This is another one of my fantasy stories, this time about seven brothers who were living in one house, and all of them were into prog. All in a different way, though, and as much as a fun story, the story is also a little pretentious (like good prog) as a case study for progressive archetypes, or stereotypes. Well, types anyway. The story is being called:
PROGRESSIVE QUEST
In a hole in a ground there lived a… hobbit? Well, that would be a good start for a story, wouldn’t it? Just like the opening line of J.R.R. Tolkien’s famous novel The Hobbit, but I have to be honest: there were seven of them, and you wouldn’t take them for hobbits: they were far too big for that. Sure, they thought they were descendants of the old hobbits of Middle Earth, and they had people who referred to them as hobbits, because of their choice of music and their lifestyle, but their genealogy is very doubtful. Still, there isn’t any scientific proof to fight their claim, so let’s just leave it at that.
In a hole in a ground there lived seven brothers. They had hippie parents who left them in the mid seventies: their parents were off to the hippie trail, to Afghanistan, and never came back, and their aunt, who was much straighter than their parents, took over the upbringing, until the oldest one came of age. Our story starts today.
Oh, about that hole in the ground: because living in a hole became a bit unfashionable from the seventies on, they built a loft on top of that in the nineties. But now let’s really begin with our story.
Meet Donovan, the oldest one, who was a bit of a bon vivant. He was a merry old soul, who often called for his pipe, and for his bowl. And yes, now that you ask, he liked a fiddler’s sweep as well. Eddie Jobson would be his violinist of choice.
Donovan was sitting in the living room with his brothers Graeme and Dylan, the second and the third in line, respectively. They were all smoking their pipes, and while they were in the midst of a good conversation, Dylan had a worried look on his face.
Dylan: Now why did prog end?
Donovan: Give me a break, it didn’t end!
Graeme: Yes, brother, like I said, I tell you that it ended! In 1977, to be precise.
Donovan: Oh yeah, is that so? Why 1977? You tell me that!
Graeme: Because punk took over in that year.
All were staring at the ground. The p- word had been mentioned. Punk was being held for the enemy.
Donovan: C’mon, Graeme, there are hundreds of prog cd’s coming out every year. Prog didn’t end. That’s ridiculous.
Graeme: That’s not the real prog. It’s a derivate. We all go back to the seventies, the golden age of prog. Don’t tell me that it isn’t true.
Dylan: For a moment assuming that you’re right: why could it take over? Prog could have gone further, punk or no punk. Keep on proggin’ in the free world!
Graeme (wryly): The proggers had to earn a living! So either they went on with what they did and didn’t get any money, so they had to stop, or they compromised their sound and got rich. And very complacent.
Dylan: So what you’re saying then is that prog all depended on the support of record companies? No prog without the record companies?
Graeme: …
Dylan: You see? That can’t be real.
Dylan was a philosophical type of guy. He was looking for the essence of prog, which gives us the opening to our little story. Dylan liked the Socratic attitude: keep on asking until the other was lost for words. Not that this was the effect that Dylan was looking for: he wanted answers to his questions, but he couldn’t be satisfied with make believe answers. So he pinched one balloon after the other, like a good pupil of the famous Greek philosopher.
Graeme: Okay, okay, you’re probably right. I’ll tell you what. I guess prog had a downfall from 1977 on, in some way or the other, but there was already a demise from 1974 on, while the record companies were still giving full backing to the prog bands.
Graeme was a bit of a purist. No Genesis, Yes or ELP after 1977, no Pendragon after… Well, no Pendragon at all, or any neo prog for that matter. Because… isn’t neo prog a contradictio in terminis? In fact, be honest with yourself: there hadn’t been any really good albums after 1973, right? That was Graeme’s way of thinking.
Dylan: Conclusion: punk didn’t end prog. But what did put an end to prog then?
Donovan was trying to slip away. He didn’t care for all the discussions. He enjoyed the good life, with something to eat and drink and something to smoke, and a good prog cd of course. Donovan’s philosophy towards prog was simple: when it sounds like prog, it is prog, you know? And if it’s not, you don’t care about it.
But while he was heading for the exit, the cellar door swung open. In comes Carlos, nr. 5 in line of the brothers.
Carlos: Yo bruddaz, what’s up?
You’ll have to forgive Carlos. His idea of prog is that it should have a fusion with whatever contemporary musical style that there was at that time. So Carlos, taking his philosophy to a logical end conclusion, was into hip hop, trying to melt it with prog. He was a musician himself, the proud inventor of a brand new musical direction: prog hop, and he called himself Snoop Proggy Progg, or Snoop Progg, after one of his heroes.
Graeme: Fine, thank you. We were just discussing why prog ended in the 1970’s.
Carlos: Why prog ended? Now wait a minute, it didn’t end, did it?
Graeme: There was a degeneration from the mid to late seventies on.
Dylan and Donovan were nodding at this.
Carlos: You say a D – generation?
Graeme: That’s right.
Carlos: You’re all fossils, you know what I’m sayin’! Prog never ended, surely not as long as I’m a round, you know what I’m sayin’! How did you get those stupid ideas into your heads, y’all? You gotta let some fresh air in, you know what I’m sayin’! Let the sun shine in, as our parents would have said, you know what I’m sayin’!
Graeme: How big is the percentage of the brain which you have to have surgically removed before you can talk like you do?
Carlos (furious): I choose to ignore that! It’s the hip hop way of talkin’, which says more than y’all do, you know what I’m sayin’. I’m getting’ out now, see y’all tonight. Prog on.
Donovan: Prog on. Just be quiet at 9 tonight.
Carlos: B- cause?
Donovan: We will be listening to Selling England By The Pound then in the living room.
Carlos (his mouth falling open): You are going to listen to WHAT?
Donovan: You heard me: Selling England By The Pound, by Genesis.
Carlos: Selling England By The Pound?
Donovan: That’s right!
Carlos: Sel-ling Eng-land By The Pound? Selling England by the proggin’ pound? Have you counted how many times you listened to that album in your miserable lives?
Donovan: There must be some misunderstanding. It’s very special: it’s the new remastered version, on the new Genesis-box.
Carlos: Oh, is that so? It’s the new remastered version? Is Tony proggin’ Banks playing suddenly mouth organ on the intro of First of fifth?
Graeme: That’s Firth Of Fifth. And no, he doesn’t. He plays his brilliant piano solo, of course.
Carlos: His brilliant piano solo, and you tie yourself to the mast, because them sirens would lure you to the rocks, and suddenly you find out that you can’t open the knots anymore.
Dylan: I don’t understand what you’re trying to get across.
Carlos: I mean that you will fossilize, no matter what.
Dylan: You’re being cynical.
Carlos: Cynical? Abso – proggin’ – lutely! Now hear me out. Tonight you are all going to smoke your pipes, have da’ slippers on, you old bunch of slippermen, you, and lurkin’ proggin’ sherry, you died out dodo lurkers! The new Selling England By The Pound, what a joke! First you bought it on LP, then on music cassette for in the car, then on cd, then another time on cd, because the first time some butcher put a mid price sticker on the art work, then a remastered version, then another remastered version with a little sleeve like an old fashioned LP, than a SACD, than a proggin’ box. Don’t you ever move on in life? Do you really want to be X-tinct like them Die Now Saurs? Listen, I wrote a rap about you lot. That will put an end to your discussion!
TO BE CONTINUED
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Fantasy story: Progressive Quest
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Moogtron III wrote:
Maybe my way of dealing with them. 
