Review of Curved Air's Air Conditioning

Released 1970

"I know that you're afraid of what might happen, uncertain what to give and what to take. Already you've forgotten why you came here I can see exactly why you came."

I need to be upfront here and state that, despite all pretence to the contrary, I am indeed a shallow fellow. I was attracted to this album based on nothing more than two things; the band name and the fact that I had stumbled across a picture disc edition. I learned later that this was allegedly the first ever picture disc release in the UK and thereby it gained a great deal of publicity and notoriety.

With my attention gained and the record in my grasp, it wasn't difficult to determine that this might well be a prog related release. As well as the excellent band name, the listing of an electric violin and a track called 'Vivaldi with Cannons', the names of the band members of themselves gave it away: with names like Francis Monkman, Florian Pilkington-Miksa and singer Sonja Kristina, obviously they weren't going to be accountants or purveyors of purid pop.

Flicking through my trusty Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll at home later, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Miss Kristina was a remarkably attractive young lady. Again - as I've already indicated - terribly shallow. This was my first experience of a prog rock band fronted by a female, so I was a tad uncertain as to how it might compare to the testostrone bias of my existing collection.

I had little or no sense of what to expect on that first listen. With my most recent purchases being Focus and Tangerine Dream, I realised that I was likely to be venturing further into odds-ville with an album by a band called 'Curved Air'.

My immediate reaction on that first play was that this not a record that could be easily categorised as prog. It seemed relatively 'safe'. It may have featured the fairly unusual inclusion of an electric violin, but the guitar stylings were not overtly adventurous, the drumming was fringed with pop-type motifs and the vocal, on the first listen at least, served to distract above all else, as it was had a grating quality.

By the end of the second track - Stretch - I was struggling to see any merit whatsoever. The third song restored some confidence that my £2 hadn't been a complete write off as there was a lovely counterbalance between the violin and an expected mellotron / electric harpsichord. I began to hear folkier strains in the vocal, perhaps less severe than the dominate styling.

There was an awful lot going on which made for an uneasy assessment. Folk, Jazz, Classical, hints of psychedelia, pop all struggled to get to the fore, often in the one song. I didn't like the production at all; it sounded as though the band were recorded underground beneath a blanket on a cold January evening.

I think that this was the first album to give me a headache. Maybe I hoped for too much, but I invested the airing of each new purchase with such ceremonial importance, looking, as teenagers are want to do, for meaning, hoping for the life changing moment when a masterpiece would unfold. As such, concentrating to the degree that I was the first time I heard 'Air Conditioning', a dark and depressing headache which largely echoed the mood of the album descended.

Half way through Propositions, with the repetitive squealing guitar and Sonja's interminable descent through the scales, I heard a vague similarity to Grace Slick. Although not yet familiar with Jefferson Airplane, the parallel made me refer to the album's year of release: 1970. I stopped and thought about that. I may not have been sufficiently immersed in the music of the period to be called an expert, but I knew enough to realise that the level of invention I was hearing was quite significantly ahead of it's time.

The awkwardness I was experiencing in trying to assimilate the vast array of influences and ambition could largely be explained by the scope of the experimentation.

By the time I got to Situations, I began to lose my prejudice and become more appreciative than critical. Listening to the guitar sound once more as I write this, I am struck by how wonderfully underrated Francis Monkman is as a multi-instrumentalist. I say 'wonderfully', as occasionally it's better to be party to an almost secretive appreciation of a cult musician who is largely unknown to a wider audience, than it is to be one of many devotees to a massively successful well-known band.

Not an easy listen. I still struggle with the vocal style, but there is enough going on with Francis Monkman to justify a considered reappraisal from time to time.

I'm only frustrated now that I long ago sold my picture disc version of this release. I'm sure it'd be worth a bob or two now.