:07PM

When I arrived at The Lexington for the David Cross Band gig the week before last, I stopped at the merchandise stand and along with the excellent English Sun (2009) by David Cross and Andrew Keeling, I also procured Re-Collage, a live album by Tony Pagliuca and David Jackson with the Massimo Donà Quintet, progressivo Italiano being my thing and Le Orme’s Collage (1971) being regarded as the first true progressive rock album to be released in Italy. I put the two CDs in my jacket pocket and went off to the bar before the second performance of the evening, Davids Cross and Jackson with a challenging but fun set, It wasn’t until I got home to view my two purchases that I realised the CD was missing from the Re-Collage sleeve. My email to David C was passed on to David J who apologised, gave a plausible explanation and put a disc in the post for me.



The baroque-prog of the original album has been replaced by a much more jazz-inflected feel, imbued by Pagliuca’s fellow Venetian Donà, a jazz trumpeter (and philosopher) and the other members of the quintet. The sound on this recording is incredibly clear, taken from gigs in the north east of Italy in March 2004 and, without knowing how much rehearsing took place, remarkably tight. Apart from the Collage material, the ensemble tackles Theme One and We Go Now from the VdGG back catalogue and Frank Zappa’s G-Spot Tornado. The result is an enjoyable, different take on some classic Italian prog. It is also further demonstration of the prestige in which Van der Graaf Generator were held in Italy; Peter Hammill provided English lyrics for a Charisma (UK) release of Le Orme’s Felona and Sorona and Jackson would go on to play with Osanna, one of the other greats of progressivo Italiano who incorporated Theme One into their live set.

I obviously make an effort to see the bands I follow in a live setting and am willing to go to some lengths to do so. The David Cross Band gig was close to my workplace though a combination of a (justified) strike by rail workers and unannounced engineering work (I have not heard any justification for this, which I suspect may have been a political move by track operator Railtrack to erode sympathy for the rail transport unions) meant that getting home was slightly more problematic than expected. Sometimes getting across London takes more time than (for instance) getting down to a gig in Brighton.

One issue that raises itself at concerts is the use of cameras or camera phones. I’m as guilty as anyone for transgression but I remain conflicted, willing to adhere to any request from the performers not to take pictures, restricting myself to photography of an empty set before the performance and the bow at the end of the show. We should all be there for the music and the experience and should not be concentrating on a small screen held between our faces and the group performing onstage but the importance of social media for promoting a musician’s activity, coupled with an insatiable human desire to share our experience, shifts any ambivalence towards amateur concert photography in the direction of being a necessary evil. Other than at the request of the group (think King Crimson: Keep your phones in your pocket. Have fun. Enjoy the moment. “Please come and *be* with the band and not with your smart phone and other weapons of mass distraction”) I do take photographs, though not incessantly. I’m not sure why my camera was taken away from me at a Yes gig a long, long time ago when equipment for bootlegging would surely have been a more important target. The smart phone is theoretically an easy medium to use for recording a show, along with the uncontrollable volume of crowd sounds but I’d really rather wait for the band, who frequently make their own, high quality, balanced recordings, to officially release the performance. Some venues have a ban on both audio and photographic recording equipment and this is fairly strictly though not necessarily efficiently policed by staff (the Royal Albert Hall, the Barbican, the Fairfield Halls, for instance.) David Cross joked about audience photos before his concert (he welcomed them, in contrast with his erstwhile band mate) and Jon Anderson has also asked people taking photos to share them on social media; for smaller or independent acts it’s free publicity. It’s only polite to listen to the requests of those you’re going to see and hear but with progressive rock, you’re more likely to be required to concentrate on who is doing what. Why would you want to disturb those around you with the glow from your LED screen as you try to focus on the band instead of just watching and listening? Unfortunately, sometimes my memory needs a jog but I do feel pangs of guilt.

I’ve been at a number of concerts from which there’s been an associated official release and, whether I’m one of 1500 or one of 10000 people in the crowd, I feel a stronger bond between myself and the music. What makes a great live album? Of my favourites, there may be only one occasion I’ve attended the show where the release gets in my personal top 10 but this highlights the importance of the relationship between the performers and the audience. I think that recording quality is essential to get across the musical content though the material selected for the release has to be sufficiently representative of the band up to that time; on a few occasions I’ve bought a live album as an introduction to the recorded work of a group and this has encouraged me to become better acquainted with someone’s back catalogue.

I’ve always loved Yessongs (1973) but I’ve never been happy with the sound quality, so when the tapes that made up the source material for that release were discovered and cleaned up for the fourteen discs that make up Progeny: Seven Shows from Seventy-Two (2015) I was blown away. The format of using the exact same set list over the seven pairs of discs may be only slightly stricter than the content of the Crimson box sets but it allows you to trace the sonic evolution of the nine tracks featured from each date; the between-song introductions, the recovery of Anderson’s voice following a bout of influenza, the subtle variations in each piece. All this is possible because of the incredible undertaking by Syd Schwarz, Brian Kehew and a team of engineers to rebalance instruments and voices that were lost in an arena mix. Though the content of Progeny is more limited than Yessongs, Progeny has become my favourite live album because without overdubs, it represents that moment in time when Yes were way ahead of the curve, presented in a sonically true manner.



Roger Dean's paintings for Yessongs
Roger Dean's paintings for Yessongs

Beating the bootleggers, maintaining an income stream and remaining relevant in a cut-throat industry was achieved by Robert Fripp by releasing archive material through official DGM releases and also, for material of less good audio quality, the King Crimson Collectors’ Club. Fripp and David Singleton even applied a form of bootleg amnesty to fill gaps where their tapes were lacking. As impressed as I am with the Road to Red and Starless box sets and the other DGM releases from the different eras of King Crimson, my favourite Crimson live album is USA (1975). I bought this as a student in 1979 and it became something of a treasured possession even after the appearance of the more complete 30th Anniversary Edition on CD. I used to blast this out of my room at university, posing with my bass; it shows how powerful Crimson were as a live act and the track Asbury Park remains a high water mark in terms of improvisation although the full-length version wasn’t available until 2005 as a download from DGM.

Actually, it’s pointless attempting to list my favourite live recordings in any sort of merit-based order. Between Nothingness and Eternity (1973) represents the first incarnation of the Mahavishnu Orchestra at its most muscular and telepathic best and when I bought it in 1975 I had no idea that the tracks were from a shelved studio album; Playing the Fool (1977) is a kind of ‘best of Gentle Giant’ that I first owned on pre-recorded cassette; Camel’s A Live Record (1978) has the sumptuous RAH Snow Goose performance plus a collection of some of their most memorable back catalogue up to that time, and the 2002 remastered and expanded CD was an even better potted history of the band; Genesis Live (1973) was my introduction to the band and I still think it’s the best collection of their early material in a live setting even though it’s only a single LP, because of the presence of Peter Gabriel.

I could go on but I’ll just mention one last release recorded with me in the audience (and possibly featuring, albeit too small to make out, on the sleeve.) Real Time by the reformed Van der Graaf Generator, recorded at the Royal Festival Hall on 6th May 2005 and released in 2007, is documentary evidence of that auspicious occasion. In the sleeve notes Hammill reflects on pondering how it was going to pan out... I can tell him: it was incredible. The band were on top form and the choice of material that made up the set was just right, the audience, gathered together from all over the world, were warm and responsive, and the sound was clean and forceful. Great gig, great live recording of the gig.

Photographs taken at a performance and recordings of live shows allow you, in your own time, to revisit some great moments, frozen (these days, digitally) in time. As real-time memory fades, these aides-memoire can transport us to a time when prog ruled the earth.






By ProgBlog, Feb 7 2016 11:30PM

Television is not my primary leisure medium. The broadening of choice in a post-analogue world has resulted in an overall decline in televisual standards. I am old enough to remember the early days of three terrestrial channels, when BBC Two was the first channel in Europe to regularly broadcast in colour; it appeared on air in April 1964 and colour transmissions began in July 1967. I remember sitting in my grandmother’s front room on a Saturday afternoon watching Trade Test Transmissions on her black and white rental TV, changing channels using a knob on the wall, intrigued by these short infomercials and being awestruck by the optimistic and futuristic pieces of programming, especially the film of the Evoluon science museum in Eindhoven, the Netherlands, with its soundtrack of electronica and jazz which somehow fitted with the images of this beautiful UFO-like piece of modernist architecture; I’m pretty sure this introduced me to Take Five by Dave Brubeck but I may be mistaken.

I first became aware of the commercialisation of sporting events when Kerry Packer founded World Series Cricket in 1977, in a move to secure broadcasting rights for Australian cricket. Ripples from this move have since spread far and wide. With parallels to prog, cricket is a long-form sport. As a youth my summer breaks were punctuated by periods in front of the TV to watch Test Matches, played over 5 days and unadulterated by wall-to-wall sponsorship (the 65-over-a-side Gillette Cup which became the Nat West Trophy in 1981 came across as being unsullied by corporate interference; this had changed by the time it had become the C&G Trophy in 2001.) It was the tactical approach to the game with its changing conditions that kept me enthralled. I was watching a lot of cricket at the same time that I was getting into progressive rock and reading Tolkien, Alan Garner and Ursula Le Guin; another piece of the cultural landscape that helped form what I’ve become. The Infield Park Gang would play cricket, too, on a local playing field attached to a convent school and, despite being pretty bad at the sport I was drafted in to play 11th man for two Goldsmiths’ College first XI matches which were held in the grounds of Loring Hall, my hall of residence at university.

It seems crazy to me that betting firms should be allowed to sponsor sports and I fully agree with Andy Murray’s recent outburst against sponsorship of tennis by betting companies, just when allegations of match fixing were flying around. I find it outrageous that the deregulation of the gambling industry has created a huge increase in the number of betting shops in poor and deprived areas of the country and that commercial TV is permitted to bombard us with adverts for online gaming. I blame deregulation for both the downturn in quality of programming and the knock on effects of commercialisation of sport; competition in the service industries always ends up as a race to the bottom. The walk out by Liverpool fans at their game against Sunderland yesterday, angry at the £70 price tag on away tickets, was meant to highlight the separation of the beautiful game from the true fans but sadly it’s not going to influence football’s governing body, as corruption appears to run through the veins of world football (and world athletics.) I don’t blame the players for their often ridiculously excessive pay, the responsibility lies with the broadcasters. With ever greater choice of channels it’s become more and more difficult to find anything of quality to watch. If I do sit in front of the TV it’s more likely to be for a film on DVD/Blu-ray or a music DVD than a piece of scheduled programming, mostly because what is aired seems to involve some form of voyeurism or schadenfreude: wannabe celebrity non-entities after their five minutes of fame; former celebrities clinging on to their five minutes of fame; police dogs in helicopters with cameras filming surgery that’s gone wrong... what occupation hasn’t been covered?

My first music videos were Yessongs (from the 1975 film) and Pink Floyd’s Live at Pompeii (the 1974 version), both on VHS format. Yessongs was disappointing because the sound quality wasn’t very good and the synching of music and video was poor. I’d not managed to see the film when it played in UK cinemas so it’s hard to know if the cinematic experience was any better. I was given the Blu-ray version as a present a couple of Christmases ago but the curse of Yessongs struck again: the disc could not be recognised in my Blu-ray player and was returned to the shop, sans the Roger Dean postcards that featured in the revised packaging. Live at Pompeii, on the other hand, remains a firm favourite. I’d been to see the film when it toured the UK and I’ve also visited Pompeii on a couple of occasions where the silhouette of Vesuvius continues to dominate the atmosphere of the site. I always thought it a shame that Echoes was used to bookend the film but it doesn’t detract from the performance, in effect a swan song to the space rock material (which I really like), issuing in the prog of the Dark Side era. The Directors Cut version that I now own on DVD isn’t really any improvement, the space graphics have not aged as well as the music!


I think I first saw the film version of Emerson Lake and Palmer performing Pictures at an Exhibition on TV, a performance from the Lyceum in London in 1970 released in the cinema in 1973. I wasn’t aware that the soundtrack was different from the album (recorded at Newcastle City Hall) until I bought a double-sided CD/DVD in 2003 as it had been so long since I’d watched the film, but I think it remains an important documentary of early prog, attempting a reworking of a classical piece in a rock context.

White Rock, the film documentary of the Innsbruck 1976 Winter Olympics, was another cinema release, opening in 1977 and touring as a double bill with concert footage of Genesis playing live. I don’t remember too much about the Genesis portion of the programme, partly because I’ve never owned a copy of Seconds Out (1977), being far more interested in Rick Wakeman’s return to form with the soundtrack for White Rock. I bought the album shortly after its release, from Boots in Barrow, impressed by the interpretation of speed and grace over snow and ice. I’ve got a couple of other Wakeman videos: Out There (2004), described as a ‘concept DVD’ and a performance of The Six Wives of Henry VIII (2009) at Hampton Court Palace on Blu-ray. Six Wives includes the original album plus three new tracks and, as it’s my favourite Wakeman solo album, I rate it quite highly. I was tempted to get a ticket for the gig but ended up at The Lumiere for Mellofest 2009 instead. The music on Out There isn’t bad and no doubt at the time the graphics were cutting edge, but when viewed ten years after it was released, some of them haven’t really stood the test of time. I saw Wakeman and the English Rock Ensemble promote the album live in Croydon in April 2003, where a major technical hitch with the keyboards forced an early intermission.


Not surprisingly I have quite a range of Yes DVDs, from The Gates of QPR (1993, recorded 1975) to Songs from Tsongas (2005, recorded 2004) via Keys to Ascension (2000, recorded 1996), House of Yes (2000), Symphonic Live (2002, recorded 2001), Yesspeak (2003) and Live at Montreux (2008, recorded 2003). My other Floyd DVDs consist of documentaries about the making of Atom Heart Mother (2007), Dark Side of the Moon (2003) and Wish You Were Here (2005), plus The Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story (2006), Roger Waters’ post-fall of the Berlin Wall The Wall Live in Berlin (2004, recorded 1990) and the 1982 Alan Parker film of The Wall, despite me not classifying it as prog; I was fortunate enough to see a preview of the film, filling in a questionnaire on the way out. I look upon critical reviews as being worthwhile. BBC4 produces some excellent music programmes but I was pleased to get hold of Inside King Crimson 1972 – 1975 (2005) to go with my Deja Vrooom (2009) and Neal and Jack and Me (2004).
Not surprisingly I have quite a range of Yes DVDs, from The Gates of QPR (1993, recorded 1975) to Songs from Tsongas (2005, recorded 2004) via Keys to Ascension (2000, recorded 1996), House of Yes (2000), Symphonic Live (2002, recorded 2001), Yesspeak (2003) and Live at Montreux (2008, recorded 2003). My other Floyd DVDs consist of documentaries about the making of Atom Heart Mother (2007), Dark Side of the Moon (2003) and Wish You Were Here (2005), plus The Pink Floyd and Syd Barrett Story (2006), Roger Waters’ post-fall of the Berlin Wall The Wall Live in Berlin (2004, recorded 1990) and the 1982 Alan Parker film of The Wall, despite me not classifying it as prog; I was fortunate enough to see a preview of the film, filling in a questionnaire on the way out. I look upon critical reviews as being worthwhile. BBC4 produces some excellent music programmes but I was pleased to get hold of Inside King Crimson 1972 – 1975 (2005) to go with my Deja Vrooom (2009) and Neal and Jack and Me (2004).

We were made aware that the Camel concert at the Barbican in 2013 was being recorded for DVD release, In from the Cold (2014) which is a superb reminder of a brilliant gig; I also have the two live set collection Moondances (2007.) I have more melodic symphonic prog on DVD in the form of Steve Hackett’s Genesis Revisited: Live at Hammersmith (2013) a 3CD+2DVD package of one of the musical highlights of 2013. The second DVD contains behind the scenes footage and interviews with collaborators, a theme that continues on another recent acquisition, the documentary-like Steve Hackett The Man, The Music (2015.)





Another gig that I should have gone to but didn’t, but which I had to buy on DVD is the Classic Rock Legends Van der Graaf Generator live at Metropolis Studios (2011, recorded 2010) which sits alongside Inside Van der Graaf Generator (2005) and Godbluff Live 1975 (2003.) Earlier this weekend I indulged in some PFM (Live in Japan 2002) featuring four members of the classic line-up.

One good thing about television in the 70s were series like Rock Goes to College and Sight and Sound in Concert. The Bruford gig from Oxford Polytechnic (now Oxford Brookes University) which I remember watching at the time, has become part of my DVD collection and though the camera direction is poor, it’s great to be able to see this footage again. There’s better camerawork on GG at the GG, (2006, filmed 1978, 1976 and 1974) which captures Gentle Giant at the tail end of their career. The earlier material is fantastic but Missing Piece tracks Two Weeks in Spain and Betcha Thought We Couldn’t Do It are relatively poor fare. There was a more recent programme which showed Sylvian and Fripp live in Japan in 1993, during the Road to Graceland tour – it would be terrific if that was released on DVD...







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