To the reviews index
THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH –
|
The title getting it all wrong as the highfalutin flight gets the band down for ever.
Two albums in a year’s span wasn’t much of a feat in 1970 unlike a successful attempt not to repeat what was done before. From that point of view, this band fell gracefully. Whereas “Horizons” shone brightly, its follow-up feels quite glum, the erstwhile playfulness replaced with shallow melodramatics. There’s vivid effervescence on closer “Tell The Story” which saunters brazenly onto Dr. John terrain and on opener “Borderline” whose stereoscopic panning, plus African percussion and funky scratch under organ frolics a la SANTANA, induce sweet vertigo but boil down to powerful blues. But it’s from there on that Colin Horton-Jennings’ part tends to be more of a declamation than actual singing up to the jarring point on the histrionic “Story Times And Nursery Rhymes”. Equally awkward “The Leader”, smeared with queasy brass and rocking piano, might serve as a precursor to the fare of THE BLOCKHEADS where bassist Norman Watt-Roy ended up later in the decade. Things look much better on the funereal flow of “Love Magnet” that progresses into a fine jazzy sway, and on “Magic Woman Touch”, a gentle – yet again adorned with a boogie solo – ballad, which THE HOLLIES would chart with two years later, when it’s co-writer, guitarist Garth Watt-Roy moved on to FUZZY DUCK and STEAMHAMMER, and the SHOW were no more, having had left room for AVERAGE WHITE BAND who, unlike them, knew where success lay. If only they followed the path of bonus single “Morning Song” with its woodwind and brass call-and-response… *** |
KAYAK –
|
Art rock runs amok, as Dutchmen steer their vessel into lighter waters.
Most proggers take themselves too seriously – it’s always been so – with the notable exception of Rick Wakeman, but KAYAK changed the course of the game. After the tentative grandiosity of "See See The Sun" turned into playfulness on the band’s eponymous LP, its follow-up combined the two approach in a peculiar way where symphonic figures got bent to service the pop agenda. Such a perfect blend nicely reflects the theme of the title track which, in the wake of Wakeman, leads to the court of Henry VIII who had a servant to check his bed for hidden assassins, which, from today’s perspective, seems rather funny and this playfulness kick it off in a catchy manner with Johan Slager’s slide guitar rolling over Ton Scherpenzeel’s piano and harpsichord that easily switches from baroque to boogie and back again. At the helm for the most part – Pim Koopman composed only the wordless tune of “Patricia Anglaia” and softly sings the richly-textured “Bury The World” here – Scherpenzeel delivers not concept yet stylistically smooth array of songs combining court music with vaudeville as does solemn “Moments Of Joy” and merry “You’re So Bizarre”. But while Max Werner excels in infusing ballads “My Heart Never Changed” and “Life Of Gold” with the well-measured lachrymosity, there’s always a sparkling rock crunch underneath it all: hidden assassins, remember? As such, single “Chance For A Lifetime” is a real killer with a fairground spring in his harmonic bounce, and whereas “Said No Word” unleashes some good swing, “If This Is Your Welcome” is arguably the only genuine prog piece on display. Almost regal, “Royal Bed Bouncer” remains a beacon of KAYAK’s long voyage. ****1/3 |
DAVE KILMINSTER –
|
Squire to the stars shines his own sharp blade unsheathing it in quite unexpected light.
It’s been a steady career for this Brit. Having come into view on John Wetton‘s live album, he proceeded to play on Ken Hensley‘s return, then, thanks to his QANGO colleague Carl Palmer’s recommendation, joined Keith Emerson in THE NICE, before shooting high on Roger Waters’ tours. But despite all these associations, the 50-year-old remains somewhat of a secret weapon when it comes to his own music and now, five years on since its original, very limited independent release, refocuses “Scarlet” according to his new, worldwide vision that might surprise even those who knows Dave for his contribution to the guitarists’ summit of "The Alchemists". There is magic in these ten tracks, most obvious in the translucent grandeur of “Rain… (On Another Planet)”, yet for all Kilminster’s impressive technique, of which he demonstrates many facets here, it’s a showcase of his skills not so much as player, rather as a composer. Adorned with a string quartet, the piano-driven “Angel” and “Brightest Star”, rising from its folk origin and lighted with Anne-Marie Helder’s vocalise, provide a revealing glimpse into Dave’s talent’s scope, and he’s also a competent singer, able to bend the riffs of “Big Blue” into a catchy pop chorus and cut the rug to the rock ‘n’ roll of “Liar, Liar”. Still, the multi-layered twang of opener “Silent Scream” scorches one’s psyche more than funk underneath the voice to draw mellifluous anguish from the contrast and thrust it fiercely into “Static”, where bassist Phil Williams and drummer Pete Riley add grit to the rage. On the other end of emotional spectrum flutters acoustically laced fusion of “Chance”, while ballad “Just Crazy” possesses an alternative edge topped with a harmonically-architected solo, and “Harkness” ties all the strains into a tight but loose stylistic shaft. With the reward of repeated listening, “Scarlet” takes some time to get into, but it’s the time spent bloody well and worth waiting for. The stars knew that all along. ****3/4 |
BEGGARS OPERA –
|
A neat, if incomplete, round-up of premiere Glasgow proggers output for a swirl label.
The upper reaches of the UK aren’t so well known for their art rock achievements: perhaps, that’s why this band have been lost in the Highlands mist for many years, with only collectors reaching out for a hefty sum. Available on CD now, each of the group’s albums could have given other prog rockers a run for their clever money, if only OPERA went for a more extravagant and less serious approach. But such was their classical bent that the ensemble sounded too European, save for a stray cover like the baroque “MacArthur Park” from 1972’s “Pathfinder”, their third LP and one of three represented here in their entirety alongside the partial “Get Your Dog Off Me!”. But if these two see the group follow the guitar lead of Ricky Gardiner, who would supply Iggy Pop with a “Passenger” riff later on, anticipated on the “Pathfinder” title track, and who flies the orchestral “Time Machine” to open 1971’s “Waters Of Change”, the OPERA’s first records ride Alan Park’s organ. On 1970’s “Act One”, he suffuses the 12-minute “Raymond’s Road” with an array of symphonic quotes – Bach, Rossini, Grieg – and sets Franz Von Suppe’s most famous pieces in the heart of “Light Cavalry” and “Poet And Peasant”, where the six-string and keyboards engage in a unison dance. And while Martin Griffiths’ dramatic voice lacks a rock edge, he effortlessly glides over “I’ve No Idea” and “Passacaglia” before it turns into another contagious wigout. Improvisations notwithstanding, there’s no playing for the sake of it, though, and heavy single “Sarabande” accumulates it all atomically. As “The Fox” turns unexpectedly to spicy Spanish lore and a riveting “Madame Doubtfire” shoots into chamber theater, much more organic are Scottish motifs of “From Shark To Haggis” that runs from predatory tiptoe to swing and from drone to dance. And whereas “Turn Your Money Green” rocks in style, on the other side of the spectrum lies a handclaps-helped bombast of “Festival”, to which Virginia Scott’s celestial Mellotron and flute add a watercolor, and tender, ivories-led and funk-sprinkled cover of “Classical Gas”, and a light vaudeville of “Hobo”, while “Silver Peacock” unfurls a more sensitive pompousness before the listener and “The Witch” introduces infectious harmonies to the picture. A tableau to adore, “Nimbus” corrals the OPERA’s finest moments, although there are more vistas up their valley winding into now. ***** |
WISHBONE ASH –
|
Doing the Phoenix one more time, the twin-barrel engine gets Americanized but cuts no slack.
A by-product of HD video equipment testing, this album from the veteran band couldn’t be more different from its predecessors. Not only the reunion of the quartet’s classic line-up had run its course but also Andy Powell‘s new recruits were all from the U.S., that didn’t change the already slim and sleek sound much, the same going for the set’s mix of classics and newer pieces. But such a melange makes for a seamless flow of delights, which in spirit the ensemble’s 25 anniversary, includes a medley of their early numbers, impressively compressing epics “The Pilgrim” and “Phoenix”, welcomes back the heaviness of “Runaway” and climaxes with a rarely played vocal extravaganza “Vas Dis”. The real pleasure, though, arises when the tradition gets renovated, like in opener “The King Will Come”, where the famous riff is being sculpted from a reggae scratch that Roger Filgate smoothes with string passes, while the group’s patented harmonies add texture to “Strange Affair”, streamlined but slowly, on the double guitar wave, revealing its bluesy provenance, as does the lean, slide-sprinkled “In The Skin”. In these surroundings, “Blowin’ Free” sounds very modern, anchored by Tony Kishman’s mighty low-end whose voice covers “Sometime World” with a wistful patina and whose bass flows to the surface in the infectious swing of “Keeper Of the Light” as Mike Sturgis’ drums widen their dynamics. A year later this interesting combination would inform the band’s next album, “Illuminations”, and then the cards would shuffle one more, leaving “Live In Geneva” a precious documents of ASH’s transitional period. ****1/2 |
HAWKWIND –
|
Half-life and a new consolidation of the force, the cosmic overlords get back in action.
Back in the ’70s, HAWKWIND were very well endowed in the femme department, yet the idea of having a chanteuse, instead of a dancer like Stacia, at the front might seem quite alien to the band’s fans. Yet Bridget Wishart brought a new atmosphere to the group’s sonic attack, and the first to witness it were those who came to their 1989’s shows whence this album, recorded before "Space Bandits" but released after it, come from. Mostly live, with much of the studio trickery and Simon House’s scorching violin applied, it masks several old chestnuts, the anthem “Time We Left (This World Today)” going back to 1972, under the new guise that provides a context for a fresh start, which is “Back In The Box”. All motorik groove, breathy voice and acid burn in the nicely balanced tension and release controlled by Alan Davey’s bass: the same template lends itself also to “Treadmill” where Dave Brock’s riffage sharpens its edge as the catchy tune gets in the focus to throw an arc to a shiny new cut of “Damnation Alley”, now interpolating a reggae dance, a future feature, under the “The Camera That Could Lie” moniker, of the ensemble’s 1993s opus. Past overlapping with things to come, the “Acid Test” rave by keyboardist Harvey Bainbridge and “Heads” from “The Xenon Codex” feel as universally ancient as the synthesizer-wrapped vocal harmonies “Assault And Battery” and blissfully spaced-out “The Golden Void”, here renamed, accordingly, “Lives Of Great Men” and “Void Of Golden Light”, for contractual reasons, which only adds a novelty layer to these crowd-pleasers. More of the fans favorites are on the other disc of this lysergic package, a concert recordings from the same era known as “California Brainstorm” that soaks “Back In The Box” in a live swamp but, save for the titular classic with a dub appendage and “Assassins Of Allah”, thrives on such rarities as “Reefer Madness” and “Night Of The Hawks”. While the first disc is expanded with a previously unreleased progressive ska gem “The Damage Of Life” and studio linkup of “Treadmill / Time We Left”, the live cache on the second one reveals recent additions to the set including the sleek “Images” and hypnotic “Out Of The Shadows” and allows Brock to shine the brightest in “Eons (Snake Dance)”. Marking up a transient, yet inspiring, era in the HAWKWIND saga, this is a definitive document. ****1/3 |
IAN MATTHEWS –
|
Former Fairporter’s first full-fledged flight – free within a fellow flock.
For all his folksy path, Ian Matthews’ stance on the English roots scene has always been a bit strange thanks to his American slant. Poised between Appalachian austerity and singer-songwriter seriousness but with a jolly streak, by 1971 Ian crystallized the vision he adjusted on “Matthews’ Southern Comfort”, effectively his solo debut, and on a couple LPs by the band of the same name, and decided to strike in his own right again. With acoustic guitarist Andy Roberts as a main foil, Matthews called on a bunch of his friends and came up with this shimmering masterpiece. This dozen of soft songs speaks volumes of Ian. Matthews seamlessly adds three covers, including Richard Farina’s “Morgan The Pirate” and old FAIRPORTS fave “Reno, Nevada” that get a tremulous kick from, respectively, Tim Renwick and Richard Thompson, to self-written pieces which BUFFALO SPRINGFIELD would be proud of. Yet slowly but surely the glib mellifluousness set by “Desert Inn” turns deep, and “Never Ending”, where Sandy Denny’s harmonium and vocal harmony purr under Keith Tippet’s dewy piano, unfurls into a twilit hymn to life in the way that the closing title plea, a soulful duet with Sandy, does. There’s magnificence revealed once instrumental take on “Hinge”, wrapped in the Del Newman-arranged strings, turns into a spiritual a cappella comedown, and “Southern Wind” looks out to endless vistas with engaging joie de vivre in its romantic swing. And there’s a magic lantern light in the likes of “Little Known” pulsing to the beat of Pat Donaldson and Gerry Conway’s taut unit. Deceptively simple, this album is simply a grower. ****1/2 |
THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH –
|
An ever-expansive heat wave of progressive soul hits the shores of Blighty.
Associated mainly with American acts such as BLOOD SWEAT & TEARS and CHICAGO, much more intrepid brace of brass-brandishing bands came from the UK, and this septet were among the genre’s pioneers in the Old World. Led by Watt-Roy’s brothers, guitarist Garth and bassist Norman, with stentorian voice of Colin Horton-Jennings’ at the front, the band’s debut comes full of vigor yet breaks in two in terms of style, artful and rocking, divided by the old-time waltz “Day Of The Lady”, a beautiful Victorian piece of delicate strum and haunting harmonies. That ultimately helps it to gain momentum because, for all the bombast of “Skylight Man”, here’s an initial reserve which limits the album’s outline. As it is, opener “Sunflower Morning” flows on slow slabs of Mike Deacon’s Hammond to gradually warm up as horns and sax kick in amidst a searing six-string solo and then carry and propel the jazzy buzz of “Angelina” with its Mariachi-kissed middle section and soaring refrain. But resolution descends once “Real Cool World” unleashes the theatrical energy that houses an arresting chorus, and “I Fought For Love” goes into an unhurried hard rock overdrive, even though vocal melody takes in a shade of pale alongside organ’s march. The pinnacle of all strands is a 14-minute title composition, a prog-shaped showcase of the ensemble’s instrumental might bolstered by Ron Prudence’s battery work and, in its symphonic scope, a worthy rival to URIAH HEEP‘s “Salisbury” and DEEP PURPLE’s “April”. Alternately soft and spiky, “Again And Again” may smooth the grandiose aftertaste but, in the end, only adds shine to the album’s timeless uplift. ****3/4 |
CLARK-HUTCHINSON –
|
Astounding classic of stoner rock – stoned out but of high caliber.
The second reissue of this little band’s stunning start in two years squares it into a different context than the first one did, as it throws a bridge to Andy Clark and Mick Hutchinson’s original intent. As it was, they recorded an LP-worth brace of songs six months before their official debut was laid down, and those make bonus tracks here as a missing link between “A = MH2” and the duo’s stint with SAM GOPALS DREAM which saw them play at “The 14 Hour Technicolor Dream”. Yet it’s also there whence “Improvisation On A Modal Scale” comes: tabla-driven and possessed by Hutchinson’s powerful riffs that are smoothed with Clark’s reeds, the long instrumental piece, together with a six-string web of “Improvisation On An Indian Scale”, entrances and takes tentatively orchestral proportions. So much for the permanently – according to the informative liner notes by their producer Peter Shertser – spaced-out players. There’s a lot of discipline on display, be it in Andy’s romantic piano on the choir-expanded “Impromptu in E Minor” or Mick’s his amazing baroque-cum-flamenco technique in “Acapulco Gold” that are more obvious but, perhaps, less essential for the overall picture than the latter’s sitar-like lace or the former’s sensitive licks throughout. It’s closer to Satie than Satan that haunts the organ-oiled jazzy heart of “Textures in 3/4 and the tempered boogie of “Put You Down”, one of these eight early cuts which feature soft, if cocky, vocals over perky grooves. They’re quite different from what was to come soon, but “Crow Jane” flies exactly there on its psycho-blues wings, and “Someone’s Been At My Woman” spices John Lee Hooker’s boom with Freddie King’s twang. Not a sign of future greatness, yet a nice perspective. Atomic! ***** |
TIR NA NOG –
|
Electric overturn over, the Irishmen play out the first act of their saga.
It was a losing game for these two Dubliners. Having followed their debut with less impressive "A Tear And A Smile", the band lost a little momentum, and for their third LP in three years made a logical – after sharing the stage with the likes of ELP and PROCOL HARUM – step of sweeping the folk acoustics under the rug. The change is clearly pronounced in the opener, the glam take on Nick Drake’s “Free Ride”, and in Sonny Condell and Leo O’Kelly’s vocal blend, rarely heard before, so “Strong In The Sun”, both album and a song, fare true to their title. With PROCOL’s Matthew Fisher in the producer’s chair, Geoff Emerick engineering and backed by such pros as bassist Brian Odgers, it became the duo’s last studio album but there’s a sparkle in the final salvo. It may sound psychedelically awkward, like in the rather aggressive “Cinema”, yet a sitar-stained tension keeps “Love Lost” on its toes. And if “Teesside” drifts delicately, though anxiously, in the traditional ballad way, as does Arcadian, woodwind and whistle, “The Wind Was High”, Fisher’s Hammond and heavy drums make “Whitestone Bridge” an imposing Gothic edifice. Elsewhere, “Most Magical” combines approaches old and new, its chorus memorable enough to render the piece a hit. Sadly, it wasn’t to be, and epic B-side “The Mountain And I”, a bonus here, didn’t catch much attention as well. As a result, TIR NA NOG ceased to exist as a duo until 1985; after that, a string of live recordings has been out, while the band’s classical catalogue remains an untouchable treasure. **** |
HAPPY THE MAN –
|
The title tells it all but hides the artistry behind the artisan approach.
America’s not the best for prog rock to dwell: just ask PAVLOV’S DOG discography. Like that band, HTM fizzled out with their third album ready to go and the second one a pinnacle of their career. Perhaps, less diverse and more polished than its predecessor, “Crafty Hands” also panders less to the label demands, as there’s only one song per se, the dramatic, almost theatrical “Wind Up Doll Day Wind”, constantly growing in tempo and tension, so the title of nervous, handclaps-helped “I Forgot To Push It” can be a nice explanation for the reciprocating lack of support and renewing the group’s contract. It was both a blessing and a curse. As a result, the quintet didn’t become irrelevant in the prog-lambasting era, yet they could have turned into a sleek new wave unit, as suggested by succinct, if taut, opener “Service With A Smile”, which new drummer Ron Riddle co-wrote with Greg Hawkes during his short stint in the would-be THE CARS, or even embrace new age all the symptoms of which fill “Morning Sun”. The same folksy drift that Stanley Whitaker’s guitars weave into orchestral scope Kit Watkins and Frank Wyatt’s keyboard create is even more pronounced in “Open Book”, while the fusion rays of “Steaming Pipes” and “Ibby It Is” flow into an abstract, mood-moving pleasuredome. But “The Moon, I Sing (Nossuri)” hits the romantic zenith of the album to end it bitter-sweetly. There’s uncertainty in the progress so, quite possibly, HTM did the right thing when they stopped at this point of no return. **** |
Top
