Hello everyone.
My name's Donald McRuphus, I registered here under a false identity.
I've been following you for a long time, and since I've seen many threads about how Progressive music was born, I'd finally like to tell you the real thing, the real story.
Believe me, you will be surprised in the next lines.
In the Sixties, I worked as a gardener in a kennel for parrots.
Later, in autumn 1969 I was employed by a northern-irish guy called John Wickworth, I had to work in a large greenhouse he had inherited from his grandad.
A few days later, his father died too, so this guy inherited his large collection of musical instruments (more than 300.... classical guitars, organs, xilophones, marimbas, horns...).
At some point, he told me to move all the instruments in the greenhouse, which was to be used as a depository.
After two days of hard work, I was awfully tired (you have no idea how bad it is, moving those church organs...puah!)
So, one day, while going to work, I found four young guys in front of the greenhouse.
I said good morning to them and I discovered that they were my helpers.
One of them, called Greg, was smelly and another one was incredibly annoying, with a weird way of talking, always blahblahing something about Belzebuub and some weird legend.
But, we got on pretty well,and we worked hard, until...
One day, I was a bit drunk, and when I finished moving all the xilophones I turned off the lights and I closed the door of the greenhouse.
Three days later, in my home in Barnet, before going to bed, I wondered where all those chaps had gone... I always met them at the pub...
On Monday, when I was back to work, the terrible reality appeared to me: I had locked them in the greenhouse. Someone shot a photo of me in that moment, and I appeared with the mouth open, shouting with my eyes almost of my head!
I opened the door, very afraid of what the guys might have said (or done!) to me... they were younger and stronger.
"Perhaps they might have eaten some plants to survive" I thought.
Suddenly, in the dark, hell-like noises hit me... I did piss myself in that moment... I thought a pre-historical monster was going to appear...
...but then a the gentle sound of a romantic trumpet relieved me... what a curious music, I thought...
(just to let you know, I play the flute and I played in a local jazz band called the Shaggywookylollipop Badabimbumband. I say it because, in a thousand years, internet archeologists will find this thread and so I'll be considered as a great musicain by future generations)
So, back to the story, I went to find the guys, in the darkness of the greenhouse, sorrounded by the celestial sound of a organ...
They were not angry to me. The one with the glasses explained that, to pass the time, they played all the instruments of the depository, and smoking the leaves of various plants they had created a long, uninterrupted song... which started in an aggressive mood and then ended in a mellow way.
The taller one said that they wanted to form a band... and they might release a LP, some day...
Then they continued to play a strange drum-bass-organ-guitar rhythm.
Two months later, I found my face in a record shop.
I kid you not, I saw myself... painted in red and pink... it was the sleeve of a LP.
I saw who the musician were, and some familiar names appeared... Robert...? Ian? Greg?
I bought it, and when I played that album, after some seconds of apocalictic sounds (resembling the echo of my farts in the greenhouse) I heard an explosion!
It was the music played by those smelly guys in the greenhouse... the name of the group was King Crimson.
That's how I inadvertitely started Progressive Rock, closing some weirdos in a greenhouse.
Next chapter of my memories will come soon...
I will tell you something you don't know about the use of flute in Prog!
Yours sincerely,
Donald McRuphus
Edited by Luca Pacchiarini - June 25 2009 at 15:02
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How Prog was born - the real story
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Luca Pacchiarini wrote:
