Big Big Train performing the song Victorian Brickwork from one of the sold out shows at Kings Place, London in August.
Nobody else captures the spirit of 1970s progressive rock quite as well as Big Big Train, with music steeped in English landscapes and history. As the above recording shows, what had once been a purely studio-based project has become a stunning live band.
After reading Michael Hann’s wnderfuly snarky review of Morrissey’s List of the Lost, I’m now wondering if the world of books needs its revenge. What bitter misanthropic has-been author with an oversized ego ought to make a record? How about a hair-metal album by John C. Wright?
This one came up on Twitter a few days ago: Which song do you love by an artist you otherwise can’t stand?
If you stop and think about it, it’s easier said than done. I’ll bet that for most bands where there’s just a single song you love, you don’t know their back catalogue well enough to know if there are other things lurking amongst the deep cuts and B-sides that you might also love just as much as that one song. For example, nothing else I’ve heard by System of a Down has sounded remotely as good as “Chop Suey“. But I really don’t know their body of work that well.
But I can still think of a couple of bands where there’s a single great song, but I could quite happily live without the rest of their catalogue.
First, “Back on the Road Again” by REO Speedwagon. The reason for this one is quite simple, it’s because Kevin Cronin doesn’t sing lead, bassist Bruce Hall taking over the microphone. For a band known for overproduced power-ballads, it’s also one of the relatively few times they rocked out. Combine those two factors and nothing else they’ve ever done comes close.
Then of course there’s The Clash’s “London Calling”. Yes, it’s their biggest hit, so overexposed that at least one Clash fan I’ve spoken to cannot stand it any more. But it’s still a great rock anthem, and the album of the same title is mostly filler (the one other good track is a cover) The preceding “Give ‘Em Enough Rope”, despite a fantastic guitar sound and one or two purloined Blue Öyster Cult riffs suffers from a complete lack of memorable songs, so it’s pretty clear that, one song aside, The Clash’s music is not for me.
So what songs do you love, from artists where the rest of the work does little for you?
In a week’s time I’m seeing Johnny Rotten in a small club in Reading, then two days later I’m seeing Steven Wilson at the Albert Hall. Who won the punk wars again?
How about some Finnish prog with lashings of genuine Hammond? The instrumental part of this song reminds me a lot Sweden’s ÄnglagÃ¥rd.
I was probably only about nine or ten when ITV’s investigative journalism flagship “World in Action” did a program about trains. The particular issue concerned a spate of derailments involving short wheelbase wagons, including a reconstruction the derailment and fatal collision at Roade in 1969 using 00-scale models.
For a small boy interested in trains, it was obviously fascinating stuff. But it was the theme music that stuck with me; both the dramatic opening theme, and the slower, more melancholy closing credits music, both of which are included in the above clip.
There’s something about those descending minor-key runs in the distinctive tone of the Hammond organ, both signficant elements of progressive rock’s musical palette. Not that I was aware of the existence of Yes, ELP or King Crimson at the time, that was something I wasn’t to discover until several years later.
Panic Room are back on the road in October with a seven-date tour taking in London, Southampton, Tavistock, Cambridge, Birmingham, Carlisle and Edinburgh. Full details on Tours page of the Panic Room website.
As with the Spring tour, they’re going to be their own support act. The shows will consist of an acoustic set featuring their new unplugged album “Essence” followed by a headline-length electric set.
With new guitarist Dave Foster the spring tour produced some stunning gigs. These Autumn dates are not to be missed!
After making their name in the 1980s with the ambitious concept album “Operation Mindcrime” and its more commercial successor “Empire”, Queensrÿche crashed hard in the 90s. A combination of internal problems and an ill-judged attempt to move with musical fashions rather then play to their strengths saw a string of lacklustre albums including the dull “Q2K” and the directionless “Operation Mindcrime II”. It all ended in an acrimonious split that finished up in court over who would be allowed to perform what.
The result was singer Geoff Tate forming a new outfit “Operation Mindcrime” while his former bandmates regrouped with a new singer as a new incarnation of Queensrÿche. The name of the band and the legal agreement that only he can perform material from the album of the same name infers an intention to build on the legacy of the album that made his reputation rather than start anew with a clean sheet. So how does the album stack up?
Opener “Choices” builds on a repeating pattern sounding uncannily like “Eclipse” from “Dark Side of the Moon” and despite being a little derivative makes an impressive opener. But doubts set in when the bass-heavy riff of “Burn” swamps Tate’s rather tuneless vocal. The big guitar riffs and prog-metal stylings of “Re-Inventing the Future” and “Ready to Fly” both manage to evoke a hint of Queensrÿche’s glory days instrumentally but both are let down by weak vocals. When the next track, merely a short atmospheric piece to bridge the gap between two songs is the best so far purely because it’s an instrumental, the album’s biggest problem becomes apparent.
The truth is that Geoff Tate’s voice, once a magnificent lead instrument, is a shadow of what it once was. Even when Queensrÿche toured Operation Mindcrime II a decade ago he was relying on Pamela Moore to sing the high notes he could no longer reach, and now he’s got little of his former power and range. One could draw comparisons with former Marillion singer Fish, except that Fish has adapted his style over the years to work within his limitations, giving greater emphasis on lyrics and delivery, and still manages to make strong records. Tate, meanwhile, is trying to create the same sort of music as he did years ago, and much of it falls flat without the soaring vocals of old.
The album hits the lowest point with “The Stranger”, which marries an industrial guitar sound with what comes over as a half-arsed attempt at rapping. Things do improve towards the end; the instrumental “An Ambush of Sadness” leading into the ballad “Kicking in the Door” again give something of a Pink Floyd feel, and album signs off with the almost epic “The Fall” ending in some climactic soloing. But even here the vocals let things down.
The saddest thing is that there are still good musical ideas on the record, but Tate’s consistently weak vocal lines fail to do the rest of the music justice.
Nobody really expected this tour. A couple of years ago Robert Fripp announced his retirement from music, burned out after a protracted legal dispute with his former record company over royalties. So it was a very pleasant surprise to see the announcement that he was putting together a new incarnation of King Crimson. Even more of a surprise was the news that unlike previous King Crimsons of the 70s, 80s and 90s, this one would would be performing music from right across their career. It was to be an interesting lineup, a seven-piece band including saxophonist Mel Collins alongside bass virtuoso Tony Levin, and no fewer than three drummers. What wasn’t a surprise was the speed at which many of the gigs sold out.
I wasn’t planning on reviewing this gig; just to enjoy the music without having to think about what to write about it. But then then a major broadsheet newspaper sent a too-cool-for-school NME type who filled his review with clichéd references to Spinal Tap, baby boomer fans and a “vermillian gash of sheer cosmic hogwash” that made him wish he was stoned. Somebody needs to set the record straight.
Let’s start with the presentation. The stage setup wasn’t that of a traditional rock band, with three drum kits at the front of the stage and the other four musicians on a raised platform behind them. Neither was there much of a light show. But King Crimson have never been a traditional rock band. Robert Fripp eschewed guitar hero poses by remaining seated on the far right-hand side of the stage, and the show proceeding without a single word to the audience, simply letting the music speak for itself. The iconic cover art from their first album adorning the body of Jakko Jakszyk’s guitar was a nice touch, though.
The two hour show began with the rock symphony that is “Larks Tongues in Aspic”. The early part of the set featured more recent material, some of it completely new, largely instrumental and showcasing the complex interplay between the three drummers alongside Mel Collins’ squalling sax as well as some abrasive guitar soundscapes. This was as much experimental jazz or avant-garde classical music as it was rock, and was thrilling in its sheer energy and intensity.
The second half of the show took us back to their best known work from the 1970s, when Jakko Jakszyk came into his own as a singer, easily doing justice to material originally sung by Greg Lake and John Wetton. “Easy Money” was loud and metallic, Bill Rieflin switched from drums to keys for the soaring Mellotron-drenched “Epitaph”, the first song of the evening to feature Pete Sinfield’s poetic lyrics that so enrage those who have fixed ideas of what rock lyrics should be.
They continued with “The Letters” and an astonishing “Sailor’s Tale” from the sometimes overlooked 1971 album “Islands”. The main set ended with two of their defining songs, “21st Century Schizoid Man” including a spectacular drum solo from Gavin Harrison and lyrics that sound even more prophetic now than in 1969, and finally the majestic and peerless “Starless”. After some well-deserved standing ovations, they came back for encores finishing with the stately magnificence of “In the Court of the Crimson King”.
“Prog-rock” is too narrow a label to define King Crimson’s music, even if their début album formed the template for so many lesser prog bands. Even “Rock” itself is too narrow; this is a band who demonstrate they’re capable of playing full-blown jazz when they want to. Indeed, some of the most exciting moments were in the first half of the show, with the crowd-pleasing favourites towards the end feeling like a victory lap. There was a lot to take in, so much so that you can see why many people were prepared to see them two, three, or even four or five times on the tour. Whatever genre it may or may nor be, everyone in that room with the sole exception of that one cynical hack who just didn’t get it knew they had just witnessed something quite extraordinary.
Sad news from Morpheus Rising on Facebook
We are sorry to announce that Morpheus Rising has parted company with guitarist Daymo Sweeting. Daymo was a part of the band almost from the very start and we are immensely grateful for everything he contributed to the band over the years. Personal differences in recent months have unfortunately led to a parting of the ways. We wish Daymo well, and every success in the future.
Meantime, we are concentrating on creating MR3 – and initial ideas and song roughs are already sounding very exciting, though there is some way to go yet! We’ll keep you posted on progress – and on the vacancy stage right – as we have more news!
Damien is an extremely talented musician whose pyrotechnic guitar work perfectly complemented Pete Harwood’s understated melodic playing, and made a huge contribution to the band’s twin guitar sound. He will be a very hard act to follow.