A few posts ago, Chris M. challenged us to list our favorite albums of Third Wave Prog. I will do that, but, until then, I thought it would be fun to post this–something I wrote roughly 12 to 13 years ago–trying to explain to some friends why I thought New Wave (that is, late 70s/early 80s) was the proper successor to First Wave Prog. Regardless, I still think my opinions (overall) are valid–at least at a personal level, though I would certainly revise some of this a dozen years later as well. The obvious missing bands are Big Big Train, The Tangent, and Cosmograf.
And, a critical note: I intentionally left out ALL Rush albums, as they would’ve taken over almost everything below. So, it seemed prudent to exclude them completely.
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The youngest of three boys, born in the summer of love (September 6, 1967—only 3 months and five days after the release of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” by the Beatles), and coming of age in the late 1970s and early 1980s, I grew up on progressive rock: Yes, Kansas, Genesis, and the Moody Blues. We faithfully shunned the 3-minute pop format and we sought mightily the 20- and 30-minute epics of European (usually liturgically derived) symphonic music with rock instrumentation and bizarre time signatures.
I remember hearing lots of longish, prog songs as early as 1971 or 1972. Though I’ve never played an instrument with any degree of passion, I’m assured by my mom and two older brothers that I was obsessed with music even as a toddler. Somehow, I figured out how to crawl out of my crib and down the stairs to the family stereo. Even as a one-year old, I would wake the entire household up, blaring the Banana Splits or Snoopy and the Red Baron at 3 in the morning.
My first great awakening came, though, from seeing the sleeves of YesSongs. I spent hours trying to figure out how the animals made it from one floating island to the next. And, I’ll never forget the first time I played side one of YesSongs—I was overwhelmed by the depth and complexity of it.
As is now well recognized, the prog lyrics as well as the cover art tended to be fantastic, pretentious, overblown, and theological. There have even been some interesting scholarly articles about progressive rock thriving in the western and midwestern states of America, mostly among middle-class, conservative kids. And, of course, we, with great confidence, derided disco and top-40 music through junior high, high school, and college. Disco and top-40 music, as we understood it, were decadent and vacuous. As far as we were concerned, progressive rock artists (and some New Wavers) were the only real musicians outside of the classical and jazz world.
In many ways, progressive rock helped define my own childhood and teenage years. I will never forget seeing abolitionist John Brown on the cover of a 1974 Kansas album (it sparked all kinds of historical questions re: Kansas, abolitionism, and the American Civil War); hearing Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” at the University of Notre Dame in the fall of 1979; being introduced to Rush’s 1981 “Moving Pictures” in the Liberty Junior High School library in Hutchinson, Kansas; or listening to Yes’s “Fragile” over and over again and trying to figure out the “deep” meaning of the lyrics. In high school, I worked as on overnight D.J. at a local rock station (KWHK), which doesn’t exist anymore. And, while in college at Notre Dame, I had a Friday-night progressive rock show (WSND) my junior and senior years, often playing two hour blocks of Rush or other groups.
As powerful any the albums just mentioned, though, was my first listen to Talk Talk’s Colour of Spring in the spring of 1987 and, even more so, my first listen to Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden in September 1988.
My comrade in arms in college was the singer of the most popular band on campus, St. Paul and the Martyrs. They even opened for Phish when Phish played on campus, spring 1990. The leader singer, Kevin McCormick, even became my oldest son’s godfather! Now, he’s a well-known classical guitarist and even a Progarchist.
But, I’ll never forget the two of us listening to Spirit of Eden for the first time. We were just stunned and in complete silence as we explored every note and every silence of the album.
Having turned 13 in the autumn of 1980, I also, of course, grew up with New Wave: Thomas Dolby, Kate Bush, The Police, The Cure, Oingo Boingo, XTC, Siouxie and the Banshees, and Echo and the Bunnymen. Over the Wall!
Our local Kansas radio station—KWHK—had briefly been formatted for New Wave, so I was able to get every new album sent by the record labels. The one that hit me hardest was XTC’s Skylarking.
My college radio show at Notre Dame focused on progressive rock, as mentioned above, but I threw in a lot of New Wave. New Wave just seemed the more radio-friendly version of progressive rock. And, by the early 1980s, progressive rock seemed to have run its course. Could Asia really claim to be the successor of Yes? Or, could Genesis without Peter Gabriel or Steve Hackett really be Genesis? We answered with a resounding “no.” That left us with New Wave.
After all, in 1990, we still had a few years before Dream Theater and Spock’s Beard re-introduced—in the states—a new wave of Progressive Rock.
A quarter of a century later, I realize that music took on religious significance for me and my friends. Those who embraced disco, pop, or top 40 music were heretics, and we supporters of progressive rock were the orthodox.
High School was a long time ago for me, but I still remember it well. During the summers, I had one of the best jobs in the world–I was a DJ at our local AM-station, KWHK. Not only did I DJ, but I also got to write and produce commercials, and I served as a liaison between the sheriff’s department and the National Weather Service. I grew up in central Kansas, so we had tornados and tornado warnings quite frequently. Great job. I’ve also been into collecting music (mostly progressive and alternative rock, some jazz, and a bit of classical) since second grade. I started young, and, for better or worse, I’ve never stopped. My kids (13 and under) can name bassists, singers, and drummers of the major progressive bands. And, yes, I’m proud of them.
Freshman year of high school, 1982-1983. It was freshman year that I really discovered New Wave. I had been listening, almost exclusively, to progressive rock and what’s now called classic rock during the 1970s and earliest part of the 1980s. The father of a friend of mine owned a record store, and we were introduced to all kinds of music through the store in 9th grade. In particular, I listened to Thomas Dolby’s Golden Age of Wireless (favorite song: One of Our Submarines is Missing). I had this on one side of a tape and ABC’s The Lexicon of Love (favorite song: 4 Ever 2 Gether). Also lots of U2’s War (favorite song: Sunday Bloody Sunday). Progressive Rock was never far from my heart, and I listened to Rush’s Signals (favorite song: Subdivisions) pretty much non-stop, Peter Gabriel’s IV (favorite song: Lay Your Hands on Me), and Roxy Music’s Avalon (favorite song: Take a Chance with Me).
Sophomore year of high school, 1983-1984. This was a huge year for music. Genesis released their self-titled album (favorite song: Home by the Sea, Parts I and II); the Police released Synchronicity (favorite song: Synchronicity II); and Yes released 90125 (favorite song: Cinema).
Junior year, 1984-1985. Rush’s Grace under Pressure (favorite song: Between the Wheels) dominated every other album that year. Frankly, this was THE album. If I had to name a favorite album of high school, this would be it. My sophomore year in college, I wrote a paper using only the lyrics from the album. I even got an A. I also listened a lot to The Smiths’ Hatful of Hollow (favorite song: Please, Please, Please), Oingo Boingo’s Dead Man’s Party (favorite song: same as title), and Thomas Dolby’s second album, The Flat Earth (Favorite song: same as title).
Senior year, 1985-1986. Another great year for music, but mostly for former proggers going pop. Albums that year included, at the top of the list: Sting, Dream of the Blue Turtles (favorite song: Fortress Around Your Heart), Peter Gabriel, So (favorite song: In Yours Eyes), Tears for Fears, Songs from the Big Chair (favorite song: Broken), and XTC, Skylarking (favorite song: The Man Who Sailed Around His Soul). The other album I played constantly was the soundtrack to To Live and Die in LA (a pop band, Wang Chung, playing a very proggy style). Lots of Kate Bush, Hounds of Love, too (favorite song: Hello Earth).
It wasn’t until my freshman year (1986-1987) that I really got into Talk Talk, the Cure, and Echo and the Bunnymen. I also really liked Blancmange (kind of a really smart Talking Heads) and New Model Army and a few others. That year, U2 released “The Joshua Tree.” I’ll never forget sitting in the car with a friend, being about 1/2 through the album and just breaking down (not something I did very often) because of the beautiful intensity of the album. Crazy. At the time, I was horrified by RATTLE AND HUM. Now, I think The Joshua Tree as a whole is really good, not brilliant. Side two, maybe, is brilliant. Side one has a brilliant moment–bullet the blue sky. And, RATTLE AND HUM seems better than it did to me then.
In high school, I remember listening to some A-ha, B-Movie, b-52s, Erasure, Depeche Mode, and Communards. I don’t think I would’ve chosen to listen to these groups, but they would’ve been pretty hard to escape then. I would’ve always preferred something prog–unless we were dancing. Had an all night party at my house once my senior year when my mom was out of town. Late, late into the evening, a group of us were trying to analyze a 1977 Genesis concert we’d taped off of PBS! I’ll never forget that night. Lots of analyzing Pink Floyd, too.
My Top Seven Progressive Rock Albums (in no order after the first three)
Kevin McCormick, Squall (1999). Some of the best music ever written—but tempered with very serious classical sensibilities and lacking the bombast present in even the best of progressive rock. McCormick incorporates his profound poetry as lyrics. Each word—and the way Kevin sings it—seemed utterly filled with Christian grace and conviction. This is part two of trilogy (he’s working on number three). And, it’s hard to listen to Squall without listening to its equally fine predecessor, With the Coming of Evening (1993).
Talk Talk, Colour of Spring (1986). I could certainly regard this as either my top album of all time (though interchangeably with Squall and Spirit of Eden; depends on my mood), or close to it. I couldn’t even count how many times I’ve listened to it. I bought it on a whim—because I liked James Marsh’s cover. My whim paid off, as it opened a whole new realm of music to me. But, what’s not to like: impressionist 1950’s Jazz and 1960’s Stevie Winwood mixed with intensely Christian lyrics.
Talk Talk, Spirit of Eden (1988). Every note and word is perfect. Mark Hollis and Tim Friese-Greene spent 14 months in a church recording this album. Hard to beat the 20+ minute opening to the album. And, the lyrics—better than most hymns I hear in church, to be sure. Side two even has a song with St. Ignatius of Loyola’s prayer asking for the grace to surrender one’s will to God.
Yes, Close to the Edge (1972). Ok, I’m noticing a pattern as I write out these descriptions—this album, as I understand it, is about the Reformation. Anderson and co. incorporate high-church Anglican music and choral arrangements as they sing about Christ the Word.
Genesis, Selling England by the Pound (1973). Heavily influenced by the poetry T.S. Eliot, Peter Gabriel soars on this album.
Pink Floyd, Animals (1977). Continuing the fantasy and science-fiction themes of their earlier albums, Roger Waters and David Gilmore seriously challenge the right of one human to exploit another in this George Orwell inspired album.
Flower Kings, Space Revolver (2000). Lyrics range from weird to wacky, as does the music. Pro-Christian themes abound, but placed within a rather Scandinavian pastoral setting.
My Top Seven non-Progressive Rock Albums (in no order)
Thomas Dolby, Golden Age of Wireless (1982). This was my introduction to New Wave. Wild arrangements and very Bradbury-esque lyrics. It became my anthem during high school debate and forensics.
Sarah McLachlan, Fumbling Towards Ecstasy (1993). I can’t explain why this album means so much to me, but it does. I love McLachlan’s voice and use of organ. And, this first album lacks the nasty anti-Christian and pro-feminist cant of her later work. When I worked at the Organization of American Historians in graduate school, we would play this CD as we played Quake on the network (after business hours, of course).
Echo and the Bunnymen, Ocean Rain (1984). Beautiful and bizarre—musically and lyrically. Probably the most Doors’ inspired album of the New Wave movement. While the lyrics don’t quite rival those of Morrissey (in the Smiths), the music surpasses anything Johnny Marr wrote. A staple for me in college. I’m just sorry that some of the lyrics are heretical.
Traffic, John Barleycorn Must Die (1970). What can I say about Stevie Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and Chris Wood? Jazz-rock with Anglo-Saxon folktales thrown in. Lots of Traffic is excellent, but this surpasses all of their other albums.
Van Morrison, Astral Weeks (1968). Introspection without pure naval gazing. And, no body writes better about the beginnings of love than Van Morrison. Must be something in the Irish soul. As I understand it, the album was done in one take with the jazz musicians being given the music when they entered the studio. Perfect for a spring day.
The Cure, Disintegration (1990). From the beginning to the end, a masterpiece. Perfect pacing, and fascinating arrangements. The Cure’s flaw is their tendency to write hyper, bouncy pop songs. While Disintegration has a few of these, they remain tempered by the more serious, gothic moments on the album. And, hey, the album begins with early medieval plainsong.
Radiohead, Kid A (2000). Intense lyrics about the problems of post modernity and scientism. Though Ok, Computer has better moments, Kid A has no real flaws. The lyrics, however, remain unimportant, ultimately, as Thom Yorke’s voice serves as another instrument on the album. The producer, Nigel Godrich, deserves credit for being an equal member of the band. The opening track, “Everything in its right place” sums up the production.
Serious honorable mentions: Talk Talk, Laughing Stock (1991); Dream Theater, Octavarium (2005); Marillion, Brave (1992); The Police, Synchronicity (1983); Yes, Drama (1980); XTC, Skylarking (1986); Kate Bush, Hounds of Love (1985); Kate Bush, Aeriel (disc 2; 2005); and Simple Minds, New Gold Dream (1982).
announcement here of something new-ish, characterized by guitarist Matt Stevens as being “more joyous and intense, with bigger riffs and more of an electronic feel” (teamrock.com).
intensity aesthetic so compactly captured in “Magnet in Your Face.” Even so, they allow for some stretching and soundscape exploration that assures us that this is still TFATD. “Conceptual continuity,” to invoke Frank Zappa’s phrase, is naturally strongest on “Part 6,” picking up the thread that began with their first outing. Here is the mix of abstract and concrete that first grabbed my attention by the scruff of the neck and connected with that center of force between my ears that the guys have now identified as my magnet.
Wikipedia refers to them aptly as “a group of interdisciplinary performing artists.” They’ve been around since the early 1990’s, and among other distinctions have competed with some success on America’s Got Talent (though the judges ultimately did not seem to get what they were up to). Their mix of audio and visual presentation could invite comparisons to the Blue Man Group, but I find them much more relaxed and refreshing in some ways. The Blue Men are a bit more “
Pneumatica (2014) is Squonk Opera’s latest CD release, with music from their latest stage production. Why would one only listen to the music without the visual elements? A good question. I wouldn’t really want to listen to Blue Man’s version of “Baba O’Reilly” without the visual, for example. And the visuals associated with Pneumatica go beyond the performance one can see in a video. (Their 20 page “
I’m not convinced that Pneumatica as CD/album is something that I would return to for multiple listenings, though I think that there are proggish listeners who would disagree. For my part, I find the earlier CD, Mayhem and Majesty (2010), more fascinating and “durable,” probably because the minimalist element is most prominent and effective there. But remember that this judgment is rendered upon the music, artificially divorced from its performative context. Squonk Opera’s work is best felt and seen, not just heard.
Progarchy 