Check out Jon Michaud’s look back at The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway:

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2014/03/the-ulysses-of-concept-albums.html

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“My argument was that there aren’t many novels which are written by a committee.”

–Peter Gabriel (from Hugh Fielder’s The Book of Genesis, quoted by The Annotated Lamb Lies Down on Broadway)

Novel?  Suggesting the new?  Suggesting a sort of SERIOUS STORY (the unavoidable uppercase insinuating itself into any thought of that suggestion)?  Sure, it’s like a novel.  We’re used to calling it a “concept album” too, as if most albums are somehow without (bereft of) a concept.  Both novels and concept albums had significant histories behind them in 1974, when The Lamb was loosed.  One might say that they were “old hat,” though there are always folks around interested in wearing old hats, tilting them at what they take to be new angles, or perhaps sticking new feathers in them and calling them “Mac” or “Tony.”

It’s like a novel, like a concept album, like a sharp bend between genres.  Taken to the stage on its infamous tour, it’s like a multimedia circus (remembering that some adore a circus, others think a circus puerile, and still others are just deathly afraid of the clowns).  It’s like a Gesamtkunstwerk, in a Wagnerian idiom of “express to excess.”

So just what the hell is it?  Or give that question a nastier edge with the “F-WORD,” implying a deep skepticism regarding whether it is, in any sense, FORWARD.

But does it have to be?  Must it be?  Muss es sein?

These gestures of “criticism,” this architectural dance — whether printed or blogged or just traded with intense sincerity on the floor of one’s room, between the speakers — has so often turned into a flippant flame, fueled by the expectation that whatever it is, it must be something novel.

I’ve recently been watching the TV-series, Castle, the one about the rich crime writer who teams up with the hot detective, and much murder and dark hilarity ensue.  Novels are the business of the title character, but they are clearly the kind of novels that are not really meant to be particularly novel, at least not in the sense that they might eventually be discussed with great solemnity in future seminar courses in departments of English Literature.  (Yet who can predict?)  I love the program, not because it brings me something new, but because it does something that is NOT new, that is familiar, friendly, and it does it (in my estimation, at least, and perhaps sometimes more than others) exceptionally well.  It constantly and deliberately teeters on the edge of the cheesy, embracing formulaic characters and dialogue with breathtaking abandon, concentrating not on breaking any molds but on filling and caressing every part of the mold, lovingly filling the mold and affirming its shape and texture.  (And the frequent humorous references to Nathan Fillion’s earlier role in Firefly are a lot of fun.)

I don’t watch Castle with the same expectations that I bring to the BBC’s more edgy and exploratory Sherlock.  Hopefully you get the picture.

So what does this have to do with The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway?  No, no, don’t hurry me.  The answer is not necessarily “everything.”  It should be clear, however, that the answer is also a significant distance away from “nothing.”

It dawns upon me slowly, as I am writing this, that my impetus here is a polarity, a bidirectional field of force between a pole that is supposed to be new, innovative, groundbreaking, trendsetting, cutting edge, so-cool-only-hipsters-know-about-it on the one hand, and a pole that is content with breathing as much life as it can into something old, something “stock,” something cliché.

Having followed associations along an idiosyncratic path in the manner of the Freudian dream analyst, I arrive at the final word of the last paragraph, ‘cliché,’ and finally lay a hesitant hold on what I’d like to offer you in this Look at The Lamb.  I’m reminded of Todd Rundgren’s song, “Cliché” (from the album, Faithful [1976]).  It exudes Rundgren’s trademark pop relational agonizing, and captures a certain heartfelt gesture of negation at the banality of the familiar, of the expected.  “Who makes up the rules for the world?”  “I vivisect and then pretend to know.”

So here’s my recommendation this time:  Listen to that Rundgren song, and feel the painful, frustrated resignation in Todd’s inimitable voice.

Done that?  OK, now go back to The Lamb.  Listen and resign.

What the hell is it?

It is the jigsaw. it is purple haze.
It never stays in one place, but it’s not a passing phase,
It is in the singles bar, in the distance of the face
It is in between the cages, it is always in a space
It is here. it is now…

It is real.  It is Rael.

Resign and allow it to be between the cages, always in space, not fixed at a pole but perpetually spinning between.

If it seems like a cliché, let it be so and listen for the loving caress.  If it seems novel, let it be so and watch for “the big reveal.”  But most of all, if it seems to be neither, please please just let it be so.

<—- Previous Look     Prologue     Next Look —->

As other Progarchists have mentioned last weekend was the Classic Rock Society awards night at the Montgomery Hall, Wath Upon Dearne and as John Simms and Alison Henderson have already gone into great depth about the winners, I won’t elaborate too much more on whats already been said.

The Classic Rock Society is a special place for me beacuse as a 17 year old prog fan growing up in South Yorkshire nearly 20 years ago in a world full of Brit pop, Cool Britannia and girl power the one thing I was looking for was an organisation full of like minded individuals putting on prog gigs and writing about the music I listened to.

Less than 10 miles from home was the Rotherham Classic Rock Society, as it was then, rather like being in Wigan at the rise of Northern Soul, or Liverpool at the birth of the Beatles, I was in the right place at the right time. How lucky was I?

Since then I have had the immense pleasure of writing for their magazine, had the joy of interviewing some of my musical heroes, helped out at gigs, made some great lifelong friends and been introduced to some wonderful music all before the days of streaming, downloads and You Tube!

This makes going back to Rotherham for whatever CRS gig always feels like going home, as I bump into old friends and, with the internet having revolutionised socialising, meet people I consider friends for the first time in the flesh.

It was a Big Big night for Big Big Train, and their beer was something that I sampled (several times, I had to make sure I liked it!), whilst leaving with a copy of The Underfall Yard for the journey home, their victories were on the were recognition of their finest musical achievement so far, and a reflection that their English brand of prog has captured the hearts of many people, myself included. Magenta also triumphed with some well-deserved awards, as detailed elsewhere in Progarchy.

Having helped out at Awards nights in the past where there have been technical difficulties, or guitarists going AWOL, it’s quite nice to be a spectator rather than a participant, and I’m always glad when I’m not the one on the door trying to calm a prog crowd anxious to get to the bar!

Progarchys friend Mr Andy Tillison played a blinder,despite having minor technical issues earlier and his live version of probably my favourite Tangent song Perdu Dans Paris in his inimitable solo style, if the absence of a Tangent tour means more Tillison solo gigs then I for one won’t be disappointed.

I spent a great night meeting and catching up with fellow Progarchist Alison Henderson. I had a good chat with Steve Taylor vocalist with Strangefish who have reformed, and I heartily recommend that if you’ve never heard anything by them, give them a listen then try and get to one of their comeback gigs. On their night they were one of the finest live bands around and its good to have them back. I caught up with Bryan Josh from Mostly Autumn whose always a good bloke to chat to, and he reminded me, that it’d been nearly 15 years since Mostly Autumn first played Rotherham, my how the time flies.

One person I enjoyed chatting to was Jarrod Gosling (of I Monster and Henry Fool fame) who’s a Sheffield musical legend and who has a new prog opus out under the name of Regal Worm. If you like your prog quirky, playful, intelligent and ambitious then grab yourself a copy of Use and Ornament, you won’t be disappointed.

Going to a CRS gig makes you feel part of a big family, and you can go alone but still find people to talk to. I spent time with the talented Simon Godfrey of Shineback and Tinyfish fame, and Robert Ramsay wordsmith extraordinaire, both great guys and bad influences (I blame Mr Ramsay for suggesting I try the Big Big Train beer!!).

Clive Nolan’s Alchemy was an epic prog musical, and whilst I really enjoyed the stage show, I would like to see the full musical performance to really get the feel for the work. Clive Nolan never disappoints whatever he turns his hand to, and Alchemy was no exception with Andy Sears in fine form, and the band really tight and on it all night.

Highlight of the night however was having the pleasure of meeting Fish again, the first time I met him was at the 2005 CRS awards, when he last presented the awards, who was over the moon at picking up his best lyricist award, one he rightly deserved.

This was another fine awards night even though I didn’t win anything on the raffle and showcases the hard work the CRS has put into promoting prog rock since 1991.

For over 20 years they have been putting on fine quality gigs and the awards night at various venues, and it’s a great organisation to be a part of, has shaped my life and musical tastes in so many ways and the gigs are always a great atmosphere, so if you’ve never been before I recommend you try them out.