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Album Review: Greg Lake — Songs of a Lifetime

Friday, May 10th, 2013

It’s been about a year since I made the trip to Durham NC to see Greg Lake in concert. In the run-up to that performance, I interviewed Greg, and while in the course of our wide-ranging discussion we spoke a bit about the tour, he wished to keep the details mostly under wraps. I knew it would be a one-man show, but didn’t know how exactly Lake would deliver the songs in this career survey of a show called “Songs of a Lifetime.”

As it happened, the show was a really well-thought-out affair. Lake appeared onstage amidst a “set” peppered with road cases (stenciled “Greg Lake, London”), subdued lighting and a bit of the good old dry ice fog. Alternately seated and standing, he moved between electric guitar, acoustic guitars, bass guitar and even a bit of keyboards. He was backed by recorded versions of his songs, though this was no mere karaoke performance. He sang all his parts, and the recorded backing wasn’t some soulless MIDI playback; these were modern re-recordings of songs from throughout his career.

Some tunes were classics closely associated with Lake: her performed abbreviated versions of King Crimson‘s “In the Court of the Crimson King” and “Epitaph,” plus “21st Century Schizoid Man and “I Talk to the Wind.” Those represented four of the total of five songs on Crim’s debut album, from a time when Lake was their lead singer and bassist. Along with each of the songs, Lake would bookend each with context and personal anecdotes, so that even those unfamiliar with his work outside Emerson, Lake and Palmer could appreciate the songs more fully.

Several ELP songs figured into the set, of course: the romantic ballads “Lend Your Love to Me Tonight” and “C’est Le Vie” plus the hits “From the Beginning,” “Still…You Turn Me On,” “Trilogy,” “Karn Evil 9, 1st Impression Part 2,” and – of course — “Lucky Man.” Sometimes Lake would sit down – usually for the acoustic numbers – but he was a commanding presence when he strapped on his bass and sang the more rock-oriented numbers, too.

Lake took to the keyboard for a reading of “People Get Ready,” and he covered a few other songs that were important to him, songs he’d never previously recorded (or, for that matter, played onstage any time in the last several decades). Elvis‘ “Heartbreak Hotel” and The Beatles‘ “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away” (during which he enlisted the audience’s help on the “Hey!” parts) were covered, and for both Lake told interesting stories about those artists.

He even played one left-field original, “Touch and Go,” a song from the period in the 80s when Carl Palmer‘s drum seat was occupied by Cozy Powell. And to the delight and surprise of the audience, he took a fairly lengthy chunk of time to encourage and field questions. True, some of the questions had a Chris-Farley-interviewing-Paul-McCartney quality to them: “Remember the time you played in New York? It was great!” But the whole exchange nevertheless felt very organic, very heartfelt and real.

And here’s the most surprising part of all of this: an audio document of that tour titled Songs of a Lifetime accurately captures that vibe. Not just the music, singing and stories (Lake was ably assisted by André Cholmondoley, a master stage manager/factotum and renowned musician in his own right), but the feel of the entire evening. (The Q&A sessions aren’t part of the disc, which is fine.) For me, as a souvenir of the concert tour, Songs of a Lifetime ranks right up there with the photo I had taken of me and Lake, but purely as music it’s a fine listen, too. More song-oriented than your typical ELP album, even with the stories about Ringo Starr, Paris and the King Crimson album art, Songs of a Lifetime is a delightful album, one sure to please anyone who’s enjoyed any phase of Lake’s forty-plus years in the spotlight.

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Album Review: Captain Beyond — Live in Texas: October 6, 1973

Friday, May 3rd, 2013

Way back in my high school days, I developed an abiding interest that developed into a lifelong hobby. Though these days its intensity level is much lower than, say, a decade ago, my fascination with bootleg recordings remains. I have long believed that bootlegs, or ROIOs (recordings of illegitimate / indeterminate origin) can and often do provide a unique window into understanding of the work of an artist. With the filter of what-should-come-out removed, the listener gets to hear the artist at his or her most raw and direct. Setting aside studio bootlegs (a fascinating category all its own), live bootlegs – free from post-production sweetening – can show us how the act actually sounded onstage.

Live sound reinforcement was none too subtle in the 1970s; there were pretty much two settings: OFF and LOUD. Clearly the latter was the one most often chosen. And as rock’s audience grew, it meant that (unlike today) one rarely got to see their favorite band onstage in a venue designed for music. No, sports arenas and big ol’ open outdoor spaces were the venue of choice in those days. So sound quality wasn’t all that splendid to start with.

Add to that the fact that mobile recording equipment (the amateur kind, not the Rolling Stones Mobile Truck kind) was not very sophisticated, and those who wished to sneak recorders into shows often had to be very inventive.

The result of all this is that bootlegs of the 1970s are rarely in what modern day listeners would call excellent fidelity. But their historical value often trumps that, at least for bootleg aficionados such as this writer. We’d much rather have that warts-and-all live tape of The Paul Butterfield Blues Band onstage in 1966 at a coffeehouse in Boston than not have it at all. Especially when it comes to lesser-known and/or semi-forgotten rock acts, bootlegs are a rare chance to learn more about an act we didn’t know all that much about to begin with.

Captain Beyond is the kind of act that falls into this category. A supergroup-of-sorts, the band was formed by veterans of other well-known acts. Singer Rod Evans had been in Deep Purple during their “Hush” era. Bobby Caldwell had played drums with Johnny Winter, and briefly with Keith Relf‘s post-Yardbirds outfit Armageddon. And guitarist Larry “Rhino” Reinhardt and bassist Lee Dorman had been in Iron Butterfly, though only the bassist had been on board when they cut “In-a-Gadda-da-Vida.”

Signed to Capricorn Records, Captain Beyond was (for that reason and/or others) not destined for the big time. But their mix of vaguely progressive stylings with hard-hard rock, 70s style made a pretty exciting recipe. Their prime-era albums (a 1972 self-titled debut and 1973′s Sufficiently Breathless) are overlooked gems from the era, and make the point yet again that a lot of good music slipped by relatively unnoticed in rock’s heyday.

But now in 2013 comes a live album, Live in Texas: October 6, 1973. It’s certainly in that warts-and-all sonic quality category; the harsh, brittle and occasionally whooshy sound won’t win any engineering awards. But then, that’s not the point. Live in Texas is a rare document of a relatively unknown band, onstage at their peak, giving it all they’ve got. And for that reason alone, it’s worthwhile.

The music’s pretty good, too. And once the listener’s ears acclimate to the sound quality, it’s an entertaining listen. Like many acts of the era, Captain Beyond are introduced by a taped introduction featuring ominous, slowed-down vocals (I don’t know what he’s saying, but it sounds very important). After rocking out for a half dozen tunes, the band moves into a gentle, subtle piece in which Evans sort of reads poetry. “Pandora’s Box (It’s War)” is either pretentious, humorous, or both. It’s enjoyable in a Spinal Tap sort of way, and Reinhardt’s guitar noodling behind Evans’ emotional reading is inventive. One does wonder how the audience reacted to all this: the audio document suggest they stood in dumbstruck silence during the “reading” portion, and then roared and whistled when the cacophonous rocking part kicked in, sounding a bit like Pink Floyd‘s “A Saucerful of Secrets.”

Being that it was 1973, this probably won’t surprise you, but the live set at this Arlington TX show included tracks called “Guitar Solo” and “Drum Solo.” These are pretty much what you’d expect: technically impressive, of great interest to hardcore aficionados and/or musicians, and shamelessly overlong. And on “Guitar Solo,” Reinhardt displays his prowess with the Golden Throat, a little device that would find worldwide notoriety a few years later when stuck in into the pie hole of one Peter Frampton. But the songs from their two albums are exciting and well-played, full of that unique balance of prog and (I mean this in a good way) good old lunkheaded, unsubtle heavy rock. The show wraps up with a faithful reading of Jimi Hendrix‘s “Stone Free.”

This set has been around for awhile, as it happens. It made the rounds for years as a bootleg, of course. (Captain Beyond was opening for King Crimson, of all things, on this date.) While this 2013 release on Purple Pyramid doesn’t provide any documentation as to the recording’s lineage, our friends at Wikipedia tell us that the band has endeavored to release and/or clean up this recording for release a few times before. Adjectives used by Wikipedia contributors to describe the tape’s sound quality include “bad” and terrible.” You have been warned.

Balance that against the fact that no other live recordings – bootleg or otherwise – of Captain Beyond are known to exist, and that Reinhardt and Dorman both passed away in 2012. So it’s either this or nothing. With those caveats, it’s still a recommended listen, but you’d also do well to track down the band’s first two studio albums; one has been reissued on Purple Pyramid as well; both are quite rare on original vinyl (my preferred format) so I don’t have them yet, but have enjoyed them via Spotify.

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Album Review: Nektar – Remember the Future

Friday, April 26th, 2013

Album reissues can be funny things. Not haha-funny, but perplexing-funny. Take, for example, the case of Nektar’s breakthrough 1973 LP Remember the Future. Their most commercially successful album, it ranks among their best and was released amidst a string of creative high-water-mark albums. It reached #19 on the Billboard album charts, and is a good exemplar of what we might call second-string progressive/hard rock of the era. I say second-string not because of any aesthetic shortcomings, but rather due to the fact that Remember the Future was released into a marketplace that included The Dark Side of the Moon, Houses of the Holy and Yessongs, to name but three.

But the album is fondly remembered, and clearly numerous record-company types believe there remains a market for it: according to allmusic.com, Remember the Future has been reissued on CD by at least nine(!) different labels since the start of the 21st century. And here’s where the perplexing part comes in: as recently as 2011, a tiny boutique label called It’s About Music reissued the album as part of its The Nektar Deluxe Editions series. A two-CD set, it featured the original album (it was two vinyl-side parts of a self-titled piece) plus a two-track live run-through of the entire album. (The latter’s date and venue is left as a mystery.) A second disc, subtitled “Vivo Niteroi,” documents a live Nektar concert from 2007 (with, it should be mentioned, two members from the 70s lineup: leader/guitarist Roye Albrighton and drummer Ron Howden). The second disc doesn’t really have anything to do with the first, but it’s a nice enough performance, surveying songs from throughout the band’s long history.

Yet in 2013 – less than twenty-four months later – Remember the Future has again been reissued, this time by Purple Pyramid, a label that (delightfully) revisits all manner of those second-string 70s releases (Captain Beyond, for example). Also a 2CD set, the contents of this release are quite different. The digipak set (a much nicer packaging than the It’s About Music release) includes the original album on the first disc; there is nothing in the liner notes suggesting that it’s a new remaster or anything such as that. The undated live version is not included, giving the disc a pretty-darn-short runtime (under 36 minutes). The second disc includes some radio edits of pieces from the album-long suite (Nektar was never a “singles band,” but these might have helped get their music on the radio.) And then the second disc features a set of music dubbed The Boston Tapes. What’s slightly strange is that this material had also been reissued in 2011, appended then to another It’s About Music release, Nektar’s A Tab in the Ocean. Pairing the 1970 demos – which sound quite unlike the band’s official canon – with Tab made some sense, seeing as A Tab in the Ocean was Nektar’s official debut; combining the two into a set showed how the band altered its style rather quickly.

I’ve covered The Boston Tapes as part of my original A Tab in the Ocean review from 2011. Remember the Future is quite good as well, though not quite up to the quality level of 1972′s Journey to the Centre of the Eye. Still, for fans of long-form, suite-type heard rock with elements of progressive rock (and even a bit of funk), Remember the Future is worth seeking out. And despite the confusing flurry of re-reissues, I would direct interested parties to this latest Purple Pyramid reissue first. It’s probably the easiest to find, the packaging is nice, and though the bonus material is somewhat unrelated, it’s very good. So until the next reissue offers up something different yet again, this is the one to get.

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Album Review: Conspiracy – Conspiracy Live

Thursday, April 11th, 2013

As the sole member of Yes to appear on every single album, Chris Squire has stayed quite busy these last several decades. Though he released but one solo album (1975′s Fish Out of Water), Squire has found time for quite a number of projects outside Yes. One of these is a band called Conspiracy, a collaboration between the bassist and sometime Yes member Billy Sherwood. That outfit released its debut in 2000, and now a 2004 live concert has been released on a CD+DVD set called, well, Conspiracy Live.

The five piece (Squire on bass and vocals, Sherwood on guitar and vocals, plus three players who are good but whose names you’ve likely not heard before) runs through numbers from their studio album, plus a pair of rarely-performed tracks (“Hold out Your Hand” and “You By My Side” from Fish Out of Water). When Squire takes the lead vocal, things sound decidedly more Yes-like; when Sherwood sings, the effect is closer to power-rock or arena rock of the 90s (see also: Extreme, Bon Jovi). Your enjoyment of Conspiracy Live overall may likely be dictated by your taste for (or ability to endure) the latter style.

Production quality is stellar, but quite odd as well: there is absolutely no sonic trace of an audience on this recording (said to date from Oxnard CA). In fact, there’s nothing about the CD to suggest that it’s a live album at all. The decision to render this album in such a way is odd, to say the least. Not only are there no “hello Oxnard” bits, but there’s no applause. It’s all a bit sterile.

Two of the three anonymous (not really!) players are keyboardists, so there are lots of dramatic synth squeals here (plus some slightly cliched string-patch keys on “The More We Live”), but overall Conspiracy Live is focused on the voices and stringwork of Squire and Sherwood. So you get some tasty lead-bass work peppered among the tracks. And there’s no denying that Sherwood’s propulsive, dynamic “Confess” is an appealing track.

The songs are in fact good, and “New World” in particular sounds very much like the kind of thing one might have heard on Big Generator; Sherwood’s role in Yes always seemed to this listener to be to continue where Trevor Rabin left off; whether that’s a good or bad thing is left to you to decide. One thing is certain: it’s a treat to hear Squire take the lead vocal; Yes fans have been hearing him sing for years, but very rarely out front. His timbre is less airy, more rockist than Jon Anderson, and his is a very expressive instrument; see “Red Light Ahead” for proof.

Conspiracy Live is appended with a live DVD; the cover assures us that the concert was “professionally filmed,” and the DVD also includes interviews with the entire band (snarky emphasis mine). Well, good.

This does bear mentioning: The cover art could be viewed by cynics as a sort of piss-take on Roger Dean‘s designs, or not: one thing is for sure: it’s horrible, somewhat pointless and quite silly. But don’t let that deter you from checking this one out if you’re a Yes (or Extreme, ha) fan.

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Album Review: Curved Air – Airwaves

Monday, April 8th, 2013

Not to take anything away from the impressive achievements of The Police (their dubious 21st century reunion notwithstanding), but it’s long been a source of some amusement among rock historians to point out the band’s pedigree. Though they were (and remain) darlings of the so-called new wave movement of the late 1970s and early 80s, and despite the undeniable fact that they introduced reggae textures into rock music in a way few had done before, each of the trio had a musical background that might make new wave/punk purists squirm. Sting (neé Gordon Sumner) had previously played stand-up bass in a jazz band. Guitarist Andy Summers learned his craft alongside friend Robert Fripp, played soul jazz in Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, psychedelic guitar in Dantalion’s Chariot (see “Madman Running Through the Fields” on Nuggets II: British Empire and Beyond) and then briefly psych-jazz in Soft Machine before playing rhythm & blues in a later lineup of The Animals. And master drummer Stewart Copeland – the band’s sole American member – had been a roadie for UK progressive outfit Curved Air, eventually playing drums for the group.

And though Copeland’s time with Curved Air was relatively brief – less than two years – it’s upon his high-profile name that Airwaves, a new collection of Curved Air BBC sessions builds its buzz. That’s not really necessary, as (a) while Copeland’s drumming is superb, it’s not the centerpiece of Curved Air’s music , (b) Copeland is on less than half of the tracks and (c) the music stands quite well on its own without the hype.

Three BBC radio sessions are the source for this thirteen-track archival release: a pair of dates from Top Gear in 1970-71, and a BBC Radio in Concert date from 1976 featuring Copeland on drums.

With a sound built around the piecing vocals of Sonja Kristina and the electric violin of Darryl Way, Cruved Air’s approach might be described as Jefferson Airplane meets Jean Luc Ponty (one of the few 1970s exponents of the electric violin).

As often as not, Way’s violin takes the role normally assigned to a lead guitarist in a rock band. That’s certainly true on “It Happened Today,” one of three tracks dating from the band’s first Top Gear sessions, before they even had a record deal. Kristina’s vocals are very much out front, displaying the strident, assured approach of a Grace Slick leavened by the British folk vibe of Annie Haslam of Renaissance. The band’s progressive sensibilities are offset by a winning sense of pop melodicism. The band’s manic approach on “Propositions” echoes East of Eden‘s work circa Mercator Projected; Curved Air’s style will also seem warmly familiar to fans of Jethro Tull, though sonic similarities between the two bands are actually quite few.

Some tasty synthesizer work courtesy of Francis Monkman (later of Sky and Phil Manzanera’s 801) enlivens “Young Mother in Style,” one of the 1971 tracks, and one of few to feature vocals by more than just Kristina.

For a nominally progressive outfit, Curved Air wasn’t afraid to craft short, poppy numbers like “Blind Man,” a sort of cross between ye-ye French pop and Soft Machine, all built upon some sprightly electric piano from Monkman. “Thinking on the Floor” almost presages punk, through in a decidedly prog manner (figure that one out; you’d have to hear it to understand). The folky blues of “Stretch” features some nice musical dialogue between Way’s violin and Mick Jacques‘ electric guitar.

“Stark Naked” kicks off the live concert portion of the disc, and the 1976 tracks featuring Copleand. Now with a changed lineup, Curved air featured a much more aggressive attack, though every bit as musical. They rock a lot harder here, with the bass taking a more active role as well, likely as a foil to Copeland’s precise, varied and assertive percussion work. “Stark Naked” was never released on a Curved Air studio album, and is one of few tracks to include a Coplend co-credit. A thrilling instrumental, it’s one of the strongest tracks on Airwaves.

The remaining tracks aren’t quite as exciting, suggesting that the band’s best days were behind them. Where the harder-rocking approach worked well on “Stark Naked,” on the other tunes, its effect is to strip some of the subtlety from the band’s style. “Woman on a One Night Stand” veers perilously close to bar band blooze, with Jacques’ ill-advised (but well-played) slide guitar. Kristina, in particular, seems to be trying too hard. The band redeems itself a bit with “Midnight Wire,” but did mid 70s progressive rock really need a song that sounded like The Band with a female vocalist? “Hot ‘N’ Bothered” is boogie band music, and the closing track “The Fool” reverts to a pandering let’s-get-the-audience-to-clap-along technique. (It does feature some guitar-violin interplay that harkens back to the band’s earlier days, though.)

Consumers should note that this set seems to contain the exact same material as a 1996 collection called Live at the BBC, though this new package features a new liner notes essay, a brief essay from Stewart Copeland, and notes a 2012 remastering. Sound quality, by the way, is superb.

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Album Review: Nektar – Journey to the Centre of the Eye

Tuesday, March 5th, 2013

The history of 1970s rock is littered with also-rans. Even though the pop music landscape of that decade was arguably more varied than today’s (and by “pop” I mean music that could be easily found and heard by the average consumer), the marketplace was dominated by some high-profile acts. And the success of those artists – Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John and a relatively short list of others – meant that any number of worthy artists were, in effect, crowded out.

As a result, some really good music went unheard, relatively unnoticed. Among these was the catalog of Nektar.

It certainly didn’t help that Nektar – a British band, through and through – was based in Germany. Most pop music fans would be hard-pressed to name more than one or two German exports that enjoyed any measure of success on the pop charts in the USA. And distribution issues meant that Nektar’s albums weren’t as easy to find in record bins of the day; it was only in the later 70s (a time by which the group’s music was still good, but less interesting) that Nektar LPs could be found without great effort.

In 2011, a small boutique label called It’s About Music released the group’s second LP, 1971′s A Tab in the Ocean on CD, paired with some previously-unreleased sessions dating from a time before they had a proper deal. Those early demos show a band poised to head in a musical direction quite different from the space-rock one they’d soon pursue. 1973′s Remember the Future was also reissued by the label in 2011, and its approach set the template for (ahem…) future Nektar reissues. The first disc presented the original album remastered, and the second disc showcased the group performing live. For Remember the Future, the live set dated from 2007, though.

Now seeing its catalogue handled by Purple Pyramid, Nektar’s debut album Journey to the Centre of the Eye is getting the reissue treatment. While Remember the Future is an exciting, varied and engaging listen, it’s the group’s debut that represents their finest achievement. Journey to the Centre of the Eye is a unified work, designed – per the times – to be listened start to finish. The entire album flows, one song into the next, and it’s quite likely that any given piece removed from its context would lose much of its power and effect. The sum of the parts truly is greater than the whole here, but it’s clearly by design.

One could argue that Nektar’s work on Journey is a few notches below the quality of, say, Pink Floyd. But if one wishes to make such a comparison, it’s only fair to hold Journey to the Centre of the Eye up against what the Floyd did at that specific time: 1971. And while Meddle is a landmark album, the Pink Floyd epic “Echoes” is only half of it: the other songs are an assorted lot. Nektar, on the other hand, was crafting a cohesive start-to-finish work two years before Pink Floyd did the same with The Dark Side of the Moon.

There are occasional flashes of down-and-dirty rock, like the didn’t-see-that-coming Bowie-esque riffage on “Burn Out My Eyes.” And while the music isn’t especially derivative, Roye Albrighton‘s guitar figures on “The Dwarf Nebula” are very reminiscent of “Tattoo” from The Who Sell Out (1967).

Recurring musical motifs crop up time and again throughout the work; some demented guitar solos — again, msotly notably on “Burn Out My Eyes” — but in plenty of other places as well — are layered atop a pounding, insistent prog riff. Lots of Albrighton’s nicely textured, effects-laden guitar work contrasts with soaring, ominous Mellotron work from either Allan “Taff” Freeman or Derek “Mo” Moore (both are credited on the mighty ‘Tron).

The second disc presents an “official bootleg” recording of the entire work live onstage in Germany in November 1971. Dodgy fidelity notwithstanding, it shows that Nektar was more than capable of translating the thrilling dynamics of Journey to the Centre of the Eye to the concert stage. The packaging includes a nice essay from Dave Thompson, but no information about the live recording. Track listings and so forth are also absent from the booklet; instead we’re left with a reproduction of the orignal album artwork; thanks to type size, reproduction quality and color contrast, it’s near impossible to read the track names and brief descriptions.

An oft-overlooked exemplar of space-rock, Nektar’s Journey to the Centre of the Eye is a must-hear for fans of the genre, and the new 2CD set with the bonus live set is the easiest way to hear it. It’s worth noting that – due to to the relative rarity of the set – you’ll likely pay less for the expanded 2CD set than you would for a 40-plus year old vinyl copy, assuming you could lay hands on one.

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Album Review: King Crimson – Discipline (40th Anniversary Series Edition)

Monday, February 18th, 2013

From their inception in 1969, King Crimson has always been about creating outside-the-box music that challenges (or simply ignores) convention. By the middle of the 1970s, the band had created at least two masterpieces: their debut album In the Court of the Crimson King and 1975′s Red. But after Red – when King Crimson was arguably at its commercial and critical apex – leader/founder Robert Fripp disbanded the group to pursue other projects.

Luckily for all concerned, by the beginning of the 1980s, one of those projects had evolved into a new configuration of King Crimson. Initially called Discipline, the four-piece included guitarist Fripp and drummer extraordinaire Bill Bruford from the previous lineup, and added a pair of American players. Guitarist/vocalist Adrian Belew had already established his reputation via sessions with Talking Heads, Frank Zappa, David Bowie and others; not only was he a guitarist of impressive range, depth and expression, but he brought to the band a pop sensibility it has always lacked (and, to be fair, had never actively sought). Journeyman bassist Tony Levin also sang, but in addition to his peerless skills on the four-string, he was (or would quickly become) the master on an exotic instrument called the Chapman Stick. A multi-stringed instrument that is tapped rather than strummed, the Stick allows the player a dizzyingly wide sonic palette, just the right tool for an innovative player such as Levin.

The music that this new version of King Crimson would produce, however, bore little if any sonic similarity to what had come before. While on Red, Fripp coaxed thickly distorted power chords (after a jazz fashion) out of his Les Paul, his subsequent solo ventures saw him pursuing a more ambient approach. Extensively utilizing on-the-fly tape loop technology to expand the sounds of his guitar, he dubbed his new technique (developed in collaboration with Brian Eno) Frippertronics. And it was the Frippertronics approach, based on the man’s often lightning-fast single-note runs – upon which Fripp built his playing in the 80s Crimson.

Belew had already shown that he could coax all sorts of otherworldly sounds out of his battered guitars., and he would create one of his most memorable signature sounds on this first record with his new band. But his bent pop sensibility would also allow the new lineup to build on the emotion-filled approach the previous lineup had used to great effect on Red‘s “Starless.” Bruford, too, seemed a man liberated: while in the early 70s (after having left Yes for the greater challenge of King Crimson) he had briefly shared percussion duties with the wild Jamie Muir, it was now solely left to him to create the band’s drum sounds. He fully immersed himself in polyrhythms, and Belew’s time with Talking Heads likely helped prepare him to be able to handle such complexities.

From Discipline‘s thrumming opening to “Elephant Talk,” it’s clear that the 1980s King Crimson is going to be a very different animal. While Belew declaims a bunch of words (“These are words with a ‘D’ this time…”), the four players twist and turn their way through an unbelievably complicated – yet somehow almost danceable – piece of music. Belew’s guitar roars like an elephant in the wild, and Fripp makes highly effective use of his volume pedal to create a “solo” that feels more like some exotic wind instrument, the sort that might coax a snake out of its basket.

But “solo” isn’t really the right word for the individual breaks that each of the four men take. Everything about this lineup of King Crimson is about the ensemble; even when one player seems to be featured, what the other three are doing is of equal interest and complexity.

“Frame by Frame” was the “hit single (sic) from Discipline, and the highlights are too myriad to catalog here. Bruford’s fiercely aggressive yet lyrical drumming on the track is some of the most impressive of his entire recorded career, and that’s something. The intertwining guitar lines are both impossible to near-follow and lovely beyond compare. Here Belew’s pop instincts meld perfectly with a free-jazz approach, however counter-intuitive that phenomenon might read on paper. (An aside: A dream I often had in the late 1970s involved the unnerving experience of events moving simultaneously at a glacial pace and a fast-forward one; my first hearing of “Frame by Frame” gave voice to that dream: it sounds just like what was hammering away at my subconscious.)

 


The author in full-on fanboy-mode with
Adrian Belew (L) and Tony Levin (R)
 

“Matte Kudasai” builds on a lovely dreamscape-pop approach; Belew’s romantic, heartfelt vocals blend nicely with Fripp’s melancholy guitar lines; the latter vaguely recall some early 1970s Pink Floyd solos from David Gilmour. But “Indscipline” takes tings in a very different direction. Atonal in places, featuring (yet again!) some of the most aggressive percussion Bruford’s ever turned in, and full of screaming guitar lines, the song is musically every bit as off-kilter as the story (supposedly written by his then-wife) that Belew recites. Perhaps the most “difficult” piece of music on Discipline, the track sums up every boundary-pushing quality the band ever had, and distills them into a perfect mix. When at the song’s end, Belew screams, “I like it!” the listener is left breathless.

“Thela Hut Ginjeet” heads back into polyrhythm territory, and features the not-remarked-upon-enough harmony vocals of Tony Levin in addition to a rather David Byrne-sounding Belew. Once again Belew recites a story – Discipline is at its core about three things: music, singing, and reciting little vignette-style stories – this time about a narrow escape from a very dangerous situation. Bruford’s clattering drums create just the right exotic “jungle” vibe.

“The Sheltering Sky” may be the most subtly beautiful piece of music any version of King Crimson has ever done. Bruford’s subtle drum work and Levin’s throbbing stick figures are topped by Belew’s under-water sounding guitar, while Fripp lets loose a song-length solo of stunning beauty and grace. Eight-plus minutes and it’s still over too soon: this is one track that could go on forever and not wear out its welcome.

Discipline wraps up with its title track, a summation of all that has come before. Interlocking polyrhythms and melodic snippets that seem to recalls many of the previous pieces on the album serve to tie up the whole affair nicely with a big bow. Sonically, the piece is almost an extension of the “discotronics” direction Fripp took with his League of Gentlemen project, not long before this version of King Crimson got off the ground.

Like all other entries in the band’s 40th Anniversary Series, the 2011 reissue of Discipline includes quite a few goodies. Expertly remixed by Porcupine Tree‘s Steven Wilson, the new package includes a new stereo mix (sourced from the original multi-track masters), and a bonus DVD. The latter contains another version of the album, remixed for 5.1 Surround, two more versions of the album in super-high resolution; the entire album in rough-mix form, and three video clips of the Discipline-era band performing on the BBC’s venerable Old Grey Whistle Test.

The CD also adds a few bonus audio tracks as well: a brief selection of Belew’s vocal loops; a welcome alternate mix of “The Sheltering Sky” that features even more out-there guitar work from Fripp (one can never get enough); and an instrumental mix of “Thela Hut Ginjeet.”

For anyone interested in the most innovative and exciting music that the (loosely-defined) rock idiom has to offer, the 2012 reissue of King Crimson’s Discipline deserves a place on the shelf right near In the Court of the Crimson King and Red. Taken together, these three wildly disparate albums (having only Fripp in common) represent the pinnacle of what has come to be known as progressive rock. Beyond essential.

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Album Review: Unitopia – Covered Mirror Vol. 1: Smooth as Silk

Monday, February 11th, 2013

Like any musical genre or subgenre, progressive rock has many varieties within its confines. There’s aggressive, sometimes atonal math-based stuff; there’s brutal prog-metal, there’s retro-prog that tries to recreate the sound and/or vibe of the classic stuff from the 70s. And there’s a melodic, accessible flavor, the kind that makes the charts, albeit rarely.

Its these last two that are the territory staked out by an Australian outfit called Unitopia. Formed in the new century’s first decade, they’ve released three studio albums of original material, plus a live album. But their most recent project is a tribute to their influences. Covered Mirror Vol. 1: Smooth as Silk is subtitled “A selection of songs that inspire Unitopia,” and for the most part the songs will be familiar to lovers of rock’s more progressive side during the 1970s.

Some of the pieces are near note-for-note recreations: the group’s rendition of Klaatu‘s “Calling Occupants (of Interplanetary Craft)” follows the original closely, but does substitute some instrumentation flourishes that up the excitement factor. Marillion‘s “Easter” is one of the album’s lesser-known tracks (possibly since the original dates from 1990, long after prog had ceased to be much of a commercial force in the USA). Mark Trueack‘s vocals strongly recall Peter Gabriel throughout the album, and rarely more so than on this track.

Few would consider Icehouse a progressive rock group – Americans know them if at all as a group that enjoyed a bit of early MTV rotation – and the inclusion of that group’s “Man of Colours” makes the point that Unitopia is unashamed to admit influences from the more mainstream end of the rock spectrum. But then there’s a lengthy Genesis medley. Here the band stretches out to survey more than the usual-suspect tracks from the venerable British group. Yes, the prog classics appear in the medley: “Supper’s Ready,” “Dancing with the Moonlit Knight,” The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway” and a particularity effective reading of “Carpet Crawlers” – but it’s the inclusion of a tune from Genesis’ debut (“The Silent Sun”) that’s the real surprise. In Unitopia’s hands, it feels more like a Phil Collins-era Genesis track, only better.

Things get a bit strange from this point onward. Led Zeppelin‘s “Rain Song” is recast in a more AOR sort of arrangement; it works, but pales with the original. A bit of electric sitar does help, though. Supertramp‘s “Even in the Quietest Moments” is effective enough, but the energy seems to be lacking halfway through the album.

A drastic rearrangement of Todd Rundgren‘s classic “Can We Still Be Friends” is the album’s nadir. It feels overly dramatic and turgid all at once. It’s a serious misstep. After an instrumental interlude, things move in a more classic-prog direction (a positive step) with a cover of The Korgis‘ “Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime.” This gentle tune proves that Unitopia can deliver quiet subtlety; it’s just that the tracks preceding this didn’t quite hit the mark.

A Yes medley is suitably over the top, with selections from throughout the group’s lengthy and varied catalog. Some sections work quite well – “And You and I” especially — but the rethink of “Owner of a Lonely Heart” strips the song of its excitement, leaving exposed a vaguely cheesy ballad exposed.

Alan Parsons Project‘s “To One in Paradise” is faithful to the original, with all the drama one expects of a track from Tales of Mystery and Imagination / Edgar Allan Poe.

The record wraps up with a brief Flower Kings tune, “The Way the Waters Are Moving.” Like many (possibly a bit too many) of the songs on Covered Mirror Vol 1, it’s a ballad. Overall, the album is polished to a brilliant shine, but a bit more rocking sections might have enlivened things a bit. Perhaps that’s the plan for a followup; we’ll see.

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Album Review: Rick Wakeman – No Earthly Connection

Monday, February 4th, 2013

I had my initial doubts about this one, and with good reason. Among music fans, Rick Wakeman is a polarizing figure. One either loves his work or despises it. For those in the former camp, his keyboard playing, composing and arranging show a deft, assured and endlessly creative master. Both as a highly in-demand sessioner (that ‘s him on David Bowie‘s “Changes,” Cat Stevens‘ “Morning Has Broken” and Black Sabbath‘s “Sabbra Cadabra,” to name but three of countless contributions he’s made) and as an on-again-off-again member of Yes (five times so far), his work is often exciting. But to his detractors, he’s the visible symbol of everything that was wrong and excessive with rock in the 1970s.

His breakout solo album, 1973′s The Six Wives of King Henry VIII established him as a potent force, and his followup albums were also quite good, though they didn’t quite scale the heights of The Six Wives. By 1976, Wakeman had settled into recording with a steady band he called the English Rock Ensemble. Still interested in conceptual/thematic works, No Earthly Connection concerns itself with big ideas. The music remains keyboard-heavy – what else would you expect? – but the Ensemble is prominently featured as well. Despite his high-falutin’ musical goals, Wakeman has always been a somewhat grounded Everyman type: remember that he stood out like a sore thumb among Yes’ ascetic vegetarian types; it’s easy to picture him with a pint of lager and a turkey leg (these day’s he’s a calmed-down teetotaler). Oh, and a billowing cape. Always a cape.

“Music Reincarnate Part I: The Warning” has plenty of string sounds and fragile, effecte section, but it features lots of funky Clavinet and some very Chris Squire-ish bass playing (courtesy of Roger Newell). The music sounds very much like a cross between Alan Parsons Project and Gentle Giant: the former is recalled through the album’s ambitious-yet-catchy arrangement flourishes, while the latter comes to mind via the tricky time signature changes and complex vocal arrangements (Ashley Holt is in fine form throughout). “Part II” rocks harder and highlights Tony Fernandez‘ drum work, while Wakeman shows us what it might sound like if Stevie Wonder went prog.

By “Part IV” things get a little showbizzy and move away from rock-centric styles, what with some trumpet figures and choral-sounding vocal bits; by this point No Earthly Connection starts to feel a bit more like soundtrack music (Wakeman’s most recent album had been the soundtrack for Lisztomania). But the dynamics keep things interesting. “Part V” gets pretty far into the weeds, featuring vocal snippets that float in and out of the mix while Wakeman provides an atmospheric musical bed. Here, soe of the chanted vocals may cause the listener to think of Spinal Tap‘s spoken intro to “Stonehenge.” A bit pompous and silly to be sure, but fun nonetheless. And the analog synth solos are predictably tasty. Once the five-part “Music Incarnate” suite ends, the remaining two tracks (also lengthy) continue the vibe (and, one supposes, story line of sorts). But it’s the keyboard work – busy, glistening harpsichord lines all over “The Prisoner,” for example – that keeps thing moving.

If you like pianos, organs, Mellotrons, Moogs and all sort of other keyboard instruments, you’ll find plenty to like on No Earthly Connection, but it’s overall a more mainstream (instrument-wise) record than Wakeman’s earlier works. Gene Sculatti‘s liner notes gamely attempt to place the album in historical context, but his overall tone seems to be (I’m paraphrasing here) “Rick Wakeman did a lot of great stuff. Also, there’s this album.” Still, fans of Wakeman’s work will want to hear No Earthly Connection, and Real Gone Music is once again to be commended for rescuing an obscurity from the cutout bin of history (No Earthly Connection has never been released digitally in the Western Hemisphere until now).

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A Conversation with Thijs Van Leer of Focus

Friday, February 1st, 2013

American audiences know Focus – if they know the Dutch progressive group at all – for their left-field 1971 hit single “Hocus Pocus.” Yeah, the one with the yodeling, whistling, accordion and hard-rocking guitar. But the group’s career started before that (in the late 60s, actually) and continues to this day, albeit with some lineup changes. But founder/vocalist/flautist Thijs Van Leer still helms the group, and their latest – only their tenth album, actually – will sound pleasantly familiar to fans of the group’s work some forty(!) years ago. I spoke last week with Van Leer about Focus X. Here’s our conversation. – bk


Bill Kopp: Do you feel a responsibility – or a pull of any sort – to create music that is consistent with the sort of thing most casual fans think of when they think of Focus, specifically the kind of thing you did back on Moving Waves?

Thijs van Leer: Yes. Focus X does relate a lot to Moving Waves [1971] and to Focus III [1972]. There are some things that have evolved, and also some things that stayed like they were. So you could talk about [it as] a small evolution. But we are very faithful to the roots of the instrumental quartet, let’s say.

BK: In what ways do you think your approach to composition and to playing has changed in the last several decades?

TVL: I would say the compositions are a little deeper…maybe a little funnier, also.

BK: You mean in terms of conveying humor in the music itself?

TVL: Yes.

BK: In the 1970s, progressive rock was a wide-open field; musicians could take chances and still be rewarded with commercial success. These days it’s very much a niche genre. Why do you think that is so, and how – if at all – does that reality affect your approach to your music?

TVL: In the 70s, we didn’t know what we would do. There were so many bands who were creative and self-supporting as far as compositions. There were also many more instrumental bands then than now. The fact that we survived – that we are still there – is of course some big luck, but also due to some talent, I could say. [chuckles] And originality. But nowadays, prog rock is still a small thing, and it used to be also like that. We were one of the few instrumental bands that brought hits anyhow. There aren’t too many examples of that. Most prog rock groups are not aiming to make singles at all. We had both things in one band, which was kind of unique.

BK: On Focus X, you use vocals sparingly. More, I would say, as a textural element than as a lyrical device.

TVL: We always did, actually. I consider the voice as a fifth instrument, and not more than that.

BK: Some modern European bands – Sweden’s Dungen for example – have made a decision to sing only in their native language. Focus has mostly had English-language vocals. Was there ever a time at which you considered recording in Dutch instead?

TVL: We have many other languages on Focus X. We have (on the Japanese version) a Spanish song, and we have a song in Latin. And there are some Dutch lyrics here and there. So it’s not only English.

BK: As with much of Focus’ music over the years, there are clear classical and jazz influences and textures to the music. What sorts of music do you think exerted the most influence over you in terms of your compositional style?

TVL: I would say Johann Sebastian Bach, Béla Bartók, Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Herbie Hancock, and Weather Report.

BK: I think [laughs] you have been asked that question before, haven’t you?

TVL: It sounds a bit routine, but it’s true.

BK: As the lineup of the band has changed over the years, you’ve been the constant anchor. How do you think the personnel changes have affected the band’s sound? Or, are the other players, to some degree, extensions of your vision for the band?

TVL: No, they are all individuals, and they are all creative virtuosos. I can say that this band – what you hear on Focus X – is my ideal band: the right drummer, the right guitarist, and the right bassist. So I’m very happy with this quartet. All the time, you know, I’ve played with very, very gifted musicians. And I’m very thankful for that, of course.

BK: Drummer Pierre van der Linden has been in the band on and off since 1970. Do you think his presence adds to the “classical” feel of the material on Focus X?

TVL: No, he gave a very free thing which comes from jazz and also r&b, rather than classical. But he can also play in a very symphonic way. But his r&b influence is very important.

BK: Yes. It pulls the music away a bit, I think, from the European style, giving the music more of a soulful feel.

TVL: Call it American.

BK: I’ve interviewed Jethro Tull‘s Ian Anderson a couple of times in the last several years, and I’ve seen him in concert. While his vocal range has diminished in recent years, I’d argue that his flute playing has actually improved. Do you feel that your skills continue to increase as well?

TVL: Yes, because I’ve been rehearsing a lot lately. I had a paralysis of my face – Bell’s Palsy, it’s called – and I thought I could not play any more. It was getting better, and now I’ve been rehearsing for the first time in my life. And now I play better flute than ever.

BK: I see you have a string of live UK dates in the coming weeks. Are there any plans – or hopes of plans — for any dates in North America?

TVL: Yes, we will try to come as soon as possible. We are having some difficulties in getting permits, but as soon as that’s solved, we will come.

(Focus X will be released February 5 on Four Worlds USA.)

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