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ProgBlog goes to the Biennale Architettura 2018 in Venice but still manages to find prog connections - and a relatively new record store...

By ProgBlog, Jul 2 2018 04:39PM

One of my recent purchases, on a short trip out to Crystal Palace, was a £1 copy of Short Stories (1980) by Jon and Vangelis, from Bambinos in Church Road. I’d been told that this album, the debut full-length release from the duo, was quite good, but never having heard anything from it other than the single I Hear You Now, I was only really interested in it as a curio, being a fan of both Jon Anderson and Vangelis. There are moments which are reminiscent of Anderson’s solo album Olias of Sunhillow (1976), which some say has the stamp of Vangelis over it, plus plenty of vintage Vangelis soundtrack electronica. What took me by surprise was the first track Curious Electric, not because of its portentous Blade Runner-like opening bars, but the unexpected strangeness of the vocal section, with Anderson getting round to introducing the concept of ‘short stories’ after telling us he was “...sitting it out Watching "Match of the Day..."


Jon and Vangelis - Short Stories
Jon and Vangelis - Short Stories

That struck me as being quite pertinent, as we’ve just entered the knockout rounds of the World Cup and I thought I’d explore the connections between progressive rock and (association) football...

I’ve lived within shouting distance and more recently within easy walking distance of Selhurst Park for the past 32 years. I didn’t follow any particular football team when I was at school or university though I do remember changing the words of hymns in a junior school hymn book to reflect the glory of Chelsea FC who had just won the FA Cup; I later professed an admiration for Derby County, who happened to be winning the league and playing in Europe at the time. I once went to see Barrow AFC thrash Cambridge United at Holker Street when Barrow were still in the old Third Division and graffiti at the top of the Arc de Triomph proclaimed ‘BBB rule the World’, Barrow Boot Boys being the thuggish element of the Holker Street crowd. I’ve been back to Holker Street a few times since with my son Daryl and brother Richard, after I’d seriously begun to support Crystal Palace; in the 70s we were really a rugby family and I spent quite a lot of time on the terraces (and later in the stand when I was offered a free ticket) at Craven Park, home of Barrow RLFC.

So why did I start paying my hard earned money to a football club, and not a particularly fashionable club out of all the teams available in London? Palace was my local team and the noise of the crowd was easily audible from our flat in Edith Road. One drawback was the road was convenient for travelling fans, so taking the car out on a Saturday afternoon or Tuesday evening often meant parking round the corner when we returned home. Selhurst Park was so local that it genuinely felt like part of the community; the local paper had pages devoted to the team and my wife’s family were long-standing supporters. As a new home-owner I was cementing my relationship with my adoptive community.

The first match I attended was against a second-tier fixture against Reading on the 4th November 1995 and the first match I took Daryl to was against Norwich, the last home game of that season (95-96.) Richard had come down to visit to go and see a gig and the opportunity to see a football match presented itself. Richard takes his sport somewhat more seriously than me but this was also the chance to introduce a young Daryl to his local team, a father-son thing. That was such a long time ago...


Out of all the football teams, Crystal Palace has the most progressive rock sounding name. In the early-mid 80s I used to live in Crystal Palace (Upper Norwood) and it is rumoured the players used to hang out in the Holly Bush, a five minute walk up Gipsy Hill from the flat I used to live in at the time. But progressive rock doesn’t really go with football because prog isn’t about a mob mentality. When I started to go to Selhurst Park regularly I’d get tickets as close to Block A of the Lower Holmesdale stand as I possibly could, just for the vibe. This was the section frequented by the hardcore supporters and, at the time, close to the seating reserved for the away support. Detached, I’d watch the fans get carried away, frequently abusing their own team for underperforming and creating an atmosphere that had a tendency to normalise sexist, racist, homophobic and other unpalatable behaviours, despite the signs warning that the use of offensive language would result in ejection from the ground. Though it’s improved over the years, with racism pretty much eliminated from the crowd at Palace, there remains work to be done to further reduce unacceptable behaviour and unforgivable vulgarity.


CPFC season ticket
CPFC season ticket

The club may have survived in the Premier League for a run of five seasons (and counting) but the inevitable pessimism that accompanies Palace fans on the rollercoaster ride as the team yo-yos between the top two divisions, flirts with relegation into the third tier and goes into receivership, twice, and hires and fires managers runs counter to the ethos of early 70s progressive rock. Test match cricket is probably more in tune with prog, requiring patience, considerable thought, lasting five days and being incomprehensible to many. Sadly, cricket has become commercialised in the fight to survive and new forms of the game have the same relationship to former test matches as 90125-era Yes had to the classic line-up of 1972. Furthermore, pessimism associated with supporting a team, whatever the sport, seems to be an English disease.


So is there any sort of link between soccer and prog? I can’t imagine any footballer being conversant with progressive rock, although Palace goalkeeper and cult hero Julián Speroni has been known to attend the after-show parties of London heavy-rock outfit Thunder. It may be that somewhere out in Italy one of the players knows something about the genre because it's embedded in the nation’s psyche. I’m quite tempted to get a ticket for a Genoa CFC home game (the oldest club in Italy, founded 7th September 1893) next time I’m in Liguria during the football season: their strip is in the same colours as Crystal Palace and, despite nine championship titles, seem to spend their time oscillating between Serie A and Serie B.


Crystal Palace FC vs Inter Milan - pre-season friendly 270705
Crystal Palace FC vs Inter Milan - pre-season friendly 270705

Those high up in the politics of the game have attempted to make soccer more inclusive, if only to attract corporate sponsors, but I still think songs about football tend to be more rock ‘n’ roll, more Rod Stewart than King Crimson, a music more mainstream than prog, despite Focus’ Hocus Pocus being used by sportswear manufacturer Nike for an advert during the 2010 World Cup. Genesis released an out-take EP of songs that didn’t make it on to Wind and Wuthering in 1977 that included the song Match of the Day, a surprising homage to the beautiful game and an encouragement to spend your Saturday on the terraces. Back in 1973, Peter Gabriel used extensive football metaphors in The Battle of Epping Forest and, to his great credit, held an anti-apartheit festival at Selhurst Park in 1983, but Match of the Day from the Spot the Pigeon EP (its cover sleeve displaying a photo from a spot the ball competition) was a straightforward song about football as lifestyle; Genesis even managed to get in a football reference in Mad Man Moon from A Trick of the Tail “...For a gaol can give you a goal and a goal can find you a role / On a muddy pitch in Newcastle...”


There is a photo of a Pink Floyd FC on the cover of A Nice Pair and a related photo, with cheerleaders, in Nick Mason’s personal history of Pink Floyd, Inside Out. This is dated January 1972 and depicts the team about to take on opponents made up of members from Family.

Rick Wakeman is a confessed football addict. It may have been his influence, but a photo from the Yes biography, Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes by Chris Welch shows Yes United, from 1976. This is likely to have been at the time when soccer was starting to take off in the USA, and Wakeman, along with 10 others, bought the franchise for the Philadelphia Furys. He was instrumental in getting a number of former UK stars to go over to the States, including Alan Ball, Peter Osgood and Johnny Giles. His admiration for Brentford FC, first made public in the booklet that accompanied Fragile, led him to become a director of the club in 1979 for a year though when an Isle of Man resident he seemed to shift his affections to Manchester City. Jon Anderson was also a committed football fan and even went for a trial at his local boyhood club, Accrington Stanley but was turned down because he was too small, though he remained a loyal supporter.


Yes United (photo by Scott Weiner, in Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes)
Yes United (photo by Scott Weiner, in Close to the Edge - The Story of Yes)

I’m an advocate of using sport as a democratic lever, much as I once naively thought progressive rock could contribute towards creating greater peace and understanding throughout the world. Systemic corruption of world football’s governing body was exposed in 2015 but it seems to me that there’s been insufficient change in the stewardship of the organisation since Sepp Blatter’s election run for a fifth term as president was wrecked by the arrests of FIFA executives for the ‘World Cup of fraud’. FIFA pays a low rate of tax in Switzerland due to its Charity status and has also been accused of enabling tax evasion, but it’s in the stands of grounds up and down the country where fans can directly witness the effects of ineffectual governance: the appointment of owners unfit to run a club; pricing many true supporters away from watching their team; the empty corporate seats after half time; and over-rewarding players in an age of austerity. I‘m in favour of the English FA attempting to set up a rival governing body and once Russia was confirmed as host nation for the competition this year, thought that a general boycott of the World Cup (and the Sochi Winter Olympics in 2014) might have had some genuine influence over the direction of Russia’s foreign policy. To avoid any charge of hypocrisy, I ought to highlight the UK's role in human rights abuses, clearly set out in a recent report by the parliamentary intelligence and security committee.



However, I’m pleasantly surprised how well the competition has been managed, apparently without intimidation or violence. I’m still concerned that the globalisation of the game and the concomitant awarding of ‘official partners’ and branding rights subverts the democratic running of world football and increases the divide between the players and the fans and I'm desperate for real change.

Prog? I don't think so. Football is stadium rock, corporate rock, not prog.


(Part of this piece was originally posted on ProgBlog as 'Match of the Day' on 13th January 2014)










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.









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