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Their lyrical material, for example "Diana" (another allusion to Greek/Roman
myth) described the threat of insatiable lust to virtue. Other vulnerable
innocents faced abusive power in songs about brutal murder mixed with Gothic
eroticism ("Drip Drip"), Christian martyrdom ("The Bite") and mental illness
("The Prisoner") - all described with disturbing candour. These acerbic lyrics
together with the vocals conveyed terror and hysteria with alliterative force;
there was often a sense of sadistic pleasure in Wootton's tone which gave
the songs a nasty, yet compelling edge. It was certainly no idealised, Hippie
evocation of a mythical, bucolic past. Even Wootton's cover artwork for First
Utterance (as memorably grotesque as Barry Godber's for King Crimson's
debut) suggested a darker direction.
Comus' first recording however, was a 45rpm singel from 1970
comprising "Diana" plus two pieces not included on their upcoming album,
"In The Lost Queen's Eyes" and "Winter Is A Coloured Bird". Both these tracks
where far from Comus' actual style. An even rarer EP containing outtakes
from the upcoming debut also existed. The band began a run of misfortune
with what was meant to be a high-profile appearance with David Bowie, a huge
fan. It ended in complete failure; no one turned up. In 1971 the release
of their debut album First Utterance (released by Dawn Records) and
a subsequent tour were marred by a postal strike that made it impossible
to send contracts, book shows, keep sales figures, and most important, get
copies of the record into retail stores. When stores did finally get the
record, the response wasn't entirely positive. British music journalist Penny
Valentine wrote that she "didn't get past the first track, which sounded
like a cross between a frenzied version of the witches chorus from Macbeth,
and Marc Bolan being squeezed to death." Funny thing is, that's a fairly
apt description. Tales of murder, rape, insanity, and witchcraft unfolded
amid a swirling abyss of seething acid folk. Squalls of shamanistic wailing
jut uncomfortably from serene, tranquil melodies; guttural growls battle
a delicate angelic chorus, echoing the violent struggle of the lyrics. Flutes,
hand drums, acoustic guitars, and a violin clamber atop one another in a
chaotic melee, creating a pagan folk not unlike that of The Wicker Man.
Fraser Massey wrote in the sleevenotes of a CD reissue a resourceful, if
not entirely convincing, case as to why Comus didn't make the big-time.
The basic, inescapable fact was that their music was an acquired taste; too
damn spiky and unruly for the average folkie, yet too concerned with intricate
arrangements and acoustic instrumentation to fire up a hard rock fan. A headline
tour supporting hugely popular progressive folk-rockers Jethro Tull
would have been just the ticket to raise the profile; however, it's unlikely
that Tull management would have risked serious competition from such
a stylistically idiosyncratic outfit.
If the Comus story had ended here, all
would have been gloriously perfect - although overlooked they had created
a highly original and dark record. One audacious album left to tantalise
posterity's obscure-vinyl junkies into posing the unanswerable question:
"what would they have done next?" Unfortunately, perhaps, Comus answered
this question themselves by producing a second album - To Keep From Crying
released by Virgin in 1974. It bore little resemblance to their frenetic
sound of old, having a new major-label sheen, a more typically prog sound,
and high-profile guest musicians from Henry Cow, Gong, and Hawkwind.
The record was a sporadically fascinating flop and an album that devotees
of the first would not have expected or hoped for. It disappeared without
notice, and sadly - so did Comus.
As powerful as their music is – even today – the band is still overlooked
and misunderstood. Comus's singular, frightening sound, violently
poetic lyrics, and unbelievably bad luck, kept them from taking their rightful
place alongside Fairport Convention, Incredible String Band,
and the rest of Britain's psychedelic folk royalty. But although the band
has been resolutely ignored by mainstream music fans, the press, and the
majority of the underground, a small rabid following has kept a reverential
vigil beside the corpse of Comus. CD reissues of First Utterance
have been far from few, even including bonus-tracks. A group of obsessive
musicians have paid tribute to the fallen Comus as well. Nurse
with Wound cronies Current 93 modeled their '90s sound after '70s
British folk, Comus especially. They even went so far as to cover
"Diana", Comus's only single, on their album Horsey. Swedish
progressive black metalers Opeth have always been outspoken about
their love of Comus. Their acclaimed 1998 album was called My Arms,
Your Hearse, after the lyrics of "Drip Drip". Comus' First
Utterance is certainly one of a kind, and one of the most inventive and
distinctive works to come out of the 70s progressive rock movement...
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