In Memoriam: Drummers Part II

We continue featuring drummers who died in 2022. Part I featured Jet Black (Brian Duffy), Jerry Allison, and Dino Danelli, and you can read that here, if somehow you haven’t read it already. We’re proceeding oldest to youngest, and Part III should be posted soon. 

Alan White—White was best known as the drummer for Yes, although I admit that I always think of him as “the drummer for Yes who replaced Bill Bruford.” Bruford is my favorite rock drummer, so White was never going to measure up, but he was a fine drummer in his own right, and played on many great Yes songs. 

Born in 1949, White joined his first band at 13, turning pro at 17. In 1969, White received a call from someone claiming to be John Lennon, looking for a drummer for the Plastic Ono Band. White thought that someone was yanking his chain, but it turned out to be a genuine offer. White, given three days to prepare, performed with them for a show, and later played on Lennon’s Imagine album, the song “Instant Karma,” and George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. This led to a brief enlistment in Ginger Baker’s Air Force, and work with Steve Winwood and Terry Reid. 

White shared a London flat with Eddy Offord, who worked as an engineer and producer for Yes, and occasionally hung out at the studio with the band. Once, when Bruford had to leave a rehearsal session early, White sat in. Later, after Bruford left Yes to join King Crimson in 1972, White was asked to join the band, and again was given three days to learn their repertoire before the Close to the Edge tour started. You can see and hear White playing on “Roundabout” from that tour here:

 

White played drums and percussion on more than 40 studio and live Yes albums, and occasionally added piano parts and collaborated on songwriting. He also released one solo album and had a few side projects. 

White was one of 8 of the myriad members of Yes inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2017 (as was Bruford, who is not also in as a member of King Crimson, because that band has somehow never been inducted. Don’t get me started.) 

After what was described as a “brief illness,” White died on May 26, 2022 at the age of 72. Sadly, two months before his death a large number of personal items, including musical instruments (the drum set he played with the Plastic Ono Band, for example), and platinum records, were stolen from a storage unit. 

John Hartman-The original drummer for The Doobie Brothers, John Hartman died on September 22, 2022. Hartman originally moved to Northern California at the request of Skip Spence, who wanted him to participate an a revival of Moby Grape. That never happened, but Spence introduced Hartman to Tom Johnston, and eventually they, along with Pat Simmons, formed The Doobie Brothers. Here’s Hartman playing “China Grove” on the BBC in 1974:

 

Hartman drummed with the band, sometimes with a second drummer, until 1979, straddling their early days as funky, bluesy rockers fronted by Johnston, to the smooth purveyors of “yacht rock,” led by Johnston’s replacement, Michael McDonald. He returned for a benefit tour in 1987, and two more Doobies albums (with Johnston and not McDonald) but retired from the band for good in 1992. 

After that, Hartman attempted to become a police officer, but the drummer, described by the band at his death as a “wild spirit,” found it hard to break into law enforcement due to his previous drug use, despite having graduated from a police academy. Hartman was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a Doobie Brother, but because of COVID, plans for a performance by the original members were scotched. Interestingly, Hartman was the only living major figure from the Doobies not interviewed for the 2021 biography documentary, Let The Music Play. 

Ric Parnell-You know how the drummers in This Is Spinal Tap! all died in strange ways? Remember how Mick Shrimpton spontaneously combusted? Real drummer Ric Parnell was Mick Shrimpton. When Spinal Tap recorded its two albums, and did TV performances and live shows through 1992, it was Parnell who handled the drums. But, you ask, how did he do that if Mick Shrimpton was dead? Turns out, Mick had a twin brother, Rick Shrimpton, who was also a drummer! 

Spinal Tap was not Parnell’s only claim to fame. Born in London in 1961, to a drummer father and with two drummer brothers, percussion was basically the family business. In 1968, due to one of his father’s jobs at a TV station, Parnell got to see Jimi Hendrix perform on Dusty Springfield’s TV show. 

Parnell had two stints with Atomic Rooster, initially briefly replacing a pretty fair drummer, Carl Palmer, and then rejoining and playing on their last two albums. You can see Parnell’s Bonham-influenced drumming here, on Atomic Rooster’s “A Spoonful of Bromide Helps the Pulse Rate Go Down” from 1972:

 

After that, Parnell played in some Italian bands before becoming a sideman for artists including Michael Des Barres and was the drummer on Toni Basil’s hit “Mickey.” He was offered a chance to join Journey, but declined, which probably cost him a ton of money. But if he had joined that band, I would not have written this, because I really do not like Journey. So, he clearly made the right call. 

Parnell settled in Missoula, Montana, where he would gig locally, and for a while Parnell hosted a radio show called, yes, “Spontaneous Combustion,” where he played basically whatever he wanted and told stories. (Boy, I miss doing that on the radio....) 

On May 1, 2022, Parnell died at the age of 70 from a blood clot in his lungs that led to organ failure.

Only: The Only Ones

The Only Ones: Another Girl, Another Planet
[purchase] 

If you are a regular, and long-time, reader of Cover Me, this piece may seem a little familiar.  But I don't think that it counts as plagiarism if I steal from myself.  Think of it as an "adaptation," OK?  And this is a song that deserves a post on this blog, too.

It is somewhat ironic that most people know only one song by the Only Ones— “Another Girl, Another Planet.”  Originally released in 1978, it received minimal airplay and attention (but it was pretty regularly played on WPRB during my time there), but its reputation has grown exponentially over the years.  The Allmusic review of the song asserts that it is “arguably, the greatest rock single ever recorded.”  Of course, people will “argue” about anything, and choosing “Another Girl” as the greatest rock single ever is a bit of a reach, but you have to give the reviewer his due for taking a stand.  It is a great song, and it is fitting that it ultimately received the acclaim that it deserved.

The Only Ones formed in London in 1976, led by distinctively anguished vocalist and songwriter Peter Perrett joined by guitarist/keyboard player John Perry, Alan Mair on bass, and drummer Mike Kellie.  Featuring strong songwriting by Perrett and surprisingly (for punks of the era) competent playing by the band, they self-released a single, “Lovers of Today.” It sold well enough that a bidding war broke out among major labels looking for the next big thing.

While the label battles raged, the band took refuge at Escape Studio, run by producer John Burns, to record some tracks.  The unlikely marriage of Burns – who had started in the industry engineering albums by bands like King Crimson, Jethro Tull, and Humble Pie, and who had co-produced three decidedly not-punk Genesis albums – and the Only Ones somehow worked.  They finished their efforts at Escape with three 16-track demos, including “Another Girl, Another Planet.” In fact, after signing with CBS Records, and re-recording “Another Girl” at a bigger, fancier, 24-track studio, it ultimately became clear that the “demo” was the right version, and it is the one that was released (with a bit of additional overdubbing to take advantage of the additional tracks).

Despite the quality of the song, it encountered resistance, in part because it was not punk enough for the purists and too punk for mainstream play, but also because the song was perceived to be about drugs.  It wasn’t.  As Perrett stated in a 2015 interview:

It was inspired by this girl from Yugoslavia. I didn’t go out with her, but she was like a total space cadet, which when I was really young I found interesting. She was just a bit weird – she’d say crazy things, and it just got me thinking that every girl has something different to offer.

As for the drug imagery?  Perrett explains:

I put in drug-related imagery, but it wasn’t about drugs. At that time I was more addicted to sex and infatuation than I was to drugs.

Although the band’s three studio albums were generally well received, and they even opened for the Who, by  1982 the Only Ones had disbanded, in large part due to Perrett’s drug problems.  When Johnny Thunders (who later, sort of, covered the song) suggests that you need to clean your act up, you know you are messed up.  There was a short-lived reunion in 2007, and another in 2014.  Perrett released an album, How The West Was Won, in 2017 to excellent reviews, and is touring (although his US and Canada dates were cancelled due to visa problems).

Despite its lack of chart success, “Another Girl, Another Planet” has become a regular part of Best Of lists, compilation albums, box sets, and soundtracks over the years, and has become an often covered song.  And if you want to here Five Good Covers of the song, and links to a few more, check out the Cover Me link above.

I'll try to write something new for next week.

Bloom: When The Apple Blossoms Bloom In The Windmills Of Your Mind I’ll Be Your Valentine

ELP: When The Apple Blossoms Bloom In The Windmills Of Your Mind I’ll Be Your Valentine
[purchase] 

You might have noticed that I’ve long been a fan of prog rock and have often filled this space with discussions of it. You also might have noticed that I’ve never written about one of the most well-known prog bands, Emerson, Lake & Palmer (although, I have mentioned their bassist/vocalist Greg Lake, mostly in the context of his work with King Crimson, which I have written about probably too many times). And that’s because I was never that big a fan of ELP. Although there are a handful or so of their songs that I’ve liked, and I appreciated their musical virtuosity, I don’t think that I have ever bought a full ELP album in any format. There was always something about their music that left me a little cold, while I think that the more emotional music of their contemporaries Genesis and Yes appealed to me more. 

Despite a run of popular and well-received (except by the prog-haters) albums in the early 1970s, it seemed that by the middle of the decade, as the genre began to lose favor, ELP also appeared to lose creativity and cohesiveness. Their 1977 album, Works Vol.1 was a double album, with each member of the band getting one side, and the fourth side was collaborative. Although it sold well, it really wasn’t good, although the band’s version of Aaron Copland’s “Fanfare For The Common Man” was fun (and is on my list of ELP songs that I like). Later that year, they released Works, Vol. 2 which was essentially an odds and ends compilation of B-sides and unreleased tracks. Since most of these came from an earlier period when ELP was firing on all creative cylinders, it has more good stuff on it, including our feature song. 

“When The Apple Blossoms Bloom In The Windmills Of Your Mind I’ll Be Your Valentine” is a relatively short song for ELP, clocking in at just under 4 minutes, with a title that takes almost as long as that to say. (but if you want long titles, check out the Red Sparowes). It’s an upbeat and relatively unpretentious (by ELP standards) instrumental that may well have started as a jam. You can hear the musical talent of the three musicians and enjoy their playing on this track. It was recorded during the Brain Salad Surgery sessions and was released as the B-side to the “Jerusalem” single. 

Works, Vol. 2 was less commercially successful than its predecessor, which is probably what economists call a lagging indicator. But it also pretty much the end for ELP. Their next album, the contractually required Love Beach, which features the band members posing with mostly open shirts near a beach, appeared to be an attempt to pivot toward more pop-oriented music, much as Yes and Genesis were doing in this period, but without any real conviction. Moreover, the band was breaking apart even more, with Lake and Palmer recording their parts and fleeing the studio, leaving Emerson to finalize the album. It sold OK, but was not well received by critics, even those who still liked the genre. 

Other than a few live releases, a few partial reunions that included other musicians replacing absent core members, and a brief full reunion in the 90s, that was pretty much it for ELP. Emerson died in 2016 of a self-inflicted gunshot, and Lake died of cancer the same year.

Shelter: Shelter

The Dexateens: Shelter
[purchase]

I seem to be writing about my song selection process a lot lately, which may mean that I’m trying to fill space because I’m running out of songs that have particular meaning for me. I hope not, because that would be bad for a blogger who mostly responds to theme prompts, but we’ll see—and maybe I need to take another short sabbatical to recharge. I’m spending a good deal of time these days working on projects directly or indirectly related to my 40th college reunion in May, which I’m sure I’ll figure out a way to write about down the road, and that also explains why I’ve been writing once per theme more often than twice these days. Also, there’s work and family. And good TV. 

So, when I heard the theme, my first thought was a King Crimson song, but seriously, who really wants me to write about another King Crimson song, and an instrumental, at that? (The volume of my Crimson-related posts surprises even me, considering that they are not my favorite band. What is my favorite band? I really don’t know.) My second thought was to pick the obvious Rolling Stones song, but I’ve written about that before. There’s also a Dylan classic, but writing about Dylan can be heavy lifting, and I don’t have the patience for that right now. 

Which inevitably led me to an iTunes library search, where I landed upon today’s feature song, “Shelter,” by The Dexateens. Is it a great song? No. Is it a good song by an underappreciated band in the vaguely Americana genre? Yes. Which means that it’s a good one for me to write about. (Although having finished this post, I realize that I mentioned the band a few years ago).

The Dexateens were formed in the late 1990s in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, featuring singer-songwriters and guitarists Elliott McPherson and John Smith, with drummer Craig "Sweet Dog" Pickering and bassist Matt Patton. If that last name seems familiar, we’ll get there. Their name came not from the same source as Dexys Midnight Runners, but instead from a guitar pick that Smith’s brother had gotten signed by Dex Romweber, a musician that you might have heard of. Or not. Although he’s pretty good and it is a memorable name. Mixing punk with southern rock, The Dexateens’ self-titled debut album from 2004 is excellent—raw and rocking, and “Shelter” is a Stonesy-stomp. 

I’m not sure when I first heard about The Dexateens, but it wouldn’t surprise me if it was in 2007, when their fine album Hardwire Healing was released, and it was co-produced by Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers and David Barbe, who has worked with the Truckers (as well as playing bass in Sugar). I suspect that this was the hook that got me to check out the band, which has de-emphasized punk over the years. After some personnel changes, the band broke up in 2010. Patton joined the Truckers on bass (and as the occasional Ramones cover singer), and also plays with The Dexateens, which re-formed in 2013. And, he co-owns a recording studio in Mississippi (where part of the Ramones cover video in the link was shot). Busy man. 

 So, check out The Dexateens if you aren’t familiar with them.

Rock Hall Snubs: Richard Thompson and Los Lobos

Richard Thompson: The Poor Ditching Boy
Los Lobos: Will The Wolf Survive?

[purchase Henry The Human Fly]
[purchase How Will The Wolf Survive] 

When I posted my first piece in this theme, about King Crimson, I posted it in a King Crimson fan group on Facebook, hoping to draw some readers to the blog (and it seemed to work! One point for Facebook, although with the news the last few weeks, I think that its score is below water). I was heartened to receive a number of positive comments and likes, but I was also not surprised to also get a different reaction—essentially that the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is rubbish, just a tourist attraction, and really, who cares if Crimson isn’t in? It was a combination of disdain for an organization that while going out of its way to induct lesser known artists, many of color (particularly in the Early Influences and “Sidemen” categories), is also filled with commercially successful shlockmeisters, and a Groucho Marxist feeling of not wanting to be in a club that would admit them as a member. 

I get it. Really—in fact, as an acknowledged Rock Snob, I mentioned in my original piece that I have trouble taking seriously an organization that inducted Bon Jovi, but not King Crimson, as a musical arbiter, and add to that, just as a few more examples, Def Leppard, Journey, and Depeche Mode, none of which would be in my HOF (much less in my collection). On the other hand, a pretty good case can be made for most of the inductees based on a combination of popularity and influence, even if I don’t particularly care for their music. The same way that when looking at the Baseball Hall of Fame, I can appreciate the talent of most of the players, even if some of them were Yankees, or Ty Cobb.

With all that extraneous background, as the theme heads towards its conclusion and we likely turn to something Halloween related, I wanted to briefly recognize two members of the Jordan Becker Rock Hall who have been unjustly snubbed by the bigger, more famous one in Cleveland, Richard Thompson and Los Lobos, a Brit best known for his folk based music, songwriting prowess and incredible guitar playing, and a band whose music has expertly spanned many genres, but is firmly rooted in their Mexican-American heritage. Showing the breadth of the “Americana” genre, both have won Americana Music Association Lifetime Achievement Awards (Thompson for Songwriting and for his entire career; Los Lobos for Performance), and they’ve even done a song together. 

I’m going to try to keep this short. But you know how hard that is for me to do. 

Thompson, whose first schoolboy band included his friend Hugh Cornwell, later of the Stranglers, first became known as one of the founders of Fairport Convention. He was all of 18, and already his guitar playing was remarkable enough to convince producer Joe Boyd to sign the band. Eventually, Fairport Convention became a major musical force in Britain, first covering mostly American folk artists such as Bob Dylan, but later focusing on originals, many written by Thompson, that had strong British folk music influences (as well as covers of traditional songs). Thompson left Fairport in 1971, and began releasing solo albums and work with his wife Linda Thompson, until their marriage collapsed publicly and spectacularly, but also led to Thompson writing some incredible songs. 

Thompson has continued to release solo albums, participate in the occasional collaboration, including with his extended family, and tour regularly, as a solo artist and with bands of various sizes. He’s even covered 1000 years of popular music, and recorded sea chanteys. Renowned as a guitarist and songwriter (particularly for dark-themed songs), he’s also become a more than capable singer. I’ve seen him a bunch of times, have never been disappointed, and have usually been blown away by his talent, his encyclopedic knowledge of music, and his humor. In addition to his AMA awards, he has won guitar playing awards, and often appears on lists of the greatest guitarists of all time. Considering all of this, and the number of years that he has been performing at an astoundingly high level, RT deserves to be in the R&RHOF. 

Los Lobos grew out of the high school friendship of David Hidalgo and Louie Perez, who bonded over music, including Fairport Convention. They formed a band with some other friends, Los Lobos del Este de Los Angeles, releasing their self-titled first album, of mostly traditional Mexican songs, in 1973. Playing numerous live shows, including weddings and dances, they forged a sound that mixed American popular songs with Mexican music, and also began to incorporate influences from punk bands popular in Los Angeles in the late 1970s. 

Throughout the 1980s, they released a string of well-regarded and increasingly commercially successful records that continued to add influences to their sound. Of course, their recording of “La Bamba,” (and other songs) for the soundtrack of the Ritchie Valens biopic, La Bamba, shot them to greater prominence. Rather than follow up a No. 1 single with more of the same, they released an album of Mexican music, for which they won a Grammy, if not more English language airplay. After that, they’ve continued to release excellent albums, including a few that were a little experimental, while touring regularly. 

In addition to writing great songs and being pioneers of Latino rock music, they are one of the best cover bands, participating in various cover projects, including contributing a great version of “Bertha,” to Deadicated, and Disney covers. Not to mention a cover of “Down Where The Drunkards Roll,” on a Richard Thompson tribute album. In fact, their most recent album, created during the pandemic, is a cover album, focusing on California bands (with one original), 

Back in 2014, I wrote about Los Lobos for Cover Me, describing them as having 

demonstrated that not only can they play pretty much any style of music, they can play it very well. They have excelled with albums that have included blues, rock, R&B, experimental sounds, numerous styles of Mexican folk music, American folk music, Americana, and Tex-Mex, all performed and played brilliantly. They play acoustically and electrically. Their songs can be simple rockers, sinuous jams, complex sound collages, or heartbreaking stories of life on the margins. 

I then said that it is “sinful” that they are not in the Rock Hall, and I still believe that (despite the one time I saw them live, and they were having a rare off night). 

OK, not so short, but it’s really a twofer.

Rock Hall Snubs: King Crimson

King Crimson: The Court of the Crimson King
[purchase The Condenced 21st Century Guide to King Crimson 1969-2003] 

I think that it was in the Bill James Historical Baseball Abstract that I read, years ago, something like the only definition of who belongs in the (baseball) Hall of Fame is who gets elected. In other words, even in a statistically driven sport such as baseball (which has become even more so due to the work of James and fellow sabermetricians), there’s no formula to decide who belongs. James, and others, have created various predictive formulas, but they are not an attempt to determine who deserves to be in the Hall, but rather to predict whether the player’s statistics are the type that would convince the voters to vote them in. 

This type of determination is even harder to do with the Rock Hall, because there are no stats, really, other than maybe sales, or streams, or concert attendance-but I think most people (at least most people who read this type of blog) are unwilling to equate popularity with quality. Although it is nice when it happens. For the Rock Hall, it sort of just comes to down to gut feelings, considering some objective, but mostly subjective factors—plus a fan vote. Of course to be fair, it is hard to take the Rock Hall all that seriously when it inducted Bon Jovi a few years ago. 

My pitch today is for King Crimson, which based on the number of times I’ve written about them, their music or their members (see here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and most recently, here), you might assume are my favorite band. They aren’t (don’t ask me what is, though). But when you look at the quality and variety of their work, the length of their career, even with all of the interruptions, and most notably, the influence of the band on so many genres of music, it is hard to justify their exclusion. There is one full member of King Crimson who is a Rock Hall inductee (and another performer who sang one song for Crimson who is in the Hall……the answer will be at the end of this piece). 

It is hard to argue that King Crimson did not influence, among other genres, progressive rock, hard rock, various forms of metal, jazz/rock fusion, punk, new wave, grunge, math rock, jam bands, noise rock, and even hip-hop. There’s a nice summary of some of this in Wikipedia, or just Google “King Crimson influence” and fall down the rabbit hole. 

Also, arguably, Robert Fripp belongs in the Hall individually for his solo guitar work/"Frippertronics" and collaborations with Brian Eno, David Bowie, Peter Gabriel and others. 

That’s it. Show me a band or artist that is more influential than King Crimson that hasn’t already been inducted. 

The answer to the question is that drummer Bill Bruford was inducted into the Rock Hall as a member of Yes, as was Jon Anderson, who sang “Prince Rupert Awakes” on Crimson’s third album, Lizard.

Bigger Strings: Maya Beiser-Epitaph

Maya Beiser: Epitaph
[purchase] 

I’m not sure where I first heard about Israel-born, avant-garde classical cellist Maya Beiser, but it might well have been from this piece by Cover Me founder Ray Padgett about her awesome cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir.” Beiser’s 2014 album Uncovered is a collection of ten rock songs completely reimagined by Beiser and arranger Evan Ziporyn, a fellow member of Bang on a Can All-Stars. The songs run the gamut from Muddy Waters to Janis Joplin, to Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Nirvana (which I wrote about here), and my favorite of them all, her cover of King Crimson’s elegiac “Epitaph,” from their debut album, In The Court of the Crimson King. 

“Epitaph” was written by Robert Fripp, Ian McDonald, Greg Lake, and Michael Giles with lyrics written by Peter Sinfield, and those lyrics, were sung beautifully by Lake, who explained that the song “is basically a song about looking with confusion upon a world gone mad.” It features heavy use of Mellotron along with woodwinds and dramatic tympani, giving it a symphonic feel. 

It was this complex, symphonic sound that attracted Beiser, whose classical training did not prevent her from consuming and appreciating popular music throughout her life. In an interview for Classical Voice, Beiser said:

I was very much entrenched in classical music, and none of my teachers knew anything about Genesis, King Crimson, Brian Eno. It was not part of my education. I started to listen to this music and it completely transformed me. Pink Floyd were totally revolutionary, creating a symphonic like piece. King Crimson’s ‘Epitaph’ is one of my favorite songs of all time, and it lends itself to cello because their thinking was symphonic — classical. 

She continued: 

Part of my motivation for doing this album is for people to see how this is great music, how the masters of our time are just as great as but different than Beethoven and Schubert. … All classical music performances are covers. 

Continuing this approach, Beiser recently released a version of David Bowie’s last album, Blackstar, re imagined as a cello concerto. 

To create her cover of “Epitaph,” Beiser overdubbed and processed her cello, and Ziporyn added just a hint of clarinet and bass clarinet. Beiser slows down the tempo a little, and if anything, her instrumental version is even sadder and statelier than the great original. 

As a brief aside, since this is a piece about the cello and King Crimson, about five years after the debut album, a mostly different lineup of King Crimson released Red, one of my favorite albums, and it includes a cellist (and acoustic bass player), who are uncredited, and whose identity appears to still be a mystery. 

One more aside--the punk record label Epitaph Records, home (at times) of bands such as Rancid, Bad Religion, Descendants, The Distillers and Social Distortion, was named after a lyric from this decidedly not punk song.

In Memoriam: Three Crims

 

Since its formation in 1968, King Crimson has gone through many different lineups and musicians, and over the years, there has been some sort of official differentiation between “members” and additional musicians who recorded and/or toured with the band, although some people moved between the two statuses. In 2020, we lost three musicians affiliated with King Crimson, two full members, and one who declined the rights and privileges, such as they are, of that status. Two of those remembered here were involved in 1970, the third played during the more recent configuration of King Crimson, from 2013 until his death earlier this year.  

King Crimson: Cadence and Cascade
[purchase] 

Gordon Haskell was a school friend of King Crimson leader Robert Fripp, and played with him in a band when they were teenagers, before moving on to become the bass player in the band Fleur de Lys (and, apparently, briefly sharing a flat with Jimi Hendrix). They also acted as a house band for Atlantic Records, which gave Haskell the opportunity to work with noted producers, including George Martin, Arif Mardin and Glyn Johns. He recorded a solo album in 1969, but it went nowhere. 

Meanwhile, his old friend Robert was having problems of his own. After recording In the Court of the Crimson King, a legitimate classic, and touring behind the album, both Ian McDonald and Michael Giles left the band. Then, singer/bass player Greg Lake quit, planning to form Emerson, Lake and Palmer. After hiring, and then sacking, the still unknown Elton John (who got paid £250 for not working) as the vocalist on Crimson’s second record, In The Wake of Poseidon, Lake ultimately agreed to sing on the album (in exchange for Crimson’s PA equipment), but there was one song that Fripp felt wasn’t right for Lake. He approached Haskell, who recalled, “I straight away, without any hesitation, said ‘absolutely not’. I was totally R&B oriented and it wasn’t my sort of music. I didn’t like King Crimson. Anyway, after a while I said I’d think about it, and my wife got to work on me because she wanted a regular income so in the end I joined.” Haskell sang on one song, “Cadence and Cascade,” which is a beautiful ballad, beautifully sung, as you can hear at the link above. 

After completing Poseidon, Fripp regrouped again, adding more musicians, who began work on Lizard, which was jazzier and more avant-garde than the two prior records, and it was not a good experience for Haskell, who sang and played bass on the album. He didn’t like the music, noting that “At the end of one song, ‘Indoor Games’, I just burst out laughing. You can hear it on the album. They thought it was really freaky, that I’d understood the lyrics and my part – but the truth of the matter is, it was a lousy song, the lyrics were ludicrous and my singing was atrocious so I just burst out laughing. And they thought it was wonderful!” Haskell left the band, acrimoniously, during rehearsals for live performances, and later King Crimson for royalties. 

After leaving King Crimson, Haskell struggled for years, before having a hit single in England, “How Wonderful You Are” in 2001 and he followed that up with a successful album, Harry’s Bar, in 2002. His next record was not as well-received, and he was released by his label after a dispute. From then on, Haskell continued to release music without much success, and wrote an autobiography, The Road to Harry’s Bar. 

Haskell died from cancer on October 15, 2020 at the age of 74.   Announcing his death, the official King Crimson website noted, “The experience was not a happy one for Gordon and he bitterly regretted his decision to join,” and that Haskell had “come to detest” the song “Cadence and Cascade,” which is a shame.

Keith Tippett also played on the Poseidon and Lizard albums. Allmusic’s biography of Tippett states that he “held an unparalleled place in British contemporary music,” due to the breadth of his collaborations, the variety of music he wrote and performed, and the influence that he had on other musicians. Tippett's work ranges from free improvisation as a solo pianist and with duos and small groups, to compositions for, and performances with, contemporary classical groups and large-scale works for Jazz Orchestra. 

Tippett (whose last name was actually Tippetts, which he changed for the delightful reason that he was tired of seeing his name on posters with the apostrophe after the last “t” and not the “s”), was a classically trained pianist who had formed a jazz band, the Keith Tippett Sextet, which released its first album in 1969. Other members of that band included Elton Dean, later of Soft Machine, and Mark Charig and Nick Evans, who also contributed to King Crimson albums. Tippett was hired to play piano on Poseidon (including some pretty playing on “Cadence and Cascade”), and along with Charig and Evans, played on Lizard and Islands. His influence in King Crimson increased over time, and he claimed that Fripp offered him co-creative control over the band if he would join full time. However, as he remembered, “I didn’t want to join King Crimson, not because I didn’t like King Crimson, I had great respect for the band, but I wanted to be doing other things, I didn’t want to just go out on the road for eighteen months. I had too much love for the sextet and it would have taken me away from the jazz scene.” 

One of those things was to put together a 50 piece band, Centipede, that included members of his jazz band, along with members of Soft Machine, King Crimson, and other bands that skirted the progressive rock/jazz genres, along with students from the London School of Music. It released an album, Septober Energy, produced by Fripp (who had appeared live with the band, but was not on the album), in 1971. Melody Maker wrote about this album, “In this one piece he has done more than almost anybody else that comes to mind in breaking down barriers in rock, jazz and classical music” The album was, however, not commercially successful, probably for the reason that it broke so many barriers.

Tippett continued to perform and record improvisational and avant-garde jazz music and jazz/rock with various combinations of musicians, including many from the Canterbury scene, until fairly recently—his discography as a leader and sideman is vast. 

Tippett succumbed on June 14, 2020 to a heart attack after two years of recurring illness at the age of 72.

After disbanding a version of King Crimson in 2008 and playing with various Crimson-related musicians before briefly retiring, Fripp decided to form a new King Crimson lineup, this time with three drummers. One of the drummers was Bill Rieflin, who had played with, among others, Ministry, KMFDM, and R.E.M. after Bill Berry left the band. Although mostly known for playing industrial and darker rock music, his stint with R.E.M. and his work on other projects demonstrated the wide scope of his talent. In addition, he was a prolific session musician, recording with artists from Nine Inch Nails to experimental rockers Swans and pop singer Robbie Williams. He released his first solo album, Birth of a Giant in 1999, which included contributions from Fripp and Trey Gunn, who was in King Crimson at the time. 

Over the years, Rieflin, who also played keyboards and other instruments, had collaborated with Fripp in a number of different projects, and participated in Fripp’s Guitar Craft project, about which he stated (before joining Crimson), “I couldn't possibly describe in any detail the impact this has had in my life; I can say that it was and continues to be significant. Were I to say "life-changing," this would be true, but it wouldn't begin to communicate the depth of the experience.” 

So his inclusion as part of the new “seven-headed monster” configuration of Crimson, along with Fripp, Tony Levin, Mel Collins, Pat Mastelotto, Gavin Harrison (who had played in prior versions of the band), and Jakko Jakszyk, was not surprising. I saw this band play in 2014 and was blown away by the power and intricacy of the percussion work (as well as by the rest of the band, of course). Here’s a video of the three drummers, with Rieflin in the center, “soloing” during rehearsals in 2014, highlighting how they play both in unison and separately.

Rieflin took a “sabbatical” from the band in 2016, but returned in 2017 to create a “Double Quartet” formation, but rather than have four drummers (that would be crazy, right?), he focused on “mellotron, keys and fairy dusting, rather than using drums as a main instrument.” He didn’t appear on the autumn US tour in 2017 (when I saw them again, and they were, again, great), but returned in 2018 before taking another sabbatical in 2019. Rieflin died on March 24, 2020 from cancer at the age of 59.

Masks: I Advance Masked

Andy Summers/Robert Fripp: I Advance Masked
[purchase through Discogs because Amazon’s prices are not reasonable ]

You’re probably sick of reading how I learned something interesting in researching my post, but this time, I learned four interesting things. And what better way to spend the continued COVID-19 life slowdown than learning three interesting things about music, right?

First, if you asked me who was older, Andy Summers, former guitarist for The Police, or Robert Fripp, King Crimson guitarist, I probably would have said Fripp. Mostly because he’s been pretty famous since the late 1960s, is generally categorized as being a prog-rocker and usually wears suits these days, while Summers became famous as the guitarist in a punk band in the late 70s-early 80s. But that’s wrong. Summers is 77 (!), while Fripp is 74. I think I knew that Summers played in Soft Machine, and with other bands before The Police, but I guess his time in that band made me think he was younger than he is (Sting is 68 and Stewart Copeland is 67. Henry Padovani, The Police’s original guitarist (!), is also 67.)

The second thing that I learned is that Summers and Fripp first met in the early 1960s, when Summers’ band, Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, was the regular entertainment at the Bournemouth Majestic Hotel when Fripp was attending Bournemouth College. And when Zoot Money moved to London, Fripp’s band, the Majestic Dance Orchestra, replaced them at the hotel. The Majestic was a Jewish hotel, and the Majestic Dance Orchestra occasionally played weddings and bar mitzvahs. (Interesting thing number three!) Apparently, the two incredible, but different, guitar players remained friends.

We’ll get to the fourth interesting thing soon.

In 1981 and 1982, when both men had time between their Police and Crimson obligations, they met to jam together, and those sessions ultimately resulted in an album of 13 instrumentals entitled, I Advance Masked. To my ears, much of the album, and particularly the title track, displays some similarity to the interlocking guitar work that Fripp was doing with Adrian Belew in the recently reformed King Crimson, except that Summers and Belew’s styles are very different, so it didn’t sound exactly like Crimson. Not being a guitarist, or really a musician of any sort, I’ll let Summers describe how his and Fripp’s styles were different:

We’re still pretty much polar opposites in our playing. Robert over the years has gone down one line, the polyrhythmic single-line approach, and he’s brought it to a degree of perfection where he can improvise on it and play it like no other guitarist in the world. His strengths are playing the sort of fuzz solo, very quirky and very rhythmic. I’m classically-trained, came up playing pop and blues (Zoot Money’s Big Roll Band, Soft Machine, Animals, etc.), a regular rock soloist in many ways. It’s hard, but it clicks. Robert gives the music a spine, he’s the masculine element, and I probably represent the feminine side of the duo, but out of it a whole new personality emerges. It’s a beautiful form of alchemy. 

The song, remarkably, also spawned a very bad video:



So, what’s the fourth thing? The title of the song and album was derived from something that none other than René Descartes once wrote in a diary, and which supposedly became the second most famous thing he ever said (although I admit to never having heard it before): “larvatus prodeo,” which sounds like a Harry Potter spell, but means, “masked, I advance.” Apparently, it relates to how Descartes had to disguise his true self to succeed.

OK—there’s a fifth thing I learned, although it isn’t as interesting as the other stuff. On the DGM Live website, the official site for Fripp/Crimson and related projects (and projekcts), Fripp often publishes a daily diary, and since March, he occasionally titles them “I Advance Masked,” and includes a picture of him in a mask. Here’s one recent example.

Red, Yellow or Orange: Red

King Crimson: Red
[purchase]

Trying not to overthink this, so I went with the first thing that came into my head when I heard what the new theme was. Red, the album, released in 1974, was King Crimson’s seventh studio album, and was supposed to be the last, until it wasn’t. It is probably the King Crimson album that I listen to the most, and I still think that it is great. For starters, at that point, the “official” band was a trio, all of whom were among the best in the business—Robert Fripp on guitar and mellotron, John Wetton on bass and vocals, and Bill Bruford on drums and percussion. They were augmented for certain songs by, among others, David Cross on violin (who had recently been kicked out as a "full" member), and Mel Collins and Ian McDonald (both of whom had been in prior versions of the band) on saxophones. Also, there’s a cellist, who is uncredited, and apparently is unknown to this day.

The song “Red” and the album are considered to be influential in progressive rock, but interestingly, they are different from what other prog bands were doing at the time—Yes, ELP and Genesis, for example, were more keyboard driven, with music that was filled with classical influences, while King Crimson’s sound on Red is harder, more metal even, although there are two more “ballady” songs on the record, including the stately “Starless,” which features atmospheric mellotron washes, and numerous jazzy passages. That’s why Red is cited as an influence by artists such as Tool, Primus, Kurt Cobain, Henry Rollins and Dream Theater.

The title track is an instrumental, in the vein of the earlier “Larks Tongues In Aspic, Part Two,” and it is “one of the more muscular pieces of Robert Fripp's, in particular the deployment of open strings and heavily attacked and syncopated bass and drums underlines this aspect.” That quote is from this post, which analyzes that song in truly granular detail.

Clearly, King Crimson’s complex and challenging music has been analyzed by music obsessives, including the band members (and management). So, you can read Fripp’s diary about how the song “Red” was pieced together. Here’s a typically dense Pitchfork analysis of the album. And here’s a piece by David Singleton, Fripp’s business and production partner, about the making of Red. Or, you can buy a 21-CD/1-DVD/2-Blu-Ray box set, The Road to Red, which features recordings of many of the concerts from the tour that preceded the recording of Red, so you can, if you are inclined, listen for improvisational sections that turned into parts of Red songs. I’m not that obsessive.

I’ve learned writing these posts is that sometimes you find something that says what you want better than you can, and when you do, just copy it. This is from a review of The Road to Red:

Red managed to encapsulate all the things that defined mid-'70s Crimson: ear-crunching instrumentals like the title track; improvisation-heavy excursions into the outer reaches of rock, jazz and beyond on "Providence" (recorded live on the penultimate night of Crimson's final North American tour, included in the current box); dynamic, mellotron-driven ballads that morphed into thundering solo opportunities for members past and present via a lengthy middle section that milked the hell out of just a few choice notes ("Starless"); and two songs ("Fallen Angel," "One More Red Nightmare") that suggested a shifting direction for Crimson, with even stronger song form than on [Starless and Bible Black] but delivered with the same—or, even, more—massive weight-bearing load of what was one of the loudest, most mind-blowingly powerful power trios in the history of rock music. 

Just to vary things up, though, the version of “Red” that I’ve embedded above is a live version recorded in Mexico in August of this year by the seven-piece version of King Crimson that features three drummers (!), Pat Mastellotto, Gavin Harrison and Jeremy Stacy (who also adds keyboards), along with Fripp on guitar, Tony Levin on bass and Chapman Stick, Mel Collins on flute and sax, and Jakko Jaksyzk on guitar and vocals (although not on this song).  You can download it here, for free!

Compare that to the original:


As I noted above, Red was supposed to be the last King Crimson album—and it is amazing that a band that was falling apart could create such a masterpiece--but a few years later, Fripp put together a band with Bruford, Levin and guitarist/singer Adrian Belew that eventually became a new version of King Crimson. The cover of their first album, Discipline, is red.

Same Name/Different Artist: Ian M(a)cDonald

King Crimson: The Court of the Crimson King
[purchase In The Court of the Crimson King]
Fairport Convention: Time Will Show The Wiser
[purchase Fairport Convention]
Quiet Sun: Rongwrong
[purchase Mainstream]

Surprisingly, there are a few Ian McDonalds or MacDonalds who are prominent in British music, although maybe it isn’t all that surprising, since I bet it is a pretty common name over there (and here, for that matter, according to Google). And there are some connections among them. So, you need to pay close attention here, or you might get lost.

Let’s start with multi-instrumentalist Ian McDonald, born in 1946 in Osterly, England, best known for his woodwind playing. This McDonald participated in sessions in 1968 with Michael and Peter Giles, Robert Fripp and McDonald’s then-girlfriend, Judy Dyble (who had recently been replaced in Fairport Convention by Sandy Denny). After some personnel shifting, the nucleus of Fripp, Michael Giles and McDonald, along with Greg Lake, became King Crimson, releasing the classic In The Court of the Crimson King. He left the band after that record along with percussionist Michael Giles, and recorded an album as McDonald and Giles (although Giles also appeared on King Crimson’s second album as a session musician).

McDonald became a session musician playing on, among other songs, T. Rex’s “Bang a Gong,” before guesting on King Crimson’s great Red album, with plans to rejoin the band, until Fripp (temporarily) disbanded it. Moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, he became a founding member of Foreigner (with one of the Mick Joneses), forcing me to mention that execrable band (Note—it is hard to type while holding your nose).

Thereafter, he was a member of the 21st Century Schizoid Band, essentially a Crimson cover band featuring mostly former (and future) members of King Crimson, has backed a number of other musicians, including former Genesis guitarist Steve Hackett, former King Crimson singer/bassist John Wetton, Dyble, and others, and has guested with Asia.

Moving on to Ian Matthews MacDonald, also born in 1946 (9 days before the guy above), in the delightfully named Barton-upon Humber, England, although he later moved to the not delightfully named Scunthorpe. In 1967, this MacDonald was recruited to join Fairport Convention, and sang on their first two albums, the first of which included Judy Dyble. At some point, he changed his name to Ian Matthews, to avoid confusion with the King Crimson McDonald. When Fairport Convention began to move away from American folk/rock music and toward British folk, Ian found himself not invited to recording sessions, and quit/was fired before the release of Fairport’s great Unhalfbricking album.

Matthews then formed Matthews’ Southern Comfort, an essentially Americana album, initially featuring a number of members of Fairport and their circle—his second album spawned a hit cover of Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock.” After that, he was in and out of various bands and released solo albums with very occasional commercial success, and changed the spelling of his first name to Iain.

British music critic Ian MacCormick changed his name to Ian MacDonald and is best known for a book, Revolution in the Head, a critical history of the Beatles. But this MacDonald was also a musician, providing lyrics to the band Quiet Sun, which featured his brother Bill MacCormick and future Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera. He sang backup on Quiet Sun’s excellent “reunion” album Mainstream. Maybe he is on this song. Sadly, he committed suicide in 2003 after suffering for years with depression.

There’s also an American actor named Ian MacDonald (born Ulva Pippy in 1914), possibly best known as villain Frank Miller in High Noon (although in 1949’s Come to the Stable, he played Mr. Matthews). I have no idea if his character’s first name was Ian, or Iain, for that matter.

Homecoming: Take The Long Way Home

Supertramp: Take The Long Way Home
[purchase]

What exactly was Supertramp, anyway? They started out as a prog band financed by a modern day Medici, Dutch millionaire Stanley August “Sam” Miesegaes, but only became successful when they lost their patron and, over the course of a few albums, gradually tempered their proggier influences with radio-friendly pop, only to lose a key member at the height of their long-sought popularity and drift into obscurity and irrelevance. In addition to the tension between longer, complex songs and catchy pop tunes, the band also had to deal with the fact that its two main songwriters, Rick Davies and Roger Hodgson, had different personalities and different musical styles—one harder and jazzier and the other more folky and melodic—which ultimately led to the breakup. (If you are dying to know who wrote which Supertramp song, because most of the songs were credited to both Davies and Hodgson, look here.)

I became aware of Supertramp with their 1977 album, Even in the Quietest Moments… an album that, to my mind, is their most successful balancing of the various influences. It had a hit single, “Give a Little Bit,” but it also had an excellent ten and half minute song, “Fool’s Overture.”

My college radio career began during the early part of 1979, and in March of that year, Supertramp released Breakfast in America. It was, for the most part, a swing toward the pop side of their personality, and it was a huge hit—reaching number 1 on the Billboard pop album chart, and containing four hit singles, and a couple of other songs that might have been contenders. I remember playing it, but having the sense that Supertramp was really moving away from the kind of music that we were playing on the station in those days (and we still played a pretty good amount of prog rock). Although I think that we were less doctrinaire about shunning hits than many other college stations of the time, there definitely was the sense that Breakfast in America was maybe just too commercial. I did continue to play my favorites from Quietest Moments and took the opportunity to investigate their prior two albums, which had songs that I have to believe I heard on WNEW when I was in high school. For some reason, possibly bad reviews, I never spent any time with the band’s first two albums, which were unsuccessful full on prog records (which led to the loss of their benefactor). Although in preparing to write this, I discovered that the guitarist and lyricist on Supertramp’s self-titled debut album was Richard Palmer, who, as Richard Palmer-James later wrote the lyrics for three of King Crimson’s best albums—Larks’ Tongues in Aspic, Starless and Bible Black, and Red, so maybe I’ll go back and check it out.

I think that “Take The Long Way Home” is my favorite of the hit singles from Breakfast, and I think that it holds up better than some of the others, maybe in part because the song uses what sounds like a real piano, and not the dated sounding electric one that many of the band’s songs relied on. (Although the title track also sounds good after having not listened to it for a while) And maybe it is because that while it is still a pop song it lopes along, taking, I guess, the long way home. Or maybe because of its ambivalent message. Hodgson, who wrote the song, has said that it is about

home on two levels. I mean, I'm talking about not wanting to go home to the wife, take the long way home to the wife because she treats you like part of the furniture, but there's a deeper level to the song, too. I really believe we all want to find our home, find that place in us where we feel at home, and to me, home is in the heart and that is really, when we are in touch with our heart and we're living our life from our heart, then we do feel like we found our home. 

After that blockbuster came a placeholding live album, and an even poppier studio followup, which while having a couple of hits, really was a pale imitation of Breakfast. At that point Hodgson left the band to record some mostly forgotten solo albums. Davies kept the band together, releasing some more experimental records that had some initial chart success, but not for long. Both Supertramp and Hodgson continued to record and tour occasionally (and separately), and no real reunion ever bore fruit. In 2015, Davies was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, forcing a tour cancellation, and the band’s website simply says “There are no upcoming tour dates scheduled currently.” Hodgson’s website, on the other hand, shows a vigorous touring schedule through the rest of 2018 and 2019.

Remedies: Mental Medication

U.K.: Mental Medication [purchase]

The original lineup of U.K. brought together some of the best at their instruments British prog rockers. The band was formed in the late 1970s by drummer Bill Bruford, who had played in Yes and King Crimson, and singer/bassist John Wetton, who had played with Bruford in King Crimson and had also been part of Roxy Music and Uriah Heep. Bruford and Wetton each recruited another musician, with Bruford bringing Allan Holdsworth, who had been with Soft Machine, Tony Williams’ Lifeline, Gong, and Jean-Luc Ponty, as well having played on Bruford’s debut solo album, and Wetton inviting Eddie Jobson, a keyboard player and violinist who had played with him in Roxy Music, and who was in Frank Zappa’s band.

U.K., the one and only album recorded by this lineup is considered by many to be a prog-rock classic. Excellent playing (of course) on interesting, unusual songs, featuring a true fusion of rock, jazz and classical influences, has made this one of my favorites—which is not surprising, considering that Bruford is probably my favorite drummer, Holdsworth is my favorite guitarist, and I have lots of respect for both Wetton and Jobson.

That being said, I have to admit that “Mental Medication” is not one of my favorite songs from the album. There’s something about Wetton’s vocals, particularly at the beginning, that I don’t love. But there’s a thrilling four minute stretch of instrumental music, including a guitar solo from Holdsworth that is both jaw dropping and subtle at the same time, and a violin solo from Jobson, all over Wetton’s stellar bass playing and Bruford’s signature drumming, that makes it worth a listen.

Sadly, after some extensive touring, tensions in the band led to Wetton and Jobson “firing” Holdsworth, and Bruford also left. Rather than find a new guitarist, the remaining members brought in drummer Terry Bozzio, also from Frank Zappa’s band, and recorded Danger Money as a trio. It isn’t a bad album, and actually spawned a minor hit, “Nothing to Lose.” After a live album, Wetton and Jobson themselves disagreed on the future of the band, and they broke up. A couple of years later Wetton formed Asia, with Steve Howe, Carl Palmer and Geoff Downes, which definitely sounded a lot like what U.K. might have sounded like if it tried for a more commercial sound.

Bruford took some of the songs that he had written for a second U.K. album and used them on his second solo album, the great One of a Kind (which also featured Holdsworth on guitar). There were a few Wetton/Jobson led reunions of U.K. over the years, featuring various drummers and guitarists, but the original lineup never got back together.

Sadly, both Wetton and Holdsworth died in 2017, which I commemorated here.

Women: The Ideal Woman

Adrian Belew: The Ideal Woman
[purchase]

To some extent, this is a tricky theme for a blog that currently appears to have only male writers. In light of years of feminists correctly clamoring to end objectification of women, and in the immediate post #MeToo era, stuff that we used to take for granted is, properly, subject to stricter scrutiny. These days, what one says, or does, to or with or about a woman could be damaging, and for the most part, I have to say, the additional care and thought is a good thing. Of course, if you can pay for a nondisclosure agreement, you can get away with misbehavior.

Maybe.

So, after nearly two weeks of scanning my library for a theme-appropriate song, why did I finally land on Adrian Belew’s “The Ideal Woman,” a song that is clearly an objectification of women? Part of it, of course, is that the song is from 1983, which doesn’t sound like it was so long ago, but both of my kids are now older than I was in that year, so maybe it was a long time ago. And because times have changed significantly since then, although there’s still all sorts of misogyny and objectification in the music world. Part of it, too, is that I really like Adrian Belew, having written about his solo work, his time with King Crimson and his work with Talking Heads. (Although I’ve sort of lost track of his career in recent years.) In addition to his music, I think he also has a sense of humor, and it seems like this song is more than a little tongue in cheek.

I have to believe that all of us have some idea of what an ideal partner would be. It was not too long ago that I would have written that sentence using the phrase “opposite sex,” but you can’t have Smithies in your family, or spend as much time at the Athena Film Festival as I have, without learning that the phrase is really useless. Maybe you’re not as specific in your specifications as Belew is in the song, and even he gives himself some leeway, at least with height—he waffles between 5’6,” 5’8” and 5’9”—and there are some contradictions—he wants a woman both independent and controllable, whatever that means. But definitely blonde. As someone whose ideal woman is many of these things (including beautiful, independent and blonde, but not all of them--she's 5'10"), maybe that’s what drew me to the song.

Aliens: Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft

Klaatu: Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft
[purchase]

In 1976, it seemed that Beatlereunionmania was rampant. Lorne Michaels famously had offered The Beatles $3,000 to reunite on Saturday Night. Later that year, Capitol Records, The Beatles’ label, released an album of Beatle-ish pop, 3:47 EST (called Klaatu in the US), from a band called Klaatu, with no identifying credits, and rumors began to spread that Klaatu was, in fact, The Beatles. If anything, Capitol did nothing to squelch the rumors, because they led to increased sales of albums from an unknown band. Of course, Klaatu wasn’t The Beatles; they were a Canadian band, heavily influenced by The Beatles, and named after the extraterrestrial character in the film The Day the Earth Stood Still, consisting of John Woloschuk, Dee Long, and Terry Draper. None of whom were ever in The Beatles.

If you are interested in reading more about the whole rumor thing, which is amusing mostly due to the level of analysis that people went through to try to convince themselves that there was actually a secret reunion (including, for example: “While there are 8 trees pictured right at the very bottom of the front cover of the band's first album, only 7 have their roots showing. There are 7 letters in the name Beatles”) click here or here.

Klaatu's debut album led off with a 7:22 long slice of psychedelic pop entitled “Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft.” According to Woloschuk:

The idea for this track was suggested by an actual event that is described in "The Flying Saucer Reader", a book by Jay David published in 1967. In March 1953 an organization known as the "International Flying Saucer Bureau" sent a bulletin to all its members urging them to participate in an experiment termed "World Contact Day" whereby, at a predetermined date and time, they would attempt to collectively send out a telepathic message to visitors from outer space. The message began with the words..."Calling occupants of interplanetary craft!" 

As far as we know, the message didn’t result in any alien contact. Or at least, that’s what they tell us.

“Calling Occupants” definitely has a Sergeant Pepper’s feel, but also some more prog influence, with heavy use of Mellotron and synthesizer. Also, drummer Draper was reportedly a fan of the first King Crimson drummer Michael Giles (as well as Ringo), and some of the drumming sounds a bit like “In The Court of The Crimson King.” A single version, edited to 3:23, nosed around the bottom of the charts. Klaatu’s next album, Hope, was a concept album about aliens, and their next three albums moved more toward pop and away from psychedelic experiments. By 1982, Klaatu was essentially defunct, except for a few small reunions and the creation of a record label to re-release their material.

Now, if you were alive in 1976, and were asked to name a musical act that was the opposite of adventurous psychedelia and prog, you might have suggested The Carpenters, the sibling duo with the squeaky clean reputation, and an output of mostly sugary ballads and bland pop, enhanced, though, by Karen Carpenter’s voice, and her brother Richard’s arranging skills. So, it was a bit surprising when they decided to cover “Calling Occupants.” Their version, released in 1977, a lush, orchestral pop song, featuring over 150 musicians including the Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra and a choir, was originally over 7 minutes long.  As a result of their popularity, and the coincidentally recent release of Close Encounters of the Third Kind, a film about space travel, The Carpenters’ cover, edited down for single release, was more successful than the original.



Draper, Klaatu’s drummer and co-writer of the song, said this about The Carpenters’ version:

Not only did they do a great job, it was such a stretch for them, they were really stepping out of their comfort zone and doing what could possibly be described as prog rock although I like to call it progressive pop.

Also, it probably made him a few bucks, which couldn't have hurt, particularly since he wasn’t a Beatle.

In Memoriam: Dead Guitarists

No, this isn’t an article about Jerry Garcia (who died in 1995) or Bob Weir (still very much alive).

As always, we find ourselves looking back on the past year, marveling sadly at the losses the music world has suffered. And as is my habit, I try to highlight some of the lesser known people who died, because the more famous have been lauded at length elsewhere. In fact, the first person I considered writing about, Maggie Roche, was the subject of an excellent piece in The New York Times Magazine, and I’m not going to try to compete with that—so read it at the link.

Instead, I decided to write about a few of the many guitarists that passed away in 2017, in many genres (and thanks to KKafa for writing so well about Larry Coryell, and Darius for writing about Walter Becker, so I don’t have to). There should probably be some sort of clever organizing principle, but I can’t think of one, so I’ll do it in order of the date they died:

Tommy Allsup: Rarely does a coin toss turn out to be a matter of life and death, but for Tommy Allsup, losing one to Ritchie Valens on a cold Iowa night in February, 1959 allowed him to escape the fate of Valens, Buddy Holly and The Big Bopper (and pilot Roger Peterson). But it would be wrong to focus only on Allsup’s luck—he was a fine musician, who was touring with Holly and went on to a long career as a musician, songwriter and producer. In addition to Holly, Allsup worked with Willie Nelson, Leon Russell, Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys, Asleep at the Wheel, George Jones, Don McLean, Marty Robbins, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings (also left off the plane in Iowa that night), Earl Scruggs, Jerry Lee Lewis, Dwight Yoakum, and the Everly Brothers, among others. Admittedly, despite that long resume, it appears that pretty much everything ever written about Allsup includes a reference to the coin toss. You can hear him tell the story here. And here he is telling more stories about Holly, before playing “It’s So Easy:”




Allan Holdsworth: Holdsworth is probably the best known of the guitarists in this article, and in some circles, he is considered to be one of the most influential guitarists of all time. I’ve referred to him before, most recently in a piece about a Gong song, one of the many bands that he contributed to over the years. Here’s what I wrote then:

If you don’t know who Allan Holdsworth was (he passed away earlier this year), find his music on the Internet. Days before his death, a 12 CD box set of his solo albums from 1982-2003, entitled The Man Who Changed Guitar Forever, was released. The title was taken from a proclamation on the cover of an issue of Guitar Player in 2008, and it isn’t an overstatement. That’s not to say that there aren’t other guitarists who changed the way guitar was played, but he’s certainly one of them. He was the favorite guitarist of Eddie van Halen; Tom Morello and Frank Zappa, among others, have cited him as an influence. 

I really lack the vocabulary to explain why Holdsworth is also one of my favorite, if not my favorite, guitarist, so here’s a quote from Robben Ford, not a bad player in his own right: "I think Allan Holdsworth is the John Coltrane of the guitar. I don't think anyone can do as much with the guitar as Allan Holdsworth can." Apparently, he developed his style attempting to make the guitar sound more like a saxophone.

I may have first encountered Holdsworth from his Gong performances, or it might have been with his incredible playing in Bill Bruford’s band. And from there, I’ve listened to his solo work, his one great album with U.K., and his other recordings, with Tony Williams, Jean-Luc Ponty, Soft Machine and others. I saw him once, in the early 80s at the Bottom Line in NY, and it was a pretty incredible experience. Here he is playing with Bruford—the guitar solos kicks in at about 3:25, but don’t skip ahead—the band is too good:




Ray Phiri: Like Tommy Allsup, I suspect that most Americans, at least, are familiar with Ray Phiri for something that was really only a small part of his career. Phiri, a South African guitarist, singer, composer and arranger was featured on Paul Simon’s groundbreaking Graceland album, as well as its follow up, the more Brazilian-flavored Rhythm of The Saints. Ultimately, Phiri and Simon fell out over, as usual, issues relating to song credits and royalties. But in many ways, it was Phiri’s African/rock/blues fusion guitar, and his arrangements, that helped to turn Graceland into a huge hit for Simon. Nevertheless, Phiri’s career in South Africa, as the founder of The Cannibals and Stimela, and as an anti-apartheid activist is his most important legacy. That is why in 2011, the President of South Africa, Jacob Zuma, awarded Phiri the Order of Ikhamanga, a national honor, citing “the successful use of arts as an instrument of social transformation.”

Here’s Simon’s “Boy In The Bubble” from the 1991 concert in Central Park, which was later released as a live album. Phiri has a brief solo at about 2:55. Also visible on stage is Cameroonian guitarist Vincent Nguini, who played and recorded with Simon for 30 years, and who died in December, 2017:




John Abercrombie: There was a time, when I was in college, and for a few years afterwards, that I listened to a lot of jazz on the ECM label, which I got into initially by listening to Pat Metheny, with whom Abercrombie shares some sensibilities. In addition to his own, fluid, understated virtuosity, Abercrombie regularly played with other great musicians, including drummer Jack DeJohnette, bassist Dave Holland (who together comprised the Gateway Trio), bassist George Mraz, and drummer Peter Erskine, among many others. I sort of lost track of Abercrombie in the 1980s and am not all that familiar with his later work. But I still occasionally enjoy some of those early ECM albums. Here’s a live recording of the Gateway Trio, which highlights Abercrombie’s playing, as well as Holland and DeJohnette (who is one of my favorite drummers):




Phil Miller: I’ve written numerous times about bands and musicians from the Canterbury Scene, of which Phil Miller was a significant part. Miller, who was a member of Matching Mole, Hatfield And The North, National Health (which I wrote about here), and other bands, was a fluid and nimble player, whose soloing was imaginative and avoided cliché, but was also a skilled accompanist. I never had the chance to see any of Miller’s bands live, but have long enjoyed his recordings, particularly with National Health. And, based on this video, I wish that I had seen them (you can skip the first minute of noise, if you must):


Bonus Dead Bass Player--John Wetton: The bass is a type of guitar, right? And Wetton is probably more famous that anyone above, having had some actual hits, with Asia in the 80s. Wetton died just shy of two months after Greg Lake, another bass player with a similar voice, who Wetton ultimately succeeded in King Crimson (Lake, interestingly, briefly replaced Wetton in Asia, years later). In addition to playing in King Crimson, on three of their best albums, Larks' Tongues in Aspic, Starless and Bible Black, and Red, Wetton was a member of U.K., which originally included Holdsworth (and Bruford and Eddie Jobson), as well as Roxy Music, Uriah Heep, Wishbone Ash, and other bands, and collaborated with many musicians, including Phil Manzanera, Brian Eno, Bryan Ferry, Steve Hackett, and Geoff Downes. Here’s a link where you can download an unreleased track of Wetton playing with Robert Fripp and Phil Collins, and here’s a video of a live U.K. performance with the original lineup, synced to the album track: