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Gentle Giant - Acquiring The Taste - 01-Feb-08 11:13 AM
An almost incredible leap upwards and forwards compared to the debut, this album still stands as one of the highlights of early British prog-rock. The liner notes say it all: ''we have recorded each composition with the one thought - that it should be unique, adventurous and fascinating.'' It is a rare event, that this is not only expressed in words on the cover, but actually hearable almost everywhere in the music. The stunning vocal parts reach a complexity previously unheard of in rock. The interplay is inventive and innovative: combinations of sounds that we have not heard before, still completely clear and misleadingly facile. You never hear the efforts that must have gone into this recording, everything sounds as if it's totally natural. In an interview of March 1998 in 20th century music magazine Ray Shulman states: ''I think Aqcuiring The Taste, our second record, was probably the purest in terms of making music. We just made music and it was never for any other reason. There were no business concerns because we weren't even known. I think that is when you make the purest music because you don't even have an audience.'' Although the last part of this statement maybe doubtful, it perfectly sums up from which angle the music was made. Some 35 years later this still pays off! There is some room to quibble anyway, of course. Some moog-explorations sound dated and the plain rock songs aren't that exciting. On the other hand, the first two tracks are nothing less than masterpieces of inventive rock and there is so much to explore inside the arrangements, that the album will easily outlast the even most diligent listener. Top-notch.

Spirogyra - Bells, Boots And Shambles - 30-Nov-07 03:17 AM
The utter clarity of Gaskin's voice, the erratic songwriting and many interesting and imaginative arrangements, these all seem to peak on this their third and last album. The sadness and despair, already strongly present on their previous efforts, come to a head and now sound chillingly urgent. The contributions of Henry Lowther's trumpet also work wonders, greatly so in ''The Furthest Point'', a minor classic all by itself. Boasting not one single under-average track, this record belongs to the very top of Britain's seventies folk-rock.

Mellow Candle - Swaddling Songs - 30-Nov-07 02:56 AM
Apart from this being nowadays the most expensive Deram album, this Irish folk band's sole LP presents truly magical psychedelic folk with two excellent female singers. Less fragile than Trees, more mystical than Fairport Convention, the sound is full of surprises and the songwriting is strong. Lyrically much revolves around loneliness, not in a self-pitying way, but rather accepted as a key fact of life. Consolation is exclusively found in nature and in the presumption that something ''beyond'' must be existing.
The sheer quality of the performance makes it perplexing that they did not find any recognition at the time.

King Crimson - Lizard - 23-Nov-07 01:24 AM
The Giles brothers have left to join McDonald, but no big loss, as McCullogh is a worthy replacement at the skins and Haskell handles his bassguitar better than he does his own vocal chords. The enlarged woodwinds and brass sections seem to suggest jazz, and although this is true in some way, the results are thoroughly unexpected. This record was not received very well and it's easy to see why, though almost 40 years later these objections have largely evaporated. Undoubtedly this album is even less accessible than the previous one. The music now betrays psychiatric tendencies, as well as delusions of grandeur, but does so with verve and conviction. Grotesque subject matter reigns supreme. Already on ''Cirkus'' the amount of sudden harmonic eruptions and atmospheric twists borders on the insane. The lyrics evoke a dense nightmare like: Worship cried the clown, I am a TV. At the end of the track the music is abandoned for sheer chaos and destruction. ''Indoor games'' also balances precariously on the thin edge of the demented. Psychotic games are being played like: Each afternoon you train baboons to sing/ Or swim in purple perspex waterwings. Biting woodwinds, derailed guitars and large fans of mellotron are just (but only just) kept in control by the excellent composition. The macabre laughing of a deranged human being ends the track. In ''Happy family'' mental health does not improve. A row of totally flipped-out family members parades through the song, musically designed with again extreme means. The very short oasis ''Lady of the dancing water'', with its truly miraculous flute part, is almost unlikely placid after all this mental violence. If only Haskell would have sung this a little more confidently. Side B presents a complicatedly structured suite, a model kit that tries to assemble very different elements into a unity. Jon Anderson of Yes sings the opening in his overclean style, but somehow fits very well in this evocation of times long lost, not in a historic sense, but more like the worlds of Tolkien do. Now Crimson suddenly plays crystal clear pop-rock with hints of things lurking underneath. This runs into ''The peacock's tale'', a never heard before concoction of bolero, wistful oboe, mellotron hurricanes and extremely angular all-or-nothing jazz. Unique and inventive. ''The battle of glass tears'' is again King Crimson as we know it: apocalyptic almost-chaos and a ruthless riff that induces panic. It discharges itself into a lonely crying electric guitar that sounds like the voice of the last living human, viewing utter destruction. Almost unbearable to really listen to. The very end is taken up by a frolicking waltz that makes a disheartening use of varispeed to produce another kind of nightmare: that of failing senses in front of a world in dissolution. One of the most extreme records to come out of rock country, it is easy to understand its chequered reputation, but the unflinching listener can dig up a lot of musical gold here.

King Crimson - In The Wake Of Poseidon - 23-Nov-07 01:21 AM
How to move on without Lake and McDonald, who both had a representative role in the sound of the debut LP? And how to follow up a record like the previous one musically? The answer is thought by many not to be wholly satisfactory, as this here album is often seen as a weak brother of the first. Fripp now plays the characteristic mellotron himself (without any discernable difficulty) and Collins is the new woodwinds miracle, not less enticing than McDonald was. The weak point must be the vocals. Haskell's voice is severely limited and does not always credit to the emotions that he is asked to express. It may be true, that no real new points of view are presented within this album, but they are definitely further developed to at times majestic results. The fragile start of ''Peace - a beginning'' contrasts again heavily with Pictures of a city, where the menace now has become apocalyptic. The middle piece of that track is so transparant, that it is hardly music anymore: ethereal webs of sound that drift along. There are more complicated means necessary to achieve this ever expanding contrast. More asymmetrical time-signatures, more measure-changes, more complicated riffs, often played unisono to reinforce them. The tranquil ''Cadence & cascade'' shows the disadvantages of Haskell's wobbly voice very clearly. The overwhelming title track pulls all stops. Fripps solo on acoustic guitar is immediately recognizable and mellotron waves hurl their depths over your head as if they want to drown you. Maybe the lyrics are a shade too mystical for their own good. Side B starts off with the almost accessible ''Cat food'', a bitter observation of consumer's paradise, adorned with the freakiest grand piano imaginable. Never need to worry/ With a tin of Hurri Curri, no indeed. The strongest track must be the three-part suite that follows, an exalted mixture of heavy rock, free-jazz and 20th century chamber-music with an exceptionally calamitous atmosphere. This track seems quite unsuitable to hear just before falling asleep. Cataclysmic shreds of music, sharp and incisive industrial soundscapes, shrieking dissonants, uncanny instrumental combinations and small morsels of innocent music that perish in the violence, these are hard ingredients to digest, but simultaneously very adventurous and uncommon listening. This is music that suggests the very end of times in a credible way, much like some episodes in the symphonies of Arthur Honegger do. More difficult to get acquainted with than the first album, nevertheless an excellent effort in its own right.

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