I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Deep Purple In Rock, 1970

Probably going to raise a few hairs with this one, but here goes. In Rock is clearly considered a seminal hard rock/metal album, and understandably so. It’s dirty, heavy, a bit groundbreaking, has a couple of killer tunes and some of the best straight musicians out there on it. Unfortunately, being heavy and well-played doesn’t necessarily make for a consistently stunning album (coincidentally, the progressive leanings aren’t jump-out obvious here, sure, they’re there, but it’s a clear virtuosic hard rock album first and foremost). First off, let me say that the opener Speed King is 42,633 types of awesome, all the songs are listenable, solid, and have some pretty good moments (as well as the odd killer riff), but none of the others is really an especial highlight for me. Clearly a must-have if you’re a hard-rock person or simply love a plain instrumental/heaviness showcase for what it is, even if you aren’t, the historical import of In Rock probably makes it a must, however, from a personal point of view, nothing more or less than a consistently pretty good album with one blowaway song and a couple of other very impressive ones (Flight Of The Rat, Hard Lovin’ Man).

As I said, Speed King is simply leagues ahead of the rest of this disc, it’s leagues ahead of just about any other hard rock I’ve heard... the keening, forceful, hurtling solo from Blackmore, the reverent organ, and then the all-out ear-blasting take on rock’n’roll, with thunderous but tight drumming and Gillan belting out with all possible verve the mixture of dirty blues and mock-Presley lyrics adds up to one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, hammering through the speakers right into the gut. A cool organ/guitar duet fills up an instrumental break while Glover’s bass puts out some more churning lines, before the song slides off into its anarchic conclusion. The energy, the riffs, the soloing and the feel are all fantastic, and an absolutely killer sound from the production adds to it. Easily the best thing on the album, in my view, and worth the price of the whole thing.

Bloodsucker is remarkable mostly for Gillan’s screaming ‘Oh nonono!’, but, to be fair, the riff is pretty memorable and well constructed, even if it wallows a bit, and the whole vocal performance is quite cleverly done. The obligatory instrumental break, in spite of some cool Blackmore soloing and a neat flourish from Lord is so disjointed it virtually loses my interest, and the only change for the return of the verse seems to be an annoying vocal effect. Not bad, but hardly a standout.

The iconic Child In Time, while not as impressive to me as to most others, it seems, does deserve its status in a way. Delicate, but gradually building in power, a great, defined organ tone from Lord, and a much more low-key and accessible vocal from Gillan, perhaps showing off a bit more of his range and contribution to the band, it’s an understandable classic and a good song. Really, though, I think the first few minutes are merely nice developments of one melody, and only after that do we come onto the real gold of the harder-rocking mid-section, complete with a slightly meandering, but nonetheless great fun, solo from Blackmore. A return of the vocals, with an ever-excellent rhythm section, marks a considerably more moving and powerful revival of that melody with a newfound sense of direction in the rhythm section and Lord’s more chaotic organ-work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good song, but not, for me, the classic which it’s often made out to be.

Flight Of The Rat is another pure rocker, with a hell of a kicking riff, a good vocal, more solid drumming and extremely neat funk-tinged solos from Blackmore and Paice stuck into the mix. The energy is back, and only an overly noodlesome Lord solo brings the song down a bit for me. Approaching the opening in terms of general coolness.

Into The Fire... well, Bloodsucker wallowed only a little, Into The Fire takes it to a whole new level of extended, awkward, shuffling riff with an obvious effort at both seriousness and heaviness, which comes off instead as laboured and plain daft. Basically unimpressive, not even really redeemed by a Blackmore solo, and for once Gillan comes across as a liability rather than an asset.

Living Wreck opens with a cool solo drum part, before a Hammond swipe brings it forwards, and though a particularly cool bass part comes through the mix, the opening and the swipes are definitely the song’s most memorable bits. The riffs are heavy and clear, though one is clearly better than the other, I have mixed feelings about the vocals, the more rhythmic use of the drums is great, and the lyrics don’t do much for me. One of Lord’s better moments, and overall a good thing.

Hard Lovin’ Man begins with kicking riffs and some ferocious organ dissonants, before Gillan kicks in with a slightly watery but nonetheless energetic performance, and it continues as a sort of showcase piece in its own way, with more great work from Paice, a grinding, albeit unconvincing, organ from Lord, a classy and collected solo from Blackmore, and some of the album’s arguably most progressive moments (mainly messing around with sound effects and production, nothing Hendrix hadn’t done earlier), before heading off to a noisy conclusion. Good stuff, by and large.

Black Night opens with a surprisingly calm riff, before Jon Lord’s hazy organ latches on and Ian Gillan throws in his fairly fun set of vocals. It’s essentially a slightly volumed-up pop song, with a very neat drum part from Paice and a small, but neat organ solo as well as the immense ability of Blackmore wailing off without all too much direction. Memorable and fun, but not an outstanding number. The rest of the bonus material is either studio chatter or forgettable/missable. I’d guess it’s worth getting the 25^th Anniversary remaster for anyone more enthralled with the band than me, though... it has a lot of bonus goodies.

In short, could do with more direction (especially the solos... for a band so strong, the solos manage surprisingly little other than showing the skill of the players), a bit more balance and a bit more real atmosphere rather than plain musicality and heaviness (a criticism I’ve levelled at just about every hard rock album I’ve heard, not just this one). Undeniably very good most of the time, but not my favourite style of music, and perhaps not essential for fans of progressive rock who aren’t so interested in a general understanding of classic rock. A conservative three stars from me on a personal level, but four for historical importance/doing what it sets out to do.

Rating: Three Stars subjectively, perhaps four if we’re trying objectivity.

Favourite Track: Speed King

Three Of A Perfect Pair, 1984

(but a good two stars... fans only in the sense that you really need to be on the band's wavelength to enjoy it, and that you couldn't be criticised for not being on the band's wavelength)

My big criticism’s of 80s Crimson’s last studio effort are two-fold. One: it sounds much better live. Two: it sounds much worse in the studio. The first side consists of, largely, decent pop songs plus a calmer ambient number, the second of three weird instrumentals and an absolutely thrilling Belew freakout. Everyone involved, of course, plays excellently, the production is strong. The songs, however, really come out of their shell live, and this studio thing ends up rather as a thing of interest than of beauty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good, sometimes enjoyable music, but its artistic pull is greater than its emotional one.

Three of a Perfect Pair, the opener, showcases some of the pop capabilities of 80s Crimson: they make an obtuse song catchy. The guitar loops are eclectic as anything, Fripp’s solo sounds like a UFO’s malfunction, Levin comes up with a crisp, cold bassline, and Bruford’s drumming is irritatingly difficult to follow in its own way. And yet it’s a very sympathetic, winning and catchy song. The lyrics are fairly good, following in the ‘awkward in theory: but we’ll make it work’ principle of 80s Crimson. Levin’s devastating groove is a highlight, the switches between verse and chorus are clear, well-prepared and effective, and the vocals work just right. Excellent.

Model Man is going after the same ideal, I suspect, but it doesn’t succeed as well on either the weird or the catchy bit. A deliberately quirky and extremely subtle guitar part underlines the chorus bit, Levin provides some more memorable bass/stick/whatever parts, Belew’s voice is still great, but he doesn’t use it as effectively, and the lyrics aren’t as individual as some he pulls out. Finally, a note about Bruford’s performance on this one: it’s not dazzling in the conventional sense, in a way it can be seen as pretty bland and a one-trick-pony. However, the sheer feel and detail he manages to put into the crescendos at the start of the chorus bit is awe-inspiringly new, and show a control of sound which few progressive drummers can really boast.

I’m afraid I can no longer listen to the studio take of Sleepless. I just can’t. Not because it’s bad, but simply because it is a ghastly, insipid shadow of the roaring dance/industrial number on Absent Lovers: Live In Montreal. The studio version’s big highlights are the complex rhythm parts being played a bit more clearly, and the bing-abingbing guitars. Belew’s voice is back in force, the lyrics are a bit light, but they fit the song well enough. Again, Bruford is working with sound more than material, which suits some better than others. Anyway, a great song, but the version on Live In Montreal is simply leagues ahead in terms of energy, force and compactness. Also, the band’s only ‘hit’, for some reason.

Man With An Open Heart is another committed pop song, albeit with Crimson trademarks throughout, including some very complete guitar phrases, some of the Tama electronic drums coming out to good effect, and a memorable and someone sarcastic bass part. The vocals are maybe less wowing than they have been elsewhere, and the song ends up as more of a kitsch piece than a stunner.

Nuyages (What Which Passes, Passes Like Clouds) is an atmospheric piece with blanketing synthesised or guitar-synth (or something) sounds and a gloopy, complex rhythm part filling out the expanses of sky. The highlight, though, is the superb Spanish-sounding guitars, later shifted to a full, mournful electric. A clear and interesting experimental and emotive piece, maybe this incarnation doesn’t always have the force that Wetton/Fripp/Bruford/Cross carried, but they’re still producing good, interesting music.

Industry is a similar creature. Again, the synth-things are ubiquitous and blanketing. On the other hand, there’s a chilling, militaristic bass part from Levin, vicious energy in the guitar part, and some muted breakaways by Bruford, as well as a more incisively vicious guitar solo. This is sort of the dark counterpart to Nuyages, and a fairly neat opening to the experimental side of the album.

It transitions smoothly to the insane, enticing guitar-lines of Dig Me. Belew’s distorted, metallic vocal mockingly rattles off the tale of an abandoned guitar, and the chaotic control of Bruford and Belew gives a uniquely gripping effect. The plain, almost folk-tinged, style of the chorus contrasts interestingly with the more unusual material, and the immense skill of all the players involved comes out here if you listen carefully. A gripping, out-there monster of a track. Vital listening for Crimson fans

The potent No Warning is another of the more atmospheric numbers, I’m afraid. To its credit, it is very good, with a real soloistic attack from Bruford that he’s been restraining for most of the 80s Crimson line-up, as well as thumping bass and tense, moody guitars wailing away in the background. Dark and effective.

A twisted quote from Larks’ One opens Larks’ Three, which hints at the attack and verve that live 80s Crimson had, producing a full band beast in a way that you feel Belew/Bruford/Fripp/Levin generally tried to avoid. A particularly gritty guitar wails on at times, and the general effect is strong, though not overwhelming in the way that the first two parts were.

The bonus goodies aren’t stunning, a light Barber-Shop Quartet is hilarious, Industrial Zones A and B are forgettable and Sleepless is a great song, but clearly the band were so excited about their underground hit that they’ve put three mixes in here. The Dance Mix is the most interesting in its own way, but the version of Absent Lovers is basically the definitive one for me.

Listening to this one again, the thing that’s most impressed me is the roundedness of the players. The precise detail in their parts is truly impressive, even for a non-musician like me. Unfortunately, the songwriting here is rarely as strong as that of Discipline or even Beat, with most of the atmospheric pieces not registering in the brain at all after they’ve finished, and only two truly good pop numbers. A very interesting album to listen to, but Absent Lovers: Live At Montreal is the essential 80s Crimson purchase and this is, if you have that, little more than an occasional curiosity listen, something to be admired perhaps more than it is to be enjoyed. Two stars from me, but keep in mind that I definitely appreciate the album (and it’s a damn sight better than some I’ve thrown three stars at), I just wouldn’t even try to recommend it to someone who isn’t otherwise interested in 80s Crimson.

Rating: Two stars, I’m afraid, not poor, but definitely a fans’ selection rather than a general choice

Favourite Track: Dig Me

Something quintessentially English for you

The great albums all possess a charm of their own, and for Caravan’s excellent In The Land Of Grey And Pink, charm is definitely the word. Bright, light-hearted and whimsical, but nonetheless moving and often profound, In The Land Of Grey And Lousy Acronyms is great fun and pretty much obligatory listening. The musicians aren’t perhaps the most mind-bending of characters, but they can hold their own, create a coordinated piece effortlessly, and have, collectively, a distinct and individual sound coming from the light acoustic kitsch, bubbly organ tones and piano and a fun, curious rhythm section. Helped along by the winning voice of Richard Sinclair (and Pye Hastings on one track),Caravan produce a clear benchmark for the cheery side of early English prog.

Golf Girl brings the album off to a bouncy start with a memorable bass groove, neat little interludes, a bundle of fun packed in the lyrics and vocals and an absolutely gorgeous flute part from Jimmy Hastings. Dave Sinclair’s mellotron and organ buzzing, complete with morse-code-imitation is in a curiously non-committal style of his own... it comes off great here, though I tend to prefer more defined organ tones.

The seven or eight minute (Richard) Sinclair-written beauty, Winter Wine, follows this warmly. Its dreaming and reminiscent lyrics are as much a highlight as the sophisticated and memorable melodies. From a pretty acoustic-and-voice intro, through more dramatic, jaunty bass-and-organ-driven parts and its whole romantic dream feel, the emotion stays (and there is one really pretty piano melody there). A strong jam based around the fuzzed organ of Dave Sinclair, moving backing harmonies and a dreamy ending keep a firm grip on the emotions... a triumph.

The parody Love To Love You is simply hilarious, and wanders on smoothly in some quirky time signature, with a load of great fills from the consistently excellent Richard Coughlan, mock-serious verse interludes, another very nice flute part and Pye Hastings’ well-suited vocals and sharp, acerbic, but ultimately carefree lyrics. A personal favourite.

The title track is another pop song albeit with some odd delay in the rhythm or double-beat or something I can’t quite pinpoint. Richard Coughlan provides another particularly neat and individual-sounding drum performance, and Pye Hastings somewhat broadens/expands/fattens out/whatever the term is his light guitar parts to good effect. The stoner lyrics, careful, limited organ climaxes, pretty little piano interlude and truly wibble vocal deliveries all add character, and Richard Sinclair’s more prominent bass part is great.

The lengthy Nine Feet Underground, at its best, is brilliant and spine-tingling, at its worst... it’s perhaps the least focussed thing on the album, and the prominence of Dave Sinclair’s more light organ as the obvious lead, though neatly complimented by sax parts and a superb rhythm section, does get on the nerves during the opening bits just a little, and it’s only when the jam descends into this very neat distorted guitar groove (you’ll know it when you hear it) that the atmosphere takes hold, and Richard Sinclair’s surreal (excellent, though) lyrics and great voice bring in the song’s mood and ideas... death and being underground, and from this point the song really doesn’t let up, with a number of unforgettable little jabbing rhythms as well as more focussed soloing. A few cold, menacing piano chords take us onto the most mystical, secretive and haunting section of the piece... which has, from the moment I heard it, brought this to mind

(Hesiod’s Theogony... Trans. Hugh Evelyn White, 1914, ll. 295-305) And in a hollow cave she bare another monster, irresistible, in no wise like either to mortal men or to the undying gods, even the goddess fierce Echidna who is half a nymph with glancing eyes and fair cheeks, and half again a huge snake, great and awful, with speckled skin, eating raw flesh beneath the secret parts of the holy earth. And there she has a cave deep down under a hollow rock far from the deathless gods and mortal men. There, then, did the gods appoint her a glorious house to dwell in: and she keeps guard in Arima beneath the earth, grim Echidna, a nymph who dies not nor grows old all her days.

Maybe not the immediate intent of the artists, but the music is strong enough to create such reactions and associations. The menace and chaos that comes out of this is melded together by simple piano chords from Dave Sinclair and in the Dissassociation section, featuring a lush Sinclair vocal, a tragic-hero vibe (can you feel it in the air? I wonder what it’s meant to be... it’s the thought that can despair, and it brings it all back to me) and some of the most tasteful playing by any of the bands in the 70s prog scene. The band leap out from this resigned, but powerful, soliloquy into a jumpy rock moment with soloing from Pye Hastings and Dave Sinclair occasionally returning to a more central riff... I sort of view this as the upbeat and somewhat manic message of the various souls buried underground... light-hearted, somewhat satirical, and ending with a bang.

The CD reissue includes a few extra goodies as well as a neat attempt to show some of the stages which went into a finished Caravan song – Winter Wine as an instrumental, Golf Girl with its original set of lyrics, and a couple of excellent songs, as well as a particularly poignant mix of Dissassociation/100% Proof bit of Nine Feet Underground... worth getting if you’re a Caravan fan... and nice even if you’re only casually interested in their music.

So, all in all, I’d love to give this a masterpiece rating, but there’s six odd minutes of jamming where not a lot happens at the start of Nine Feet Underground, and much as Dave Sinclair’s organ tone is interesting, it can annoy me if I’m not in the mood for it. So, we’re down to four, but with a high recommendation... great album for a bright Spring morning when you just want to enjoy a good life and good music.

Rating: Four stars

Favourite Track: eh, Love To Love You... I’m such a pop fan ;)