Island 1970 / Panegyric 2025
Wake your reason’s hollow vote: underground mavericks enter the realm of reality-embracing fantasies.
Lizard
“Eerie, never weird” could have been a motto of this ensemble who made strangeness their modus operandi, if not mental state, so the fact that the musicians themselves consider a certain album peculiar must speak volumes of such a record’s inner mechanics. Indeed, there’s a lot going on inside the microcosm of “Lizard” – a chameleon-like artistic beast with ever-changing colors which defy mimicry – but, bizarrely, volume is not a major part of it, because the four instrumentalists behind the five pieces on display favored a wider dynamic, and stylistic, palette. And brighter spectrum, too, as reflected in both the cover artwork and the general sonic image of the combo’s third full-length offering. The quartet ensconced within the walls of London’s Wessex Studios for a few days in late 1970 were a volatile bunch, each of the performers drawing on his own influences while following the leader’s strictly outlined roadmap, yet the results of their toil didn’t seem to scatter all over the place.
Robert Fripp’s riffs are kept to a minimum here – although whatever hardness he deployed would sound familiar enough to cast the platter as a next step to "In The Wake Of Poseidon" where extreme ebb-and-flow of aural power reigned supreme; instead, the guitarist’s acoustic lace floated to surface to render “Lizard” a special feature in the progressive rock pioneers’ canon. It’s this texture that the fresh mixes on the classic’s 55th anniversary reissue – most impressively new stereo takes courtesy of Steven Wilson and elemental aspects revealed by David Singleton – bring to life. However great one may find having surround upgrade of the album, together with a full breakdown of the recording sessions, on the accompanying Blu-ray, the ingenious highlighting of the art gem’s nuances should make even aficionados see the what they think they know and love in a different light.
Now, “Cirkus” emerges from the ether gradually, to fill the air in a magical, majestic manner, Keith Tippett’s piano ripples carrying Gordon Haskell’s down-to-earth voice, punctuated with Andy McCulloch’s crunchy drums, to the arena which Fripp’s sinister strum and jagged passages stage a melodic analog of bullfight before bucolic licks of Mel Collins’s sax restore the initial balance as dictated by Peter Sinfield’s arresting lyrics. Much jazzier than the rest of the collective’s narrative – thanks, in part, to brass Mark Charig, Nick Evans and Robin Miller blow so passionately – but not deviating too far from the band’s formula that today’s perspective and respect for the album let everybody observe, “Lizard” will fare more comfortably after the latest rejigging of its layers even in the platter’s perceivably mundane moments. “Happy Family” – whose comical roar and unhinged woodwind conspire to dislodge the audience’s peace of mind – or “Indoor Games” – whose momentary unplugging and electric bursts create a fantastic contrast – still stun the senses, and “Lady Of The Dancing Water” still projects folksy balladry, yet, of course, the titular suite is the place for all the otherworldly fancy the players could muster to come together.
They get elevated once Jon Anderson‘s celestial vocals imbue the magnificent “Prince Rupert Awakes” with bated wonder, but handclaps tether it to the mortal coil in a way Mellotrons and other ivories don’t dare to until the quasi-orchestral “Bolero – The Peacock’s Tale” opens a secret, symphonic space in the ensemble’s continuum. The serenity-defying “Dawn Song” closes this pocket with an expectancy-pregnant dirge, yet the drama-brewing “Last Skirmish” reaches for cinematic belligerence again. Then, “Prince Rupert’s Lament” all of a sudden snatches shades of blues harmonies out of the atmosphere – solely to see “Big Top” triumphantly transport the album back to the beginning, with the “Für Elise” tomfoolery picked up from the floor for the record’s ultimate celebration.
Eerie, never weird: after an eternity of being an outlier, “Lizard” has finally found its place in the listener’s psyche and heart.
*****
