If past releases by these Tin Pan Alley scumbags purporting to be something special are anything to go by, this latest scam is very likely to be just another naff attempt to rip you off.
I can tell you now that Inner Sanctum does not possess the original masters for any of these tracks. Therefore recordings can only have been compiled from ripped retail products which in the past have included washed out cassettes and second hand vinyl served up as “digitally remastered”. We posses all the original masters here at Enid HQ.
Whatever may be the content of the claimed “exclusive 2,000 word commentary on The Enid’s chequered history”, it has not been authorised by the band and could consist of almost anything.
So – If you do decide to buy this item from Inner Sanctum and it turns out not entirely to your satisfaction, send it back and demand a refund.
One of the reasons that I love rock and roll is that, when it’s at its best, it exemplifies St. Augustine’s observation about God being ever ancient and ever new. When you hear a great pop song for the first time there is a sensation of both familiarity and innovation; you feel like you’ve discovered something wonderful and timeless that has always existed that at the same time is fresh and mysterious. Contemporary pop music is good at the evoking the first feeling, but not the second.
He pins down the mysterious side of the Beatles this way:
Today’s bands usually begin weird and adventurous and grow bland and mainstream over time (a great exception is Radiohead). The Beatles did the exact opposite.
Prog seems to especially strive after the mysterious and adventurous. But prog’s Achilles’ heel is when, at its worst, it lacks the truly rocking sensation of freshness.
Which is why prog always needs to rediscover that fountain of eternal youth, to be found, perhaps, at the rock show…
When I think of silence as a part of sound, I often think of this specific album. Its “silence” was in fact the hiss of a pirated tape.
For a while in the early 1970’s, I remember being able to buy 8-track copies of “popular” albums at the grocery store. They resembled the early “generic” food products, with the plain white label and black printing. (I remember how compelling those white cans looked, with only the word “BEER” on the side.) This was before changes in copyright law of the mid-70’s, and the tapes were simply recorded from the albums and sold, presumably always without permission or payment.
I probably only ever had a small handful of these, and now I only remember one of them. I had picked up Islands by King Crimson, not yet knowing anything about them at that point, but finding myself intrigued by both the band name and the album title.
Now, this was still very early in my awakening to prog. Imagine this naive young American teen from rural Ohio, listening to “Ladies of the Road.” Then listening to it again. Then again. As many critics have suspected, it probably didn’t help with my intensely awkward, ignorantly misogynistic adolescent confrontations with my sexuality. But oh man, that saxophone entrance!
I think it was at least a week before I really listened to the whole album with the same level of attention that I gave to LOTR. (If I use that abbreviation, it will probably drive Brad Birzer crazy, which will be totally worth it.) The second song on the album that began to reverberate deeply was “Song of the Gulls.” What’s up with this? All strings? Like a “classical” piece?
Remember how those 8-tracks worked? If I remember right, at that point I could just listen to the third section of the tape over and over.
By the time the entire album had me entwined in its tendrils, I had repented and bought a legitimate copy. Removed the shrink wrap, so there was no band name or title, and it was another one of THOSE covers: Peter Sinfield’s original “Islands” painting. My third (second legitimate) copy eventually had the Trifid Nebula cover.
Once I had immersed myself in the remainder of the album’s tracks, I began to feel the importance of pauses, of “silence” (I would learn a bit later from John Cage the relativity of “silence”). It was this album, as much as any early “prog” album, that got me to notice the role of silence in music, of “negative space” in aural texture.
It was also a bit later when I went back to the earlier King Crimson, once I had made the connection that this was where Greg Lake had come from. The transitional character of Islands gave its music greater depth for me. It prepared the way for the coming adventures with Wetton, Bruford, and Cross, which are actually my favorite Crimson albums overall. But Islands remains my point of entrance, and so inescapably a sort of benchmark for my sojourn with Robert Fripp.
Listen again to Islands, and notice the surrounding sea.
The new website is up and running at http://www.thetangent.org/ as of today and is taking ‘pre-pre-orders’ for the new album, entitled Le Sacre Du Travail. According to Tillison, the new work is The Tangent’s “deepest foray yet into the world of classical/orchestral music” and draws inspiration from Stravinsky’s The Rite Of Spring. Intriguing, to say the least – and when you consider that Andy is hoping to involve the likes of Theo Travis, Jakko Jakszyk and Big Big Train’s Dave Longdon, the prospect becomes positively mouthwatering!
The notion of pre-pre-orders is an interesting one and mirrors what Magenta did with their last release, Chameleon. Essentially, you pay more for the album up-front and, in return, get access to digital versions of the tracks as they develop. Andy is right to point out that this isn’t for everyone, but if you are a music nerd then what better way to get inside the head of a musician you admire?
Andy has posted an 8-minute clip of his initial demos for the new work:
I’ve pre-pre-ordered and have already received a link to a longer 22-minute demo. When I’ve had the chance to have a proper listen, I’ll post some thoughts here.
Remember the days when there were a few artists whose albums you would buy, no questions asked, before you heard a single note? They were so consistently good that you rushed to the record store on the Tuesday the new album was released, and finding it in the bin made your heart skip a beat. The The was that kind of artist for me.
The The was/is one person: Englishman Matt Johnson. I first became aware of him in 1982 when the 12-inch single (that’s vinyl, for you youngsters) of “Uncertain Smile” showed up at WRVU where I was a college-radio DJ. The artwork was attention-grabbing, and I put it on the turntable. The most amazingly catchy tune poured out of the monitors, and I was soon bopping round and round the tiny studio. For months afterward, whenever I made a mixtape (that’s a cassette, for you youngsters) for a friend, “Uncertain Smile” was always included.
“Uncertain Smile” was a track off of Johnson’s debut US album, Soul Mining, which is a mother lode of earworms. Every single song burrows its way into your brain with an irresistible hook that won’t let go. However, beneath the surface of these new wave/pop masterpieces, turbulence was brewing.
Johnson’s next album, 1986’s “Infected”, while maintaining the high hook-to-song ratio, was also chock-full of bile and bitterness. The title track’s chorus included the line, “So infect me with your love”. Love is a disease? Hmm…. “Heartland” comes across now as surprisingly prescient, as Johnson bemoans his country’s loss of independence: “The ammunition’s been passed/And the Lord’s been praised/But the wars on the televisions/Will never be explained/All the bankers getting’ sweaty/Beneath their white collars/As the pound in our pocket/Turns into a dollar/THIS IS THE 51ST STATE OF THE USA.”
For 1989’s Mind Bomb, Johnson put together a real band, including Johnny Marr on guitar, whose Smiths had recently imploded. Once again, the lyrics convey Johnson’s fury at religious conflicts: “But if you think that Jesus Christ is coming/Honey you’ve got another thing coming/If he ever finds out who’s hijacked his name/He’ll cut out his heart and turn in his grave/Islam is rising/The Christians mobilizing/The world is on its hands and knees/It’s forgotten the message and worships the creeds.” (Armageddon Days Are Here Again) However, alongside those rants are beautiful ballads like “Gravitate To Me”, where he croons, “I am the lighthouse/I am the sea/I am the air that you breathe/Gravitate to me.” And, as always, it all goes down easy, thanks to the gorgeous melodies wrapped around the words.
1993’s Dusk is the last of The The’s “classic” albums. It starts off with the sound of a needle dropping onto a vinyl record, and the listener is suddenly in the middle of a monologue by Johnson that sounds like it was recorded live in a comedy club. Except what he’s saying isn’t particularly funny – he sounds like he’s on the verge of being totally unhinged – and just when things begin to get really uncomfortable, he strums an acoustic guitar and sings, “Well, I’ve been crushing the symptoms/But I can’t locate the cause/Could God really be so cruel?/To give us feelings/That could never be fulfilled/Baby…” and we are off on a rollercoaster ride as Johnson explores his frustrations with love, lust, God, personal isolation, and the evil that every human is capable of .
Instead of railing against countries’ foreign policies and various religious doctrines, Johnson gets intensely personal in Dusk: “Everybody knows what’s going wrong with the world/But I don’t even know what’s going on in myself.” (Slow Emotion Replay) In the song “Lung Shadows”, a beautiful, jazz-tinged theme plays while he softly begs repeatedly, “Come closer to me”. In “Bluer Than Midnight”, he echoes Paul as he laments, “One sin leads to another/Oh, the harder I try/I can never, never, never find peace in this life.”
The album closes with “Lonely Planet”, which features a cathartic, uplifting melody, and the chorus, “If you can’t change the world, change yourself.” It’s a powerful song that reflects the wisdom gained from looking at a fallen world with unblinking eyes, and realizing, “The world’s too big and life’s too short/to be alone .. to be alone.” In the end, simply loving someone is the greatest thing we can hope to accomplish.
One last note: in 2002, Epic/Legacy rereleased Soul Mining, Infected, Mind Bomb, and Dusk in remastered versions that are excellent. If you get all four, the slipcases form two portraits of Matt Johnson when placed side-by side (which I think is pretty cool):
Great news this weekend. First, from Matt Stevens:
Hello Brad
Hope you’re good. It’s been crazy here, a weird kind of post gigging come down. The Jazz Cafe gig was great fun, they treat you well there, blimey. Dressing rooms and beer!
I made a Spotify playlist with a “best of” my solo stuff. Is there any chance you can share it on your Facebook, Twitter, Groups or on any Forums you are a member of? This stuff makes a MASSIVE difference to obscure/DIY artists like me. The URL is:
I know Spotify is controversial but for me at the moment the important thing is to grow the audience for the music. Your help is really appreciated, thanks loads.
Also if anyone is voting in the Prog magazine reader awards at:
And fancies voting for for Fierce and The Dead or me it would be really appreciated 🙂 Exposure in these sort of polls really helps 🙂 Hopefully all the gigging this year has raised the profile a bit…
I’ve no more gigs booked now so the next months will probably be a bit quiet while we write and record the new Fierce and The Dead record and plan my new solo record. Busy busy. The new Fierce And The Dead demos sound really good. They may be some sort of Pledge Music type pre-order. I’ll let you know.
Also we’re planning to tour outside the UK so please let us know where you’d like to see us. Thanks 🙂
And, I had the great privilege of listening to about 75 minutes of Geoff Banks’s Prog Dog Radio Show this afternoon. He announced some exciting news from The Tangent. Pre-sales for their next album will be open beginning tomorrow afternoon.
On Friday, The Tangent released this on their Facebook page:
OK Folks the wait is over here is the very first chance to hear BRAND NEW work (in progress) from THE TANGENT. email workday@thetangent.org to get updates and find out how you can be part of a pre-pre order campaign to support this project. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkOgivtLy_U
So much good coming out of the progressive rock community right now, it’s more than a bit overwhelming. Of course, it’s the kind of overwhelming any lover of the genre craves.
I was raised listening to the 3 M’s: Motown, Musicals and Mozart. My knowledge of singers, let alone songwriters, was limited to The Temptations, Dionne Warwick, and Rogers and Hammerstein. My mother likes the story of driving me and a neighboring girl to pre-school one day, and the little girl told us that she loved Michael Jackson. “Oh, me too!” I said. “And what is your favorite Michael Jackson song?” asked my mother. “Thriller,” said the girl. “Oh What A Beautiful Morning!” replied I.
Fast forward to 1999: my oldest friend’s birthday was approaching in late June. We decided to see Tarzan, the Disney film released that summer. Perhaps you’ve never seen it; it’s a good movie, though I have serious doubts that Edgar Rice Burroughs would have ever penned a gorilla character that sounds like Rosie O’Donnell. This was also my first encounter with anything prog music related.
At age 11, “progressive rock” was not in my vocabulary or musical repertoire. Genesis was the first book of the Bible. And yet, Phil Collins filled my ears. He wrote the entire soundtrack of Tarzan, you see. He sang his own songs, instead of the animated characters filling in the key notes. It was mesmerizing, playful, and flowed like chocolate over strawberries: it was utterly delicious to listen to, and I sat in that dark theater and occasionally closed my eyes, if only to make the song’s notes linger.
A few years down the road, in high school, my musical tastes included The Band, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Coldplay, Bob Dylan, Queen, Pink Floyd, Johnny Cash and plenty of pop music. I passively listened to Phil Collins because my Studio Art I, II and III teacher played him during class. I had yet to connect the reasons of why I love certain types of music, but that would surface in college.
In rural Michigan, thanks to Pandora Radio and its music shuffle, I formally met progressive rock (in the form of RUSH) over my abundance of reading requirements. After a few songs, I became smitten. I would spend hours plugged into the music, getting to know these new friends. Prog rock’s lyrics have substance; prog rock’s instrumental prowess are unmatched; prog rock kept my attention through paper writing, research and editing the independent paper I co-ran on campus.
But back to Phil Collins and Tarzan. Tarzan, the story of the man raised by gorillas who eventually comes into contact with other humans like himself and such, human nature. Collins’ song “You’ll Be In My Heart” won an Oscar, and deservedly so, but that song is far from my favorite.
In third place, “Two Worlds”:
The song parallels two families (human and gorilla) growing in their environments who both face tragedy.
Collins: “Raise your head up/ Lift high the load/ Take strength from those that need you/ Build high the walls/ Build strong the beams/ A new life is waiting/ But danger’s no stranger here.”
This is the song that explores the relationship between Tarzan and Jane, his love interest and fellow human. Less subtly, however, the film shows how the three explorers give Tarzan his first education by showing him slides of city life and the solar system, watching the stars through a telescope, teaching him to read and how to ride a bicycle. But it is Tarzan who has something bigger to teach them about being human: family ties, loyalty, protecting one’s community.
Collins: “I wanna know, can you show me/ I wanna know about these strangers like me/ Tell me more, please show me/ Something’s familiar about these strangers like me // Come with me now to see my world/ Where there’s beauty beyond your dreams/ Can you feel the things I feel/ Right now, with you/ Take my hand/ There’s a world I need to know.”
Finally, in first place, “Son of Man”:
This is one shows Tarzan’s childhood, and the challenges he encounters which shapes his person and his character. His father figure rejects him, his gorilla mother and cousin teach, help and love him, he’s forced to learn his limitations while pushing his abilities, all the while surviving in the jungle. This song reminds me of Rudyard Kipling’s poem “If…”:
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!
Collins: “Oh, the power to be strong/ And the wisdom to be wise/ All these things will/ Come to you in time/ On this journey that you’re making/ There’ll be answers that you’ll seek/ And it’s you who’ll climb the mountain/ It’s you who’ll reach the peak.”
There is much to be said for the Tarzan soundtrack. Because of it, Phil Collins was inducted as a Disney Insider’s Legends in 2002. This may seem like a silly award, but I find it touching. In an interview with People magazine in 1999, Collins said, “We’ve broken some molds. The fact that I’m singing and the characters don’t burst into song makes it (the film) very different.”
The molds he broke were more than him singing: he introduced progressive rock into the mainstream culture via a children’s animated film, and won an Oscar as a result. He also translated the Tarzan album into German, Italian, French, and two dialects of Spanish (Latin American and Castilian), according to the Disney website – “an unprecedented feat by a musical artist for a motion picture.”
May there be many more recordings! Keep spreading the prog love, Phil.
Fellow Progarchists, may I commend to you the newly-released Beneath The Waves, by Kompendium? I’ve had this on pre-order for a while. The CD/DVD arrived this weekend and it’s truly wonderful.
Kompendium is a side-project of Magenta’s Rob Reed. Beneath The Waves has been under development for three years – which comes as little surprise when you consider the ‘cast of thousands’ involved in making it. Amongst the players, we have: Steve Hackett, Francis Dunnery, John Mitchell, Nick Barrett and Jakko Jakszyk on guitar; Gavin Harrison and Nick Beggs providing the rhythm section; Mel Collins, Troy Donockley and Barry Kerr on sax, pipes and whistles; and Dave Stewart providing string arrangements for the London Session Orchestra.
Vocal contributions are no less impressive: the English Chamber Choir; Synergy Voices; Magenta’s Tina Booth; soprano Shan Cothi and tenor Rhys Meirion; Angharad Brinn and Steve Balsamo filling the lead vocal roles.
So what’s it like?
If you are familiar with Magenta, you will recognise Rob Reed’s handiwork, but Magenta’s classic prog sound has been blended very successfully with symphonic and celtic/folk elements. At times, it feels almost as if Mr Reed has been channelling Mike Oldfield – not a bad thing if, like me, you are an Oldfield fan. There are big, dramatic soundscapes here, worthy of a film score. The vocal and choral work is very fine indeed. There are many layers to explore, and I’m going to enjoy peeling them back over the coming weeks!
There are several tracks up on Youtube that will give you a good feel for the music, but a good place to start is the EPK video:
As “Twilight: Breaking Dawn 2” takes its expected bite of the box office this weekend, let’s get the Progarchy DJ to play some Halestorm for the Twihards.
This was an event that I almost missed, because I was in a pretty sorry state on 15 November. I had been feeling fuzzy-headed and a bit shivery throughout the day; as gig time approached, I even thought about heading straight home from work to my bed.
Thankfully, I didn’t bail – but I was definitely questioning whether that was a sensible decision as I stood near the front of the crowd at Leeds Metropolitan University Student Union. And then Anathema took to the stage. Right from the start, the atmosphere was electric, with Danny Cavanagh geeing up the crowd even before they launched into their first song – I think it was Deep, from the Judgement album, although I’m not sure my fever-addled brain can be completely trusted on that. I clearly recall the next three songs, though: Thin Air, from 2010’s excellent Steven Wilson-produced We’re Here Because We’re Here, followed by Untouchable Parts 1 & 2, the opening tracks of latest album Weather Systems.
A remarkable thing happened as the band began to play these three songs. Those earlier feelings of illness and discomfort dwindled into insignificance beside the strong emotions stirred up by the music: a sense of absolute joy, of being exactly where I ought to be, witnessing this. And there was a tear or two, as well – an inevitable response to the achingly beautiful and poignant Untouchable Part 2. Isn’t the transformational power of music a wonderful thing?
That euphoria persisted for the remainder of their 45-minute set, which seemed to come to an end far too soon. There was another track from We’re Here Because We’re Here, the powerful A Simple Mistake (Steven Wilson’s favourite, apparently); a failed attempt at playing Closer – thanks to an equipment failure, which the band took in their stride; a couple of other old tunes whose titles escape me. And then it was over, leaving me wishing fervently that they had another hour to play.
Now the fuzzy head was back with a vengeance. As the temperature rose and the crowd pressed in anticipation of Opeth’s set, I wondered how long I could last before passing out and began considering my options for an early exit. But again the discomfort subsided as I became increasingly absorbed by the music.
Let me admit at this point that I’m not an Opeth devotee. I have three of their albums, so I was able to recognise songs such as The Devil’s Orchard and Famine from latest album Heritage, or Burden from Watershed – but that left at least 50% of their set unfamiliar. Yet this didn’t seem to matter, in the end. I found myself enjoying simply being there, soaking up the atmosphere, admiring the power, precision and intensity of their performance. I had a great view, and the civilised volume levels meant that it was possible to hear how well they played, something that can’t be said for many of the gigs I’ve attended in the past.
In summary: an excellent evening, despite its inauspicious beginning.
INNER SANCTUM IN ANOTHER REPACKAGING SCAM?
1993’s Dusk is the last of The The’s “classic” albums. It starts off with the sound of a needle dropping onto a vinyl record, and the listener is suddenly in the middle of a monologue by Johnson that sounds like it was recorded live in a comedy club. Except what he’s saying isn’t particularly funny – he sounds like he’s on the verge of being totally unhinged – and just when things begin to get really uncomfortable, he strums an acoustic guitar and sings, “Well, I’ve been crushing the symptoms/But I can’t locate the cause/Could God really be so cruel?/To give us feelings/That could never be fulfilled/Baby…” and we are off on a rollercoaster ride as Johnson explores his frustrations with love, lust, God, personal isolation, and the evil that every human is capable of .
Fellow Progarchists, may I commend to you the newly-released Beneath The Waves, by 
Progarchy 