I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Ricochet wrote: For one thing, it's the most prog-rock Pink Floyd inside the "popular" 70s (so from Meddle to The Wall). And everything sounds fantastic in it.

Yes, my opinion too, it's the most proggy Floyd from their 70s albums. Just for how different it sounds from everything else they made, it is my second most favourite album of the band. Actually there are familiar Floyd refrains throughout but maybe because the band seems so energized and in a mood to kick seriousa**, it sounds refreshingly different.  And you - Orb - have mentioned that too but have pointed out that it could be more tightly bound. Which is true, but I love it so much despite finding the same problem with the album.  Nice review!

Review X, Animals, Floyd, '77

For some, Animals is the Pink Floyd album. This is entirely understandable. The lyrics are top notch and absolutely venomous. It has a RAWK! percentage higher than its predecessors. It's fairly heavily polished, and the pieces are long and just about as complex as anything Floyd ever did. Furthermore, Waters and Gilmour are both working (relatively :p) overtime as instrumentalists on the first couple of pieces. It's not at all their best album for me, certainly, but I like it. Unfortunately, Dogs is a bit messier than I like, and both it and Sheep have noticeable weak sections. Anyway, introduction: Good album (especially Pigs), but not on the level with the great Floyd albums. Knocks the stuffing out of 90% of The Wall.

The two Pigs On The Wing sections basically act as bookends for the album's three long pieces. They're nice little understated acoustic pieces, with a good set of lyrics, and, as a pair, they work (even with a typically nasal Waters vocal).

Dogs, the album's big piece, opens with a little insistent Gilmour acoustic hook and Wright's rather eerie keys. Even Mason provides some rather drumming touches every now and then while he and Waters keep the background of the piece together. Wright and Gilmour wander between incredibly emotive and well connected solos and backgrounds and rather isolated little lines that don't really go anywhere or fit into anywhere. The howling dogs sound effect is used particularly well, though the 'stone' repeat is a cause for serious annoyance. The main melodies are strong and frequently recalled in new ways. The song's most striking instrumental moment is probably the guitar solo-with electric piano underneath about six minutes in and subsequent brief vocal bit, though all sorts of chipping guitar parts provide brief fascination throughout. Wright's extended atmospheric keyboard solo is more than a little uncomfortable, and while it holds bursts of neatness, and the awkwardness is perhaps an intentional element, the overall sensation is simply one of mild discomfort rather than real directed fear or panic or pain. Another Gilmour solo is slipped in between the last real 'verse' and the final section of lyrics, and though it doesn't really seem to link into the preceding bit, it is exceptional. The concluding section of the song, with all the instruments combined into one acidic, desperate Floyd entity, comes together fantastically, with Waters' gripping lyrics, vocal overdubs and classy guitar. Strong from the lyrics and vocals side, but I find it's let down by the band's occasional non sequiturs and rather loose grip of mood.

Pigs is a bit more solid, and while Gilmour is just as prominent as a guitarist, it's far more tailored to the piece. His little jibs and almost ironic chugs perfectly fit into the whole reprimanding, aggressive vibe of the song. Wright, though a little less omnipresent, is also much sharper on this one, adding in suitably silly pig effects and a whole range of little synth and piano ideas as well as a simple, but effective, organ theme. Though it's a strong song throughout, the instrumental sections are the definite ups, with Gilmour's fantastic WEBBEH! talk box moments and a lot of subtlety and depth, with a tendency to slip in guitar, synth and bass flourishes quietly enough to skip the attention one time, but importantly enough to catch hold of it another. The conclusion is pure brilliance, with a wandering Waters bassline, multiple simultaneous kicking Gilmour solos and Mason holding the fort by reiterating the percussion from the vocal bits. Another great one in terms of the lyrics.

Sheep is also good, even if Waters' bass is very much One Of These Days lite and the silly bleating effect introduction wanders on without really doing a lot (much as Wright's solo is perfectly nice, I'd appreciate the effort to give me a bit of contrast without such an annoying bass groove). Gilmour is again on top form, with surprisingly edgy and discordant guitar parts, and the way the vocal fades into a choppy organ or synth part is extremely cool. Wright seems re-energised, with generally thicker and more dynamic organ and synth tones, drawing on those of Wish You Were Here and Dark Side Of The Moon. The mid-section of the song perhaps drags a bit, with that hideous bass groove over an initially amusing (but soon ends up feeling a bit gimmicky) parody of psalm 23, but the full-on spacey-madness-among-these-dark-Satanic-mills burst immediately following it is apologetically entertaining. Now, this'd be a perfectly good piece if the bass sound wasn't simply insufferable, and even as it is it has a lot of merits, but I don't really enjoy listening to it just because of that ubiquitous Waters groove. Another bookend Pigs On The Wing section rounds off the album rather neatly.

Anyway, short review, that, but the point is made. Animals is a cool, fun rock album, with one exemplary track (Pigs), two OK ones (Dogs and Sheep) with a couple of particularly weak sections between them and two bookends. Unfortunately, it doesn't really stray beyond that. There's no doubt that Gilmour is a real standout here, and anyone who likes his solos needs to have this one, even if he's not quite as subtle as on some of the earlier albums. Equally, Waters' lyrics are brilliant throughout, with a clear idea of where they're going, wordplay, wit and a healthy dose of truth (and the delivery is to match, though I've basically ignored the vocals in the review). Three stars might seem a bit harsh, but I put this album on for the moments of brilliance, not for the merely OK whole.

Rating: Three Stars, but a high three stars. If you're a Floyd fan, it probably won't disappoint.

Favourite Track: Pigs (Three Different Ones)

A quick note: according to the might of Wikipedia, Gilmour's handling bass in Pigs and Sheep, and Waters is taking a few rhythm guitar parts. Musician references may well be wrong.

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Well, that's going to raise a few hairs, but I think it's one of my better not-entirely-fawning reviews.
Anyway, opinions on the review and the album are more than wanted. I'm probably going to fix up my WYWH review (don't read it now. It's currently beyond embarrassing), and take a stab at Peter Gabriel IV next.

Edited by TGM: Orb - January 01 2009 at 16:06

Then I'll have to say 0-Stars, and that'll be  just as bad :p

A bit of self-pitying post-count boosting here, but I felt like setting out what I think of my ratings as:

(just because I'm increasingly annoyed at how a few of my ratings don't seem to fit into how much I like the albums)

6 Stars. An absolute masterpiece. Every track is a highlight from both an emotional and an interest perspective. The album flows smoothly, without a second that annoys or irritates me, and as a whole qualifies as one of my absolute all-time favourite albums by any artist. So far, only three albums have a general six-star status, and one has a personal six-star status.

5 Stars. A masterpiece. I look forwards to every track, for one reason or other. The lows are minimal, and the highs extraordinary. The album has an individual feel and effect. I never reach for the skip button or lose interest.

4 Stars. A great album. Most of the tracks (and/or the album's length, if tracks are a bad indicator) are very enjoyable, and something to at look forwards to. Generally interesting and emotive, and very rarely containing any material I really dislike (Fragile being one exception).

3 Stars. A good album. Usually either very level, and quite nice throughout, or a bit unpredictable in quality, but definitely high on the highs. Something I'm fairly confident I'll take the time to listen to again after the review at some point.

2 Stars. Either a poor album with a couple of tracks strong enough that I'll spin it again or an album which verges over the OK margin so rarely that I don't really want to listen to it. Often what I consider a heavily flawed album with good moments or an album which is just of no real major interest to me, while being quite unoffensive.

1 Star. Not something I want to listen to again. This isn't saying that it has no merits, and usually there is at least a good track or two, but it's just something that I don't enjoy enough to listen to.

So, in short
I'm not really considering the progressiveness in any of my ratings except in that a PR or PP album that I don't consider progressive probably won't get a 5.
The fans/completionists/essentials thing isn't something I want to worry about too much. If I think an album is more of a fans one, I'll probably say that in the review. If I give an album a 4+ rating, it usually means that I think any prog collection could use it.

Anyway, now that's out of the way, time for another rather brutal ratings adjustment session. There are a few outliers that have been bugging me.

(and I'm fairly sure it doesn't matter to anyone else, but that's just my obsessive compulsive twitch kicking in)

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Peter Gabriel 3, 1980

There aren't many occasions where describing my reaction to the album is probably going to explain more than describing the music itself, but I think this is one of them. As soon as I first heard Intruder, I was hooked by Peter Gabriel 3, I ended up humming melodies and singing lines of it subconsciously after one listen, I took out another hour the next day to listen to it again. It completely reversed my opinion of Gabriel's career (including pieces I'd previously heard and been apathetic to) after Genesis, got me hooked enough to head off to pick up Gabriel 4 as soon as I could, and has since gone for countless spins on the various CD players around the house. It was instantly memorable, moving, interesting and stunning. There are so few albums like that out there. The album does have one slightly weaker patch (Not One Of Us), but even that's a damn strong piece in its own right, and the diversity, experimentation and arrangement prowess of the whole album makes it an essential buy for anyone.

The opening Intruder showcases all the album's merits. The arrangement is very complex and even challenging to follow, with all sorts of carefully masked synth tones and piano touches seeming fresh and unexpected as ever after what must be at least thirty or forty listens. The most obvious melodies come from the synths and a pretty much unique guitar tone, laid over the hammering Phil Collins drum part, though a couple of stretching, creaking dissonants take over from these without pause. The vocals are masterfully arranged and performed, with just the occasional hint of force between the psychopathic, rapacious, yet very controlled lead vocal, just occasionally daring to hold on a moment more to instill the sense of fear so crucial to the song. A short whistling melody leads us on without letting go of the emotion at all, before launching into the emotional resignation/certainty/need of 'I am the intruder'. The lyrics are brilliantly written, and perfectly convey the idea of Intruder with alliterative bursts, a building sense of need, of greed and even of addiction, as well as the clever metrical arrangement of 'creep across creaky wooden floor' indicating the unwanted creak of floorboards by itself. Anyway, an extremely impressive opener. Memorable from the very first listen, and yet building up more and more impact every listen. Not to mention the plain unusual nature of the lyrical content in the context of rock music (or indeed, any music). A confident and challenging opener, and one that shows that Gabriel is deadly serious about this album. Anyway, a clunky description on my part, but it's simply too complicated and multi-emotional to sum up in a few words, but too well focused to suit an enormous review.

No Self Control opens with a grabbing synth melody and launches straight into the deceptive glockenspiel part (something, and I'm not entirely sure what, makes it sound at first as if it's much faster and denser than it is... and breaking it down only provides a temporary insight. Take your attention away for just a second, and it suddenly seems very fast and dense again). A heavily treated sax part features, along with various percussion choices, adding a bit of clattering excess as well as hungry, forceful drive to the song. The amazing Kate Bush provides backing vocals (both subtly as an extra rhythm feature and harmonized to cut off Gabriel's manic 'chorus' vocals). Again, Gabriel manages to very briefly and effectively convey a complex emotion, with all sorts of ingenious flourishes, and even if it's probably not as complex as Intruder, it's equally challenging and bizarrely catchy. One of the very best songs of the 1980s, and Gabriel's vocals and lyrics are unique, interesting and very well used.

The brief Start is more of an introduction to I Don't Remember, and features a rather neat juxtaposition of the soulful clean jazzy saxophone and the occasional bass thrum with a synth undertone that becomes dissonant as the sax reaches the sort of height of its clean and rather neat solo. Very, very neat, especially as a lead-up to I Don't Remember.

I Don't Remember is the first of the album's two 'straight rockers', with a sterling performance from the unmistakable Tony Levin on a chapman stick, as well as quirky plain rocking melody underneath Robert Fripp's incredible guitar whirling and very controlled soundscape things. The vocals are simply brilliant, especially the wordless bits, and the brief electronic moments as well as the strange distorted vocal melodic lines are something that I can hear again (though not as neatly included) in quite a few of the standard radio-one things. The sort of cathartic cleansing of the gently thrumming end of the song again shows a grasp of melody, an appreciation of arrangement and an admirable neglect for genre borders. Anyway, fantastic, groundbreaking stuff and proof that people were still doing interesting and creative things in the 80s.

Family Snapshot is the album's focal point, even if it's not the only highlight, and is another really rather genreless thing, containing understated piano-and-voice parts, bursts of rock excess and even a rather big-band-esque synthesised brass part. The lack of cymbals here, in particular, calls for inventive percussion, and even makes it more effective. Despite the top notch nature of the music (particular kudos to the subtlety of the synth and bass), the emphasis is squarely on the vocals (self-harmonies and all) and the lyrics, which are simply brilliant. The sheer menace of 'I've been waiting for this' with Gabriel's gritty and emotive voice simply needs to be heard. Powerful, moving and personal.

The rocking And Through The Wire bursts out of the nothingness with its catchy, eclectic guitar riff and rather neat John Giblin bass part (and another unusual percussion performance. Sure, others at the time were fiddling around with cymbal-less percussion, but managing a straight rock piece with it is damned inventive). The lyrics and vocals are good fun, and at the same time are moving and meaningful. The gradual descent into 'we get so strange across the border' is fun, as is the reflecting piano-and-synth bookends (the latter almost always coming as a surprise... it pops in at the middle of the deceleration thing, but I'm never quite sure exactly what it's decelerating from or just exactly what paves the way for that synth to come in). Again, an extremely interesting piece.

Games Without Frontiers is probably the most openly 'pop' piece of the album, with an incredible catchiness, masses of melody, and, while the backing parts are always interesting and strong, the melodies and dynamic are so strong and well emphasised that they take most of the attention. The lyrics are typically quirky, although still classy and clever, and the vocals are a pretty weird sort of non-specific-nationality style. The synth sound is simply awe-inspiringly good, with a sharpness and edge about it, as is the synth-bass and the incredibly well-arranged little electronic section at the end of the song. Finally, a note for the performance of the album: Kate Bush's backing vocals on this one are simply amazing. Just so incredibly silky, soft and capable. I mean. Wow. Anyway, great tune, and evidence that pop can, in fact, be progressive, in case anyone's still in doubt about that.

Not One Of Us is certainly the weakest song of the album (at least, in my view), even if it remains an extremely interesting piece, and very well arranged (particularly the little bit of interplay between the bass and the vocals), it ends up being admirable for its intelligence rather than its emotion. The vocals are again, excellent, and the synth tones and general Frippery are definitely challenging, interesting, and creative stuff (three adjectives that really do sum up this album). The piece does pick up towards the end, with the sort of freakishly twisted worldy mass vocal + drums contrasting with Gabriel's main vocal. Still, a very strong piece, just not as moving as the rest of the album, perhaps due to the viewpoint that Gabriel takes.

The beautiful Lead A Normal Life is (at least, in my eyes) a sort of sequel to Family Snapshot, with brief, and rather haunting vocals in between two insrumental atmosphere creatures, with another deceptive glockenspiel part, ethereal piano, some very subdued drums and the occasional wail of force and straight-out-rebellion, as well as a bizarre treated sax part. Incredible stuff.

The grandiose Biko really takes on the world vibe that's been carried by a lot of the percussion throughout, with a very interesting synthesised bagpipe from Larry Fast. The arrangement is simple, the melodies obvious, the performances all sound relatively simple compared to the previous ones, but still it simply has effect, it has power. The momentum, the basic appeal, the universalism of the song is unstoppable. Gabriel's lyrics take on a bitter irony, while the vocals give a straight, one-dimensional answer. The whole feel of the piece is simply so strong it takes away any quibblings and leaves behind just one statement. The final sharp drum thu-thud echoes the initial sound of Intruder a bit, rounding off the album to good effect.

Don't think there's much more for me to say. Forgive the rather clunky description of Intruder, and go ahead and buy this album as soon as possible. Superb, superb stuff.

Rating: Five Stars

Favourite Track: Intruder, No Self Control, And Through The Wire and Games Without Frontiers are all favourites. No Self Control, if I had to choose.

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Comments welcome

Thinking of going for either PG 4 or a live album or two, next.

73, not 71.

King By-Tor wrote: Well yeah, even I gave four 5-star reviews to Rush (fanboyism...!)     but if you ever say 6-stars again... I'll kill you and eat your unborn children

I've said it three times already, Larks' Tongues..., In The Court Of The Crimson King, and H To He, Who Am The Only One, and I'm probably not a huge Crimson fanboy, either Besides, I hand out too many five stars, so this is a good way of distinguishing them ... a cop-out way, but nonetheless

Plus, I needed to explain: this is better than a Rush album


Edited by TGM: Orb - December 20 2008 at 18:59

King By-Tor wrote: Nice Rob, but, uh... I think your fanboyism is showing...

Damn. Not again. I thought my scarf hid it 'sides, I'm a fanboy for a reason

Not even bothering with the review number any more, but you probably should have the title

Chameleon In The Shadow Of The Night, Peter Hammill, 1973


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Emotion, and words. When you strip away everything else from an album, when you take off all the context, all the innovation, and all the gimmicks, all the production, that's what's left over. Chameleon In The Shadow Of The Night is basically an album built on these two. It's mostly just a man, his guitar, his piano, his words (plus ten minutes of personal epic, but then I did say 'mostly'). The result: the finest singer-songwriter effort I've yet heard. Pure personality. The production may be rough, the structures might verge on simplicity, every now and then a repeat or a 'slip' jars a piece, but all these 'failings' simply add to the personality, the raw, overwhelming emotion entrapped and enshrined in this record. So touching. So powerful. So human. Essential.

The uncategorisable German Overalls opens the album with a pun and a flood of emotion. The acoustic melodies are all memorable creatures, and the vocal is confidently diverse, switching between uncertainty, surety and something in between frequently. The four-track system provides one or two self-harmonies and sound effects a bit more like Hammill's later musique concrete experiments. The lyrics are autobiographical, and I suppose you'll like them if you like Peter Hammill and you probably won't if you don't, but I don't know. A harmonium provides a full wall of sound towards the end, a bit of cathartic electronic/electric flow rounds off the piece. More importantly, the song contains a rare moment of pure electric-guitar rock in the middle, and that remains, after all the various forms of music I've picked up since first getting into it, one of life's simplest and most life-affirming pleasures.

The deeply moving Slender Threads follows this up as the first of three acoustic guitar pieces, and much as the music is top notch, including a couple of extremely neat interludes and an absolutely perfect main melody, the emphasis is on the philosophical and beautiful lyrics. The vocals include occasional moments of harshness and highness, but are by and large a very low-key feature. Subtle, and understated, and beautiful.

Rock And Role smashes in after this, a more Van-Der-Graaf-Generator piece with just a dash of punk, featuring a sharp electric riff and strong performances from Nic Potter, Guy Evans and David Jackson. Tasteful piano additions and ambiguously quiet electrics mark the piece, including an extended, cleverly arranged instrumental conclusion and bridge. Lyrically, it teeters between high-brow philosophising and emotional rawness, and manages to capture both. Classy stuff.

In The End is a piano-and-voice piece, with a great deal of emotion conveyed through the strength of the voice and the piano, and through the lyrics, which are predictably enviable in insight and expression, a sort of clean wailing that Hammill seems to have saved up for his solo material. The vocal is pretty, but nonetheless rather edgy and full of venom and desperation and hope whenever the words require it. And they are such good words.

What's It Worth is perhaps the most musically captivating of the pieces here, with a startlingly beautiful flute from Jaxon, a simple main acoustic melody and a charming, laid-back little acoustic-electroacoustic thing lying in wait at the end of the verses. Though the lyrics are again intelligent and moving in a sort of, the vocal performance accompanying them is so very strong that it almost escapes them, making every use of his high, fluctuating, stylised and backboned (I know what I mean, you probably don't :p) clean vocals, along with one incredibly beautiful harmony. A piece that crept up on me unawares, and pure delight for the ears.

Easy To Slip Away is entirely different. Another piano piece, and this time almost an emotional force in and of itself. The lyrics are simple, autobiographical and yet so damn universally true, Hammill's vocal delivery (I maintain that anyone who can fit that much emotion in 'Susie!' is a virtuoso singer) is heartfelt, powerful and clear, and even a soulful saxophone and an incredible outpouring of mellotron and piano only serve to remind of the vocals.

Dropping The Torch is the album's last acoustic guitar song (and indeed, the last of the singer-songwriter pieces), and is again a simple outpouring of personality. The vocal is clean, moving and well-arranged, the lyrics are universal, well-written, true and affect me on a personal level, and really you need no more than that to make a song. The acoustic is a rather nice, moving thing, and it almost carries along the listener.

In The Black Room (I) bursts in with a stab of dirty, powerful sax/organ wailing, and the full band is back for a concluding monstrosity of personal-songwriting-gone-mad with chaotic keyboard effects, whirling flutes, roaring saxes, imaginative percussion, lots of vocal harmonies, and an always-rather-prominent shocking piano. The lyrics are stunning, creatively arranged, and would fit in as much with the theme of Pawn Hearts as the personality of Chameleon In The Shadow Of The Night. The Tower takes the atmosphere to an even rawer level, with one of David Jaxon's finest saxophone performances, a mass of juxtaposed ideas hinged on the piano, and some thunderous cascades of sound. The vocals exhibit all of Hammill's talent. The return of the In The Black Room theme comes with extra punctuating cymbals, and yet more arrangement complexities, and the ambiguity is retained even when all this force comes cascading out. An extremely impressive piece of complex music that balances chaos/control and expresses the conventionally non-expressable. Could well have been arranged a bit more sharply, I guess, but it nonetheless does a surprisingly good job of fitting the album. I'm sure that it'll be the highlight for a lot of the listeners, and I'm sure it deserves more review space, but I'll leave those for whom it is the highlight to explain the merits.

The live piano-and-vox rendition of Easy To Slip Away is probably my favourite of the bonus tracks, not suffering at all from not having many of the elements that made up the original piece, and so soaringly emotional and energetic. The version of In The End is equally superb, with an improvised piano introduction, and all the many strengths of the original, while being different enough to merit inclusion (a bit of not-entirely-serious-vocals, perhaps comparable to some of Peter Gabriel's work... Willow Farm and Harold The Barrel, particularly). Rain 3 AM is also an interesting piece, though I'm not quite sure what I think of it yet. Still, it's only a bonus track, and the other bonus tracks alone are amazing enough (in my opinion) to merit a re-buy, and I feel like putting up a review now rather than later, so, yeah, I might fill you all in on that one later.

So, it won't be cleanly and perfectionistically (is that a word? I guess not) produced enough for some, and it won't be complex enough for others, and it'll be too lacking in gimmicks for others still, and a few people won't like the slow bits, and a few more won't like the fast bits, and Hammill will be too noisy and too obscure for some, and not noisy enough and too emotionally revealing for others. But that's what it is, and I love it.

Rating: Six stars if you're me; five Stars if you like Peter Hammill; three if you don't. I'm rounding to five.

Favourite track: I simply cannot choose. Any of the tracks. Maybe Slender Threads, maybe Mannheim Overalls, maybe What's it Worth? Essentially, whichever track I'm listening to at the moment.

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Well, that should be interesting, at least. I'm the first collab to give that album 5 stars, and with a smiley in the review. As always, thoughts, comments, comparisons and criticisms are welcome. Also, I think that over the Christmas period, I'm going to post a couple of lyrics-breakdowns and critiques, touching on all sorts of lyrics.


Edited by TGM: Orb - December 21 2008 at 06:12

Looong. But controversial.

The Quiet Zone/The Pleasure Dome, Van Der Graaf, 1977

    Bizarre doesn't even begin to describe this album. A blend of progressive punk and almost pastoral music with a mean violin, vocal stylings that baffle even the Peter Hammill initiated, quirky, though generally brilliant, lyrics... the list goes on, and the bizarre melding of standard musical elements and a freakishly experimental mindset works overtime. Really, there is no way to describe this album effectively, it'll probably take a while to catch on as a whole, and any preconceptions you have about Van Der Graaf Generator probably do not apply to this album. Consequently, it's a bizarrely essential album: I really enjoy it, I appreciate there are a lot of people (particularly the pretty vocals crowd) who probably won't get it (not a bad thing, just different tastes), and I think it was really pushing the barriers in a way that the other classic prog bands had  rather given up on by 1977. Graham Smith and Nick Potter give the album a great deal of attack, Hammill's experiments with all sorts of vocal ideas have jumped off into the deep end in a way that you'll either love or hate, Guy Evans is solid as ever, and the pianos and guitars are used with a lot more confidence and detail than most previous Van Der Graaf Generator efforts. I think it's a masterpiece, sure some others take the opposite opinion.
    Lizard Play exhibits the rather Van Der Graaf Generatorish (well, in this case, Van Der Graafish) of having some sort of anti-catch value. On the first listen, it made virtually no impact on me, either lyrically or musically, but now, I can call it nothing less than amazing. The first Meurglys III notes lead us into a little, slightly jazzy intro a bit reminiscent of When She Comes, before Hammill's light-hearted, very cleverly harmonised vocals come in, using a full range of high wispy overdubs to counterbalance low, gritty multiple vocals. Evans is fantastic, of course, providing all sorts of rolls in addition to some absolutely beyond-belief unusual hollow and tingly percussion inclusions. Hammill's lyrics are metaphorical, assertive and extremely potent once you actually see the whole picture, and allow for a couple of clever spins which you somehow never quite expect even when you know they're coming up. Potter's thorough, thick basslines provide the real backbone for the piece,  as well as a sort of bestial feel to the piece. The Graham Smith violin is characteristically unusual, and includes a couple of rather neat subtleties that provide a little more weight to the acoustic. A song full of weirdness, shamanic rhythms, a general refusal to accept the standard terms of what rock is, and a touch of whimsicality that works really well for Van Der Graaf.
    The Habit Of The Broken heart is another somewhat eclectic song, moving from a fairly basic acoustic riff to a subtle bitter bit of reflection to a full on burst of rock to a small vocal coda. The lyrics are a touch less sharp than I'd expect from Hammill, though they still contain a couple of great lines, and a basic message, which is more than a lot of bands manage to do. The lyrical vulnerability of the song relative to the rest of the album is more than outweighed by the superb musical content and the rather odd mood in Hammill's vocal. Guy Evans and Nic Potter provide a weird bass-driven riff for a fair amount of the piece. The dashes of organ fit in quite nicely, as does the lush background viola. A lot of the punk ethos thumping in again, along with a few elements of dissonance and the rather curtailed melodies than characterise much of World Record. The conclusion is nicely done. Not an absolutely perfect piece, but a lot of redeeming features, and a particularly top notch performance from Evans.
    Siren Song features the album's finest lyrics, and some of the finest lyrics in rock, and the closest thing to a conventionally pretty vocal on there. The piano is absolutely lovely, and supplemented by a tragic violin, Guy Evans' very emotional and delicate percussion and the unusual Potter distorted bass sound. The mood changes of the song are distinctive, involving and feature a rather more upbeat, folk-inspired violin part, as well as an example of just how mobile Van Der Graaf Generator can make a song. Nic Potter never did a weirder bass part than that in the middle of this song, and it pays off fantastically. Anyway, the best way to describe this one is with a bit of a lyrics quote. It has reduced me to tears on occasion, and not many pieces can do that.

Laughter in the backbone
laughter impossibly wise
that same laughter that comes
every time I flash on that look in your eyes
which whispers of a black zone
which'll mock all my credos as lies,
where all logic is done
and time will smash every theory I devise

    The six minute Last Frame could well be the highlight of the album for a lot of the more prog-by-the-books listeners. A hollow atmospheric introductory solo on viola (I think) from Graham Smith leads us into the song proper, coupled with a couple of very dark, full jabs on bass and a tinkle of percussion, takes us onto the tragic retrospective vocals, coupled with a savagely bleak and determined set of lyrics. Hammill provides an acoustic (on occasion surprisingly unusual in sound) pretty much throughout the main part of the song, which is quite a nice change, and it fits in neatly both at the higher-tempo sections and the more introspective low-key parts. A sort of freakish guitar or violin solo backed up by a dab of Meurglys III riff takes up prime position in the instrumental mid-part. The song's conclusion is particularly awesome, with a distinctly rocking bass riff mixing itself in with dabs of percussion, classy lyrical bite and a distorted guitar. As always, Evans is a solid drummer, controlling his sound, volume and feel quite precisely and adding a slightly human feel through the drumming. Fantastic stuff.
    The Wave is probably the most daringly introspective of the songs on this album, with quirky, and yet quite moving lyrics about the point of analysis and the effect of that on nature or feeling. The lush, but quite delicate, interplay between Hammill's piano and mellotron (it's probably actually a viola, listening to it a bit more closely) and the strings is extremely well-written, and Hammill's vocals are simply amazing in a way that only they can be. The tension is available, and a mixture of grandeur, uncertainty, high and low and whispered vocals, and selective self-harmonies adding a sort of ebbing feel to the piece. The rhythm section is again excellent, with Guy Evans' fitting in his own sort of style quite softly, accomplishing a number of subtle cadences that other drummers often seem nervous to add into soft songs, accomplishing the same sort of rolling line with no intrusion at all. It did take a while to catch onto me, as one would sort of expect a soft song like this to simply head for plain lyrics, but in the end the combination seems simply more and more right. Unusual soft songs are one of my favourite features of the classic 70s prog rock bands, and this fits that description perfectly. Masterful.
    If one track can be described as driven, it's probably Cat's Eye/Yellow Fever, this piece rivets itself into the mind, frantically and schizophrenically leaping off its own ideas. Hammill's lyrics and vocals have a wonderfully reeled-off-on-the-spot tint, albeit not a lot of conventional beauty to counterbalance that. The jarring aggression of the vocals is in the vein of Nadir's Big Chance rather than Arrow or La Rossa, relying on an innate menace, speed and rhythm over volume or arrangement, and yet they are actually surprisingly fitting for the song, ramming in uncertainty, panic, menace and rage without pausing for breath... a burst of vocal dubs only heightens the frantic mood. The exhausted final vocal line is a complete contrast to this schizoid personality... one of the best worst vocal performances ever. Graham Smith's violin and viola provides truly berserk emotionality, reeling off a pulsing, tense riff as well as an array of off-the-wall solos, counterbalanced by the utter catharsis of the concluding solo. Nic Potter has never sounded better, with pulsating, demanding, insistent bass-lines complete with mixed-in sort of bass groans, as well as a bass-sound or two I haven't heard used in that way before. Even under that incredible violin solo at the end, he fits in a tasteful, obvious bass sound. The guitar is equally superb, providing a sort of picked-electric sound that lends a lot of character to the piece, as well as some blitz-on-the-ear wails. One of the big standouts of this piece, though, is Guy Evans. His combination of sort of trapping drum sounds, solid, aggressive beats, tasteful leaves, hard, flat rock beats and manically fast, yet comprehensible, fills, which sort of overspill all the parameters of the song, providing a sensation of real vertigo and being off the edge.
    Anyway, I've gone into a bit more detail than I usually do on shortish songs for this one, but it was entirely worth it. An incredible song, one that really both pushes the parameters of rock and yet builds on existing traditions. As Peter Hammill would say, the 'exciting stuff'. It's a sample at the moment, so take a listen to it on the appropriate volume. If you don't like it, the album might not be for you (there's a wide range of material covered, and the lyrics, here, are probably not as strong as the rest of the album), but if you do, really, the album might be your thing. It's the song that brought me to going beyond the obligatory four VDGG albums.
    The Sphinx In The Face is another oddity, complete with a particularly anarchically arranged set of lyrics, a range of rather clever musical quotes from previous pieces incorporated into the main piece. Opening with a cheerful guitar riff, backed up by the appropriate groove from the bass. A couple of rather reggae-ish moments are juxtaposed with a general pushing-rock-feel, amazing mellotron/viola, as well as possibly the most remarkably moving harmony in rock. The musicianship, as always, is incredible, and though the 'concept' of it all... the unifying theme of disunity, of a search... is a bit hard to grasp at first, once it kicks in, it sinks below the surface, and a range of exclamations that first seem trivial become extremely moving. Also brilliant, though I can imagine that the harmony ending won't hit anyone until you've really wrapped yourself in the album.
    Chemical World is another piece of particularly good writing disguised by a bit of general chaos, noise, and lyrics which alternate between whimsical and acidic. Aside from a surprisingly Spanish guitar melody from Hammill, the song's softer moments are highlighted by Graham Smith's fascinating sax/flute-'imitation's on violin. The noisy, distorted-out-of-this-world mid-section is probably the high point of the piece, with an explosive Evans and a number of tense melodies and more 'psychedelic' ideas, which perhaps resemble that rather haunting section of Nine Feet Underground a little. Nic Potter's bass is very effective, again, handling a couple of lead guitarish licks on one occasion. Amazing stuff, and extremely progressive.
    The Sphinx Returns concludes the album proper, with a rocked up version of the outro to The Sphinx In The Face, somewhat sealing up all the themes of the album in one range of bizarre musicianship and a fade to indicate that they continue.
    Onto the bonus material. The Door is another great piece, with a killer riff. Rocking everywhere, a high-range thumping bass and a couple of hilarious keyboard effects. The demo version of The Wave is actually very moving and effective even without the lyrics, and it places a little more emphasis back on the individual music parts. Potter is probably a bit more effective (think it's that he's a lot more conspicuous with a quieter piano) on this one. Anyway, it illustrates that Van Der Graaf really could do instrumental extremely effectively... almost as incredible unpolished as it is finished. Ship Of Fools truly kicks, with a hammering riff, neat lyrics, and a sort of electric fire that reminds me a bit of a couple of the things 80s Crimson and Tull would go on to do. The vocals are truly off the wall, or off the charts, depending on how you see it, and Hammill gives a great guitar burst or two. I'd probably call it hard rock, more so than any of the Deep Purple and Uriah Heep stuff I've heard.
    So, all in all, a collection including pretty much exclusively absolutely fantastic songs (The Habit Of The Broken Heart is a tiny bit weaker, but not much so), which I would consider among Van Der Graaf (Generator)'s list of finest achievements, and that really does mean a lot, coming from me. The album is characterised by subtlety disguised as blatancy, which is a pretty standard VDGG feature, so if you don't get H to He or Godbluff or something like that, you probably won't get this. The lyrics are typically . Nonetheless, vital for fans of Van Der Graaf Generator, aggressive progressive music, later, but still very progressive albums, or quirky, obtuse concepts. A masterpiece of progressive rock, and (and I say this even with Starless And Bible Black, and Brain Salad Surgery close in mind) Guy Evans' performance on this is perhaps my favourite percussion on one album ever.

Rating: Five Stars... seems a bit standard fare for VDGG and my ratings, but that's alright...
Favourite Track: Very, very difficult choice. Cat's Eye/Yellow Fever or The Siren Song if I had to pick.

(oh, a couple of considerations)... I'm sure some of the times I reference saxalike/flutealike violins it is actually Jaxon, but I think at others they are, in fact, actually violin sounds that correspond to how I'd expect some of the saxes on World Record to sound. I'm not great on violas, so my exact terminology for string instruments may be horrifically wrong. Finally, the cover art, it's amazing, don't you think?

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Well... thoughts, discussions, go for it...
When did VDG(G) catch and lose your interest?
Which three (whimsical number) songs would you say were their raison d'etre?
What's the best album Hammill's done, lyrically?
What's the best performance of each individual VDG(G) member?

...

I'll answer a few myself

H To He... The Quiet Zone is the period I'm particularly fond of (I.e. 6 masterpiece ratings...). Least We Can Do feels a lot cruder than its successors, but it's still good, particularly the softer pieces. Haven't got any of the new VDGG stuff yet, or Vital, so I'll seek those out in my Christmas spree.

Can't pick, but if I had to... Lost, Sleepwalkers and Killer.

Mmmm... this fluctuates wildly. The temptation is to say H To He or Chameleon In The Shadow Of The Night. They're all pretty good, but those two are particularly personal and touching.

Jaxon: Sleepwalkers... guitar licks on a sax... all the way. Banton: La Rossa... those melting tones on the opening are beyond a wow moment. Hammill: A Plague Of Lighthouse Keepers or Gog... no vocalist ever matched that. Evans: Lost is very impressive, but the biscuit goes to Cat's Eye/Yellow Fever. Graham Smith: same again, I think. Nic Potter... Pioneers Over c, feasibly... love the way the bass in part manages to make the song...

Anyway, your thoughts?