Amisha Goel runs the beautiful and interesting site dedicated to all things literary, The Reading Palette. She was kind enough to invite me to contribute an essay to it, so I decided to write about the time I immersed myself in Shakespeare’s world. You can read it here:
All posts by Thaddeus Wert
Take a Trip to Glass Island
I don’t know what’s in the water in Poland, but between Riverside and Glass Island, there is some terrific music being produced there. Glass Island is the project of one Wojciech Pieluzec, who writes, sings, and plays everything. I first became aware of Glass Island’s work via a Spotify algorithm: I have a personal playlist called “Melodic Prog Music”, and based on the songs in it, Spotify recommended Glass Island’s “Almost Human”, from their Lost Media album.
“Almost Human” immediately grabbed my attention with its excellent melody, Pieluzek’s winsome vocals, and his fluid lead guitar work. It’s an instant prog classic, in my opinion. I love the lyrics, which warn of the dangers of AI-powered social media:
I follow all your actions
Observe your manner, steal your style
Inspect your gestures predict your movements
Write your songs, sing your linesForgive me if I seem a bit peculiar
I need a little time to end up just the same as youSo trust in me, I’m almost human
I’ll recreate what goes on in your mind
Just trust in me, I’m almost human
I’ll make up for the mess you’ve left behind
With me, the best lyrics aren’t worth beans if they aren’t delivered in a good melody, and in that department Glass Island delivers. They have a unique sound, but I can hear hints of classic Genesis, Pink Floyd, and Porcupine Tree. Pieluzek possesses the talent to place him at the same level as Steven Wilson; he’s that good. Of the seven tracks on Lost Media, there isn’t a single throwaway. I love how he has mixed the first three songs to seamlessly flow one into the next, making for an immersive listening experience.
Other than “Almost Human”, the other standout track is the 9-minute “Past the Truth”, which features some very nice piano navigating some clever chord progressions. I also admire the multitracked vocals that Pieluzek has put together here.
Whenever I come across a new artist I like, I try to support them by purchasing a hard copy of their album, if available. Sure enough, Glass Island has media available on Bandcamp, and I quickly placed an order for Lost Media. When it arrived in my mailbox, Mr. Pieluzek was kind enough to include a copy of the EP Secular. It’s just as good as any song from Lost Media!
The title track is an aural blast of fun that gets in my ear and stays there. There’s a terrific vocal interlude that recalls the Beach Boys at their best, and it’s followed by an outstanding guitar solo that is a model of melodic economy. Okay, I’ve raved enough – time for you to check Glass Island out on your favorite music service. And if you find yourself enjoying his work as much as me, consider supporting Pieluzek by purchasing some hard media. He’s obviously put a lot of thought into the booklet’s artwork, and artists like him deserve prog fans’ support, so he can continue to produce such fine music!
Simon Fairfax’s 1414: Medieval Cloak and Dagger (literally!)
1414 is the fifth and penultimate book in Simon Fairfax’s A Knight and a Spy series. I have really enjoyed the entire series, and I will be sorry to come to its end with 1415. I recommend that any reader new to these adventures of Sir Jamie de Grispere begin with the first book, 1410. In it, the main characters of Jamie, Mark of Cornwall, and Christofor Corio of Italy are introduced. In 1414, Fairfax refers quite a few times to events that occurred in the earlier novels, so familiarity with them will definitely enhance the reader’s experience.
So, what happens in 1414? The novel opens with a grim scene: a large group of adherents to a religious sect, Lollardism, is about to be executed for heresy and treason. The new king of England, Henry V, is consolidating his power, even as some of his closest advisors and courtiers scheme to overthrow him.
Sir Richard Whittington once again turns to Jamie de Grispere for a delicate assignment: accompany an English embassy traveling to France to negotiate a treaty with the French king, Charles of Aragon. He is offering his daughter to wed Henry V. The Armagnacs support Charles, but Duke John of Burgundy is still threatening to pull a coup. He is also offering his daughter as a bride to Henry. Lord Scrope is leading the English embassy, but Jamie has doubts regarding his loyalty to Henry V. The negotiations end in disaster, with the French insulting the honor of Henry. They consider him to be young, overly pious, and reluctant to use force. They plan to take advantage of his perceived weakness.
Back in England, Henry is having trouble getting enough ships to form a navy. He needs a strong maritime force to back up his planned invasion of France. Meanwhile, in Cornwall, there are some suspicious things happening. Mark learns that his father has been “approved” (accused by a person awaiting trial) of arson and thrown in jail. The legal system is very corrupt, and he is danger of losing all of his land, which will be taken over by the local lord. Jamie and Christo accompany Mark to his hometown to try to unravel all of the legal machinations being used to strip his family of their land.
On the continent, the geopolitical situation is heating up. The Armagnacs and Burgundians are reaching an agreement that will allow a united France to face England. King Sigismund of Germany has called a religious council to meet at Constance, and England, Germany, Italy, and Scandinavia have gathered there to discuss how to deal with France and the schismatic popes. As always at these diplomatic gatherings, there are all kinds of deadly intrigue.
In 1414, Jamie has matured into a formidable courtier as well as knight. He is fully aware of the potential treachery everyone is capable of, and he is able to anticipate assassination plots before they can be carried out. He also owns land and has a title, bestowed on him by a grateful King Henry V after the trials he underwent in 1413.
Fairfax has researched life in medieval England and France extensively, and even though Jamie, Christo, and Mark are fictional characters, they act within known historical events. There is not much swordplay in 1414, but the stage has been set for Henry’s invasion of France to reclaim the lands he believes he rightfully rules. 1415 should be quite an adventure!
Charles Williams’ The Greater Trumps – Marvelous Fantasy from an Inkling
Continuing my exploration of Charles Williams’ series of fantasy novels, The Greater Trumps is the fourth of his I have read. (You can read my reviews of War In Heaven here, Many Dimensions here, and The Place of the Lion here.) Williams was an Inkling, that marvelous group of writers and thinkers that included C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Owen Barfield. HIs tales are set in contemporary England (or rather England of the 1930s, when he wrote them), and they are darker than Lewis’ and Tolkien’s work. Each one is suffused with Christian values, but without any obvious or superficial references. Williams must have been an incredibly well educated man, as he refers to ancient and medieval philosophers and myths while expecting the reader to understand them.
So far, The Greater Trumps is my second favorite novel of Charles Williams, just a little behind his first, War In Heaven. The story is centered on a small cast of characters: Nancy Coningsby – a young woman engaged to Henry Lee; her father, Lothair Coningsby – “Warden of Lunacy”, which I take to mean warden of an insane asylum; Lothair’s sister, Sybil; his son, Ralph; Henry’s grandfather, Aaron; and Aaron’s sister, Joanna.
Lothair, Sybil, Nancy, and Ralph all live together, and, like any family, they get on each other’s nerves. Lothair doesn’t particularly like Henry, even though he is a barrister. He has gipsy blood and thus Lothair doesn’t really trust him. Nancy is consumed with passion for Henry and only dreams of their life together. Ralph is somewhat self-centered as most young men naturally are. Sybil, the unmarried sister of Lothair, is one of Williams’ most interesting and charming characters ever. She is imperturbable, simply enjoying life in all its wondrous beauty. Of course, Sybil’s sheer joy and love of others annoys the pragmatic and practical Lothair.
The story begins when Henry discovers that Lothair has been bequeathed an ancient set of Tarot cards. When Lothair shows them to Henry, he realizes that they are the original deck of Tarots, which possess incredible power. These include the twenty Greater Trumps: The Juggler, The Empress, The High Priestess, The Hierophant, The Emperor, The Chariot, The Lovers, The Hermit, Temperance, Fortitude, Justice, The Wheel of Fortune, The Hanged Man, Death, The Devil, The Falling Tower, The Star, The Moon, The Sun, The Last Judgment, The Universe, and the unique and mysterious Fool. I don’t know anything about Tarots, but apparently there are four suits: scepters, swords, cups, and coins. The Greater Trumps are like the standard Jack, Queen, and King, but with an extra member in each suit. The Fool stands alone, having no number.
It turns out Henry’s grandfather, Aaron, is the keeper of an ancient set of golden “images”, figures which carry out a mysterious dance on a golden base and are connected to the original set of Tarots that Lothair now owns. If Henry can get Nancy to join him in manipulating the Tarots, he will be able to foretell the future and gain enormous power. Unfortunately, Lothair has no intention of giving up the gift his late friend left him. So, Henry arranges it so that everyone travels to Aaron’s isolated house in the country to spend Christmas in the hopes that he can do away with Lothair and gain possession of the deck of Tarots.
Throughout all of this scheming and jockeying, Sybil blithely observes and delights in everything she sees. For example, when Aaron shows the Coningsbys the golden figures, they appear to be moving in a complex dance, while The Fool is stationary in the center. However, Sybil perceives The Fool to be moving with incredible speed and grace amongst the other figures. She is the essence of humility, and, as a result ends up being the one person with the most power:
‘She’s got some sort of a calm, some equanimity in her heart. She — the only eyes that can read the future exactly, and she doesn’t want to know the future. Everything’s complete for her in the moment.’
Charles Williams. The Greater Trumps (Kindle Locations 1398-1399). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
Henry attempts to use the Tarots to kill Lothair when he goes for a walk. Henry invokes a deadly snowstorm with hurricane force winds. Sybil puts on her coat and goes outside to rescue her brother. When she brings him safely back, the storm’s fury is concentrated on Aaron’s house, because that is where Lothair, its target, is now. All hell breaks loose in the house, and Henry gives in to despair.
Meanwhile, Joanna, Aaron’s sister, is a madwoman who has been searching for the son she lost in childbirth. She is convinced he was destined to be a messiah, and when he was taken from her she went mad and reverted to Egyptian paganism. Only Sybil’s otherworldly peace and understanding is able to break through Joanna’s rage.
There is a wonderful passage when Nancy is able to tap into Sybil’s overpowering love of creation and rescue Henry. Nancy becomes self-aware of her failings and realizes that her own attitude has had a lot to do with her difficult relationship with her father.
The Greater Trumps continues a common theme of Williams: what would happen if an ancient talisman of power was loosed upon our modern world? The various characters’ reactions to all the metaphysical chaos that Henry and Aaron unleash are telling. Sybil accepts what is happening with faith that “all is well, all is most well.” Nancy grows in wisdom and sees that love encompasses everything. Joanna loses what little sanity she has and lashes out in violence. Aaron and Henry retreat into hopelessness. Lothair and Ralph, God bless ’em, insist that everything must have a logical explanation:
‘Whereabouts are we?’ Mr. Coningsby asked. ‘
Where we were, I suppose,’ Ralph said. ‘By that doorway into the study or whatever it was. I’ve not done much moving since, I can tell you. Funny business this.’
‘It’s a wicked and dangerous business,’ Mr. Coningsby cried out. ‘I’m looking for Nancy. That fiend’s left her alone, after trying to kill me.’
‘What fiend?’ Ralph asked, even more bewildered. ‘Who’s been trying to kill you?’
‘That devil’s bastard Henry,’ Mr. Coningsby said, unwontedly moved as he came to speak of it. ‘He said so. He said he raised the storm so as to kill me.’
‘Henry!’ Ralph exclaimed. ‘Raised a storm. But I mean — O, come, a storm!’
‘He said so,’ Mr. Coningsby repeated. ‘And he’s left Nancy in that room there with that gibbering hag of an aunt of his. Come on with me; we’ve got to get her out.’
‘I see,’ said Ralph. ‘Yes; O, well, let’s. I don’t mind anything so long as it’s firm. But raised a storm, you know! He must be a bit touched. I always thought he was a trifle gibbery himself.’
‘O, everyone’s mad in this damned house,’ Mr. Coningsby said.
Charles Williams. The Greater Trumps (Kindle Locations 3193-3203). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
The Greater Trumps is one of Charles Williams’ best works (of the four I’ve read so far), and in the character Sybil he has given us an extraordinarily beautiful model of what true Christian faith and humility can accomplish. It’s really a shame he is not as well known as his fellow Inklings Lewis and Tolkien. I hope my review piques others’ curiosity enough for them to give him a try.
War and Peace
Book Number 38 of 2024
I know it’s been a while since I posted a book review, but I have a good excuse – my latest book is Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace! Why did I choose to tackle this famously large tome? Well, I read War and Peace many years ago when I was a senior in college. One of my roommates was a Russian Studies major, and he got me hooked on Russian literature: Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, and Bulgakov, primarily. I decided to reread War and Peace to see if the benefit of age and experience would increase my appreciation of it. I can definitely say “Yes” to that question!
My immediate takeaway is what a wonderful job Tolstoy does of describing his main characters’ development and maturation. The story revolves primarily around two families, the Rostovs, and the Bolkonskys. The Kuragins and Pierre Bezukhov are also major players. My Kindle edition had a helpful listing of the main characters, which I printed out and referred to often:
BEZUKHOVS
COUNT Cyril BEZUKHOV.
PIERRE, his son, legitimized after his father’s death, becomes Count Peter BEZUKHOV.
Princess CATICHE, Pierre’s cousin.
ROSTOVS
COUNT Ilya ROSTOV.
COUNTESS Nataly ROSTOVA, his wife.
Count NICHOLAS Rostov (Nikolenka), their elder son.
Count Peter ROSTOV (PETYA), their second son.
Countess VERA Rostova, their elder daughter.
Countess Nataly Rostova (Natasha), their younger daughter.
SONYA, a poor member of the Rostov family circle.
BERG, Alphonse Karlich, an officer of German extraction who marries Vera.
BOLKONSKYS
PRINCE Nicholas BOLKONSKY, a retired General-in-Chief.
PRINCE ANDREW Bolkonsky, his son.
PRINCESS MARY (Masha) Bolkonskaya, his daughter.
Princess Elizabeth Bolkonskaya (LISE), Andrew’s wife.
TIKHON, Prince N. Bolkonsky’s attendant.
ALPATYCH, his steward.
KURAGINS
PRINCE VASILI Kuragin.
Prince HIPPOLYTE Kuragin, his elder son.
Prince ANATOLE Kuragin, his younger son.
Princess HELENE Kuragina (Lelya), his daughter, who marries Pierre.
OTHERS
Princess Anna Mikhaylovna Drubetskaya.
Prince BORIS Drubetskoy (Bory), her son.
JULIE Karagina, an heiress who marries Boris.
MARYA DMITRIEVNA Akhrosimova (le terrible dragon).
BILIBIN, a diplomat.
DENISOV, Vasili Dmitrich (Vaska), an hussar officer.
Lavrushka, his batman.
DOLOKHOV (Fedya), an officer and desperado.
Count Rostopchin, Governor of Moscow.
ANNA PAVLOVNA Scherer (Annette), Maid of Honour to the ex-Empress Marya Fedorovna.
Shinshin, a relation of Countess Rostova’s.
Timokhin, an infantry officer.
Tushin, an artillery officer.
Platon KARATAEV, a peasant.
So what can I possibly add to all that’s been written about one of the most famous works of literature ever? Well, first of all, I’m not sure exactly what War and Peace is – it’s not strictly a novel, even though one could say that Pierre Bezukhov is the “hero” of it; it’s sort of an historical account of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, covering the period from 1809 – 1813; it’s a philosophical treatise where Tolstoy uses various characters to espouse his religious and sociopolitical beliefs. Which is why, I think, War and Peace is such an enduring classic: the reader can enjoy it on multiple levels.
Superficially, it’s an adventure story. As it becomes clear that war with Napoleon is inevitable, all the young men in Russia are thrilled for the opportunity to display their bravery. Battles are grand fun:
“Now then, let’s see how far it will carry, Captain. Just try!” said the general, turning to an artillery officer. “Have a little fun to pass the time.” “Crew, to your guns!” commanded the officer. In a moment the men came running gaily from their campfires and began loading. “One!” came the command. Number one jumped briskly aside. The gun rang out with a deafening metallic roar, and a whistling grenade flew above the heads of our troops below the hill and fell far short of the enemy, a little smoke showing the spot where it burst. The faces of officers and men brightened up at the sound. Everyone got up and began watching the movements of our troops below, as plainly visible as if but a stone’s throw away, and the movements of the approaching enemy farther off. At the same instant the sun came fully out from behind the clouds, and the clear sound of the solitary shot and the brilliance of the bright sunshine merged in a single joyous and spirited impression.
LEO TOLSTOY. War and Peace (Kindle Locations 3473-3482). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
However, it isn’t long before we are plunged into the horrific chaos and carnage that occurs during the battle of Borodino. No one knows what they are supposed to be doing, and men are getting slaughtered by bullets and cannonballs. Over and over again, Tolstoy explains that Napoleon and the Russian Supreme Commander, Kutuzov, are not in control of events, but merely fulfilling roles that the moment requires. As a matter of fact, in the second and final epilogue, Tolstoy spends fifty pages exploring the paradox of humanity exercising free will in a universe that seems to be moving with inevitability towards some end. Tolstoy believes that a benevolent God is in control, and he doesn’t give much credit to “great men” like Napoleon for affecting history.
As I mentioned earlier, Tolstoy uses characters to illustrate various beliefs. Pierre is the main person who develops and matures throughout the book. In the opening scene, he is at a fashionable salon party, and it is clear he is out of his depth. Everyone around him is having witty conversation and impressing each other. Pierre is physically large and clumsy, and verbally uncultured. To top things off, he is the illegitimate son of the fabulously wealthy Count Bezukhov. Also at this party is Prince Andrew Bulkonsky, who is another main character. He is married to Lise, who fits right in with fashionable Petersburg high society. Andrew, however, despises that social scene, and he no longer loves his wife.
The other main family are the Rostovs. The father, Count Ilya Rostov, is very popular in Moscow high society, because he and his wife throw extravagant parties. Unfortunately, they cannot afford them, and are increasingly mired in debt. The elder son, Nicholas, goes off to war as a superficially principled but callow youth. In one scene, he takes offense at something Prince Andrew says, but the older and wiser prince puts him in his place:
“And I will tell you this,” Prince Andrew interrupted in a tone of quiet authority, “you wish to insult me, and I am ready to agree with you that it would be very easy to do so if you haven’t sufficient self-respect, but admit that the time and place are very badly chosen. In a day or two we shall all have to take part in a greater and more serious duel, and besides, Drubetskoy, who says he is an old friend of yours, is not at all to blame that my face has the misfortune to displease you. However,” he added rising, “you know my name and where to find me, but don’t forget that I do not regard either myself or you as having been at all insulted, and as a man older than you, my advice is to let the matter drop.
LEO TOLSTOY. War and Peace (Kindle Locations 5253-5256). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
Fortunately, as Nicholas gains experience in battle, he matures into a fine young man, even rescuing Prince Andrew’s sister, Mary, who is caught between the advancing French forces and rebellious serfs.
Nicholas’ sister, Natasha, is another major character. Early in the story, she is a charming 13-year-old who already turns heads. She is beautiful, talented, and sincere. As the book progresses, she undergoes trials that forge her into a strong and outstanding person.
All of these characters will come into contact with each other and separate multiple times, each time having undergone some degree of transformation and maturation.
Pierre is the one person who undergoes the most varied trials. Before his father, Count Cyril, dies, he makes Pierre legitimate so that he can inherit his estate. Suddenly, all of Petersburg high society that previously looked down on him, decides he is now the most fascinating man in Russia! He is taken under Prince Vasili Kuragin’s wing and married to Vasili’s daughter, Helene. Vasili takes advantage of Pierre, using his wealth to pay off his family’s debts, while Pierre’s marriage to the beautiful Helene is a disaster. There is no love on either side, and Pierre’s friend, Dolokhov, has an open affair with Helene.
Pierre dabbles in Masonic philosophy, then devotes himself to reforming his estates so that his serfs are treated better, then lives a life of dissipation with a group of high-living men. None of these satisfy him. He then gets caught in the middle of the horrifically bloody battle at Borodino. It isn’t until he spends time as a prisoner of the French and becomes friends with the wise and stoic peasant, Platon Karataev, that Pierre finally finds peace.
Meanwhile, there is a war going on! The French consider themselves to be invincible, and after they take the city of Smolensk, they turn to Moscow. They incur enormous losses at Borodino, but the Russians lose even more men. However, the French have been dealt a mortal blow. Even though the Russian general retreats beyond Moscow and leaves it undefended, he knows that the French are on their last legs.
There is a humorous scene where Napoleon marches triumphantly into Moscow, only to find it deserted. He can’t find any official delegation to surrender to him. He is disappointed and angered that the Russians didn’t fall at his feet the way the Austrians and Prussians did. The French soldiers disperse and begin sacking the city, while fires spring up everywhere. All military discipline is gone, and Napoleon realizes he is like a dog who has caught the car: he doesn’t have the resources to govern an ungovernable people. So, he turns and flees back to France. The rest of the book details the privations the Russian people and the ragged French armies undergo while the French retreat in chaotic fashion.
War and Peace is a fascinating, sprawling work that tries to capture an entire people’s character in a time of extreme distress. Most of the book’s characters are drawn from the Russian upper class, so they, for the most part, have no worries about money. They all own serfs, who are portrayed as happy and content with their lot. Throughout the book, each character wrestles with timeless questions: “What is the purpose of life?”, “How should a virtuous person live?” At one point, Tolstoy writes of Pierre,
He had the unfortunate capacity many men, especially Russians, have of seeing and believing in the possibility of goodness and truth, but of seeing the evil and falsehood of life too clearly to be able to take a serious part in it.
LEO TOLSTOY. War and Peace (Kindle Locations 11631-11633). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
By the end of the tale, though, Pierre has peace and the answers to his anguish:
He could not see an aim, for he now had faith — not faith in any kind of rule, or words, or ideas, but faith in an ever-living, ever-manifest God. Formerly he had sought Him in aims he set himself. That search for an aim had been simply a search for God, and suddenly in his captivity he had learned not by words or reasoning but by direct feeling what his nurse had told him long ago: that God is here and everywhere. In his captivity he had learned that in Karataev God was greater, more infinite and unfathomable than in the Architect of the Universe recognized by the Freemasons. He felt like a man who after straining his eyes to see into the far distance finds what he sought at his very feet. All his life he had looked over the heads of the men around him, when he should have merely looked in front of him without straining his eyes.
In the past he had never been able to find that great inscrutable infinite something. He had only felt that it must exist somewhere and had looked for it. In everything near and comprehensible he had only what was limited, petty, commonplace, and senseless. He had equipped himself with a mental telescope and looked into remote space, where petty worldliness hiding itself in misty distance had seemed to him great and infinite merely because it was not clearly seen. And such had European life, politics, Freemasonry, philosophy, and philanthropy seemed to him. But even then, at moments of weakness as he had accounted them, his mind had penetrated to those distances and he had there seen the same pettiness, worldliness, and senselessness. Now, however, he had learned to see the great, eternal, and infinite in everything, and therefore — to see it and enjoy its contemplation — he naturally threw away the telescope through which he had till now gazed over men’s heads, and gladly regarded the ever-changing, eternally great, unfathomable, and infinite life around him. And the closer he looked the more tranquil and happy he became. That dreadful question, “What for?” which had formerly destroyed all his mental edifices, no longer existed for him. To that question, “What for?” a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: “Because there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls from a man’s head.”
LEO TOLSTOY. War and Peace (Kindle Locations 23766-23782). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.
War and Peace is deservedly a literary classic. It engages the reader, and forces him or her to wrestle with difficult questions. At the same time, it’s a lot of fun to read – I found myself truly caring about Andrew, Natasha, and Pierre, as well as a host of lesser characters. There’s a reason some works survive for centuries; they address, in an entertaining way, the eternal questions that humanity has been asking since time began.
I mentioned at the beginning of this post that I originally read War and Peace when I was 21 and in college. At the time, I enjoyed it because it was full of adventure and intrigue with some humor and romance thrown in. Now that I am on the downhill side of my life, I have a much greater appreciation for what Tolstoy is trying to convey. Life is so much more than worrying about what others think of you, or how much wealth you have accumulated. The Epilogue of War and Peace is one big joyous celebration of family: the delight of raising small children, the pleasure of good conversation with friends and relatives, the mutual love and respect of husband and wife. Tolstoy’s vision of the good life is one that we should still aspire to.
Spirit of Cecilia Visits Kansas
Happy Summer, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, our panel of music lovers takes a look back at two very popular and influential albums from the 1970s: Leftoverture and Point of No Return, by those proggers of the prairie, Kansas! Brad Birzer, Kevin McCormick, Carl Olson, and Tad Wert discuss what they love (and maybe not so love) about these works.
Brad: Carry on, my wayward sons! The cry of my childhood. Tad, thanks so much for setting this up. I’m eager to talk all-things Kansas, especially Kansas in the mid 1970s. As I’ve had the privilege of writing here and elsewhere, I grew up in central Kansas with two older brothers who collected prog. My mom encouraged good reading and good music. My earliest prog memory is of Yessongs, but Kansas and Jethro Tull rank up there. Of course, growing up in Kansas, it would have been impossible to miss the band. They were everywhere in the 1970s and proudly so. As it is, “Carry On, My Wayward Sons” might have been the very first song–as a kid–whose lyrics I memorized.
On a side note, President Arnn of Hillsdale College once introduced me and said, “Carry on, my wayward son,” to which I responded, “Yes, Larry, there will be peace when you are done.”
On another side note, in 1950, the Knights of Columbus erected a huge cross commemorating the priesthood and exploration of Father Padilla. My grandfather was one of the Knights at the installation ceremony.
A third side note. Every Fourth of July celebration in my hometown of Hutchinson was always held at the State Fairgrounds and always included “Song for America”–despite it not being very pro-American lyrically–as a part of the soundtrack for the fireworks.
But back to Leftoverture. I love the album. It’s a personal favorite and really has been as far back as I can remember. The interplay of bass, organ (well, moog and keyboards), and violin, I suppose, is the trademark of the band, and it’s done so expertly on this album. And, Kerry Livgren, who wrote most of the tracks, was simply on fire as a composer. The album as a whole flows so beautifully, and the lyrics are extraordinary.
Tad: I was a sophomore in high school when Leftoverture came out, and I remember listening to WKDF, Nashville’s “progressive rock radio” station, with my tape deck nearby. As soon as those opening chords of “Carry On, My Wayward Son” came over the airwaves, I hit Record! I still love that song – it’s something I will never tire of.
Brad, I never imagined that Father Padilla was a real person! With a name like that, I figured he had to be part of the “Magnum Opus” tongue in cheek humor. Speaking of “Magnum Opus”, that is one of my favorite Kansas songs ever. You are right – the album has a perfect flow to it, and “Magnum Opus” is an excellent closer.
Leftoverture was my first exposure to Kansas – I bought that album not long after it came out, but it was years before I listened to any of their earlier ones. Song for song, it’s an incredibly strong offering. I know that Point of Know Return was a huge seller and more popular, but I will always like Leftoverture more.
Brad: Tad, Kansans are as proud of their state as Texans are; they’re just not as loud about it! Yes, Kansans know Father Padilla. So, it’s definitely a joke on the part of the band, Kansas, but, to be sure, an inside joke.
In my previous note, I only talked about Leftoverture, but I also love Point of Know Return. “How long??? To the point of no return.”
As a kid, this opening track completely and utterly sparked my imagination. Exactly what was a journey, and what was a journey into unknown? Now, of course, we have Interstates 35 and 70 that cross Kansas, as well as US281–all glorious highways. But, connecting Point of No Return as the logical sequel to Leftoverature, one must wonder about the glories of exploration. What about Cortes and Coronado?
If Leftoverature ends with exploration of Father Padilla into central Kansas, Point of No Return is nothing if not exploration itself–to the farthest reaches of the globe. Maybe even more importantly, to the farthest reaches of the very heart of the soul itself.
“He was off on another plane. . . . no one was sure if he was sane . . . but he knew, he knew more than me or you.”
It must be noted, these lyrics were written long before Kerry Livgren converted to Christianity, but he so clearly longed for it.
I must also note, the best scene of the terribly bad hilarious movie Old School, involves Will Farrell singing “Dust in the Wind” at the funeral of Ol’ Blue. Again, a terrible movie that I would never recommend, but one that made me laugh so much, I thought I was going to lose my stomach.
Carl: I also listened to both of these albums while in high school—in 1986 and 1987, specifically, which were my junior and senior years. I was first introduced to Kansas via the Best of Kansas compilation, which came out in 1984. Then I found these two and began to play them continuously (on cassette, of course!). The album Power came out in 1986, and I added that to my steady play routine; it introduced me to Steve Morse, which led to Dixie Dregs and Morse’s solo work. And 1988’s In the Spirit of Things is one of my favorite Kansas albums, despite some over production (by Bob Ezrin), as I’ve detailed here.
Kansas, as we all know, is the most famous and popular of the American prog-rock bands of the 1970s and ‘80s, and it is also almost completely dismissed or derided by the coastal critics. I won’t dwell on that point too much, but will note that this critical snobbishness is a bit strange as Kansas really eschewed the sort of pretentious noodling and overplaying that the same critics hated in groups such as Yes and ELP. Yes, Kansas—as these two albums readily demonstrate—composed and performed intricate and even rather epic instrumental passages (or even entire songs), but they were not, in my estimation, works for instrumental virtuosos, as none of the original band members could be fairly described as such. Rather, they were exceptional musicians who often played several instruments (Livgren on guitar and keys, Walsh on vocals, keys, and percussion, etc).
So, what sets them apart? There are many reasons, but I’ll just hone in on three that have really stood out to me over the years.
First, the writing. Livgren (as Brad notes) was a brilliant writer and arranger, employing an eclectic mix of classic rock, Southern rock, and (quite essential in the big picture) classical motifs and structures. The violin of Robby Steinhardt was essential to the mix, not just tonally, but as an almost cinematic character that held together passages employing hard rock, organ flourishes and solos, and some odd time signatures. And Livgren was also a brilliant lyricist, whose journey from searcher and seeker to (c. 1980) born-again Evangelical Christian is captured throughout the first several Kansas albums. It is one reason that 1975’s Song for America is such a fascinating album (it is also, to my ears, the most “out there” of the Kansas albums, thus holding a special place in my heart).
And so, in Leftoverture (1976) and Point of Know Return (1977) we encounter much existential tension (“Dust in the Wind” is an obvious, but hardly solitary, example), ruminations on mortality and one’s place in the world (“Questions of My Childhood,” “Hopelessly Human” and “Nobody’s Home”), and a sort of romanticized nostalgia threaded through the needle of Native American perspectives, as in “Cheyenne Anthem” (the historicity of which I will leave to Brad!).
A perfect example of this constant focus on meaning and place is the exceptional track “The Wall”, worth quoting in full here:
I’m woven in a fantasy, I can’t believe the things I see
The path that I have chosen now has led me to a wall
And with each passing day I feel a little more like something dear was lost
It rises now before me, a dark and silent barrier between
All I am and all that I would ever want to be
It’s just a travesty, towering, marking off the boundaries
My spirit would erase.
To pass beyond is what I seek, I fear that I may be too weak
And those are few who’ve seen it through to glimpse the other side
The promised land is waiting like a maiden that is soon to be a bride
The moment is a masterpiece, the weight of indecision’s in the air
It’s standing there, the symbol and the sum of all that’s me
It’s just a travesty, towering, blocking out the light and blinding me
I want to see
Gold and diamonds cast a spell, it’s not for me to know it well
The treasures that I seek are waiting on the other side
There’s more that I can measure in the treasure of the love that I can find
And though it’s always been with me
I must tear down the wall let it be
All I am, and all that I was ever meant to be, in harmony
Shining true and smiling back at all who wait to cross
There is no loss
That’s good stuff, as they say, and it also demonstrates something that separates Kansas from many other prog (and other) rock bands: while the songs grapple with big questions and existential tensions, they do not partake in cynicism, nihilism, or a flippant “who the hell cares?” posturing. They are sincere, and I think such sincerity (quite midWestern and very rooted, it seems to me) is not what the Left Coast types smoke or the East Coast elites drink.
Secondly: the vocal prowess of Steve Walsh. The man, in his prime, had few equals. He possessed effortless power, beautiful tone, great control, impressive range, and (perhaps most underappreciated) emotional connectivity. He’s easy on the ears and people like his voice! As I think Livgren once put it, Walsh was a soul singer. He had vocal chops aplenty, but he did what all of the band members did (to their everlasting credit): he used them in service of the songs. He didn’t show off or “do his own thing”. Considering that Walsh is apparently, by many accounts, a rather difficult guy, that’s remarkable. And it makes sense he spent so much time itching to make solo records (which have ranged from strongly “okay” to strangely fascinating). His sound and style were perfectly suited to Livgren’s writings and lyrics; further, he and Robbie harmonized with perfect ease. It’s an instantly recognizable voice and yet, in some ways, an underrated voice.
Thirdly: speaking of underrated, let’s give some love to the Ehart-Hope rhythm section. The adjective “underrated” is used often when it comes to Ehart’s drumming, and for good reason. Like Walsh, he has plenty of chops, but always uses them in and for the song. He propels and accents Livgren’s instrumental passages with a marvelous efficiency (not a note too many) and elegance (not a note out of place). And his sound—the snare and toms comes immediately to mind—has aged really well. As for Dave Hope, he is a bit like John Deacon of Queen: nobody knows a thing about him (Hope would eventually be ordained an Anglican minister!), but he held things down perfectly, with a warm, sometimes “fat” sound (a bit like Chris Squire in places) that melded seamlessly with Ehart’s playing. And the two of them laid down some very involved passages in songs such “Carry on My Wayward Son,” “Miracles Out of Nowhere,” “Magnum Opus,” “Paradox,” and “Closet Chronicles.” But they are never in the way; they are always there to support, accent, and propel, which they nail again and again across these two albums.
A final thought, anecdotal in nature: in June 1987, fresh out of high school, I drove down to Phoenix (1262 miles), in my 1976 (!) Buick Skylark. For nearly the entire trip, I played these two albums. While the trip was exhausting (and increasingly hot as we approached Phoenix), I have wonderful memories of listening to Kansas while driving through beautiful country. The sometimes cinematic quality of the music, as well as the spiritual themes, perfectly matched the journey. Thank you, Kansas!
Kevin: For sure Carl! What immediately stands out on listening to these albums again is the tightness of the band, which involves the critical work of the rhythm section. Stop me if I’ve stood on this soapbox too many times, but what separates these “pre-digital era” performances is that the band is totally in the sonic pocket—not because the drummer has a computer clicking in his ears, but because he knows how to lay down a groove regardless of the meter. These guys have a sense for themselves as a band. It doesn’t sound like egos competing for space, but a “band of gypsies” who know each other with their ears and their instruments.
I must confess that while I’ve heard plenty of both albums, I never actually owned either of them. My earliest memories of Leftoverture are of hearing the songs through the walls of my older brother’s bedroom in our St. Louis home. Matt had a sophisticated album collection and eclectic tastes, most of which I imbibed vicariously. I was struck by Leftoverture’s complex counterpoint on tracks like “Miracles Out of Nowhere.” The tight vocal harmonies, the shifting meters and phrasing, virtuosic lead runs—all the stuff of classic prog—are infused with sensibilities and themes of the American West from which the band takes its moniker.
Perhaps extending Carl’s point regarding the lyrics, these two albums both explore heavy themes with real personal connection. It’s not the detached, calculated prog of King Crimson, nor the whimsy of early Genesis. Truth be told, it has occasional hints of Queen’s Broadway bombast, but also their musical penchant for storytelling. One gets the flashing images of Steve Walsh decked out in tennis shorts and knee-high tube socks illuminated on stage in a solitary spotlight with Kansas performing in the pit below him. Despite the potential for silliness here, it really works more often than not, because they are so committed to the music they are creating.
Brad: After Carl’s and Kevin’s brilliant exposition about Kansas (and Tad’s love as well), there’s not much to add. Again, being a Kansas native, I’ll always have (and always have had) a special affinity for the band. A few years ago, the rockumentary, Miracles Out of Nowhere, came out, and I was completely floored by it. I could so very much relate to the story of the band.
Over the last several days, a meme about driving across Kansas has appeared a couple of times on my various social media accounts. The meme is a map of Kansas, with the route from Kansas City to Denver being marked as the most boring route in America. Sadly, this is the way most people think about the state, and it’s the way many people think about the band. Kansas is big sky country, and the people are the friendliest people imaginable. I feel the same about the band–Kansas is big sky rock, and its people are some of the most interesting in the profession.
Miracles out of nowhere, indeed.
The Flower Kings: Space Revolver and More!
One of Brad Birzer’s favorite musical artists is The Flower Kings, and one of his favorite albums of theirs is Space Revolver. In this dialog, he and Tad Wert discuss that album and its place in their discography.
Tad: Brad, it’s good to be interacting with you again on Spirit of Cecilia! I chose this classic album, because I know it’s a favorite of yours.
My first exposure to The Flower Kings was their album, Stardust We Are, which I bought because of a Mojo Magazine article on “the new wave of progressive rock”. I have to admit that I tried repeatedly to listen to the whole album, and it never held my interest enough for me to do so. I know that you love Roine Stolt and his Flower Kings, so every time a new album was released, I gave it a try, but there were always other artists’ music that took my attention.
Then, last week, I found an inexpensive copy of Space Revolver, and I don’t know exactly why, but I picked it up. Once I heard the opening chords of I Am The Sun Pt. 1, I was immediately taken with this album! I think Stolt (in my humble opinion), had hit upon a very good balance between power and grace in his music. As I continued to listen to the rest of the album, I was gratified to hear that that high quality of songwriting continued throughout.
Brad: Dear Tad, it’s been too long, my friend. What have I been doing? Too much teaching of the American founding period and too much grading! Ha. No, of course, I love my teaching and my students, but they are distractions from my love of reviewing albums with you and my love of progressive rock! So glad to be done with the semester (and, frankly, it was a great one!!!) and back to reviewing with you. Ahh. . . the good life.
Yes, I’ve been a fan of The Flower Kings for a long time, now, and I’ve been an evangelist of the band just as long. Way back in the year 2000, a former student (now the head of our philosophy department) leant me a copy of Flower Power. I was immediately taken with it, and I bought everything available at the time by the band. I fell in love with everything. Absolutely everything, including Roine Stolt’s solo album, The Flower King (which, I assume is just a hippy-ish name for Jesus).
Crazily enough, the band released Space Revolver on July 4th of that year. Coincidence? I have no idea, but it struck me as a perfect Fourth of July album. Especially with those queer lines in the first track–”I left my heart in San Francisco. I left my mind in San Francisco Bay.” Wow, did I laugh hard or what!!! 24 years later, the line still cracks me up.
I’ve had the chance to correspond a bit with Stolt, and I even sent him some books on economics (by Wilhelm Roepke) before a longish tour he took. As far as I know, he took the books with him! How great is that? Frankly, I’d be happy to be his book supplier. At the time I sent him the Roepke books, he was really interested in an anti-Marxist form of economics, that is, the creation of more private property (small family farms) rather than less. Again, how great is that? “Ride this bitch, that is power!”
Anyway, Tad, this is a long way of saying, I love the music, and I love the band. I think the world of both.
Tad: Okay, Brad, your off-hand remark about the Flower King being Jesus is something that I’ve wondered about for a while: is Roine a Christian? The 1994 album, Roine Stolt’s The Flower King, is steeped in religious imagery, specifically Christian, and, of course, he has collaborated with Neal Morse in Transatlantic. Anyway, if true, it helps make sense of a lot of his music!
Also, here’s something else that came to me while listening to Space Revolver – to my ears, it is a huge leap forward in songwriting from Stardust We Are, and I was wondering what might have caused it. Then it hit me: Space Revolver was written and recorded a few months after Stolt was involved in the first Transatlantic album SMPTE! I think Neal Morse must have had an influence on Stolt; that opening piano riff in I Am The Sun Pt. 1 is very Morsian (to coin a word!). Chicken Farmer Song, Underdog, A Slave To Money, and A King’s Prayer all feature outstanding melodies – they’re downright power poppish in their catchiness. Even the jam that closes out A King’s Prayer is focused and tight, with nary a wasted note.
The tootling mellotron that opens I Am The Sun Pt. 2 is one of my favorite moments of the entire album. I hear it, and I can’t help but smile and bob my head. Actually, the whole atmosphere of this album is one of joy. Stolt seems to be having the time of his life, and he wants the world to know it.
I also want to single out Ulf Wallander’s soprano saxophone work for praise. I love that instrument, but in the wrong hands it can be very annoying. Wallander does a great job zipping off very pleasant improvisations that add a lot to the overall feel.
The only misstep on this album, in my opinion, is Hans Froberg’s You Don’t Know What You’ve Got, which sticks out like a sore thumb. It just doesn’t fit in with the rest of the album. That said, it’s not a bad song, it just doesn’t work for me in the context of the other tracks.
Okay, I’ve raved enough; your turn!
Brad: Tad, what a fun writeup. Thank you–I think you clearly identify the joy and playfulness that is so prevalent in Space Revolver. Stolt was clearly having the time of his life. I love all the other albums – in fact, I made a meme a years ago expressing what I loved about each album (see below) – and I’m especially taken with Flower Power (the first of theirs I heard) and Paradox Hotel. I really like Stardust We Are, too–but each of these other albums lacks the extreme playfulness of Space Revolver.
[I made the above meme back when Desolation Rose came out. I was rather blown away by the album when it was released, but mostly because it was so intense and lacked the characteristic mischievousness of the previous albums. Indeed, when we were really active at Progarchy, I even planned out a book on the Flower Kings (never realized, except for some snippets, here or there), following the meme’s albums’s themes. I was planning on arguing that The Flower Kings were to Europe what Big Big Train was to England and what Glass Hammer was to America.
The book would’ve come out before my Neil Peart biography and even before what you and I, Tad, wrote on Big Big Train. I was, at the time, emailing with Stolt, and I was rather taken with him (still am) as an artist and as a human being. He was extremely active on Facebook at the time, as was his wife, and they were always interesting. We disagreed radically on the meaning and legacy of President Obama, but, again, he was always a total and intelligent gentleman.
It’s about the time I sent him the Roepke book.
I did try to interview Stolt about Rush, but he very kindly responded that he didn’t know enough about the band to offer anything substantive. He was genuine, kind, and humane in his response.
One of many grand schemes never realized. . .]
[Above photo, my fantasizing. In the middle of my then-Flower Kings collection, I’ve placed three of my own books, my biographies of (right to left) Christopher Dawson, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles Carroll of Carrollton. Yes, I desperately wanted my work to be tied to Roine Stolt and the Flower Kings. I thought–and still do–that if any of my biographies could reach the majesty of Stolt’s artistry, I would truly have made a mark on the world.]
A few responses to you directly, Tad. It’s funny, I had always assumed that Neal Morse was influenced by Roine Stolt, rather than the other way around. And, Stolt, to me, seems deeply influenced by King Crimson, Yes, and Genesis. This seems especially clear on his solo, The Flower King, and Retropolis, both of which came before Transatlantic. But, I assume this is like a chicken or the egg question. At this point (2024), the two must’ve influenced each other so completely that one can’t any longer disentangle which idea or person came first. Together, Stolt and Morse are the heart of rambunctious third-wave prog.
As to Stolt being Christian, I have no idea. In our brief correspondence, I obnoxiously asked him directly about his faith, and he never responded or hinted, one way or the other. Being Swedish, he was almost certainly raised nominally Lutheran, even if the Swedes only attend services on Easter and Christmas.
Regardless, Stolt employs Christian symbolism frequently, especially in the early The Flower King’s albums. Again, I think that “The Flower King” is a sort of hippie Cosmic Christ. Here are the lyrics from the first album:
Falling out of the sky, falling into a dream
All I need is the heart where it all can begin
It’s just a matter of time, it’s just a matter of trust
It’s just a matter of faith when we all sleep in the dust
Don’t deny, just verify the genius of it all
It’s the cycle of all living thing, hear the children
Hear the children call !
“We believe in the light, we believe in love every precious little thing
We believe you can still surrender you can serve the Flower King”
Going out into the grey, into purple and red
See, all the beautiful shapes flowing out of my head
It’s just a matter of time, it’s just a matter of trust
It’s just a matter of faith when we all sleep in the dust
Don’t deny, just verify the genius of it all
It’s the cycle of all living, hear the children
Hear the children call !
“We believe in the light, we believe in love every precious little thing
We believe you can still surrender you can serve the Flower King”
“We believe in the heart, we believe in healing in a house where angels sing
We’ll unite the divided and the fallen one will serve the Flower King”
“We believe in the heart, we believe in healing in a house where angels sing
We’ll unite the divided and fallen one will serve the Flower King”
Again, I don’t quite think this is the orthodox Jesus Christ of Christian faith, but a rather humanistic but still supernatural Flower King. When the band becomes “The Flower Kings,” they’re not divinizing themselves but rather becoming disciples.
What strikes me most, though, is that Stolt’s use of mythological symbols is not Lutheran, but deeply Roman Catholic.
On track four of Space Revolver, “Monster Within,” Stolt sings “Mother Mary, she’s left the building crying/silent tears rolling down her cheek.” Granted, this could just be a Beatles’ reference, but Mary, here, seems more supernatural than Paul McCartney’s mother. After all, Mary is the opposite of some kind of demagogue trying to seduce our children and who feeds on power and who controls the bats.
One of my favorite The Flower King’s albums, Unfold the Future, posits a war between the devil and Mary. On the final track:
Clueless
Living in a business cluster, predator to suit your needs
Raven sitting on your shoulder, lurking the suburban weeds
Think I saw you in the bank, think I saw you in a talkshow
Swear I saw your mindless grin, justify the final blow
Swallowing the endless laughter, cultivate the deadly sins
Getting even altogether, hiding from the Holy Mother
This is how you raise the Cain, this is what you teach our children
Back on duty dog eat dog, they’re clueless in the Devil’s playground
Then, of course, on Space Revolver, on track 6, “Underdog,” there’s that really weird line/sound byte: “John Paul’s pizza, the biggest pizza you’ve ever seen.” When this album came out, in the year 2000, the only John Paul that mattered was John Paul II.
So, is Stolt Christian? I have no idea, but he’s an awesome ally, a man of integrity, and a grand myth maker. Taken together, this is so much what I love about Stolt and the band. Never once I have listened to them without my imagination being stimulated, expanded, and made manifest!
Tad: Wow, Brad! I knew you were a fan of Stolt, but I wasn’t aware of all the thought you’ve put into his music. I now have a much greater appreciation for his overall oeuvre than before. I think you’re probably correct about who influenced whom – Morse had to be aware of Stolt while he was in Spock’s Beard, and Stolt had to be aware of Morse. They likely influenced and appreciated each other, which led to the formation of another outstanding prog group, Transatlantic.
I kind of like it that Stolt is mum about his faith; it allows different interpretations of his music. What’s important to me is that he seems to be a light-bearer, as opposed to a dark nihilist like so many Scandinavian death metal artists. Stolt is always positive and optimistic, even when he is singing about something he’s unhappy about. In that regard, Desolation Rose seems to be his “darkest” work, and it is still uplifting to my ears.
So here’s my takeaway on Space Revolver: it is the perfect introduction to The Flower Kings for someone who is new to them. In it, the group hits the perfect combination of melodicism, progginess, and improv jamming. Once you’ve absorbed this album, all the others make sense. They’ve had an amazingly productive run the past 30(!) years, and I hope they go for 30 more!
Charles Williams’ Many Dimensions – Excellent Fantasy from an Inkling
I have just finished reading Charles Williams’ second novel, Many Dimensions, and the more I read of his, the more I like it. Even though his fellow Inklings Tolkien and Lewis are more well known, Williams deserves to be more widely read. He stakes out a unique territory of weird fantasy that is imbued with his Christian faith. Here’s my review of it.
Discipline-Era King Crimson: A Conversation
Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, Brad Birzer, Erik Heter, and Tad Wert revisit three progressive classics: Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair, from King Crimson.
Tad: Brad and Erik, I am so looking forward to hearing your thoughts on these albums! We haven’t really delved into the incredibly large and diverse discography of King Crimson, and Discipline is a personal favorite of mine. It came out in 1981, after most fans assumed Robert Fripp had put King Crimson to rest for good. As a matter of fact, on their previous album, the 1974 live set USA, Fripp put R.I.P. on the back cover. That album is another favorite of mine, featuring the formidable lineup of Fripp (guitar), Bill Bruford (percussion), John Wetton (bass and vocals), and David Cross (violin). This is the same group that recorded Lark’s Tongues In Aspic (with Jamie Muir added on percussion) and Starless and Bible Black. This group was ferocious in its ability to improvise, but apparently it was exhausting for all involved.
So it was quite surprising when word got out that Fripp was rehearsing a new lineup for King Crimson: Bruford (again), Tony Levin (bass and stick), and Adrian Belew (guitar and vocals). I was a subscriber to Musician magazine at the time, and it started running a series of “diary” entries from Fripp that detailed his excitement (and worries) about the music they were creating.
As interested as I was in what this new iteration of KC was going to sound like, nothing could have prepared me for Discipline. I was familiar with Belew from his work with Talking Heads and David Bowie, but I hadn’t heard him sing before. I knew Tony Levin was a much-in-demand bassist, but I didn’t realize how much of a pioneer he was with the Chapman Stick. The shift in style from Starless and Bible Black to Discipline is one of the most radical metamorphoses in rock history. And what is so impressive is that they pull it off – pleasing long time fans and attracting new wave listeners.
When it came out, I was in college, and one of my suitemates got a copy. We listened to it several times in one evening, trying to understand what Fripp et al. were doing. To my ears, it was the perfect marriage of challenging, yet accessible rock. The cover art was understated and perfect: Bright red with a basic silver font simply stating, “King Crimson Discipline”, and a Celtic knot that isn’t easily untangled. Rhythmically, it was very straightforward. Melodically, it was almost minimalist in its composition, but it fit in comfortably with what groups like Talking Heads, The Police, Ultravox, and Simple Minds were producing. The more I listened, the more I was taken with it.
Okay, I’ve rambled on for too long! How did Discipline strike you, Brad, when you first heard it?
Brad: Tad, what a wonderful way to start us off. Thank you so much for your many good thoughts on this. Sadly, I won’t be able to match your good introduction. Yet, I loved reading about yours.
Though I grew up with progressive rock–Yes, Jethro Tull, and Kansas, in particular–I knew nothing about King Crimson until my college years. I didn’t start college until 1986 (and the three Discipline-era albums had already come out), and I first encountered the band through a radio station copy of Beat and, in particular, the song “Neal and Jack and me”–which I instantly fell in love with.
I remember being taken with the minimalist cover and diving into the music.
After encountering it at the radio station, I purchased a copy of Beat, and, from there, I bought Discipline and Three of a Perfect Pair. To me, these three albums have to go together, one followed by another. I really have a hard time thinking of any one of the three–red, blue, and yellow–in isolation from the other. As such, I came VERY late to In the Court of the Crimson King, and the albums had progressed so much that I had a very hard time thinking of “my” King Crimson as the King Crimson of “In the Court. . .” Much later, I would buy Thrak–which has far more in common with Discipline-era King Crimson than the original King Crimson albums.
I knew very little about Adrian Belew or Robert Fripp, but I’d been a long time fan of Bill Bruford because of Yes and Tony Levin because of Peter Gabriel. So, I was really curious as to what they were up to.
Additionally–should I admit this here???–though I never had a religious fundamentalist phase, I was returning to my childhood Catholicism (I’m what’s called a “revert” in Catholic circles) at the same time that I first encountered Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair, and I was really freaked out that the band named themselves after the devil! I thought, what a crazy thing to do. Why would you even mess with such a thing?
That stated. . .
I’ll do my best to focus on Discipline, though, for this dialogue. Tad, for better or worse, I often think of Discipline-era King Crimson as New Wave Prog, in the same way I think of Rush’s Power Windows, Yes’s Drama, or The Fixx’s Reach the Beach. It’s definitely progressive, but in such an early 1980s way.
Tad: Brad, I agree that Discipline, Beat, and Three of a Perfect Pair make a seamless trilogy. It must have been deliberate – look at the artwork for them: same font with a single icon on each. As a lover of symmetry, I have always been bowled over by this series of album covers. I even framed them when I was first married, and my understanding wife let me hang them on our den wall!
Your characterization of this music as New Wave Prog is perfect. I think you’ve created a hitherto unknown genre of music, but one that, with hindsight makes sense! At the time, it seemed to just fit in with all the weird and crazy music being produced in the early 80s.
Okay, let’s discuss the songs on Discipline. It opens with “Elephant Talk”, in which Belew bellows,
“Talk, it’s only talk
Arguments, agreements, advice, answers
Articulate announcements
It’s only talk”
while his guitar emits sheets of cascading sound. Levin lays down nimble basslines on his Stick, and Bruford plays a cacophonous yet steady racket on drums. All the while, Fripp is furiously pushing out scales on his guitar and creating a soundbed for the others to play on. Each verse is a list of synonyms for verbalizing in alphabetical order: the first is all A’s, the second all B’s, etc. This illustrates an aspect that I love so much about this iteration of KC: their sense of humor. Even though the music can be crushingly dense at times, there is a feeling of fun and sheer joy in it.
Erik: Like you, Brad, I was a latecomer to King Crimson – for the most part anyway. I do remember hearing Discipline once or twice when it first came out, but to use a Heinlein-ism, I absolutely did not grok it at all. So I put it aside for well over a decade and a half before finally revisiting it. In the meantime, I had purchased In the Court of the Crimson King, Lizard, and most importantly (for the purposes of priming the pump for Discipline), Larks Tongues in Aspic. While the latter is quite different from Discipline-era Crimson, if one listens close enough they can hear a few stylistic threads connecting them (and indeed, Three of a Perfect Pair includes Larks Tongues in Aspic Part III). If anything, I think the music of Discipline and the subsequent two albums is where they would have ended up anyway if they hadn’t broke up in 1974.
Another thing Brad – like Tad, I think your description of Discipline-era Crimson as New Wave Prog hits the nail on the head. The music has so much of that quality in other 80’s music that was described by the phrase once uttered by Yes’s Tony Kaye – dimensionally sparse. No previous Crimson album ever left as much space between the instruments as Discipline and its two successors did. This description applies to a majority of the album, with the notable exceptions of Indiscipline and Thela Hun Ginjeet. Because of this approach, Discipline fit in with the contemporaneous music of the early 80’s as well as the early Crimson albums fit in with that of the early 70s.
What makes these albums familiar to Crimson fans was the presence of Fripp and Bruford, who were well-established by the release of Discipline. What made them fresh was the presence of newcomers Belew and Levin. Belew brought in the quirky, New Wave-y 80s vocal stylizations that he learned during his time with the decidedly non-prog Talking Heads. Meanwhile, Levin brought in not only a new way of playing bass, but also introduced to Crimson the Chapman stick and the new sounds that came with it. When it was all thrown into the same pot, the result was a type of music that was eclectic and often intricate.
If I had to pick some favorite songs off of the album, there are three that really stand out to me. First is the easy, breezy Matte Kudasai, the uptempo romp of Thela Hun Ginjeet, and the instrumental The Sheltering Sky. The latter two of these tracks include some of the best percussion work Bill Bruford has ever performed in any of the bands he’s been in – which is quite a statement considering his pedigree. In Thela Hun Ginjeet, Brufords drumming comes in fast and furious yet with exquisite precision. In The Sheltering Sky, Bruford’s percussion is almost understated and yet still manages to demand the listener’s attention. This track also includes both Belew and Fripp on the weird, wonderful guitar synthesizer.
I’m still relatively new to the latter two albums of this trio, so I’ll visit those in my next entry. For now, back to you guys!
Tad: Erik, thank you for your insights on this album! I’m glad you brought attention to Bruford’s contributions. One thing I remember from those articles Fripp published in Musician is how he kept trying to rein in Bruford, because he wanted this music to be disciplined.
If I had to pick my favorite songs, it would be “Frame By Frame” and “The Sheltering Sky”. In the former, I really like the relentless groove that Fripp, Levin, and Belew set up, while Belew’s and Levin’s vocals hover delicately above it all.
I agree with you about Bruford’s excellent percussion work in “The Sheltering Sky” – I have a DVD of a concert they performed at the time this album came out, and Bruford is masterful on congas while Fripp wigs out on guitar. I love the way the song takes its time building – it’s quite a while before Levin enters on Stick, and when he does, it brings the music to another level. I don’t think Fripp ever had another guitarist as empathetic as Belew was with him. The two of them traded phrases off each other as if they were of one mind.
Fun fact: “Thela Hun Ginjeet” is an anagram for “Heat In The Jungle”!
Brad: Dear Tad and Erik, what excellent responses. One of the things I love most about Discipline is that it starts off with the utterly bizarre “Elephant Talk.” The band could’ve easily and victoriously started the album with the much more radio and listener friendly “Frame by Frame.”
Instead, they begin with the offbeat one. Again, I love this about the band. They definitely define their own path.
I’m not sure I have specifics about this album. Again, to me, it’s an intimate part of a trilogy of releases, and, Tad, I love that you had the artwork displayed. What would we do without our loving and forgiving wives!
And, I would agree, my favorites among these tracks are “Frame by Frame” with its relentless roar, and “The Sheltering Sky” which feels like a Talk Talk song from the same period, at least in terms of its rhythm.
I mentioned this above, but my favorite album of the trilogy is Beat, as it combines the weirdness of “Elephant Talk” with the accessible and intense sounds of “Frame by Frame.”
“I’m a 1952 Studebacker coupe!”
But, I also really love the title track of Three of a Perfect Pair. So wonderfully quirky.
Tad: It’s a tough call, but I think this iteration of King Crimson is my favorite. At least, I come back to these three albums more than any others in Crimson’s long, long career. I don’t think Fripp ever assembled a more talented crew than these four guys, and they are at the top of their game. I never saw them live, but as I mentioned, I have a couple of concerts on DVD, and they make this difficult music look effortless.
As I have revisited this trio of albums in order, I’m struck by how much the “accessible” songs sound more accessible, while the “out-there” songs are more and more out-there. Brad, maybe that’s why Beat is your favorite – it hits the sweet spot between pop and experiment. While it contains beautiful and gentle love songs like “Heartbeat” and “Two Hands” it also has the atonal and terrifying “Requiem”. I think that’s why this iteration of King Crimson packed it in after Three of a Perfect Pair; by the third album, “things fell apart; the center couldn’t hold” (to paraphrase Yeats!). That album contains their most pop song ever, “Sleepless”, while also giving us “Industry”, which is close to pure noise in places.
Erik: While my familiarity with Discipline dates back to about the mid-90s, Beat and Three of a Perfect Pair are both relatively new to me. Yet one thing that strikes me is the consistency of sound across these albums – it’s almost as if they could have all been released as one triple album instead of as three separate albums. From a production standpoint, these albums really stand out as being of a particular time. One odd thought I’ve had listening to these – particularly Beat – is how similar the production (not the music!) was to the first two solo albums of Robert Plant. Indeed, I had to go back and look it up to find out who the respective producers were, but they were different. It must have been just something in the air at the time.
Another observation about these three albums – they mark some of the best, if not the best work of Bill Bruford in his entire career. As a hardcore Yes fan, I do not say that lightly. One great example of this is Sartori in Tangier from Beat (which, for some reason, I keep reading as Santoni the Tiger … I think I need some Frosted Flakes, but I digress). Another is Sleepless from Three of a Perfect Pair. Sleepless is also one of the songs in this trio that includes Tony Levin’s use of the Chapman Stick, along with Neurotica and The Howler (from Beat), as well as Industry and the title track of Three of a Perfect Pair.
All that said, by the end of Three of a Perfect Pair, I start to hear a certain sameness in the music, and thus it’s not surprising to me in retrospect that Fripp broke up the band again. Maybe that’s just how Fripp worked best, in bursts followed by long breaks. I do get the impression he wasn’t easy to work with, and have read that both Bruford and Belew were a bit miffed when Fripp split them up again in 1984.
That being said, I don’t want to close on a sour note, so here goes. You guys, being in the same age range as me, might remember the early 80s TV show Fridays, which was basically ABCs attempt at creating their own version of Saturday Night Live. Both had the same format – sketch comedy, a “news” break, and musical guests. And on one glorious night during the 81-82 timeframe, they had as their musical guests Fripp, Belew, Levin and Bruford, under their collective name of King Crimson – preserved for posterity thanks to YouTube. Enjoy!
It’s Easy to Like “The Likes Of Us”
There are a select few artists that Spirit of Cecilia will always love and greet with joy any new release. One of them is Big Big Train, who have just released a new album, The Likes Of Us. Big Big Fanboys Brad Birzer and Tad Wert discuss this latest chapter in their long and varied career, and what it means for BBT’s future.
Tad: Brad, my fellow Progling and good friend, it’s always big news when Big Big Train graces us with new music. I have you to thank for making me aware of this wonderful group of musicians. It was when The Underfall Yard had just been released, and we were connecting via social media. You insisted I check them out. I had never heard of BBT, and it was an ear-opening experience to explore all of their music. I fell in love with The Difference Machine along with The Underfall Yard, and the rest is history.
As I became familiar with their career, I soon learned that The Underfall Yard was the first album to feature vocalist David Longden. He, along with founding member Greg Spawton, went on to produce some of the finest albums of the 2010’s: English Electric, Folklore, Grimspound, Grand Tour, Common Ground. And then tragically, David Longden passed away. I was afraid this was the end for BBT as we knew them.
However, they found a new vocalist, Alberto Bravin, and have recorded a new album! Brad, I’m really interested in hearing your first impressions of this iteration of BBT. Is it a worthy successor to previous ones?
Brad: Dear Tad, thank you so much for this, and my apologies (as usual) for being late in replying. Things have been chaotic (good and bad chaos, it turns out–one so quickly and readily becomes the other) in the Birzer household. Let’s just say, I’m not unhappy to see February 2024 in the rear-view mirror, and that all ills (flu and otherwise) have found happy resolutions!
As I type this on my laptop, I sit beneath an original Jim Trainer painting from The Underfall Yard that proudly adorns my college office. Below it is an award I won over twenty years ago, and above it is an original photo of Geronimo. Next to it is a signed and framed autograph from Neil Peart.
I first encountered The Underfall Yard fifteen years ago. Our very own Carl Olson sent me a mix of his favorite tracks of 2009, and a song from the TUY album was included. To say I was floored would be the understatement of my adult life. I immediately ordered the full album, and I was completely blown away by its brilliance, its creativity, and its unique voice. As to the latter, there’s nothing quite like a classic BBT sound–a perfect mixture of exhilaration and melancholy. I also immediately emailed Greg Spawton, who kindly responded. For years, we had a fairly serious correspondence. We even sent each other books we each loved. I cherish those emails and that friendship.
From there, I closely followed the band, and, as I’ve noted elsewhere, we founded Progarchy originally as a BBT fansite. Years later, you and I collected our various essays on the band and e-published Dream of the West through Amazon. That little e-book did very well, I’m proud to say, and I’m deeply honored that our names will always be linked together, Tad. I also had the chance to praise them at National Review, at The Imaginative Conservative, and elsewhere.
This is all a very long way of stating that I’ve followed the band as closely as possible for a decade and a half. I’ve cheered with and for them, and, with the immense loss of David Longdon, I’ve mourned with and for them.
They’ve been a part of my life as much as anything else (except for family) over the past fifteen years.
This past weekend, BBT played its very first show in the United States. It was in Fort Wayne, Indiana–just a 1.5 hour drive for me–but I was, crazily, already committed to leading a seminar/conference in Philadelphia, a commitment I made.
Ok, Birzer, shut up and tell us about the new album!!!
To be sure, BBT has had a rough couple of years, and many folks have wondered if the band could recover after the tragic loss of vocalist David Longdon. Additionally, many of the essential bandmates–such as David Gregory–had left the band for a variety of reasons.
The Likes of Us proves that BBT is more than the sum of its parts, an idea and concept as much as a concrete band. Whereas the band was once incredibly and quirkily English, it is now quite cosmopolitan and, well, trans-Atlantic. I write this last bit with only the slightest bit of irony, as the new album has, in part, a Neal Morse/Spock’s Beard feel to it.
Tad: Brad, as always, I appreciate the context you provide for your love of BBT. I think you have hit the nail on the head with your preceding paragraph: Big Big Train is an idea and concept now, much like King Crimson and Yes are. The personnel may change, but there is definitely a constant thread through all of their albums that makes each one a uniquely “BBT” work.
As I write this, I am listening to “Beneath the Masts”, Greg Spawton’s ode to the radio masts that dominated the landscape of his childhood. As long as Greg is involved, BBT will always be BBT. He truly has been the anchor of the band, regardless of who sings or plays guitar.
I am intrigued with your reference to Neal Morse/Spock’s Beard. I love their music as well, but it has always been more, hmm… turbulent, than BBT’s in my opinion. BBT’s music has, until this album, always struck me as being pastoral. Kind of like Vaughan Williams’ music is in the classical realm. I could see BBT performing “The Lark Ascending”, but never Spock’s Beard, if that makes sense!
Okay, let’s talk about The Likes Of Us! I love the opening chords of the first song, “Light Left In The Day” – the acoustic guitars are reminiscent of Steve Hackett-era Genesis. It soon develops into quite a majestic production, and, now that you’ve mentioned it, I really hear that Morse influence in it. Another favorite moment is the seamless segue into “Oblivion”, which is a terrific rocker. According to my Spotify app, I’m not alone in really liking this track – it far and away has the most listens. I think it’s a great choice for the single, because the melody is so appealing. Bravin’s vocals are superb here, and despite my initial impulse to compare him unfavorably to Longdon, I think he does a fantastic job leading the band. He’s a wonderful choice to replace an irreplaceable artist, and I am excited for BBT’s future.
“Beneath the Masts” is the big epic, clocking in at 17:26. I have to admit that after several listens, this one hasn’t resonated as deeply with me as previous long-form BBT songs have. It’s very pretty, and there is nothing to not love, but for some reason it’s just not sticking in my memory. However, I do especially like the bit at around the 15:00 minute mark where, after a relatively quiet section, the whole band comes in again and Bravin lets loose with some very good vocals.
“Skates On” reminds me the most of “classic Big Big Train”. It’s just a delightful little tune with wonderful vocal harmonies. The lyrics celebrate going out and having some fun: “Enjoy the Ride/It’s time to get your skates on/We’re here then gone”. I think the more I listen to the album, the more I enjoy this track.
Alright, I’ve written enough – what are your thoughts on the new songs?
Brad: What a wonderful and thoughtful response, Tad. Thank you. Whenever I get a new album–especially if you and I decide to review it–I immerse myself into it fully, allowing it to wash over me multiple times before writing about it. For whatever reason, I had a really hard time getting into The Likes of Us the first few times I listened to it. I definitely heard a Spock’s Beard influence (the new singer sounds VERY much like Nick D’Virgilio), but my initial thoughts were that the band–now labeled as an “international progressive rock collective” had lost its distinctive English voice and that the band was producing someone one might call “generic prog.”
As I’ve continued to listen to the album, though, I think I was very wrong in my initial assessment. The band has definitely lost its distinctive English voice, but it has also adopted a new one and one that is truly international. And, frankly, it’s quite beautiful in its own, new way. The band really has become something more than it was.
And, you’re right, of course, Tad. The center of the band–from its beginning–has always been Greg Spawton. He’s the touchstone and fountainhead of all things BBT. With his bass, his songwriting, and his voice, he will always define BBT whatever other members are there. I’m so glad you reminded all of us of that.
This said, I’m now utterly taken with the first three tracks of The Likes of Us: “Light Left in the Day” (a pastoral gem for the first few minutes), “Oblivion” (a NVD rocker), and the magisterial “Beneath the Masts” (what BBT does best–long-form prog). Like you, Tad, I love the segue between tracks one and two, and I also agree that “Beneath the Masts,” while excellent, does not quite live up to “Broken English,” “The Wide Open Sea,” or “The Underfall Yard.” Still, it’s close, and, frankly, it’s a privilege to hear such prog beauty, especially when it comes from Spawton’s pen.
As you note, “Skates On” is simply a delight, something that might have appeared on Grimspound or The Second Brightest Star.
Tad: Brad, I’m glad you have had a slight reassessment of the album, and it looks like you and I are in agreement that the first “side” (if albums can have “sides” these days) is really nice. As far as the final four tracks go, “Miramare” is the standout song for me. The vocal harmonies are wonderful, and the guitar solo is very tasteful.
In the press release that came with the album, the band remarks that this is the first time in a long time that the members recorded the songs together in the same room: In May 2023, six members of Big Big Train left their homes in England (Spawton and Lindley), the United States (D’Virgilio), Sweden (Sjöblom) and Norway (Holldorff) to gather for a week in Bravin’s home town of Trieste in north eastern Italy, at Urban Recording, a studio recommended by Alberto, to lay down the basic tracks. Being face to face in a room, as opposed to emailing sound files, the intimacy of the process generated moments of inspiration that would otherwise have gone unheard.
The process would prove emotional. “There were some tears; I cried a few of my own,” recalls Nick D’Virgillio, the band’s drummer since 2009. “There are many reasons to explain why we hadn’t worked that way in quite a while, but the process brought out the best in everybody.”
I’m glad that they took the time and trouble to work in person – that bodes well for future music. I always think songs are improved when musicians can bounce ideas off each other in real time.
Well, I think that is a good place to wrap this one up, Brad. I’m going to say that The Likes of Us will probably be thought of as a transitional album when put in the context of their long career; they have successfully incorporated a new vocalist/songwriter into the fold, while maintaining ties to their past. It will be interesting to see what they produce in the years to come!
Spirit of Cecilia 
You must be logged in to post a comment.