And so I’ve gone digging back through my albums over the last few months, loaded up my iPod, and gone walking with some of the Art Rock staples of my high school diet: Close to the Edge, Fragile, Going for the One, and Yessongs by Yes, A Farewell to Kings, Hemispheres, Permanent Waves, and Moving Pictures by Rush, Seconds Out, A Trick of the Tail, Selling England by the Pound, and The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway by Genesis, Brain Salad Surgery and Tarkus by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, Red and Discipline by King Crimson, Aqualung and Thick as a Brick by Jethro Tull. The journey has been nostalgically fun for sure, but well, um, I must confess that, well, uh, listening to it now I think much of this stuff is, er, well,… laughably barfaliciousgodawful, with a few noted exceptions: a few skinny slices of Tull, Krimson, and Rush, and larger swaths of Yes, especially live material from Yessongs.
NOTE: some folks also put Pink Floyd in the art / prog rock category (they’re on the RS list noted above). I do not. While some Floyd records do display some characteristics of the art / prog rock genre (especially the lengthy cuts on Animals and Wish You Were Here), in my mind, PF doesn’t really belong in this bin. Dark Side of the Moon (as perfect an album as has ever been made, BTW) doesn’t really fit the art rock description (see below), and Dark Side, along with the less perfect but still monumental and still not art rock The Wall, have made marks on rock and roll and mainstream culture in general which are so large as to transcend the art / prog rock niche genre. ‘Nuf said on the Floyd.
Let’s establish a bit of genre background before we figure out why so much of this stuff fails to stand the test of time and then why these noted exceptions do...
What is “Art Rock” or “Progressive Rock?” I guess I would define it, loosely, as music performed on rock instruments (electric guitar and bass and drums and, very prominently, a dizzying variety of electrified keyboards) but less rooted in blues and / or traditional verse-chorus type song structures and more connected to classical and /or British folk music forms and structures. It tends to emphasize longer-than-standard-3-to-5 minute songs (typical Art Rock records feature at least a couple of songs in the 8-12 minute range, and whole-album-side compositions are not uncommon) featuring extended instrumental passages and virtuosity developing melodic themes in the way classical composers might—through key changes, inversions, and variations in instrumentation, tempo, meter, etc. While there’s a lot of instrumental work, it’s definitely NOT the open “jamming” of The Grateful Dead, The Allman Brothers, or Phish. Lyrics typically explore fantasy and science fiction images and themes, though occasionally indulge in social commentary or other subjects.
Most art rockers came from Britain and have backgrounds playing classical music, especially on the piano. Thus, many possess a level of instrumental technique and compositional sophistication that more mainstream rock and rollers don’t, and they are not as steeped or interested in the American blues-gospel-country descended traditions of bands like the Rolling Stones or even the Beatles. Keith Emerson (ELP), Rick Wakeman (Yes), and Tony Banks (Genesis) all fit this description, and their work reflects it clearly. Guitarists Steve Howe (Yes), Steve Hackett (Genesis), and Martin Barre (Jethro Tull), Robert Fripp (King Crimson) brought British folk, classical, and avant-garde influences rather than blues licks to their fretboards. Coming of age in the late 1960s, though, they were moved by the power of electric instruments and the artistic freedoms and liberties being taken by young musicians on both sides of the Atlantic. They wanted to combine their backgrounds and skills with the power of rock instruments to create a new kind of music. Coming from a home in which both parents are professional classical musicians, this was an interesting and exciting proposition to me. The first time I blasted Rick Wakeman’s “Excerpts from the Six Wives of Henry VIII” out of my bedroom speakers, my classical piano teacher mom banged on the door not to yell at me to turn it down, but to ask who was this that was incorporating Handel’s “Hallelujah” chorus from The Messiah into their keyboard solo. She stepped into the room and was impressed with Wakeman’s playing and composition, and I felt musically validated.
All fine and good, but listening back through this stuff now, most of it flops. Why? A succinct list of reasons:
1. the compositions wander and fail to sustain interest
2. related to this, the players get lost in pompous instrumental show-offerey
3. the electronic keyboard sounds that form foundational parts of the sonic palette of much of this music now strike the ear as laughably silly, cheesy, and dated
4. the lyrics often range from the incomprehensible to the pretentious
To elaborate:
1. Wandering Compositions: lengthy art rock tunes are built in one of a couple of ways. Either a large number of short “bits” are strung together (the 8 parts of Genesis’ 25-minute “Supper’s Ready”) or a small number of themes and ideas are perseverated upon with the idea that, Beethoven-like, they will be elaborated and expanded by the compositional and technical skills of the players (Tull’s album-long “Thick as a Brick,” or Rush’s 12 minute “Xanadu”). Listening back, though, my sense is that stringing lots of short “bits” together leaves one’s head spinning disjointed, and conveys the notion that many of the bits didn’t hold enough musical water to be turned into fully realized songs to begin with. Attempts to impersonate classical musicians by expounding on a small number of ideas, either compositionally or from a playing standpoint, also now sound quaint and often fail to sustain interest and / or simply annoy with their pretentiousness. These folks are fine musicians, but they ain’t Mozart and, to me, sound kinda silly trying. Actually, I have been entertained by may of the shorter, less ballyhooed pieces on these records, which fall more in line with the elegant approach to musical expression—have a good idea, and express and explore it in pithy, less-than-4 minute fashion— contained in more mainstream rock and roll songwritng: “Benny the Bouncer” by ELP, “Locomotive Breath” by Jethro Tull, even “Madrigal” by Rush.
2. Instrumental Showing Off: OK, so Rick Wakeman (YES) and Keith Emerson (ELP) can flash some nifty classical chops, Alex Lifeson every once in awhile plays something pretty musical (the slow solo section on “La Villa Strangiato” and the solo bit on “Different Strings”), Chris Squire showed that a white guy using a pick to play a bass guitar isn’t necessarily all bad, Neil Peart is a helluva drummer, and Ian Anderson not only plays a mean flute but sometimes makes it work in the context of a rock band. However, most of the time these guys go too far—their solos go on way too long and often descend into “lets impress the teenage guys” speed or special effects contests. There are numerous examples: any drum solo by Peart, “Toccatta” on ELP’s Brain Salad Surgery (no one ever hummed this on the train), Squire’s bass solo live on Yessongs, the aimless wanderings in the Thick as a Brick wilderness, and on and on and on and on and on…
3. Silly Sounds: while the sounds of a Hammond B-3 organ and a Fender Rhodes keyboard remain totally cool, authentic, and arresting, and the original ominous Mellotron wall of sound sometimes is still kinda cool to hear, most of the synthy electronic keyboard sounds underpinning Genesis’ sound, that take up huge space and time on wanky Yes records like Tales from Topographic Oceans and Relayer, and that are laid on top of Rush tracks such as “Tom Sawyer” and “The Spirit of Radio” like pink frosting on a cupcake sound ridiculously dated and quaint: the rock and roll equivalent of Space Invaders or Pong video games—fun in a nostalgic sort of way, but not substantive enough to bring you back for a real musical meal. Indeed, the silliness of these cheesy sounds takes the air out of art-rock selections and sections that might otherwise hold up well.
4. Silly Lyrics: mostly the lyrics on these records range from the pompous, preachy, and pretentious (“2112” and “The Trees” by Rush, ELP’s “Karn Evil 9,” especially the "3rd Impression" whatever the hell that means), the bizarre and ham handed (Genesis’ entire Lamb Lies Down on Broadway), or the trippily vacuous (pretty much all of Yes). Occasionally, a cogent and / or interesting idea, story, or issue is expressed, explored, or addressed (Tull’s “My God,” Genesis’ “One for the Vine,” Book 1 of Rush’s “Cygnus X-1”), but mostly, like the music, the lyrics are over-inflated balloons of hot air. Almost none of this stuff employs the pithy truth of rock and roll poetry. Nowhere do lines like “The sunshine bores the daylights out of me” (Stones’ “Rocks Off”) or “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”(Eagles’ “Hotel California”) ring true and clear and float back into one’s head and one's life over and over over time.
And
so most of this stuff doesn’t hold up— it sinks under the weight of its own
pretense and self-absorption. But it
does have its moments. What are they and
why do they work? Here are notes on a
few things that are worth checking out, that do maintain listeners’ interest,
that don’t sound silly and dated, that display the genre succeeding in its
lofty aspirations:
Rush,
side 2 of A Farewell to Kings:
this is a really fun 20 minutes.
While the first side of FTK lapses in musical repetitiousness and
lyrical pomposity and preachiness, side 2 opens with a trio of pithy, quirky
gems: “Closer to the Heart,” “Cinderella Man,” and “Madrigal.” Working from an elegant acoustic sound
palette, these 3 songs, eschewing the both the self-indulgent artiness and the
heavy blues influences that pervade the band’s prior catalog, create a medieval
vibe that weaves in memorable melodies and hooks, guitar solos with interesting
twists and turns, and lyrics that, while admittedly preachy, are at least
accessible and earnest. The side closes
with the more art rockish “Cygnus X-1, Book 1,” with creepy sonics and heavy
riffing that successfully evoke the vast blackness of space in the context of
an exciting, white knuckley cool sci-fi tale.
King
Crimson, Discipline: intellectual
and still arresting, Adrian Belew’s presence in the band balances out Fripp’s
tendency towards pretentious over-indulgence with a zany, edgy humor and down
to earth pithiness. The guitar playing
is impressively intricate and wildly complex, yes, but Belew’s ability to draw
bizarre sounds and apply them in musical ways grabs listeners rather than just
leaving them slack jawed at the virtuosity.
Bill Bruford-- truly a world-class musician and drummer-- works in
similar ways, as does the stick work of Tony Levin (BTW the stick is a bizarre
instrument combining the strings of a bass and a guitar onto one neck which is
played by finger tapping—yikes!). While interest
wanders a bit during the meandering and cheezy guitar-synth draped “The
Sheltering Sky,” the rest of the record—from the opening witticisms of “Elephant
Talk,” through the driving rhythms of “Thela Hun Ginjeet,” to the mazelike
labyrinth of “Discipline” maintains interest and is moving and powerful.
Jethro
Tull, Aqualung: Ian Anderson nailed it here. Combining real rock and roll grit, grind, and
rage, British folks strains, flute playing that is both virtuosic and musical,
lyrics which pack a thoughtful punch, and arrangements which showcase great
playing by all involved without wandering into self-indulgence, this one is a true
classic. The opening guitar riff of “Aqualung,”
the flute solo barrage at the core of “My God,” the elegant folky melodies suffusing
the lesser known pieces like “Slipstream” and “Wond’ring Aloud” scattered over
both sides of the record all keep listeners riveted front to back.
Yes, Yessongs: the live setting here allows the band to pack
a whallop of considerable immediacy while also displaying their formidable
technical chops. While at times the
record does descend into mere wankery (Squire’s bass solo on “The Fish,” Wakeman’s
self-indulgent “Excerpts from the Six Wives of Henry VIII”), most of the long
instrumental sections are successfully fueled by the incredible, unique, engaging
fretwork and raw sound of Steve Howe’s guitar interacting with the sinewy,
flexible, intricate, and still grooving drumming of Alan White (a worthy
successor to Bill Bruford in the band).
Long winded instrumental passages that come off as pompous on studio
records like “Close to the Edge” and “Fragile” here come alive with a visceral, thundering
punch. The band as a whole is tight and
tuned in to each other, Jon Anderson’s singing is clear, purposeful, and
precise, on top of everyone else’s noted virtuosity and musicianship, and so the
recording showcases the genre at its finest—creative, complex, virtuosic, and riveting,
with only a few lapses into overblown pomposity.
But,
alas, that’s pretty much it. Wandering
through the wastelands of Rush’s Hemispheres, Tull’s Thick as a Brick, Krimson’s Red,
Genesis’s Lamb Lies Down, Yes’s Tales from Topographic Oceans or
the dozens of other meandering sides full of flighty lyrical nonsense, endless
strings of noodling notes, and synthesized sonic cheese mostly one either falls
asleep or laughs at the head-swollen pretense.
Gosh these folks can play but they don’t have much to say that you wanna
hear today. Sorry guys.
