Absolute Zero
Crashing Icons
2001
private release
promotional CD from the band
Crashing Icons is the long awaited full-length debut album by Absolute Zero. Those who have been waiting for it the longest are probably the band members themselves. Absolute Zero has been in existence in one form or another since 1979, but the only release they have managed to produce until now is a two song EP recorded in 1990 on a VCR. The band's story is one of struggle and seemingly endless setbacks, but mostly of dedication to an uncompromising artistic vision.
Uncompromising is a good word to describe Absolute Zero and their music. This band refuses to stray from their own ways of doing things, whether it be the music itself or how, when and by whom their music is finally and officially released on CD. Probably due at least partly to this uncompromising nature, negotiations with various labels (labels one would expect to be sympathetic and supportive of this kind of music) have so far yielded nothing, and this CD is still unreleased at the time of this writing.
If you think "uncompromising" means that this music is difficult listening, you're right. The music on Crashing Icons is absolutely not in any way similar to the legions of overproduced, symphonic, pseudo-progressive tripe that's floating around out there these days. This is the real deal. This stuff is as unsettling and shocking from a purely musical standpoint as those first Henry Cow or 1972-74 King Crimson albums must have been for those who encountered them upon first release. To compare Absolute Zero to Henry Cow is actually a good way to start, as there's a lot of that same sense of musical anarchy at work on Crashing Icons. Several of the characteristics of the RIO school of progressive rock are in evidence here: heavy doses of dissonance, purposely non-catchy, almost anti-melodic female vocals, oblique lyrics and an underlying unconventional political bent. Avant-garde jazz and especially the zeuhl school of prog rock also exert considerable influence on Crashing Icons respectively in the form of the very cool muted trumpet solo of "Stutter Rock" and the ever-present huge, distorted six-string bass guitar sound of Enrique Jardines. Canterbury fans may be inclined to salivate over this album when they learn that former National Health, Gong and Hatfield & the North drummer Pip Pyle plays on this CD. His drumming is more aggressive than usual here, but excellent as always. One won't find much in the way of the famous Canterbury sound on Crashing Icons, however.
"Bared Cross" is the 14-minute opening track of Crashing Icons. "Bared Teeth" might have been just as apt a title. This is a ferocious tour-de-force that offers little opportunity for listeners to gently dip one proverbial toe into the bubbling hot musical spring that is Absolute Zero. The album begins with the sound of an orchestra tuning up and the conductor tapping his baton against the music stand to call the orchestra to order. The ensuing moment of brief silence is broken by fits and starts of frenetic drumming, elephantine bass guitar honks and seemingly random electronic piano and synth tinkling. The orchestra has begun. This frenzy of noise congeals eventually and the song led by the bellowing vocals of Aislinn Quinn begins in earnest. The song ebbs and flows in a series of different bass guitar ostinatos over which Quinn lets her keyboard meanderings fly. The middle section of the piece is mostly an instrumental free-for-all kind of affair, but the vocal passages that bookend the piece keep things grounded for the listener who manages to pay attention. At first listen, it's tempting to say "Bared Cross" is largely noise and chaos, but subsequent listens reveal the structure that the overwhelmed newbie may have failed to grasp originally.
The nearly 21-minute "Further On" is the second and longest piece on the album. It begins around another of Jardines' trademark forearm numbing bass ostinatos and lots of percussion in the form of marimba, various hand drums and synth xylophone. The percussion rhythms conjure up images of Indiana Jones-type adventures in the jungle. It actually sounds like it would be really good video game music. Later the piece offers some really nice (but too fleeting) acoustic piano melodies which are a welcome respite from the tinny digital synth sounds that unfortunately pepper most of this album. The piece leads to a closing section with various unknown sounds and tinkering by all three musicians, and it eventually gives way to a low, sustained organ chord that ends the piece on an ambient note. This chaos/ambience dichotomy is an interesting and unexpected turn. It would be nice to hear more of it from Absolute Zero in the future.
The aptly named "Stutter Rock" is one of the most easily accessible, most rock oriented pieces on the album, with its (relatively) catchy 7/8 bass riff around which Pyle's snare drum ghost notes artfully dance throughout the piece. "Stutter Rock" segues seamlessly into "You Said" to create an 11-minute instrumental which climaxes in a hail storm of distorted samples of various noises and spoken word (all in Spanish).
"Sueños Sobre Un Espejo" is the closing track. It is probably the most structured and most vocally oriented piece on the CD, though, like most of the other tracks, it offers a long semi-improvisational passage in the middle which is framed by the verses. This piece illuminates most clearly Enrique Jardines' Spanish background in the partially Spanish vocals and the unexpected tango-like melody that reprises throughout the piece. This is also Aislinn Quinn's most enjoyable vocal performance of the entire album. Here she sings daringly, but in a more conventional style than her usual angular melodies which are nearly as quirky and unpredictable as her keyboard melodies.
Crashing Icons offers little in the way of easily digestible chord sequences and memorable riffs and melodies. This is often scattered, schizophrenic music comprised of very unusual rhythms and melodies that clash, crash and bounce off of each other. The gravitational force that keeps things from going completely out of control throughout the album is the fantastic bass guitar of Enrique Jardines. Though Jardines can and does make his bass sing, soar, bark or burp, he most often keeps things pointed in a forward direction with his repetitive, "De Futura"-esque ostinatos. Aislinn Quinn's contributions are the most extreme on the CD, as she almost always seems to be going off in bizarre directions both on keyboards and vocals. Pip Pyle lends a muscular hand in either direction, whether it's to drive forward with Jardines or take off on a tangent with Quinn, but his drumming is always intelligent and interesting. While Crashing Icons often has a very live, loose, slightly improvisational feel, its best moments provide fierce, complex, heavy avant-rock jams that will surely please fans of intricate, highly composed heavy prog like King Crimson, Magma, Happy Family, Ruins and the like. Those who also like Henry Cow, Thinking Plague and the Art Bears will be doubly pleased. SH
Visit the Absolute Zero website.
Listen to an excerpt of "Bared Cross" from Absolute Zero's Smashing Icons.
MP3 format. 1:08/565k
Birdsongs of the Mesozoic
Petrophonics
2000
Cuneiform Records
It's probably no understatement at all to say that Birdsongs of the Mesozoic is without a doubt one of the more original, complex, and interesting groups on the face of the progressive scene these days, or possibly even ever. Drawing influence from a range of various styles, Birdsongs has crafted a musical niche for themselves that touches on all of these influences while forming something which is in itself unique. This is a feat rarely accomplished even by the best, and yet Birdsongs seems able to pull it off easier than most of us are able to get up in the morning to make toast.
No exception to this rule is Petrophonics, the latest release from the boys from Boston, and their first since 1995. Petrophonics is in many ways a logical extension of the work Birdsongs of te Mesozoic has already made, and yet in other ways it is a work that brings something new to the table altogether.
The album starts out with a bang. Track one, the title track, is a fast-paced, complex piece that only gets more intense as it progresses. The signature sound of electronic drums keeps up with the odd time signatures and many changes something few other ensembles have even tried, much less accomplished and when it is over the album is already worth it.
The rest of the album really seems in many ways different. Birdsongs has always been known for complexity, and the rest of the album certainly is complex, but in a very different light. Where the title track is in-your-face rhythm and riff, there are quite a few tracks on Petrophonics that seem to be almost straightforward and basic as far as drums and time go. Not to say these songs are any less interesting, though. "One Hundred Cycles" is a very nice calypso-sound arrangement, and other tracks like "Birdhead" and "Dinosaur Theme" both have their fair share of complex arrangement and playing. Everything seems a bit more subdued on this album, though, and this is really nothing more than the result of growth. Most of the tracks are longer than pieces from the past, with a deeper understanding of both sound and quiet, of textures as well as rhythm.
One thing about this album that is different is the amount of time given to more unstructured or arrhythmic music, either pieces without drums or percussion, or pieces without a discernible beat at all. There is a lot of open space on this album, which really serves the listener by forcing a stance of actively listening, even more than Birdsongs releases from the past.
All in all, Petrophonics is a must for any serious student of progressive music. CH
Jürgen Haible
Of Eagles & Prophets
1998
private release
Electronic music means different things to different people. To many it's synonymous with new age; bland, lifeless stuff meant to relax the mind and body, but not really intended to be listened to very closely. To many others, it's equated with dance, trance, house, jungle, techno, rave or some other microscopically different variation on mindless 4/4 beats and blips churned out of a Roland TR 808 or some virtual analog equivalent. These two forms of electronic music (or electronica, as is now fashionable to call it) have their enthusiasts and detractors. But fans and critics alike are often unaware of the roots of these styles. Electronic music has been around in one form or another for decades, but things really started taking off in the early '70s when synthesizers came into widespread use by rock musicians, and few at the time used them so well and so extensively as the members of the "Berlin School." This loosely knit group of German bands and individuals was typified by groups and individuals like Ash Ra Tempel, Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Conrad Schnitzler and Michael Hoenig. Many have now forgotten about the classic period of the Berlin School, but new artists like Jürgen Haible of Nuremberg, Germany acknowledge its influence and carry on many of the characteristics that made this group of electronic artists so engaging.
Haible's music is closely connected to electronica's past, but is not merely a nostalgia trip. Haible utilizes an extensive array of analog synthesizers and other keyboards, but not the ones you might expect. There is not a single Moog or ARP product on Of Eagles and Prophets. In fact, six of the 20 synths and effects units listed in the CD's notes are JH originals custom designed and built by Haible himself. Likewise, the various styles of music found on this CD often have a classic feel, but they are not mere imitations of anyone's music from the past. In other words, Haible's music continues certain aspects of a nearly lost art, but it is not about clichés. Those who are fond of classic electronic music as practiced by the likes of Jean Michel Jarre, Tangerine Dream and Klaus Schulze will certainly find much to celebrate on Of Eagles and Prophets, but they will also find much to discover.
Of Eagles and Prophets shows a fairly broad range of styles of music. There are composed, melodic pieces like "October '96," and then there are amorphic monoliths of drone, drift and distortion, as in "Anthrazit," which consists of the same note played on four different keyboards, recorded forward, backward and at half speed. Covering all the bases is the 20-minute "Der ängstliche Adler," which offers a little bit of everything in six movements, including one sequencer heavy passage that is highly reminiscent of portions of Tangerine Dream's Ricochet. Haible is probably at his best on more abstract pieces, notably "A Summer's Thunderstorm," which offers some classic sounds harkening back to the earliest days of Kosmiche rock . Creepy organ chords gently emerge and shimmer (in good old-fashioned rotating Leslie speaker fashion) across the stereo panorama in the first movement, while part two finds Haible tickling the ivories up and down the keyboard and experimenting with throbbing slabs of distortion.
Haible's music can be very ambient and sedate at times and somewhat harsh and grating at others. This harshness is a small but important part of what keeps things interesting and helps to distinguish Of Eagles and Prophets from new age drivel. Haible's style is generally somewhere in the realm of classic Berlin School, though generally somewhat simpler and more up-front. There usually isn't quite as much going on in terms of multitracking and layering techniques as is common to this kind of music, but this is still good headphone music that will offer rewards to those who don't relegate it being to mere sonic wallpaper.
Whether you're a fan of Jarre or Schulze, Nodens Ictus or the Orb, chances are you will find something pleasantly familiar in portions of this CD while other parts may feel like unexplored territory. Of Eagles and Prophets is an excellent way to discover new realms in progressive electronic music without fear of making a bad purchase.
Of Eagles and Prophets and follow-up Dark November are both home-burned CDRs available directly from the artist. This is in no way indicative of substandard music, sound quality or presentation, however. This is very recommendable music made without regard for current trends and made by someone who obviously has a passion for the art and science of electronic music. SH
Visit the Jürgen Haible website.
Listen to an excerpt of "Der angstliche Adler" from Jürgen Haible's Of Eagles and Prophets.
MP3 format. 1:00/468k
Mark 1
The Criminal Element
2001
private release
promotional CD from the band
The Criminal Element is the second album from Gloucester, Mass., based Mark 1, and in many ways it is a typical sophomore album. It shows this still very young band struggling to reach beyond the influences they wore so blatantly on their sleeves on their debut Absolute Zero, yet in some ways it falls short of the youthful enthusiasm of that first album.
This album boasts two nine-minute songs and a much broader scope in terms of composition, style and instrumentation. Unfortunately, these longer, more complex pieces occasionally falter under their own weight. Both long tracks suffer occasionally from different sections, themes and solos that seem to exist simply to elongate each piece. While none of these themes are particularly bad in their own right, they sometimes seem unnecessary and are not always strung together in the most efficient or convincing manner. The title track is a good example. This piece is one of the more compelling tracks on the album due to its sense of urgency, but it's marred by a lackluster guitar solo which seems tacked on after two piano solos. Also, the song has two false endings at 8:30 and 8:45. What's more, the final 23 seconds are filled with some pointless tinkering on guitar which seems to these ears completely unrelated to the rest of the song. This may sound picky, but this kind of cut-and-pastery is all too common in new progressive rock.
Another somewhat disappointing factor of this album is a certain lack of fun. Gone is much of the quirkiness and humor that made Absolute Zero such an enjoyable listen in spite of its weaknesses. With The Criminal Element, Mark 1 seem to be taking themselves a bit more seriously, and sometimes it seems they're trying a little too hard. Certainly the compositions are more daring, and the inclusion of acoustic guitar and piano on several pieces helps bring some much needed diversity of textures and sounds, but this album is darker and sometimes almost lethargic in its pace and in terms of execution. One notable exception is the 51-second "Captain Labrador's Unceremonious Disengagement," a silly vignette in the tradition of "Jeremy Bender" or "Harold the Barrel" that nicely serves to briefly lighten the load of the slightly oppressive tone of much of the rest of the album.
One of the higher points of The Criminal Element is "The Raven." This is the longest track on the album at 9:23, and it covers a lot of good ground. It starts out slow and depressing, but the band works in a few nice key and tempo changes and several different themes. The ghost of Genesis past is most obviously summoned on this piece, especially in the genuine ARP Pro Soloist solo. "The Life..." also stands out on The Criminal Element for being more original and providing some of the most memorable melodies on the album.
At 36 minutes, The Criminal Element makes the right move and doesn't wear out its welcome a lesson many prog (or otherwise) bands could stand to learn. Just because you can fit 80 minutes of music on a CD, doesn't mean you should. All the songs on The Criminal Element are pretty good and none seem like fillers. Like Absolute Zero, The Criminal Element seems to be based on a concept, though more loosely this time. The lyrics read like the script of a movie with a romanticized view of rebellion and organized crime. Fortunately, this theme is not elaborated upon too much to be really irksome. At least it's a different kind of subject for a prog band.
While the Genesis influence has wisely been toned down a bit on The Criminal Element, it does appear unmistakably in places like the synth solo in "The Raven" and in Kyle Jones' reverent Peter Gabriel vocal imitations. Other places, a hint of Wind and Wuthering's melancholy seems to have pervaded the band's song writing and production. Even more so than on Absolute Zero, some of these Genesis-isms are so right-on that they might inspire goose-bumps for a few fleeting moments in certain listeners. Others might cringe at the obvious imitations. At least this time the band has moved on from The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. Let's just hope Mark 1 finds a completely original voice before they get to We Can't Dance.
Regardless of the very unfavorable reviews some others have given Mark 1, their music continues to provide a fun listen with The Criminal Element. Yes, they can sound derivative and immature at times, but they also have a flair for creativity, and they seem to have a better grip on what made classic prog so good than scores of their contemporaries. Mark 1 remains a band to watch and a band from which to expect better things in the future. SH
Visit the Mark 1 website.
Jasun Martz & the Neoteric Orchestra
The Pillory
1978
All Ears Records
Jasun Martz is probably not a name too many people would recognize, but millions have heard some of the mans work. Martz has played keyboards with Michael Jackson, most notably on the 1991 hit Black or White. Closer to the world of prog, Martz also once served as synthesizer player and programmer for the late Frank Zappa. While Martz has certainly contributed to the work of some very famous musicians, none of these achievements compare to what should be Martzs biggest claim to fame: The Pillory.
The Pillory is a large-scale work for an orchestra and choir. It was apparently performed live a few times and released on LP in 1978. The result is a startlingly original work of new music that draws from very diverse sources for inspiration.
The Pillory appears on record as two side-long pieces. Though no divisions are listed and both sides are merely titled "The Pillory," both sides of the LP can be said to exist in two movements each (though it has been said there are nine). A certain symmetry of composition can be observed between the two halves. The first side begins with two incredibly long, slow volume swells that may trick the listener into believing The Pillory is some kind of ambient or electronic album. These swells finally culminate in a militaristic, march-like chant in 11/8 (if a march could be in 11/8) for several vocalists that quickly calls Magma to mind. A great, slightly frantic violin solo courtesy of UK's Eddie Jobson builds even more tension as the chant continues. The second movement is dramatically different. It consists of about 10 minutes of nothing but Mellotron playing unusual, depressive sounding melodies and unpredictable chord changes.
The first half of side two mirrors the chaotic first half of side one with what sounds like random percussive noises. What sounds like several clumsy plumbers trying to repair your house's pipes eventually builds in intensity to what sounds like an entire orchestra and choir falling down a very long stairway to Hell. This section of the album fully delivers the weirdness only hinted at in the first movement. The only anchor hold of sanity within this storm of chaos and noise is provided by a very fleeting reprise of the chanting theme from the first movement, but here it is played much faster and buried deep in the mix. The end section of side two echoes the theme presented at the end of side one. A grandiose, almost "heavenly" sounding pipe organ plays similarly dense, ambiguous chords and is soon joined by a Mellotron playing the same. This movement could be the perfect soundtrack for the end of the world. Emotions like fear, wonder and a sense of resolved anticipation are implied all at once by the ambiguous sounding key in which the organ and Mellotron chords are played. The mood is majestic yet terrible.
The fact that one may perceive (correctly or not) the diverse influences of Magma, early Klaus Schulze and Lizard-era King Crimson (in the fluid mixture of jazz and classical styles) in The Pillory shows what an unusual piece of music it is. To call it mere progressive rock seems to be a severe understatement, but it's no doubt that Martz's influences and several of the musicians who performed on the piece (Ruth Underwood, Paul Whitehead) are associated with the genre. The Pillory is definitely not for everyone, but open minded prog enthusiasts will likely enjoy slowly cultivating a taste for this very cutting-edge work.
The Pillory was originally released on LP by All Ears Music. It was reissued by Ad Perpetuam Memoriam with bonus tracks on CD in the mid '90s, but that is apparently also out of print. A repeated search of Ebay or various online used record stores would be a worthwhile endeavor in leading one to this hard-to-find treasure. SH
Listen to an excerpt of The Pillory.
MP3 format. 1:01/500k
Van der Graaf Generator
H to He Who Am the Only One
1970
Virgin
Fishes cant fly and neither can I.
Peter Hammill - Killer
H to He Who Am the Only One. OK. Huh? What? "H to He," simply enough, is fusion, the elemental reaction by which the great stellar furnaces of the galaxies roar, lighting worlds, warming planets and birthing life. Fair enough: a wonder, a mystery, because it could be otherwise a dead, frigid cosmos. "Who Am the Only One." Hmmmmm. Who's "Who"? And why is this "Who" the "Only One"? Is this Yahweh, the Creator, the "I am that which I am."? Is it Popeye the Sailor-Man, with his refrain, "I yam what I yam and that's all that I yam."? Tough exegesis here. The astronomical physics is at least decipherable, but the Solitary Presence of the title's latter portion: Huh? What? Help is needed, a magus or a theologian perhaps. Maybe a philosopher, one full of angst and piss and vinegar and genius lamentation. Maybe ...
Peter Hammill. Yes, he'll do. (Well, he invented the title, didn't he?) Nietzschean alienation out of a pseudo-Bowie throat. The voice of one alone in the wilderness of progressive rock lyricism. Existentialist par excellence, out-Kierkegaarding Soren K., and out-Camusing Camus. But Mr. Hammill provides no solid evidence in his words or in the liner notes as to the relation between nuclear ignition and that "Only One." None. A glance at the cover art ... nothing. Hmmmmm. A bizarre title. Random. Deceptive (connected non-connections). Vague. Ah, but there's the recording itself!
In any event a backward step, but the music is forthcoming. Maybe the English subtitle for the near-foreign language true title (Is it just a bad transliteration out of the Japanese? Finnish? Basque?) could be The Dangers of an Unraveling Psyche. Yes, all that winds does indeed unravel. Ask any divorce lawyer. Van der Graaf Generator's 1970 release its third is a sonic statement about the morbid, stagnating effect of too much solitude and too much desire for the alleviation of that solitude ... and the splintering of a personality through the sheer force of that oppressiveness. But there is art out of sorrow, always, and as Aeschylus tells us in his verse: "All wisdom comes through suffering."
Track 1: "Killer." The sound engineer (Robin Cable) and producer (John Anthony) presiding over these sessions are to be warmly commended for the perfect mix and clarity of the takes. Every instrument is heard and heard well, as is a balanced group dynamic. The absence of electric guitar in "Killer" is noteworthy and fitting, granting the song an ominous softness and a quiet ferocity. Much like the sea, the home of this fictional killer and its mother. The sea. The unconscious, in dreams and the Tarot. The killer within us all, hidden in the recesses of repression and cultural mores, waiting, brooding, eager. A squid, or some tentacled thing: ruthless, determined, amoral. And only the greatest killer could hunger for the greatest amount of love and affection. It is the yin and the yang: hate and destroy that which you most require. Creepy. Eerie poetry, eerie musical tones. The power of PH's trill at the end of the verses is booming, nearly orgasmic, or murderous, and is arguably the single most striking vocal evocation from the heyday of art rock. A sing-song bridge, and fishes that can't/won't ever fly. Would the killer kill, could the killer sprout wings, and hold aloft out of the cold, maritime brine? Hugh Banton's organ solo comes in harsh steel-grey waves breaking on the shore of the killer's shattered ego. Drumming, courtesy of Guy Evans, to rival Michael Giles. David Jackson's disharmonic saxophone fill: the tension that abounds when the relentless need for love nonetheless disdains any offer of affection, to its own peril. Vocals that haunt and convey the wounds of dissociation and disenfranchisement. Unsettling.
"House with No Door" is the second track. Peter Hammill is the prog Ziggy, grounded and devoid of companionship, and now down out of the stars' shine. Weary resignation, and how could it otherwise be? The futility understood of the killer's rage, and loneliness without aggressive protest, somehow sadder still. The gentleness of candles in the night and dim recollection. Ennui. "Won't somebody help me?" Flutes, and a touch of Sinfield's wind that never listens.
Mars. Ares. Tyr. "The Emperor in His War-Room." The album moves into extreme complexity with this track (and the following two). The opening woodwind and the crystal clear guitar arpeggios lend a Crimson air to the song's start, a combination of brightness and brown timbre. Nic Potter's bass line is fat and filling, and as the lyrics begin a tale of greed, lust, domination, and power strivings. Van der Graaf Generator promotes its own vision of the War Pigs. The acoustic guitar work is tasteful and to the point, and the sax/flute interplay increases the tune's dynamic tenseness. The groove of "Part 2: The Room," is driving and undeniable, and with Jackson's flute shadowing guest guitarist Robert Fripp's manic electric guitar lightning-fills, which touch down here and there, and burn, there is a hint of KC's "Sailor's Tale." How can pure, hateful aggression also be melodic, harmonic, touching?
"Lost" is the love song of H to He .., or, rather, the unrequited love song. Again, the lyrics are refined and original (no overly repeated feel-good choruses, sorry), and the Philip Glass-like looping flutes in the introduction lead into a classic bit of vocal phrasing, which annoys slightly but finally resolves. Another tricky enterprise: the album abounds with an artful swagger and daring. Portions of "Part 2: The Dance in the Forest" are reminiscent of Passion Play-era Tull, especially the repetitive sax riff buoyant over a fluid rhythm. A touch of Vegas crooning which doesn't exactly satisfy, and then frenetic drumming Keith Moon melds with the aforementioned Giles into a cacophonous closing.
Finally there is "Pioneers Over c." The best soundtrack to Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey" imaginable, even if it never was. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Dave." The desolate expanses of the universe. The void. Abandonment. Forsaken soul. The hand percussion and organ introduction gives it away, though not too soon, at all (and here, as elsewhere, there is a mild rumor of The Doors). Drifting, floating, aimless, unhinged. Hugh Banton's Farfisa organ and "Blue Jay Way" after very bad acid. Mr. Banton, yet again, with the best bass line of the recording: propulsive, thick, and forceful. "We are the lost ones." The sax solos, and all instruments fade out: alone, alone, alone. Every squeak of that confined horn brings an exacerbated solitude. This is progressive rock at its pinnacle. "People around, no one to touch." That's all, really. That says it all. A shame. Silly human race...
Yes, Pawn Hearts often receives the Van der Graaf Generator-canon laurel amongst the prog illuminati. But it is merely a clone of its predecessor, H to He Who Am the Only One, a poignant, gorgeous example of structured musical form and experimentation in wedlock. Poetry and vision. Chords and chaos. One of the finest out of a fine epoch in rock music. Try it if you never have. Try it again otherwise. JS