I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Review 24 (sometimes called review 22, for no apparent reason), Islands, King Crimson, 1971

The word for this album is indeed mostly 'relaxed', as many other reviewers have noted with an air of negativity. However, relaxed is not a bad thing. All of the instruments flow in and out of the superb compositions very neatly, creating unusual, edgy and hazy atmospheres and textures, and being generally bizarre and genuinely progressive throughout without actually trying too hard. Another superb effort from Fripp and Crimson, and joint second in my Crimson list. It should be noted that this is as much Mel Collins' album as Fripp's, given how much and how consistently both of them shine throughout.

After another extreme line-up turnover, King Crimson has morphed again. The excellent Andy McCulloch is replaced on drums by the more exotic Ian Wallace (who seems to me a precursor to the inclusion of the bizarre Jamie Muir for Larks' Tongues In Aspic), Gordon Haskell (bass, vocals) is replaced by Boz, whose vocals are slightly more aesthetic and suit the more relaxed atmosphere of the album. While not a great bassist (understandably, given the circumstances), he does hold the fort. The various jazz-men again contribute, and Robert Fripp and Mel Collins (who has certainly improved) remain from the previous line-up. Pete Sinfield throws in strong lyrics throughout, linked together by a vague concept.

Biting strings give way to the opening chaotic flute solos, twisting inter-weaving instruments and swirling Tippet piano. Boz comes in with a haunting, yet undemanding, vocal. A thick bass part and tingling percussion lead into the uplifting 'chorus' section, which is later repeated with some gentle acoustic Fripp additions and an oriental feel, and then into a fairly chaotic section where just about everyone is contributing to the mix. Echoey vocals (including soprano from Paulina Lucas) and a mixture of flute, saxes, Ian Wallace tinglings and oboes sustain the song over a stable, gentle bass part. These various instruments create an ethereal, exotic atmosphere with a very interesting decadent edge, assisted by Pete Sinfield's excellent lyrics. The especial standouts on this track are Ian Wallace with his various percussion ideas and Keith Tippet's piano. A perfect introduction to the album: progressive, yet unimposing, and relaxed, yet both interesting and moving.

Tapping percussion and bass introduce The Sailor's Tale, while a strained sax and strings add an unusual, almost awkward, feel to the beat. You need to listen quite hard to hear the opening of the superb Fripp-Collins duet of doom, with sax and guitar exchanging ideas and textures. In the background, a mellotron slowly throbs while the rhythm section provides another riff and Fripp continues in a chaotic cascade of sounds which I've yet to hear from another guitar, with occasional creaking sounds on the 'tron leading to a powerful Mellotron burst and twisted ideas and the rhythm section getting a little more leeway (that Ian Wallace makes good use of). Fripp ascends into the picture again with another strong solo before the mellotron humming brings the song to its conclusion. Again, something that I initially didn't quite get, but I've grown to love it, and I'm certain that this is essential for any Crimson fan.

The Letters, a rather melodramatic lyrics-driven song, showcases Boz' vocals and developing Fripp gentle acoustics, before launching off dramatically into punchy sax-driven chaos with frantic guitar from Fripp, and a variety of vicious and heavily distorted percussion. After this has moved through chaos and a gentle aftermath, the biting second part with distorted vocals, interesting bass and percussion and weird background flute soloing begins. Superb song.

Ladies Of The Road begins with an individual acoustic and vocals, before thudding drums and bass slide in with a monstrous sax solo. Fripp's acoustics, along with the rest of the musicians, continues to develop throughout the song, emphasised a little by the moments of VCS-3. The harmonies are perfect, and Boz's vocals and lyrics are amusing, mild sexism aside. The concluding instrumental section includes a bit of high electric guitar, a superb sax duet, a walking, effective rhythm section. Nothing out of place, another great song.

The gentle, pastoral Song Of The Gulls is delightful and emotional, with oboe and strings fusing together into a cheerful classical composition with an astral and a rather separated feel. I don't know enough classical music of this kind to really comment with anything except 'I love it'.

Islands begins with Tippet's soft piano supporting a calming vocal and a gentle low flute part, and is very much carried by Tippet throughout, since he is responsible for most of the mood changes. Fripp (on both mellotron and guitar) occasionally turns up alongside Tippet. Mark Charig provides a wonderful cornet solo, while Robin Miller's oboe glides along with the vocals, sustaining the vaguely classical feel of the piece. Subtleties lurk everywhere within the gentle, uplifting piece until the gentle humming end (presumably 'Peter's Pedal Accordion'). I don't know why the end (waiting silently for a minute or two then cutting to the rehearsal room and random noise) doesn't annoy me, as it's the sort of thing that usually would, but I think it has the pleasant effect of bringing me back down to earth after that trip without grating too viciously or launching into another song.

If you love softer music, this album is essential. If you love music that has interesting genuine progressive features without trying too hard, this album is essential. If you love explosive moments, this album is essential. If you have a morbid fascination with unusual 'tron, guitar, percussion and sax parts, this album is essential. If you're a fan of King Crimson, this album is essential. If you want to see some of the proto-phase of Larks' Tongues In Aspic, this album is essential. I'm in all of those categories, and award Islands a fully-merited five-star rating. Not to be overlooked.

Rating: Five Stars

Favourite Track: Can't decide. I love every track on here. If pressed, Islands or Letters.

Review 23, War Child, Jethro Tull

An album with more merit than I perhaps originally gave it credit for, and plenty of high moments. However, there are some recurring problems. The band do not seem to be very good at ending the songs very well, the concept has clearly been mutilated quite a lot, and yet retained on some of the pieces, leaving the album with a somewhat half-baked feel, and also there are a lot of pretty generic song structures that could have been spiced up a little. Lastly, I'm not a big fan of the string arrangements that pervade the album. On the plus side, all the tracks have at least some merit, the lyrics are occasionally entertaining, and the band is usually doing something interesting, even if it doesn't quite work. The saxophones and accordions incorporated frequently sometimes pay off nicely and sometimes fall flat. Not a true disaster, but not the resounding success that it could have been made into.

Warchild begins with siren-howling, and bursts into centre stage with a surprisingly musical soundscape and a nostalgic 1930s-feeling sax part. The verses are amusing enough, with some highlights in John Evan's piano-playing, but the chorus simply sounds like it's trying too hard, with ineffectual, spineless sax and pop strings. There is a good sax solo at one point, but that's cut short for more chorus repeats.

Queen And Country is a pop song, basically, with a couple of additions on accordion and some vocal stops and strings. However, it's a good pop song. The chorus is catchy, the verses are fairly memorable, while the lyrics aren't very sophisticated, it's fun to sing along to. The strings fit very neatly, and Barriemore Barlowe manages to stand out with his percussion performance, which seems to place emphasis by sudden stops.

Ladies has a distinctly medieval feel, but the folky. For the opening part, the acoustics are fine, the basic vocals/lyrics are rather mindless and unexceptional, and the chorus part with its tame sax is just irritating. However, it springs off into a section with a rather cha-cha-cha feel that is a delight to hear every time, with a much better incorporated sax.

Back-Door Angels is the closest thing to a Tull classic song on this album, with heavy guitar, bass and organ parts, as well as the surreal, atmospheric lyrics and attacks on religion that characterise Ian Anderson's best lyrics. The small sax and flute additions are very conducive to the atmosphere, accompanied by a very interesting drum part. All the players somewhat stand-out and the acoustic-primed ending actually works pretty well, which is unusual for the album.

Sealion enters in a pretty standard way for a heavier Tull song, with kicking flute and electrics, and continues in the same vein. The unfortunate problem of this song is that it's simply not memorable, with the same basic riff repeated a lot, fairly undistinctive vocals and it fails to evoke any atmosphere or interest for me.

The humming at the start of skating away reminds me somewhat of that on Supertramp's 'easy does it' and provides a slightly neat atmospheric effect, even if it seems out of place in a collection of mostly unrelated songs. Skating Away begins with a pretty standard positive Tull fairly sophisticated acoustic piece, which is gradually added to with cheerful accordion and glockenspiel, and eventually thick chords from Martin Barre. It develops into something with a bass and flute part and a slightly Latin feel. For no apparent reason, it shifts very abruptly out with a keyboard part. Great song, terrible ending.

The album's hit song, Bungle In The Jungle, isn't really that bad. Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond provides a great bass line, which is accented by John Evan's piano. The verses are good, with strong additions from the Barre-Anderson duo, good, distinctive vocals and amusing, whimsical lyrics. The instrumental sections are excellent, with the strings being more effectively added than they are on the rest of the album. The choruses, even if the average progger will hate it, are varied upon enough for my liking. The fade, even if I don't love them, doesn't hurt it. A great pop song.

Only Solitaire is Ian Anderson's first brilliant riposte at the critics, mocking their attitudes with a delicious acoustic piece, harmonised vocals and classic lyrics. A short gem, but a gem nonetheless.

The Third Hoorah seems a little unneeded for me. Despite the quality organ and bass, it feels bland and repetitive, with the flute, accordion and electric additions seeming more like gimmicks to disguise the song's essential weakness than clever variations.

I don't particularly dislike the variation on Lick Your Fingers Clean. While the original was a hard-rocker, this is a slightly more unusual version, with admittedly rather ineffectual sax and accordion additions, even if everything else works pretty well. The biggest plus is that the vocals are slightly easier to hear and enjoy, and the 'When you slip on the greasy platform...' section sounds slightly more interesting. It's not exactly ruined the song, but it's not as consistently strong as the original.

Onto the bonus material, Warchild Waltz and Quartet are both is great, though the first is a classical waltz (surprise!) with a couple of themes from the album, and the second is a cross between a standard old American song, an organ solo showcase and random noise. John Evan provides some exceptional organ and bass pedals for our delectation, and I feel this track was stronger than many that made the cut. The Paradise Steakhouse isn't at the same level, I think, and it feels a little too sludgy and messy, despite some great moments from the piano, vocals and drums. The ending, however random, is hilarious. Sea Lion 2 is truly random. Just so random. I can't describe it. I really can't. Some twists on the earlier Sea Lion, but that's about all I can say.

Rainbow Blues is a great catchy song, with a very nicely incorporated string section, some good guitar and bass work, and a very warm feel. The drumming ain't bad, either. Glory Row feels like an unfulfilled song, with very weak choruses bringing down mediocre verses. The saxophone just feels sterile or even redundant, and the song's short highlight comes from the standard instrumentation of Tull. Saturation has a little of the sort of shiny Hammond playing that I love to pieces and is highlighted by a menacing bass throb from Jeffrey Hammond-Hammond and bizarre, haunting verses with shifts from whimsical to remotely serious to whimsical again. Martin Barre provides a great solo for the fade. I don't think it quite fits for the end of the album, and might have been better suited to a different position.

Overall, not a bad set of bonuses, even if they drag out the album longer than most of us would like.

War Child is an unusual album, and perhaps requires (despite the cheerful pop songs) a little time to get into properly. It's not a true classic, but it has enough gems to be worthwhile for anyone who doesn't mind decent pop songs or particularly loves Jethro Tull.

Rating: Three Stars

Favourite Track: Back Door Angels

Review 22, Stand Up, Jethro Tull, 1969

'I think about the bad old days... we used to know'

For someone who adores the classic 'prog' period of Tull, doesn't mind the 80s synths of Broadsword And The Beast, and hates Songs From The Wood with a vengeance, this album was a breath of fresh air. There are no pretentions at all, a light, slightly sarcastic feel and neatly merged blues and folk influences, and these all contribute to a great, fun album. Ian Anderson's vocals and lyrics aren't as good as they are later, but they usually suit the material and aren't terrible, and we get some good musicianship from all involved. A really enjoyable album, and an indication that pre-Aqualung Tull is not to be missed.

A New Day Yesterday begins with a pretty standard bluesy bass-and-drums riff, with some excellent additions over it from electrics, flute, violin (I think) and harmonica. Ian Anderson's vocals and lyrics, while not yet hitting their heights, fit it neatly. After some brief soloing, with the flute particularly standing out, a second variation of the main riff comes in with a slightly greater kick. Solid blues song.

Jeffrey Goes To Leicester Square is my least favourite song from the album. It features eclectic bongo-drumming from Clive Bunker and rather harmless glimpses of Hammond or vibes, plus whimsical bass. The vocals are weird, but not particularly distinctive, and I can barely make out the lyrics. Not bad, per se, but I feel that the band didn't quite achieve what they wanted to.

Bourée is a unique instrumental with superb flute soloing and flute duets over a mobile bass-dominated background. The drumming is superb, holding up a beat and occasionally bursting out a little. There's also an excellent bass solo after a couple of minutes. After an illusory ending, the song picks up again into a second part, with an equally upbeat feel and an avant-garde bit of flute noodling.

Back To The Family is another odd piece, with more weird, but excellent drumming. The verses and the slight developments within them work very well with Anderson's near-nonsensical lyrics and strained vocals. The lead into the fairly hard-rocking sections is superb, with Martin Barre and Ian Anderson (on flute) both suitably soloing and dueting while the rhythm section gently move around. I'm not generally the greatest fan of fades, though, so the ending to this one doesn't leave me satisfied.

Look Into The Sun is an excellent, soft acoustic song with some small soloing from Martin Barre's electrics. Ian Anderson provides an emotive vocal, which, while unexceptional, does the job well. Martin Barre is the standout here, combining several styles of mini-soloing to good effect.

Nothing Is Easy begins with a bluesy jam and bursts of cheerful vocals, as well as lots of soloing from all involved. The song is particularly outstanding for the rhythm section, as Clive Bunker lays down an unexpectedly powerful drum part and both he and Glen Cornick provide very strong solos as well as highlighting Anderson and Barre's various parts. The climactic blues crescendo ending is always fun. Another very strong song.

Fat Man is, I think, a very successful bizarre piece, with enjoyable mandolin and bouzouki, accompied by weird drumming, including a classy solo. The humorous lyrics and sarcastic vocals work brilliantly with the unusual choices of instrumentation. Great song.

We Used To Know is my pick for Stand Up, with somewhat folky, developing acoustic verses and vocals well above Anderson's standard on most of this album combined with superb blues-rock guitar solos (including one of my all-time favourites), and undemanding, yet important, drumming from Bunker. The fade manages not to spoil it.

Reasons For Waiting rather focuses attention on the string arrangements, since the acoustics, flutes and vocals (with backing organs), while all perfectly nice, don't really stand out much. The string additions work well here and seem to be there for a reason. Pretty typical of the album: diverse, unusual songs.

For A Thousand Mothers is an attack on parents discouraging a musical career, naturally accompanied by excellent music. Most of the song is an ascending blues, though at one point Martin Barre even provides an almost Spanish-feeling solo at one point, as well as the ascending blues-rock styles that I love to pieces. The concluding, carnival-like flute riff, accompanied by some reminders of the main theme, is delightful. Perhaps the problem with this one is that a lot is going on at one time and it feels very dense and claustrophobic. Some bands are able to do a hell of a lot of high-tempo things at once, but I think Tull didn't pull that off too well here.

Onto the bonus material, all of which is pretty excellent, so will get mini-reviews.

Living In The Past has this unusual feel of an eclectic hit, with its odd timing emphasised by a rather prominent bass and vocals dancing along with it. Definitely quite acceptable, despite being odd. I like it. Driving Song is another blues with some highlights in the rhythm section, even if the flute could probably merge better. Sweet Dream is a great song with classy dramatic string arrangements and an unplaceable flamenco feel. Though there might be a few more repeats of the chorus than I'd like, the quality of the arrangement more than makes up for it. 17 is the only one of the bonus tracks which I think doesn't really hold up to the album proper, with it's distorted or multiple vocals annoying me enough that I try to ignore them and just listen to the classy percussion and guitars. Basically, I'd have preferred this song without such thick vocals.

Overall, the album, bonus material included, is extremely strong, with a couple of highlights and a couple of small lowlights. Even if Tull haven't moved onto their more widely regarded golden age of Aqualung/Thick As A Brick, they have succeeded in producing a classy, individual and quirky album that should have something for everyone. Two caveats: if you really hate either blues or weaker vocals, this might not be for you, and I naturally recommend that anyone new to Tull should go for the more impressive Aqualung/Thick straight away.

Rating: Four Stars

Favourite Track: We Used To Know, with a nod to Bourée

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Review 22, Lizard, King Crimson, 1970

Lizard is really where King Crimson move mercilessly towards their classic formula of not having a formula. The songs on it bear almost no resemblance to earlier Crimson songs, and the band replaces many of its rock elements with jazz and, to a lesser extent, classical, ideas, which would be explored a little more on Islands. The new line-up produces a very interesting and powerful album, even if it's sometimes difficult to stomach, and Lizard fully merits five glittery stars. Sinfield's lyrics do work here, even if it took me a long time to get Lizard itself lyrically, and he moves through a lot of different styles with plenty of skill, though occasionally lacking the panache he possessed on Court and Wake. The album was really a grower for me, so I suggest giving it a little time to ferment before making a judgment.

The musicians have undergone a large transition of line-up, and, given how much Crimson albums are affected by the musicians involved, it's appropriate to examine it. Vocals (Jon Anderson's finest moment excluded) and bass are taken over by Gordon Haskell, who, whilst not a particularly good singer, suits the theatricality of the album, and handles the bass surprisingly well. Mike Giles has been replaced by the very capable Andy McCulloch. If there was one instrument on which the change could have been a massive mistake, it was the drums. Even a plain excellent drummer wouldn't do. McCulloch, however, was a very successful choice, I think. Keith Tippet takes a much more active role on piano and E-piano. Mel Collins really comes into his own a little more on saxes and flute. The biggest change, perhaps, are the studio contributions of Robin Miller on oboe and cor anglais, Mark Charig on cornet and Nick Evans on trombone. The diverse instrumentation is certainly something that marks the album's character, and it is merged with the previous Crimson line-up very well.

Cirkus, among a long list of classy Crimson openers, is among the best. Everything is utterly amazing: Keith Tippet's astral electric piano, the post-superb acoustic guitar work, the heavy jazzy mellotron (I think) riff, Andy McCulloch's curious, tapping percussion. A superb cornet solo. Gordon Haskell was made for this song, providing the appropriate delivery for Pete Sinfield's enchanting, biting abstract lyrics ('Elephants forgot, force-fed on stale chalk/Ate the floors of their cages'), and some superb crystalline bass. The gentle, spectral Entry Of The Chameleons works very neatly, preparing for some of the best interplay (acoustic guitar, piano and drums) that I have ever heard and a blaring jazz explosion and relaxation. Absolutely masterpiece material, with every musician more than standing out.

Indoor Games is one of the album's weirdest pieces, and I hated it on the first listen. Glad to say I've changed my mind on this. Pete Sinfield's lyrics are sarcastic, semi-nonsensical, and don't even seem to have a theme. The highlight is, again, the interplay and the way that the musicians come in and disappear without a seam. Fripp provides some very interesting strained electric guitar, and we get some amazing VCS3-Mellotron interplay on the middle section. The bass and drumming are seamless, and we get a cracking saxophone solo from Mel Collins to boot. Gordon Haskell's vocal and accompanying insane laughter is a grower, and Another masterpiece song, even if it took me a little while to get it.

The impact of satirising The Beatles' break-up is lost on me. Nonetheless, it sounds great, and Happy Family blares in very neatly at the end of Indoor Games, giving them a sort of one-song feel. Much more chaotic than the previous one, in its own way, with a distorted vocal from Haskell, a weird VCS3 (I think) riff that comes in every now and then, some flute and other soloing and a xylophone tapping on the conclusion. Very, very weird song.

Now we have the gorgeous Lady Of The Dancing Water. Perhaps the most beautiful ballad ever, with a combination of flute, trombone, acoustic guitar and piano that is genuinely able to reduce me to tears if I'm in the right mindframe. Pete Sinfield's lyrics could not be improved upon. Beautiful, beautiful song. Also an example of how to do a 'progressive' ballad.

Prince Rupert Awakes begins with an enchanting piano part that continues throughout the piece and a beautiful high vocal from Jon Anderson (Yes, the Jon Anderson), the uplifting, optimistic song continues with some acousticy Spanish-sounding and more typical guitar additions from Fripp and glistening, haunting mellotron, as well as superb VCS3, bass and drums on the chorus. A sweeping piano and drum crescendo leads us into one of the greatest mellotron-based sections of progressive music.

From the end of this chaos, a lone cornet turns up, and the rather loose, improvisational (I suspect) Bolero section begins, giving especial opportunities for Mel Collins and the four jazz-men to show off. Gordon Haskell and Andy McCulloch provide an odd rhythm section, while the others switch between solos and polyphonics, with Tippet providing an outstanding piano part. An oboe solo, combined with outstanding classical drumming, leads on to the haunting sax intro to Dawn Song.

The Battle Of Glass Tears begins with Gordon Haskell's hesitant, haunting, quiet vocal and backing, curious drumming and piano. What I presume is Last Skirmish kicks off with an eerie mellotron and rhythm section trio. The other instruments variously hammer in, including particularly exceptional flute and sax solos from Mel Collins as well as chaotic jazzy riffs and parts from all involved. Robert Fripp adds in shrieking electric guitar. Every section either escalates or builds tension, until it relaxes to a bass-and-drums beat over which Fripp lays the tragic Prince Rupert's Lament, a powerful, tense, emotional electric guitar solo. This would have been the perfect end to the epic song.

But it wasn't, for some reason, probably pertaining to Pete Sinfield's concept, the band tacked on a random Circus part to the end, which, while it might not be too bad in and of itself, damages the atmosphere, and I hate the speeding-up effect in all its shapes and forms.

This is, from what I've so far got, Mr. Fripp's high point as a guitarist. He never dominates or takes centre stage so bluntly that the other players don't have seem to have the space to develop, and he doesn't feel like he's made the conscious decision 'OK, we put a guitar solo here, a flute solo here, and then throw in a mellotron', but like he's organically fitted into his diabolical creation. The interplay and musicianship on the album is very dense, and it is almost flawless.

Five stars. Highly recommended to anyone interested in experimental music combinations, quality, diverse guitar-work and anyone who likes albums that take ages to grow on you.

Rating: Five Stars

Favourite Track: Cirkus

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Hm. @ LinusW, I probably should have mentioned the flow problem. Not sure whether my issue with the album is that I love the highlights so much that I've started to love the problems by proxy. I often found that assertive maturity of Moving Pictures/Permanent Waves Rush a bit of a turn-off, leaving it fairly sterile and feeling a bit faux-progressive, as if Neil Peart's drumwork was just for the sake of sophisticated drumwork, rather than tailored properly to the individual songs, so it being less mature isn't a problem for me.

As always, thanks for posting, both of you

I'm not sure quite whether I need to sharpen up my ratings a little, since I feel I'm quite nice even to albums that I don't particularly like (except Songs From The Wood and The Wall: stay tuned for more ), and in particular I might be a little too willing to give out 5-star ratings and hesitant to throw out 2- or even 3-star ratings.

Islands will be done after one or two intermediate reviews, maybe War Child/Benefit and/or A Farewell To Kings/Snakes & Arrows. This is probably because I'd otherwise feel guilty for handing out three five-star ratings in a row. Hell, I'm no longer certain that I wouldn't hand a fifth star to SABB if I was in a really good mood on the day of the review.