Review of Mahavishnu Orchestra's Birds Of Fire

Released 1973



I hadn't heard of Mahavishnu Orchestra until my third day at University. Not just their music, but even that they existed in the first place. This surprised me, as despite my tender years, I considered myself extremely well read when it came to my prog rock history. I may not, at that time, have heard Gentle Giant or Tonto's Expanding Headband for instance, but I was conversant with who they were and their key works, ready for my eager attention in the coming months and years. But, at the age of nineteen and one day, Mahavishnu Orchestra had passed me by completely.

On this third day at University in Glasgow, I was still wandering around aimlessly, exploring both the city itself and the nooks and crannies of the halls of residence, including the library, where I found myself early in the evening. Amongst the predictable hushed calmness I encountered the odd sight of a comatose male figure, upside down on one of the chairs with a bad perm brushing the floor, clutching an acoustic guitar, and surrounded by a sizeable collection of high strength lager cans. Righting himself to something approximating vertical, he introduced himself via an impenetrable accent as coming from the extreme western arm of Scotland. Through a barrage of almost tourette level obscenities, he enquired about my musical preferences. It was during the remainder of that evening that I was introduced to the wonders of John McLaughlin et al, along with Robin Trower and, ahem, Journey.

I'll admit at this point, that as far as Mahavishnu Orchestra (by the way, it has always frustrated me as to why the definite article was deemed unnecessary as an appendage) goes, this has, to this day, been the only album of their that I've ever heard. Strange really, as for a while a few years later, I got very heavily into Santana, including his 'Devadip' phase where he recorded a couple of albums with John McLaughlin, which I enjoyed at the time. I also love Bitches Brew which I consider to be the most underrated prog album of all time. Anyway, for whatever reason, I never got further than Birds of Fire.

The title track provided probably my second or third experience of prog violin (as opposed to fiddle) after Curved Air and Gong, and certainly the most extreme style of playing to date. In fact, there are a large number of extremes on this track. From the frenzied drumming and impossibly fast guitar soloing, it really is a baptism of fire into this region of prog.

Of course, many would argue that this has no right wearing any form of prog label. After all, the musicians all contributed most of their careers to pure jazz or jazz fusion. I would argue, with absolutely no pejorative intention, that this album has been hijacked from the fringes of fusion by the prog contingent, seeing as many typically prog-like motifs as jazz influences.

Either way, moments such as the guitar solo on Miles Beyond will leave any music fan with their mouths open. Whether playing of this virtuosity is jazz, fusion, prog or indeed stands alone is really irrelevant, in terms of 'progressing' the musical form, this is a fascinating album.

Coming to it as young as I did, I can't pretend that the first few listens were easy. Now, being a seasoned prog fan, I can see correspondences between this album and many, many straight bands. Celestial Terrestial Commuters for example, reminds me of the Canterbury set; especially Hatfield And The North and Caravan, while Thousand Island Park has as much in common with Gentle Giant as it does with the way Tony Banks 'staged' a mid-period Genesis track. Well, I know what I mean.

The core of the album is arguably One Word. For someone would thought Bill Bruford or John Bonham were the greatest drummers ever, I learnt to broaden my horizons when listening to the pace and precision of Billy Cobham. There is an incredible sense of menace in this track, which is as much about the atmosphere created by the playing as it is about the actual playing. There is a clinical nature to the playing which achieves the incredible feat of appearing both outrageously accomplished and sophisticated as it does effortless at the same time. I'm sure the quality of the playing must have evoked great fear in their contemporaries.

Sanctuary again has huge menace, but a remarkable beauty. I love the bass on this track. Utterly beautiful and very reminiscent of the atmosphere's created by Robert Wyatt.

Although I have owned this for many years and give it an airing on a frequent basis, I still feel under qualified to give this album the review it deserves. Listening to the middle section of Open Country Joy, I am spellbound by almost everything about it: from the country fiddle to the 'pretty' keyboards and the blistering guitar solo, it is stunning achievement. I probably need another twenty years with it fully appreciate it's depth.

Review of Gong's Camembert Electrique

Released 1971

" Well help me help me sing this song, I wanna stay living for much too long. Now I wanna ride this big brass gong. Where am I babe? You don't know!"


I can't help but smile when I think of this album. Not only is there is a great deal of humor in the album itself, but as a student this was one of a few select records whose oddness when broadcast on the communal music centre in the hall of, brought forth looks of incredulity from the 'straights' and helped to cement the unfavourable reputation myself and my cohorts quite deliberately built up and relished.

Remarkably I can't recall which of these cohorts first purchased Camembert Electrique. I certainly acquired a vinyl copy at some point and I am now on my second CD copy. Whoever introduced the first copy to the group did us a favour. Gong are a band who are a form of musical marmite, inspiring either fervoured devotion or mild horror.

I knew nothing about Gong before Camembert Electrique, other than their associations with pixies and teapots through various other album covers spotted in the second hand bins. Clearly they were bonkers. I guessed their Frenchness contributed to this mania and eccentricity.

There's really no point trying to draw comparisons between Gong and any other mainstream prog band. Indeed it is their individuality which is so endearing.

The record starts with a brief introduction in French to the Planet Gong by a non human entity. This segues into You Can't Kill Me, heavy on sax, chemically enhanced female backgrounds, some excellent percussion and largely free form lyrics. The bursts of guitar, very low in the mix, are heavy on distortion and bent notes. It is highly repetitive with hints of jazz influence and unhealthy catchy.

I've Bin Stoned Before does exactly what it says on the tin, being a tirade of stoned monologue underpinned by gorgeous sax and grand hammond. Bonkers but brilliant.

It is difficult to pin down whether there is a theme or concept behind the album other than being the collective free form jamming of a bunch of French hippies. Not that this is a bad thing. Honest.

There are odd interludes which work very well through the headphones: Wet Cheese Delirium for example combines an indefinable sound effect with a largely incomprehensible repeated lyric. It lasts less than a minute but adds to the overall madness.

The highlight of the record is undoubtably Fohat Digs Holes In Space. It starts with mystical sound effects, weird female lyrics, a repeating percussive theme which builds in intensity with early Floydian type keyboards before culminating in hilarious drug referencing lyrics and a tremendous guitar solo.

Tried So Hard is very sedate by comparison, with a more orthodox rhythm, lyrics which invite you to sing along with a quite punky vocal style morphing through more gentle verses becoming about twelve songs in one. Listening to it again as I type, I had forgotten just how complex and deliciously effective this track can be.

Overall, it's a hugely enjoyable record with outstanding playing, massive prog credentials and long term appeal. All these years later, I can find at least as much to enjoy as I did as a student still relatively new to the world of prog.