Review of Spirit's First Album

Released 1968

"Look beneath your lid some morning, See those things you didn't quite consume— The world's a can for Your fresh garbage . . . Look beneath your lid some morning, See those things you didn't quite consume— Your fresh garbage . . ."

I have a surreal form of Alzheimer's surrounding the purchase of my first copy of Spirit's debut album.

Firstly, the artwork for my copy was entirely different to the one pictured above; a head shot split between the five members of the band. I have absolutely no recall regarding what the artwork actually depicted. None whatsoever, other than to say with (almost) complete certainty that it was different.

Secondly, when I first played the album, I noted that although the track listing on the sleeve matched the tracks on the vinyl, both labels were from a different Spirit album. I think it was from Clear Spirit. Rather than content myself with the fact that I was possibly in the possession of something which could be reasonably valuable, I returned to the shop and brought it to their attention, probably expecting a refund or discount. Fool.

Thirdly, although I passed it pretty much every day for four years on my way to University and / or the pub a few hundred yards away, and then actually lived within spitting distance of it for another couple of years, I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the record store. With the following brief note, I'm sure one of my reprehensible associates from that time will be able to fill in the blanks.

The shop was run by two physically very similar brothers of a very dour disposition. Long, lank and dark hair, dark jackets and ne'er a smile betwixt them. I purchased Spirit's first album on my first visit there. One of my most prized possessions was a second hand copy of The Twelve Dreams Of Dr Sardonicus. Given that in West Cornwall, I had to rely very much on what other people discarded to broaden my musical knowledge, coming across a shop in Glasgow with a new copy of a Spirit album was nothing short of a revelation. One of the miserable brothers took my money with a disgruntled snort, handed over the record and practically willed me out of the shop.

I didn't have high expectations as I had previously read that TTDODS was a career highpoint. I was curious just how similar to it's more prominent cousin their first effort would be, especially as it was made way back in 1968. I was only two when it was released, for goodness sake. I suspected and worried that it may be a poppier effort and doubted that it would have any prog rock credentials.

Fresh Garbage then brought some relief. It was reassuringly similar to TTDODS: stoner rhythms, excellent production values, mad and decidedly the work of the same genius - Randy California. Mechanical World and Uncle Jack had a definitive pop sensibility: short, catchy, memorable hummable tunes with strong vocals from the underrated Jay Ferguson.

So far, so very Spirit. Strong tunes with enough weirdness and proficient musicianship to make me smile smugly that this was indeed of a similar quality to TTDODS.

Taurus was the first stand out track for me. As well it's otherworldly keyboard and guitar, I sat up straight, astonished that the opening guitar motif from Led Zeppelin's Stairway To Heaven was replicated, practicality note for note. I checked the release date once more and then scurried back to a trusty biography of Percy and Co. On this occasion my memory hadn't deserted me: I found a passage referring to Jimmy and Robert attending a Spirit gig in the late sixties. The thieving beggars then blatantly lifted the refrain from Taurus wholesale. Praise indeed for the magnificently inventive Mr California. Of itself Taurus is worth the price of the album alone. Other highlights on the album were the sprawling, jazzy and distinctly prog Elijah and the catchy Gramophone Man.

I still don't understand why Spirit are not more highly regarded both in the prog community but also in the rock music community in general. The playing is faultless, the songwriting well above average with an inventiveness which, while it doesn't always work, especially on some later albums, is never less than fascinating.

To coin a cliche: a worthy addition to any prog music fan's collection.

Review of Pink Floyd's Atom Heart Mother

Released 1970

"And if you sit don't make a sound
Pick your feet up off the ground
And if you hear as the warm night falls
The silver sound from a time so strange
Sing to me, sing to me"

That this is my forty fourth review and my seventh Pink Floyd album review, will probably not surprise most seasoned prog fans. Indeed, any prog fan gradually finding his or her feet as they are introduced to the genre will inevitably, I feel, lean heavily on Pink Floyd's catalogue as a Masterclass of prog.

I've pondered in previous Floyd reviews about the odd order in which I encountered their discography, and have mused often on how my perception of each them may have differed if I had followed the chronological path, instead of starting with The Dark Side Of The Moon. Say I had encountered Ummagumma before TDSOTM; I wonder if I would have made it much further than Atom Heart Mother? Although I'm sure ultimately my curiosity would have got the better of me, I'm eternally grateful that Atom Heart Mother was my seventh Floyd album; I was better prepared for it's eccentricity and ambition. and was able to contextualise it more appropriately against their later, better received and more commercially successful mega-sellers.

It is largely because of my well established appreciation of TDSOTM, Wish You Were Here etc at the time, that I now view Atom Heart Mother as the most underrated Pink Floyd album.

Actually buying my first vinyl copy of the album was a surreal experience. I remember handing the brand new cellophane wrapped album over the counter to the shop assistant. He looked at the cow. The cow possibly looked back. The shop assistant looked at me, shook his head and muttered something that sounded cryptically close to: "Bloody Hippy".

The sleeve was (and is) plainly bonkers and utterly prog (and is the first one taken from the banner on the front page of this blog) and simply owning it made me foolishly feel as though I was a mature, intelligent and impossibly hip cool cat. Anyway, I felt honoured.

Learning that this was the first side long suite committed to vinyl by Pink Floyd and that this was, in effect, the first real conceptual work, led me to the conclusion that Atom Heart Mother was arguably their first real prog album. I suppose, strictly speaking, that is not true as Ummagumma - which predated it - is nothing if not prog. It's just...It's just impossible to listen to all the way through without narcotics. Perhaps I should just state then, that Atom Heart Mother is their first prog album that 'works'. I wish I hadn't started this paragraph, but there you go.

The orchestral opening was a bit of a surprise, but its integration after less than a minute with the band proper was just genius. The Floyd stop for a moment, theres a catalogue of sound effects including explosions, horses and motorbikes before they come back in. This sets the course for the remainder of the twenty or so minutes: spells of unaccompanied orchestra interspersed with varying degrees of Floydian noodling. This noodling takes a variety of forms, from very familiar Rick Wright led keyboard themes, very much in keeping with later albums, gorgeous slow mellow passages with female vocal free-forming a la The Great Gig In The Sky and a full on choral passages with Nick Mason signature punctuating drumming, a great bass solo, a stunning bluesy guitar and Hammond organ duet. Then there is a few minutes sound effects with little or no obvious direction. This gives way to a lush string section before finally climaxing in pretty much all of the above. I haven't a clue what on earth it is all about, but I think it works superbly well.

First time around I wasn't overly taken with the second side, seeing it as something as an anti-climax. I now view almost all of the second side very differently. That Roger Water's was capable of a simple and touching love song such as If, I found remarkable to start with.

I'm now stunned that I overlooked Summer '68 as filler. The psychedelic chorus and spacey effects applied to Rick Wright's voice is very similar to one of my favourite (and formerly reviewed) album: Spirit's Twelve Dreams Of Dr Sardonicus. Rick's playing here is utterly inspired and now sadly missed. Listening to it now, I remain stunned that it is not more highly regarded.

Fat Old Sun has recently been resurrected by David Gilmour in his live shows. Every time I hear this track, I smile at the lyric lifted deliberately from The Doors. Very clever. A simple and beautiful track which culminates with a guitar solo which again improves with every listen.

Then, oh dear. Alan's Psychedelic Breakfast. Okay, it is amusing and quite clever, and yes it does flow very neatly from the end of the previous track, but it is ultimately infantile and makes you wonder what on earth they were thinking about. I suppose that it is very much of its time, it is unique and does afford the opportunity, when offered marmalade by an aged relative to state in a slightly stoned tone: "marmalade: I like marmalade", but other than that, it is a daft way to end an otherwise excellent album.

Despite the final track, I still maintain the view that it is a fine, fine album and deserved of a reappraisal.

Review of Spirit's Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus

Released 1970

"Oh, I'm rolling, flowing through the whole population
(Mr. Skin you know where you've been)
Oh, the high and the low born are my friends and relations"

When I stumbled across a second hand copy of Spirit's Twelve Dreams of Dr Sardonicus in a market in 1984, I allowed myself a smug grin. With several worthwhile music books fleshing out my immersion in all things prog, I had already read up on Spirit and knew several interesting facts about the band.

I knew that Randy California was taught to play the guitar by Jimi Hendrix, when the latter was in Jimmy James and the Blue Flames, that Ed Cassidy, the imposing bald headed drummer was Randy's stepfather, and that the keyboard player, John Locke, claimed to be a direct descendant of the English Philosopher of the same name. I was aware that this was a well respected example of (relatively) early American prog. As such, it was with great relish that I handed over my £2.50 for this copy in very good condition.

I wasn't overly enthused by the cover. Actually, none of Spirit's album covers showed any real inspiration. The melted faces of the bands was very reminiscent of Pink Floyd's Piper At the Gates of Dawn, although the effect was much more extreme; maybe they took stronger drugs than Syd Barrett.

Having yet to experience any non-British prog, I had an very open mind about what to expect.

My first impression was that this wasn't a true prog record. Most of the tracks clocked in at the three or four minute mark. There were very 'poppy' strains; simple and repetitive chorus', as well as several main stream rock style posturings: lots of 'ooh's' and 'aah's' more in line with Jim Morrison than the intellectual eclecticism's I had picked up from Yes and Genesis etc.

However, underpinning the deceptively simple short song structures was a connecting theme; each track flowed into the next where the whole was greater than the sum of the parts. I have no idea who Dr Sardonicus is (was?) or what inspired these dozen odd dreams, but - unlike my last prog purchase ( Yes' The Yes Album), by the time the needle floated towards the centre hold at the end of the second side, I was smitten. This was sing-along prog with a bona fide guitar hero to boot. Every listen revealed another layer of bonkers lyrics, of delicate keyboard work, almost inaudible sound effects or gorgeous psychedelic guitar. Wonderful stuff.

This was top drawer prog that none of my friends had ever heard of. Now, that was worth £2.50.