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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Are you the old man's niece?

 

lol

 

It's hard to convince people here in this baord that more often than not the word prog is not even close to what the musicians were doing, or had hoped to do, or eventually did. In some cases, these folks are/were highly trained musicians that did know what they were doing, and the word that most fits it all is ... experimentation arising out of free form improvisations ... which was the single major artistic form in the 60's for almost all the arts, and had been a valid form of painting for nearly 30 years ... why could not music feel like Picasso's Guernica did when you first saw it? And, in many ways ... that is what a lot of these people are about ... (and Epitath is so clear here when you factor in London and the IRA ... goodness is it ever!)

 

Many of these players were people that just wanted to do their own thing, and pop music on the radio was pretty much all that was available ... and by that time, The Beatles had already made a concentrated effort to do something more valuable than just pop music. As such, a lot of experimentations end up in the cutting room floor just as many endup being kept ... and the reasons vary.

 

I always thought that KC was more interested in finding out what they had in that room than they were interested in anything else ... like you said ... "maybe someday cut an LP" ... is like saying ... we're trying to figure it all out ...

 

The album is, quite a mix. It has just as many "jazz" elements as it does "rock" elements as it does "symphonic" elements ... and all of these were used and became famous ... and helped define a period of about 4 years where the record companies became less afraid of putting out different music ... which pretty much stopped when one distribution conglomerate paid the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin massive amounts of money ... and they promptly dumped 200 bands from the list ... almost all of them European and experimental in their own way.

 

That this became associated with "prog" is kinda strange, specially when even Mr. Fripp denies it,, and can easily explain his music if he spends time with a musicologist instead of a fan that only wants to ask about "prog" ... this is the story of folks that want to play music, and do something different ... that's all ... and work through their very own rehearsal process until they can find something that helps and makes sense ... at which point it might be saved for the prog afficionados ... and those who love to tell stories of course!

 

I believe I´ll order some bottles of wine from the Toscana soon. Spanish one is too strict for my spirit and thoughts.

 

Good Work!

 

 

I don't know , I just called a phone number after reading an advertisement.

 

A kennel for parrots is just like a kennel, but for parrots.