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It Was the Best of Times: Musical Memories from College

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College Music Memories, 1979-1995

Dear Spirit of Cecilia Readers, welcome back!  We hope and trust you’re each doing well.  We had such a great and nostalgic time reminiscing about our years in high school and our love of music, we decided it was time to take it to the next level and talk about our post-high school years.  I say post high school, because not all of us went immediately to college.  Our beloved Erik Heter served brilliantly in the navy–as a submariner–immediately after high school.  The rest of us, though, went directly to college.  So, we cover the years, 1979-1991.

Brad: Well, the single most important thing that happened to me my freshman year (1986-1987) was meeting our own beloved Kevin McCormick.  Kevin lived in the dorm next to mine, and we had crossed paths several times in September.  In mid-October, though, we found ourselves on the same flight, home for our week-long fall break.  Though he was ultimately heading to San Antonio, and I to Wichita, we had the same flight from Chicago to Denver.  Recognizing one another, we sat next to each other on the flight.  Almost forty years later, we’re still best friends!  

I really didn’t like flying, but Kevin taught me a great trick as we took off–to set up an album on the walkman so that the music began as the plane began to take off down the runway and then hit full stride as it went into the air.  Brilliant.  

After take off, though, we talked non-stop on the flight and then had time together in Denver before our connecting flights.  A moment that changed both of our lives.

Though I knew much more about older prog and jazz, Kevin seemed to have limitless knowledge about New Wave.  As it turned out, he didn’t just listen to music, he was a full-fledged (and mighty good) guitarist (classical and electric), composer, and poet.  To be blunt, in 1986, Kevin, more or less, defined cool.  He even, amazingly enough, looked like Bono.

Though I really, really liked Rush, Kevin adored them and knew every single thing about the band.  My love of the band had grown since first encountering them in 1981, but it was Kevin who really convinced me of their brilliance, and especially of the brilliance of Neil Peart.  Kevin also introduced me to Blancmange and other New Wave bands.  He also convinced me that it was ok that Sting went out on his own, forsaking the Police!  And, when I tried to convince Kevin that albums like Invisible Touch were still great, he would have none of it.

But, most of all, I just loved hanging out with Kevin when he jammed on the guitar.  We would talk for hours and hours about everything music related.

Tad: Okay, Brad, you’ve opened up the floodgates when you want to know what music I was into in college! I was an engineering undergraduate at Vanderbilt from 1979 to 1984. I’ll start with 1980, which was an incredible year for new music. By that time, I was a DJ at the school’s radio station, WRVU. As a newbie, I had the 6 – 8 am shift. I loved going through all of the promo copies we’d get, and planning my playlist.

Here are a few(!) of my favorite albums from that year:

Utopia: Adventures In Utopia
Joe Jackson: Beat Crazy
XTC: Black Sea
*U2: Boy
*Robert Palmer: Looking for Clues
Yes: Drama
Genesis: Duke
Roxy Music: Flesh + Blood
Devo: Freedom of Choice
Group 87: Group 87
*English Beat: I Just Can’t Stop It
Weather Report: Night Passage
Rush: Permanent Waves
Peter Gabriel: 3 (Melt)
*Pretenders: Pretenders
*Talking Heads: Remain In Light
David Bowie: Scary Monsters
Elvis Costello: Taking Liberties
Gary Numan: Telekon
The Cretones: Thin Red Line
Ultravox: Vienna
Hall and Oates: Voices
*B-52s: Wild Planet
*The Police: Zenyatta Mondatta

*I was also on Vanderbilt’s concert committee, and these artists all played live there. U2 played in the law school auditorium to maybe 400 people, believe it or not! Talking Heads gave the best show I’ve ever seen, with an expanded lineup that was incredibly funky. During the B-52s show, we were seated in the balcony in the basketball gymnasium, and everyone was bopping so hard to the music that I could feel the concrete floor flexing up and down. I was currently taking a course in reinforced concrete design, and I knew that if a crack developed, the whole thing would collapse. I grabbed my date and we ran downstairs. The band actually announced from the stage that people in the balcony had to sit still, or they would stop playing!

A few notes on some of the above albums: 

Group 87 was an instrumental trio consisting of Patrick O’Hearn (bassist for Missing Persons), Mark Isham (trumpet, keyboards), and Peter Maunu (guitar, keyboards). It is still one of my all-time favorite records.

Weather Report was the group that got me into jazz – Wayne Shorter was a coleader, and through him I discovered Miles Davis and Art Blakey. Jaco Pastorius was their bassist, and he had a unique sound that Joni Mitchell used on her Hejira and Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter.

Robert Palmer’s Looking For Clues was an unusual album for him – very electronic, and featuring some songs by Gary Numan. 

Elvis Costello’s Taking Liberties was proof of how incredibly prolific he was early in his career. He had released four excellent albums in three short years, and Taking Liberties was just a collection of B-sides. Every single song on it was as good or better than any other song he had released. How many people can come up with lyrics as witty as That the word upon everyone’s lipstick that you’re dedicated/Though you may not be an old-fashioned girl, you’re still gonna get dated?

XTC’s Black Sea is where Dave Gregory really makes his mark in that band. Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding were both at the top of their songwriting form.

Rush’s Permanent Waves remains my favorite album of theirs. 

The Cretones were a new wave band from LA, and their songs were wonderfully catchy. Linda Ronstadt recorded several for her Mad Love album. They disappeared after two great albums. I don’t think they were even reissued on CD.

Hall and Oates’ Voices is probably the most mainstream album in my list, but what a great lineup of songs! They were definitely listening to new wave music and taking notes.

I think I played Peter Gabriel’s third album more than any other on this list. I was obsessed with the sound he came up with on it. Tony Levin on bass, Jerry Marotta on drums (but no cymbals!), and David Rhodes on guitar. Every song was so dark and powerful.

Erik:  So I’m going to be the outlier here for reasons Brad mentioned above – namely, the fact that I served six years as a submariner in the US Navy right after high school.  Oh, I did eventually go to college, after completing my service, but my college days were spent working a full-time job while going to school part time.  And a majority of those years were in the 1990’s, which didn’t have the same impact on me musically as the 1980’s, in which my navy years fell. 

Joining the military, traveling around a lot, and eventually getting assigned to a sea-going command certainly changed how I listened to music.  I went from a vinyl guy to a cassette guy; from a turntable guy to a Sony Walkman guy.  And man, did I go through a lot of Sony Walkmans in that period. And the number of cassettes I owned rapidly overtook the number of vinyl albums I had collected up to that point.

 Music significantly shifted during my high school years that immediately preceded my navy years, and that change continued to reverberate.  But at the same time, there were some consistencies.  For example, my fandom of Yes didn’t waver, and in fact was supercharged in 1983 with their new album 90125.  With a new guitarist (and excellent vocalist to boot) in tow, Trevor Rabin, Yes released an album that was both a radical departure from their previous work while still sounding like something only they could pull off.  And it drew me in like the proverbial moth to a flame, as I couldn’t get enough of it.  I’ve listened to that album all over the world, from the Mediterranean Sea to the Sea of Japan and many locales in between, some on land and some underwater.  And despite using a Walkman with headphones, when I listened to 90125, so did the people in my vicinity.  Nigel Tufnel wasn’t the only one who knew how to turn it up to 11.

But 90125 wasn’t the only album that resonated with me to such a strong degree.  In 1984, Rush released what I consider to be their second-best album, Grace Under Pressure.  Having joined the military, I started to ponder what it meant to be in situations where “the world weighs on my shoulders.”  Being at an age of just entering adulthood, I was “overwhelmed by everything, yet wanting more so much.”  Neil’s lyrics definitely spoke to me on that one.  Better yet, on the first, glorious Saturday night of November 1984, I saw Rush play on the Grace Under Pressure tour.   That was my second of six Rush shows (spread across 5 different decades), and it remains to this day the best one of the bunch.

I also quite enjoyed their subsequent albums Power Windows and Hold Your Fire, which also came out during that timeframe. 

Embracing the new wave of rock music came a little slow to me.  But in early 1983, while undergoing some electronics training in Great Lakes, IL (north of Chicago), I first heard U2’s War album.  That did the trick, and I started paying attention to subsequent releases as well.  I still like War the best of their albums, but Bono’s inflated sense of himself notwithstanding, they made some good music over the years.

My heavy metal listening expanded a little bit during those years.  And in particular, I took a liking to the prog-adjacent heavy metal band, Iron Maiden.  My introduction to them was via a concert in San Diego on their World Piece Tour (no, ‘Piece’ is not misspelled here), and soon after that I owned their then-current album, Piece of Mind.  I would go on to purchase their next three albums as well, all of which appeared while I was still on active duty.

A few other albums really knocked my socks off during these days.  Once Upon a Time by Simple Minds is jam-packed with lush melodies and great songs overall, and was in heavy rotation for about a year after its release.  And while I liked some of The Cult’s earlier songs (Rain, She Sells Sanctuary), they really sealed the deal for me on 1987’s Electric, which is chock full of raw guitar and more of a roots rock sound.  I also really liked Pete Townsend’s solo album White City that he released in 1985. 

Another thing I enjoyed was watching Robert Plant’s evolution as a solo artist.  Unlike others who were famous from their time in another band, Plant’s output during the 80’s neither rested on his Led Zeppelin laurels, nor did it run away from them. 

I, or should I say we (referring to myself and the other sonar technicians I served with) also had fun with our music … meaning we figured out how to jerry-rig our Walkmans to input signals into a spectrum analyzer in the sonar room of the submarine upon which we served.  This allowed us to see the music along with hearing it.  And let me tell you, a young Robert Plant, when he really wanted to belt one out, could produce some massive harmonics!

My time in the service came to an end in November of 1988.  When I entered six years earlier, it felt like our country was on its back and the Soviet Union was ascendant. But those six years later, America was confident and one could sense that the Soviets, no longer led by a stodgy old hardliner, were on their last legs.  I too had changed quite a bit.  When it comes to music, the change in my tastes was primarily one of expansion and broadening.  I still liked the music I listened to in high school; in that era when so much of what a person listens to becomes embedded in their personality.  At the same time, a lot of great new sounds emerged, and many of them caught my ear for good.  It was a great time, and I miss it.

Brad: A second critical thing happened to me at the end of freshman year.  My tape of Invisible Touch, of all albums, broke.  I bought a new one at the campus store, but it was broken as well.  As was its replacement.  I got so fed up with defective Invisible Touches, that I decided to buy something totally new, something I knew nothing about. And, yes, I very much judged the book by its cover!  I came across an album adorned with a whole slew of colorful moths, one large one dominating all the surrounding ones.  I immediately loved it.  It was called “The Colour of Spring” by Talk Talk.  Taking a chance, I bought the album, knowing nearly nothing about the band or the album.  I had had a good friend in high school, Ritchie, who had bought a Talk Talk EP, but, otherwise, they were new to me.

I proudly showed Kevin the new purchase, and he assured me it was a great band.  I popped the cassette into the tape deck, and I was immediately blown away by every aspect of the music.  From the beginning there was something deeply alluring about Mark Hollis’s voice but, for the life of me, I couldn’t make out the lyrics, and there was no lyric sheet with the cassette.  I, however, listened to it so many times that I had the vocal cadence down pat, even if I didn’t know the words.

The following school year, July 1987-July 1988, I spent two semesters at the University of Innsbruck in Austria, and Kevin spent the same year in Rome.  That March (1988), we ventured together to London and stayed in a friend’s flat.  While in London, we visited EMI (trying to meet Talk Talk), Virgin, and Trident Studios.  At one point, we found ourselves in a record store, and the shop had a vinyl copy of The Colour of Spring, complete with lyrics on the sleeves.  I studied that sheet for nearly an hour.  To say that I was blown away would be the understatement of the year.  I was utterly gobsmacked by everything Hollis had to say.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried rather openly, so moved was I.  “Try to teach my children/To recognise excuse before it acts/From love and conviction to pray.”  These were words of immense love and immense integrity, words to live by.

I had already had a profound religious experience a month earlier in, of all places, central Morocco, and Kevin and I had talked theology nonstop.  Prior to February 1988, I was a proud (if idiotic) atheist and skeptic.  By April 1988, I was a full-blown Roman Catholic.  To ignore Hollis in all of this would be a crime and an absurdity.  My movement back to my childhood faith had Morocco, Kevin, and Hollis written all over it.

Tad: Brad, that is a very moving memory of yours; thank you for sharing it. I also didn’t really get into Talk Talk until The Colour of Spring, but they soon became one of my favorite groups. As a matter of fact, they are the reason you and I connected. Spirit of Eden is an all-time favorite album of mine, and I was bored one evening, so I did a search for reviews of it. I clicked on a link to something you wrote about it on a site called (I think) Stormfields. It resonated with me so much that I left a comment thanking you for your review. The next thing I knew, I had a friend request from you on Facebook, and the rest is history! So I also have a lot to thank Mr. Hollis for.

Erik, it is so cool to learn how you accessed music while in the military. You and I were listening to a lot of the same music, especially Once Upon A Time and Robert Plant. The Principle of Moments  is my favorite of his solo works.

Okay, here is my list of favorite albums from 1981. Not as many as in 1980, but still pretty extensive:

Genesis: Abacab
Squeeze: Argybargy
The Human League: Dare
King Crimson: Discipline
The Police: Ghost In The Machine
The Vapors: Magnets
Rush: Moving Pictures
Devo: New Traditionalists
Ultravox: Rage In Eden
Psychedelic Furs: Talk Talk Talk
B. B. King: There Must Be A Better World Somewhere
Joan Armatrading: Walk Under Ladders
Jaco Pastorius: Word of Mouth

Abacab is one of those albums that I never, ever, tire of. It’s just a perfect set of songs.

King Crimson’s Discipline kicked off my favorite iteration of this venerable prog group. Bill Bruford, Tony Levin, and Adrian Belew clicked perfectly with Robert Fripp.

The Vapors had a minor hit on their first album with “Turning Japanese”, but I always thought their followup album, Magnets, was much stronger. It sank without a trace, though.

We’ve discussed Ultravox’s Rage In Eden elsewhere here at Spirit of Cecilia.

I heard the title track to B B. King’s There Must Be A Better World Somewhere on the radio, and it moved me so much I immediately bought it. My poor roommate told me I had to be getting tired of listening to it, but I never did. I didn’t know anything about the blues, but this album really spoke to me. I got a group of friends to see him live with me, and we were pretty much the youngest and whitest people in the audience!

The production of Joan Armatrading’s Walk Under Ladders blew me away. The liner notes said Tony Levin and Jerry Marotta played on it (the same rhythm section as on Peter Gabriel’s Melt!) as well as synths by some guy named Thomas Dolby. Hmm…

I’ll go ahead and share my albums that define 1982 for me:

Prince: 1999
Roxy Music: Avalon
Laurie Anderson: Big Science
George Winston: December
Thomas Dolby: The Golden Age of Wireless
Elvis Costello: Imperial Bedroom
Adrian Belew: The Lone Rhino
Joe Jackson: Night and Day
Donald Fagan: The Nightfly
Richard and Linda Thompson: Shoot Out The Lights
Utopia: Utopia
Joni Mitchell: Wild Things Run Fast

Roxy Music’s Avalon is one of the finest albums ever produced. It doesn’t hurt that it is also  the album my future wife and I listened to frequently while we were first dating.

Laurie Anderson’s Big Science was a hit that shouldn’t have been – it’s really weird, with Anderson’s mostly spoken vocals, but for some reason it’s compulsively listenable.

George Winston’s December is a wonderful collection of solo piano pieces that are Christmas-related. One of the first “new age” albums (a classification Mr. Winston despised), it set a very high bar that has rarely been reached.

Donald Fagan’s The Nightfly remains one of the most immaculately produced albums ever made. The songs are delightful, and I still love to listen to them.

Shoot Out The Lights is an amazing set of songs by the guitarist for the British folk rock group Fairport Convention and his wife as their marriage was falling apart. It is both heartbreaking and beautiful.

Utopia was Todd Rundgren’s group, and their Utopia album is a really fun set of catchy power pop songs. It was a three-sided record: two vinyl discs, but one only had songs on one side! I think the label went bankrupt, and the album never got much distribution. If you like Beatlesque melodies, this is right up your alley.

Brad: Tad and Erik, I absolutely love your recollections.  Erik, I know I’ve told you this before, but I want to thank you for your service, especially during the absolutely critical Reagan years.  Our nuclear deterrent–especially our subs–were so essential to ending the Cold War.  Thank you for playing your part, above and beyond what most give.

Tad, I had forgotten that we initially bonded over Spirit of Eden.  That’s wonderful.  What a blessing your friendship has been.

There are still a few things I’d like to mention about college.  Again, Kevin is at the center of them.  First, during my junior and senior years of college, I had a Friday night prog show, which I goofily called “Nocturnal Omissions.”  Yes, I really did.  Of course, we were making fun of our sexuality, but I also wanted to have a show that played music most folks missed.  Not surprisingly, I played a ton of prog, even though I wasn’t really supposed to.  During the day, WSND 88.9 FM was a classical station, but at midnight, its format changed.  We were supposed to play only “college rock” or “alternative rock.” I did that, but I also played a ton of prog.  Our station reached Chicago, and I used to get a huge number of callers, usually guys five or ten years older who were stunned that anyone was still playing prog.  We did nights of nothing but Yes or Rush or Pink Floyd.  Hours and hours of it.  In between prog songs, we’d play XTC, English Beat, Blancmange, and Tears for Fears.  We also played lots and lots of Talk Talk, especially after Spirit of Eden came out and lots and lots of Kate Bush.  Interestingly enough, I purchased Spirit of Eden using station funds, and my station manager was upset because it only had four tracks on it!

Second, Kevin (yes, our Kevin) had the single most popular band on campus, St. Paul and the Martyrs.  They played almost every Saturday evening at Ted’s–our dance club on top of the student center.  And, every Saturday, I was front and center, dancing like a mad-man.  I was a terribly uncoordinated dancer–tall and gangly–but I decided early in high school, I would never give a damn what anyone thought of me and that I would have a blast.  And, lo and behold, I did!

As I think back to college, I think about deepening my old loves–especially Yes, Pink Floyd, Kate Bush, Simple Minds, and Kansas–but also adopting new ones, such as Talk Talk, Ultravox, The The, Psychedelic Furs, and The Sundays.

Tad: Brad, I didn’t know you did a stint as a radio DJ as well! I love the name of your program, and I’m surprised the station manager let you use it! The 80s were a wonderful time to be in college radio, because we had (relatively) free rein in terms of what music we played. I’m glad you mentioned The The, because their debut album, Soul Mining, was one I played a lot on WRVU in 1983. One of my favorite segues was between Martha and the Muffins’ track, “Several Styles of Blonde Girls Dancing” and The The’s “Uncertain Smile” – the former flowed perfectly into the latter.

Speaking of 1983 (how’s that for a segue?), here are my most-played albums from that banner year:

Yes: 90125
Vangelis: Antarctica Soundtrack
Brian Eno: Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks
R.E.M.: Chronic Town EP
Martha and the Muffins: Danse Parc
Everything But The Girl: Eden
Genesis: Genesis
Gang of Four: Hard
Paul Simon: Hearts and Bones
Tears for Fears: The Hurting
Bob Dylan: Infidels
Joan Armatrading: The Key
David Bowie: Let’s Dance
Mark Knopfler: Local Hero
XTC: Mummer
R.E.M.: Murmur
Robert Plant: The Principle of Moments
The Fixx: Reach the Beach
Stewart Copeland: Rumblefish Soundtrack
The The: Soul Mining
Steps Ahead: Steps Ahead
Eurythmics: Sweet Dreams
The Police: Synchronicity
Mark Isham: Vapor Drawings

Looking back at 1983, I realize that was the year I really got into ambient and space music. My local public radio station played Stephen Hill’s program, Hearts of Space, and I faithfully taped it every Thursday evening. That’s how I learned about Vangelis and Brian Eno’s Apollo. Mark Isham’s Vapor Drawings wasn’t ambient, per se, but I was familiar with him from Group 87 (see my 1980 notes). 

Besides being a great year for music, 1983 was the year I first met my future wife! We both loved Joan Armatrading, and we had the good fortune to see her live. Before the show, we were walking up to the auditorium when we saw Joan smiling and watching some skateboarding kids. We chatted with her, and she was really nice. When The Key was released, we ran down to the record store to buy it that day. I ended up working in that store while I was in graduate school.

Erik has already done a fine job extolling the greatness of 90125. I’ll just add that it and Roxy Music’s Avalon were the first compact discs I bought. I would play “Leave It” to demonstrate how quiet, crisp, and clear CDs were.

Paul Simon’s Hearts and Bones wasn’t a huge seller for him, but it remains a favorite of mine. He had just married Carrie Fisher, and it was full of romantic songs.

Steps Ahead was a jazz “supergroup” consisting of Michael Brecker (sax), Mike Mainieri (vibraphone), Eliane Elias (piano), and Peter Erskine (drums). They played a show at Vandy, and it knocked me out!

Finally, Mark Knopfler’s soundtrack to Local Hero remains one of the most haunting sets of Celtic-inflected ambient music ever recorded. It never fails to put me at peace whenever I listen to it. The movie itself is still one of my favorites – a very quirky comedy about a young oil company exec in Houston sent to acquire a coastal village in northern Scotland. 

Kevin: So fun reading your reflections, Bradley, on those years and fascinating how much we have in common, Tad! Early college (‘86-’88) were years of exploration for me. Besides all that Brad shared above, I also was amazed by the music of U2, XTC, the Police, Echo and the Bunnymen, particularly, Ocean Rain, which I hadn’t realized was such an amazing album–punk folk with string orchestra! 

After returning from a year abroad, Brad and I had our never-forget moment listening to his early copy of Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden. Also learning tunes for the college band introduced me to a lot of new music and older music that I had missed. Learning the music to perform the entirety of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon was quite a masterclass. We did lots of late 60’s/early 70’s rock including The Who, The Stones, The Beatles, Lou Reed, Steely Dan, Yes. But there was a lot of college radio music as well. We even covered Talk Talk’s “Desire” from the new album. The other players were quite talented and there wasn’t much we weren’t willing to give a try.

It was a formative time and between the band and Brad’s library and radio show it really expanded my listening palette immensely.

Brad: Kevin and Tad, loved your recollections.  Thank you both for those.  I will admit, though, that there were bands that I adored in college that didn’t last beyond college for me.  I was huge into A-ha and The Smiths.  Neither of those stuck.  But, bands like the Cure—especially when Disintegration (a top 10 album for me) did.  I also came to love Bryan Ferry, and I still do.

Tad: Kevin, I wish I could have seen your band perform! Brad, I think Bryan Ferry is one of the most talented artists of the twentieth century. Roxy Music was my favorite group all through high school and into college. I still love the Smiths; I think Morrisey’s lyrics are hysterical, and Marr’s melodies fantastic.

My final year in undergraduate school was 1984. By this time, I had a job at Cat’s Records, near Vanderbilt. We had lots of fun in-store events, and a huge import section. Working there exposed me to Cocteau Twins, The Blue Nile, Guadalcanal Diary, and countless other alternative groups.

Here’s my final list – favorite albums of 1984:

Let’s Active: Afoot EP and Cypress
Don Henley: Building the Perfect Beast
Thomas Dolby: The Flat Earth
Lindsey Buckingham: Go Insane
The Smiths: Hatful of Hollow
Howard Jones: Humans Lib
This Mortal Coil: It’ll End In Tears
dBs: Like This
Psychedelic Furs: Mirror Moves
Depeche Mode: Some Great Reward
David Bowie: Tonight
Cocteau Twins: Treasure
Michael Hedges: Aerial Boundaries

Let’s Active was led by Mitch Easter, who produced the first two R.E.M. albums. He recorded four near-perfect albums of jangly rock that are a blast to listen to.

I always thought Lindsey Buckingham was the secret sauce in Fleetwood Mac, and his second album, Go Insane, had everything that I liked best about his music: quirky lyrics, catchy melodies, and terrific guitar.

This Mortal Coil was a “supergroup” composed of artists on England’s 4AD label. Very moody and angsty, but Elisabeth Fraser’s song, Another Day, is three minutes of the most beautiful music ever recorded.

I know Bowie fans generally don’t like Tonight, but I love it. Loving the Alien is one of my favorite songs of his.

Michael Hedges was an acoustic guitarist, and his Aerial Boundaries completely changed the way people thought the guitar could be played. I assumed he recorded it by overdubbing himself on several tracks. Then I saw him live, and he played every song perfectly, by himself. It was jawdropping. He died much too young.

Carl: I’m late and last to this party, but perhaps that’s fitting as I’m a (very!) little bit younger than my elder brothers in musical arms. And while there is some overlap, I’m struck by the huge holes in my musical tastes in college and how different my limited tastes were in many ways (for example, I didn’t get into jazz at all until I was 25, around the same time I got married).

I graduated from a small town (Plains, Montana) high school in May 1987, and a month later I was attending a year-long art program, essentially an Associate’s degree in graphic design, in Phoenix. The culture shock was real. It was also, overall, good for me in many ways. My roommate was an Italian-American kid from San Diego, and one of our first conversations was about music. I was into Kansas, CCM/John Fogerty, and an assortment of contemporary Christian (CCM) artists, especially Petra, Matthew Ward, Whiteheart, David Meece, and others. He was a huge Rush fan, which was common ground, but also into Depeche Mode and New Order, who held little to no interest for me. In fact, most New Wave bands left me cold at the time, although certain songs broke through. 

In art classes, I sat next to Tim, a transplant from London with a glorious British accent. He was a musician, and he was, he told me, into “U2, the Smiffs, and the Baytills.” I recognized the first (I was a big fan of “Joshua Tree,” of course), then figured out the third (famous band from Liverpool that I rarely listen to), and had never heard of “The Smiths.” Bands such as The Smiths, The Cure, et al, did nothing for me and still don’t. But it was not an anti-British thing on my part, as I was an established fan of Yes, the Moody Blues, Queen, Asia, ELP, and GTR. Oddly enough, I never really listened to early Genesis, and rarely have.

What I discovered was that my schoolmates broke down into a couple of different musical camps. There was the heavy metal camp (Iron Maiden!), the alternative/punk folks (Butthole Surfers, anyone?), and the Top 40 crowd. My tastes tended to be either 10 to 20 years behind the times or far too Christian (Stryper, however, was an ecumenical choice for some). 

From 1988-1991, I attended two Christian schools: Northwest Nazarene College in southern Idaho, and Briercrest Bible College in southern Saskatchewan. My one year at NNC was a strange one in various ways, but it was there that I first heard Tracy Chapman’s fantastic debut album, dived deeply into the back catalog of Elton John (inspired by his live album recorded in Australia), and went even further down the Kansas, Kerry Livgren, A.D., Steve Morse, Dixie Dregs rabbit hole, which I still enjoy to this day.

My two years in Canada influenced and shaped me in many ways, including on the musical front. It was there that I was introduced to the stunning music of King’s X, the brilliance of Phil Keaggy, my favorite Paul Simon album (“The Rhythm of the Saints”) and Eric Clapton album (“Journeyman”) and Queensrÿche album (“Empire”), as well as a host of CCM artists, several of whom I got to see perform live at the school. I would single out King’s X as especially important, as they introduced me to tunings, sounds, lyrics, and wild marriages of metal, folk, gospel, and prog that changed how I heard and understood contemporary music, helping me to appreciate groups such as Living Colour, Porcupine Tree, Soundgarden, and Radiohead.

I could well be wrong and chronologically-biased, but I think that the late Eighties and early Nineties was the final great era of exceptional contemporary Christian music, with landmark works by White Heart (“Freedom”, 1989), Charlie Peacock (“The Secret of Time”, 1990; “Love Life”, 1991), The Choir (“Circle Slide”, 1990), King’s X (“faith hope love”, 1990), Russ Taff (“Russ Taff”, 1987; “The Way Home” 1989), Margaret Becker (“Immigrant’s Daughter”, 1989; “Simple House”, 1991), David Meece (“Candle In The Rain”, 1987; “Learning To Trust,” 1989), Ashley Cleveland (“Big Town,” 1991), Chagall Guevara (“Chagall Guevara,” 1991), among several others.

Finally, a few other artists figure prominently at that time for me. First, I wore out my cassette of Trevor Rabin’s “Don’t Look Away” (1989), which is an underappreciated work of musical art. Secondly, I listened to a lot (a LOT) of Steve Morse and Eric Johnson, and I never tire of hearing any and all music by both men. Third, I was introduced to the magical voice of Maria McKee, whose debut album came out in 1989, and then to my first real Van Morrison album, “Avalon Sunset,” which came out the same year. In fact, a classmate had me listen to both on the same day, a wonderful “twofer”! And I will always have wonderful memories of driving 12 hours across Montana and into Canada—often not seeing another car for many miles—while blasting Rush’s “Chronicles”.

At that point, I was 21, and I had yet to discover jazz, which has been my biggest musical love for 30 years, or the music of Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme, Sarah Vaughan, Ella Fitzgerald, and other greats. And Radiohead, Soundgarden, Porcupine Tree, and others were also on the horizon, along with some trips through trip-hop, electronica, ambient, and so forth. But those four years of college were filled with an abundance of memorable music, much of which I return to today. 

Tad: Well, dear readers, there you have it – some long and varied reminiscences of Spirit of Cecilia’s favorite music from their college days. The period from 1979 – 1995 was probably unique in the sheer variety of great music one could hear on the radio. We hope you enjoyed our little stroll down Memory Lane!

Music, Republic of Letters

Some Jazz Quick Takes

It’s a glorious Memorial Day afternoon – and, on this American holiday weekend, I’m looking back on five months of hearing and reflecting on America’s greatest musical invention. As always, there are plenty of worthwhile jazz albums (whether new or archival) easily in your reach; these are notable selections from what’s come to my attention so far this year. I’ve included listening links within album titles where available, along with a purchase link after my review where necessary.

The album I’ve turned to the most (despite being released only this past month) is the Jeff Parker ETA IVTet’s Happy Today. Recorded live at a congenial Los Angeles haunt, guitarist Parker, saxophonist Jeff Johnson, bassist Anna Butterss and drummer Jay Bellerose conjure two generous portions of sheer music from silence. Guitar riffs circle and morph; sax lines are looped into shimmering chords and textures; hovering above capacious, confident rhythm work, all four players constantly listening and reacting, moving together through gradual builds and sudden tempo shifts. Whether weaving around each other’s contributions in a supple dance (“Like Swimming”) or ascending a rainbow of tone colors to a light, sweet shuffle (the title track), there’s no hurry, no contention – just a collaborative climb to lofty, inspired heights. It’s a measure of how rich this album is that every time I listen, I want to hear it again!

Parker, Johnson and Buttress also lay down understated foundations on Flea’s solo album Honora. The Red Hot Chili Peppers’ bassist returns to his heritage as a jazz trumpeter here, and while he’s boned up in recent years, he knows he’s running with thoroughbred players. Flea’s vocal features on the album’s noisier bookends “A Plea” and “Free as I Want to Be” push straight to hot emotional extremes, but his trumpet work is cool and controlled (reflecting the influence of Chet Baker); his original compositions combine understated tension with winning introspection; and his choices of cover tunes (Funkadelic to Glen Campbell to Franks Ocean & Sinatra) and guest vocalists (Thom Yorke backed by a horn section! Nick Cave singing “Wichita Lineman”!) are uniformly surprising and superb. Not what you might have expected, and all the better for it.

Four years ago, I thought Immanuel Wilkins might be part of jazz saxophone’s future; after hearing his quartet’s breathtaking Live at the Village Vanguard, Vol. 1, I’m convinced he’s now the present, in every sense of the term. Taking one of NYC’s most famous clubs by storm, Wilkins and his quartet (endlessly inventive pianist Micah Thomas, rock-solid bassist Ryoma Takenaga, masterful drummer Kweku Sumbury) are all in their 20s and 30s, but they’ve already lit out beyond previously explored territory to map their own exuberant course; through the modernistic postbop of “Warriors”, the Bachian interplay of “Composition XII”, the deep-rooted, ecstatic gospel of Alice Coltrane’s “Charnam” and the two-part “Eternal” (a time-bending workout that collapses into hypnotic sub-toned minimalism), there’s elegance and earthiness, mind and heart in constant dialogue. The applause after each track is unforced, the audience reacting to the Quartet’s potential unfolding into assured maturity before their ears. (Vol. 2 & Vol. 3 are equally fine, but only available via downloads or streaming. Buy Vol. 1 at Blue Note Records, — or lobby ’em for a complete box set!)

In case you hadn’t heard, Miles Davis’ centennial is this year – this week in fact. There are plenty of reissues already out and still to come, with tributes aplenty following in their wake. The best of the latter I’ve heard so far is Gregory Hutchinson’s Kind of Now: The Pulse of Miles Davis. Drummer Hutchinson’s style as a Young Lion has blossomed into a strong yet tempered sense of groove, thoroughly assimilating the work of the amazing drummers who backed up Davis; here, he leads an all-star group on a wild ride from early bebop (“Ah-Leu-Cha”) through cool school (“Fran Dance”, “Seven Steps to Heaven”) and a quartet of enigmatic Wayne Shorter tunes (including “Orbits” and “Water Babies”) to the pioneering days of jazz-rock fusion (“Bitches’ Brew” and “Circle in the Round”). Ambrose Akinmusere’s thick, liquid trumpet, Ron Blake’s consummately attentive sax work, and Gerald Clayton’s versatile, tasty piano delight throughout; it’s impossible to know what they’ll do at any given moment, but always satisfying in the aftermath. Around and through it all, there’s Hutchinson’s drive, color and sense of space. This is a thoughtful take on the breadth of Miles’ achievement that’s consistently focused and gracious, but marvelously abstract and unpredictable as well. (Buy the CD from Amazon.)

And as always, Record Store Day has brought a clutch of archival releases courtesy of jazz detective Zev Feldman. On Feldman’s 15th production of Bill Evans, At the BBC, the music is exquisite as always, despite severe sonic limitations inherent in the original 1960s television broadcast. Evans and his current trio with Chuck Israels and Larry Bunker shift moods on a dime, using dynamics as a key component in their mutual ebb and flow. Even when they take an uptempo tune like “Nardis” or turn “Waltz for Debby” into a 4/4 swinger, the rapt contemplation at the core of ballads like “My Foolish Heart” and “Who Can I Turn To?” are still winningly present. (Buy the CD from Amazon.)

Pursuing an idiom 180 degrees away from Evans, Cecil Taylor demanded the same level of attentive listening via radically different means – a sidelong take on the jazz piano tradition that reveled in fractured time and tonality, extended compositional statements and improvisations, a nigh-incessant, athletic tsunami of notes too fast to separate. On Fragments, recorded live at a French festival in 1969, Taylor prowls the keyboard like a roaring lion, endlessly pouring out riffs, chords, clusters; saxophonists Jimmy Lyons and Sam Rivers dialogue with and echo Taylor and each other, overblowing and piling up hyperspeed motifs at a frenetic pace; drummer Andrew Cyrille miraculously cooks up a flow in the absence of any downbeat – turning, shifting, reacting, leaping ahead. The two takes of Taylor’s “Fragments of a Dedication to Duke Ellington” are 50 and 90 minutes long, and you’ll feel like you’ve run a marathon after you’ve listened. This isn’t for the faint of heart or the squeamish, but trust me: Taylor’s pioneering free jazz will open up your ears and brain even as they wear them down and possibly out. (Buy the CD from Amazon.)

— Rick Krueger

Music

The Branford Marsalis Quartet in Concert: Four Masters Playin’ Tunes

Hitting the St. Cecilia Music Center stage 20 years on from his last visit (and 40 years on from when I first heard him live with his brother Wynton, then with Sting), sax legend Branford Marsalis seemed relieved to have safely made it to Grand Rapids, just one night after two shows further north in snowbound Traverse City. (“Turned right at Cadillac and — whoa!! Where’s Santa?!?”)

But any fear that Marsalis’ tight quartet had been shaken by their brush with a spring blizzard soon vanished; loose and comfortable as their leader teased drummer Justin Faulkner about being the “birthday boy”, they were also focused and ready to play. With a flourish, pianist Joey Calderazzo launched into his postbop workout “The Mighty Sword” — and instantly, the band was in the moment, bringing the sold-out audience with them. Off the knotty head statement, Calderazzo built a two-handed solo to a simmering climax (both his legs were moving, too) that Branford took higher with volcanic soprano licks; meanwhile bassist Eric Revis pushed the pulse onward as Faulkner rolled and tumbled around and across his kit. On the edge of fully free expression, yet always locked into the underlying groove and listening hard to each other, the Quartet’s interplay was riveting and undeniable.

Keith Jarrett’s “‘Long As You Know You’re Living Yours” was up next. A funky highlight of Jarrett’s 1974 album Belonging (which the Quartet covered in full last year for Blue Note), it brought out a rambunctious streak in Branford, progressing from rhythmic subtones to frenetic sheets of sound; Calderazzo answered with deft, deeply swinging gospel. Which then dramatically transitioned into the rich lyricism of his “Conversation in the Ruins”, as both he and Marsalis took wing above Revis and Faulkner’s subdued, flickering rhythms.

Then, the history lesson. With Branford namechecking songwriter Fred Fisher (born Alfred Breitenbach in Germany before he emigrated to the USA), the Quartet timeslipped back to the primal years of jazz with “There Ain’t No Sweet Man That’s Worth the Salt of My Tears” (made famous by bandleader Paul Whiteman with Bix Beiderbeicke on cornet and Bing Crosby singing). Everyone soloed to powerful effect — Marsalis crooning on soprano, Revis gracefully, purposefully walking the bass, Faulkner delighting with a dynamic feast of accents and colors. It was only later that I realized: as bland, as polite – even as patronizing – as this music seems in retrospect, 100 years ago, it was on the cutting edge of American pop culture. Why not take it out for a spin today and see what happens?

“Why not?” turned out to be the throughline of everything the Marsalis Quartet did onstage, always leavened with affection for and attention to the music’s potential and each other. As the night went on, the crowd tuned into it, too: how Jarrett’s melancholic “Blossom” was elevated by Rives’ rhapsodic feature and Calderazzo and Branford’s insistent quotes from “Happy Birthday to You” (said one-upmanship bringing hysterical guffaws from Faulkner); how, nudged by the group’s thoughtful probing, Jimmy McHugh’s “On the Sunny Side of the Street” morphed from a hesitation shuffle through stop time to flat-out rock and back again.

And then, coming to an impasse onstage, Marsalis and Calderazzo asked the audience for multiple shows of hands : “Monk or Ellington?” (Branford after that vote: “Ellington wins. Ellington always wins.”) “Up or down?” (Up.) Which yielded a loping, speedy “It Don’t Mean A Thing (If It Ain’t Got That Swing)” as the last tune — and, announced as for the benefit of the “young musicians” from local high schools in the audience, a downtempo take on the same tune as the encore! Both ways, Branford smoked, Calderazzo swung, Rives flowed — but each drew on varying parts of their vocabulary, to vastly different effect. Though working in the same vein, Faulkner well and truly went to town throughout; his creatively minimalist solo choruses for the encore (first brushes on snare with quarter-note kicks, then entirely on floor tom, ranging from warm caresses to rim cracks to meaty thuds) proved an enticing riot of colors and syncopations. The standing ovations that followed each version were both earned and inevitable.

This lineup of the Branford Marsalis Quartet has worked together for more than a decade. As friend and fellow blogger Cedric Hendrix has observed, that’s rare in jazz circles; the consistent result, whether on record or live, is spectacular internal chemistry – which in turn provides extraordinary opportunities for the music to truly breathe, scaling ever-increasing heights of freshness, invention and resonance. To witness all that, generated by four masters at play, bringing a century’s worth of music to spectacular, technicolor life — well, it’s an experience I’m glad I shared with 600 + others last night!

— Rick Krueger

Music

Tad’s Best of 2025

Kruekutt set the table for looking back at 2025 with his excellent post listing his favorite classical and jazz releases of that year. In the same spirit, here are my favorite albums from 2025.

Maybe it’s a function of getting old, but I tended to stick with familiar artists this past year. There are a few that I trust to always produce excellent music, and I usually devote my limited listening time to keeping up with them. 

10. Steven Wilson: The Overview
I love everything Wilson releases, even his so-called “pop” albums. The Overview is unabashedly progressive, though, with two side-long tracks that overflow with beautiful melodies. Here’s a conversation Brad Birzer and I had about it.

9. Kevin Keller: Arcadia
This is more classical than rock, and it is simply beautiful. Here’s my review of it when it was first released.

8. Dave Bainbridge: On the Edge of What Could Be
Bainbridge is a phenomenal guitarist with an immediately recognizable style. He combines Celtic, jazz, and rock elements to create a unique sound. On the Edge of What Could Be is a double album chock full of fantastic songs.

7. The Flower Kings: Love
Another excellent album from the Flower Kings. I think they are making the best music of their long career. Here’s the conversation I had with Brad Birzer about our love for Love.

6. Gazpacho: Magic 8 Ball
Another one from some old favorites. However, they sound like they’re having a party this time! Here’s the link to our conversation about it.

5. Glass Hammer: Rogue
Speaking of old favorites, Glass Hammer is a perennial one! Rogue is a fascinating story of a man at the end of his life looking back. Here’s my longer review.

4. Karmakanic: Transmutation
Here’s a new one (for me, at least!). This album has spent quite awhile on my stereo, and I think it’s a beautiful work. Led by Jonas Reingold of Sweden, it features John Mitchell on vocals. The epic title track is terrific.

3. Jonas Lindberg and The Other Side: Time Frames
Another set of songs that is bursting with fun melodies and top notch musicianship. I had the pleasure of interviewing Jonas, and you can read it here.

2: Echolyn: TimeSilentRadioII & VII
Echolyn returns after a long absence with two of their best albums ever. The edit from “Water In Our Hands” is my favorite song of 2025. Here’s our conversation about these albums.

1. Lunatic Soul: The World Under Unsun
My favorite album of 2025 (at least for today!). A double disc of uniformly wonderful songs. Everything Mariusz Duda has done under the Lunatic Soul moniker comes to fruition on this fantastic album.

Check out the extraordinarily informative interview our own Erik Heter conducted with Duda here.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this list of albums from 2025 – it was a very good year! Let us know what your favorites were in the comments. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful 2026.

 

 

Music

Geddy Lee’s My Effin’ Life: Rush – Warts and All

I have been a big fan of the progressive rock group Rush since the early ’80s when “The Spirit of Radio” was all over the radio. In fact, Permanent Waves is probably my favorite Rush album. I also enjoy reading musicians’ autobiographies and getting a “behind the scenes” look at how their music is created. 

That said, Geddy Lee’s autobiography, My Effin’ Life, is somewhat of a disappointment. Lee is the bassist and vocalist of Rush; he and guitarist (and lifelong best friend) Alex Lifeson wrote almost all of the music to their vast catalog. Drummer Neil Peart was their lyricist. My Effin’ Life weighs in at a hefty 536 pages (the draft was allegedly 1200 pages!), and I was hoping to learn about the genesis of such classic songs as “Natural Science”, “Tom Sawyer”, and “The Big Money” among many others. Lee comes up short on the working details of how they composed their songs, but he doesn’t stint on describing how much and how often they all consumed drugs!

To continue reading, click here.

Faith, Music, Poetry, Republic of Letters

kruekutt’s 2025 Classical & Jazz Highlights

2 Comments

(Please note that links to online listening are included below, usually in the album title!)

I spent a good chunk of this year digging into the music of Dmitri Shostakovich (2025 was the 50th anniversary of his death). Living in Soviet Russia under Stalin’s iron regime, Shostakovich’s modernistic compositions faced unending attack from jealous rivals and government bureaucrats; public dissent would have been futile, resulting in imprisonment or death for himself and his loved ones. So his 15 symphonies (conducted by Latvian maestro Mariss Jansons in a splendid bargain reissue) walk a thin line between deadpan conformity laced with mocking undertones (#2 “The Fifth of May”, #11 “The Year 1905” and even #5, his most popular work) and striking outbursts of grief in the wake of World War II’s human costs (#7 “Leningrad”, #13 “Babi Yar”). Meanwhile, Shostakovich’s 15 string quartets, composed “for the desk drawer”, were where he let himself go, taking his tragic/satiric outlook to agonized, bleak extremes. In The Soviet Experience, an engrossing bargain box on Chicago’s Cedille label, The Pacifica Quartet (currently resident at Indiana University) provide forceful, rhapsodic performances of Shostakovich’s early quartets #1-4, the expressive, moving #5-8 and #9-12, and the ghostly, late #13-15, plus selected, comparable quartets by Russian contemporaries. If Shostakovich’s music sounds intriguing to you, either of these sets would be excellent ways to gain your footing for further exploration.

While my most memorable live classical experiences this year (first in Chicago, then in Cleveland) were orchestral, my favorite classical recording was choral: A Prayer for Deliverance, recorded live by the British choir Tenebrae under the direction of Nigel Short. Organized around rich, resonant settings of the Psalms and other texts of mourning and memorial, the program spans two centuries of music and a vast swath of feeling, from the brand-new title work (an anguished interpretation of Psalm 13 by African-American composer Joel Thompson) to Herbert Howells’ peacefully luminous Requiem (incorporating Psalms 23 & 121). It’s a powerful journey from the shock of death to the peace of acceptance — and the hope of resurrection. And since I was privileged to hear the choir of St. John’s College Cambridge when their US tour came to Grand Rapids last spring, I can heartily recommend their fine new Christmas disc O Holy Night (the first spearheaded by the choir’s current director Christopher Gray), centered on Howells’ lush and gorgeous Three Carol-Anthems and Francis Poulenc’s solemnly beautiful Christmas Motets.

Moving to jazz, my favorite disc of the year has to be pianist Brad Mehldau’s deep dive into the songs of acoustic-grunge cult figure Elliott Smith, Ride into the Sun. Laying down a marker in his eloquent liner notes, Mehldau describes Smith’s work as “sublime music that holds a mirror to our sadness and breathes beauty and meaning into it”. And from a breath-snatching opening take on “Better Be Quiet Now” to the serene two-part title track (plus side quests into similar cult faves Big Star and Nick Drake), Mehldau and his numerous guests prove the point again and again; steeped in late Romantic harmonies and subtly swinging all the while, they unerringly steer Smith’s melodies through the heart of darkness to the sweet consolations of art reflecting on that pain. (Want to hear Smith’s originals? I highly recommend his 1997 indie release Either/Or, where you can hear him straining at the expressive limits of low-fi, and his 1998 major label debut XO, where he unleashes his inner McCartney/Brian Wilson in a dizzying display of studio shock and awe.)

But I have to say that Somni, the latest live collaboration between jazz-fusion big band Snarky Puppy and The Netherlands’ Metropole Orkest isn’t far behind Mehldau’s tribute to Smith. A more noir take on the filmic funk of previous collaboration Sylva (reissued last year, alongside the Puppy’s most popular live-in-studio recording We Like It Here), there’s an embarrassment of riches here, with band and orchestra deployed like interweaving chamber groups, ear-catching fades and dissolves between themes, scorching virtuoso solos on every track, and an endless variety of rhythms. The CD/BluRay version brings the added dimension of watching the musicians (playing in the round) in the moment, from a gently grooving Metropole harpist to Bobby Sparks II’s scorching clavinet/whammy bar solo on “Chimera” to Snarky’s four (!) drummers and three (!) percussionists playing off each other to ecstatic effect on postmodern blues “Recurrent”. The best capture of how immersive live music can be that I’ve seen and heard all year.

And crowding in just behind Mehldau and the Puppy is Touch, the return of Chicago arty post-rock pioneers Tortoise after a nine-year hiatus. Crisply, consistently melodic, the veteran quintet (including avant-jazz guitar ninja Jeff Parker) is subtly beguiling, even gentle at times; but the taut, understated rhythms and layers of textural grit underneath are what hold your attention. From the tolling “Layered Presence” through the ear-grabbing gear shifts of “Axial Seamount” and the squiggly/snarly/wispy “Oganesson” to the levitating movie-theme finale “Night Gang”, this is a fully collaborative vision, always straining toward unlimited vistas, pushing beyond the horizon of what most instrumental groups can conceive. Explore it along with Tortoise’s back catalog; I have a hunch you won’t be sorry!

And these other releases well worth checking out:

  • Disquiet, three discs of extended, hypnotic studio improvs from the minimalist/ambient/jazz Australian piano trio The Necks.
  • Motion II, where Blue Note Records all-star quintet Out Of/Into return with a fabulously consistent, frequently thrilling follow-up to last year’s excellent debut.
  • Off the Record, the newest mash-up from drummer/beatmaster Makaya McCraven, collecting four digital EPs that span a decade. Taking live improvs alongside Tortoise’s Jeff Parker, Out Of/Into’s Joel Ross on vibraphone and British tuba virtuoso Theon Cross (among other huge talents) into the studio, McCraven works hip-hop production magic on dates from Los Angeles (PopUp Shop), hometown Chicago (Hidden Out!), London (Techno Logic) and New York (The People’s Mixtape) recomposing, overdubbing, flying in other instruments and looping key beats for maximum impact. The results are unstoppably propulsive, coolly thoughtful and thoroughly enjoyable even at their wildest.
  • Joni’s Jazz, a four-disc offshoot of Joni Mitchell’s ongoing Archive series. Mitchell comes by her jazz pretensions honestly, claiming Miles Davis as an early muse, working with bass titan Charles Mingus in his final months, and regularly collaborating with Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter over the decades. There are more than a few tedious moments here, where Mitchell swaps out her melodic gift to climb on her lyrical soapbox;, but there are numerous highlights that compensate: check the loose swing of early classics like “Marcie” or “In France They Kiss On Main Street”; the numerous peaks of Mitchell’s genre explorations from Court and Spark through Mingus; later big-band collaborations (“Both Sides Now”); and oddities like “Love” and “The Sire of Sorrow (Job’s Sad Song)” where Mitchell languidly chants paraphrased Scripture while Shorter takes flight above her.

— Rick Krueger

Music

Gazpacho’s Magic 8 Ball: A Magical Musical Showcase

Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, we share our thoughts on the latest album from a group we have long admired – Norway’s Gazpacho.

Tad: Brad, the first Gazpacho album I picked up was Missa Atropos (2010), and I have to admit, I couldn’t get into it. Jan-Henrik Ohme’s vocals seemed kind of weird, and none of the songs had memorable melodies, to my ears. However, on your recommendation, I bought their fourth album, Night (2007), and I fell in love with it. Their use of repetitive riffs throughout the entire album had a hypnotic effect on me, and it remains a favorite of mine.

They’ve just released their twelfth album (not counting a few live sets), Magic 8 Ball, and I think it is one of their best. It sounds like they have decided to embrace their talent for writing excellent “pop”-style songs, and this album includes eight thoroughly enjoyable tracks. After the deep and  philosophical musings of 2020’s Fireworker, Magic 8 Ball strikes me as a more lighthearted and accessible offering. I love it!

Brad: Tad!  Always a pleasure, my awesome friend.  And, to imagine that we get time to talk and write about things we absolutely love.  Life doesn’t get much better than this.

Yeah, I’m just a few years short of two decades of loving Gazpacho.  Sometime in the early 2000s, I really fell in love with Kscope and started purchasing everything the label was putting out.  To this day, I have a pretty strong Kscope collection.  

At the time, if you remember, the label was also putting out samplers.  On one of those samplers, in 2007, I was exposed to Gazpacho’s Night, and I purchased it immediately.  To say that I was taken with it would be an understatement.  Though I have loved everything Gazpacho has released, Night and Tick Tock remain my absolute favorites–standards by which I not only judge Gazpacho but all bands and all prog.  Once I encountered Night, I went back and purchased Bravo, When Earth Lets Go, and Firebird.  Those first three are much more art pop and art rock than their later stuff.  Beginning with Night, the only real way to describe their music is prog or post-prog.  

To be sure, I’ve never missed an album.  Each new release is a treat, to be sure.  Crazily enough, I even bought Introducing Gazpacho–a best of collection–simply because I wanted to support the band.  I even have a specific shelf in my home office in which I display my most prized music.  Gazpacho sits beautifully next to my Talk Talk, Big Big Train, Marillion, The Flower Kings, and Glass Hammer collections.

Somewhat infamously (at least in my household and with my wife), I was so taken with Fireworker at St. Croix, the previous Gazpacho album, that after purchasing the stand-alone CD, I purchased the blu-ray of the album.  Then, I was so taken with the blu-ray, I purchased the deluxe book/boxset of the album.  So, I have all three different versions of that glorious album!  So, yes, I’m a bit of a Gazpacho nut.

Now we have Magic-Eight Ball and it fits into its own category.  Indeed, this new album strikes me as a cross between their prog and post-prog albums post Night and their art pop albums, pre Night. The first five tracks really fit well within the prog and post-prog realm, but the last three tracks–especially “Magic Eight Ball” and “Immerwahr”–really feel like the first few albums.  That is, they’re more art pop or art rock than prog or post-prog.

That said, I really love this new album, though on my first few listens, I was a bit taken aback by “Magic Eight Ball” and “Immerwahr.”  I’m just no longer used to Gazpacho being pop!

Tad: Brad, I think you’ve hit on something – Magic 8 Ball really is a summation of what Gazpacho has done, going back to the beginning. Let’s talk about the songs themselves. The album opens with the stately “Starling”, which pulls me in with Ohme’s warm and intimate vocals. The instrumentation is primarily piano with some gorgeous violin work from Mikael Krømer. There is a sense of longing to the melody as it slowly builds in intensity. By the end of its 9-minute length, the guitars are roaring, but it’s never overwhelming. I love the gentle closing lyrics: Oh, let us be reborn. It’s one of my favorite opening tracks in the entire Gazpacho discography.

The second track, “We Are Strangers”,  is one of my favorites of the album, and it’s a great choice for a single. Don’t laugh, but when I first heard it, I kept thinking it reminded me of something, and then it hit me: the chord changes and Ohme’s vocals are very much in the vein of classic Duran Duran! I mean that as a compliment; I think Duran Duran made some of the best pop music of the ‘80s.

The third track, “Sky King” is another relatively hushed and intimate track. Once again, Gazpacho has come up with an incredibly beautiful melody that is sung with delicacy by Ohme. Even when Jon-Arne Vilbo’s guitars come crashing in, it sounds like Ohme is whispering in my ear. The mix of this album is masterful – every instrument is clearly delineated, even during moments of glorious guitar-heavy noise. 

So, three tracks in, and I’m already hopelessly in love with this album! 

Brad: Thanks, Tad.  An excellent analysis.  I love how track four, “Ceres,” begins with a haunted-sounding piano, and it continues throughout the song.  The rhythm of the song is extraordinary, especially the percussive elements mixed with the vocals.  The whole thing sounds simply driving, but in a properly gentle way.

Track five, the bizarrely titled “Gingerbread Men,” in contrast to the previous track, begins hesitatingly, playfully hinting at a loss of direction, before the guitar comes confidently in and persuasively centers the song.  There’s some really unusual sounds–maybe someone playing piano strings as percussion?  I like the lyrics, though I’m not sure what they’re supposed to mean:

Through the haze
Swallows flying high
While we sleep
In a world of steel
There’s no peace

It is my belief
That my life has been discreet
Door slammed shut
The big bad wolf of night
Fragments of hope in this endless climb
Lit up by traffic lights
Broken dreams
Parading gingermen
Aftermath
Turn away
From them

And:

And now the cars go by
Silver ghosts
Of all the gingermen
Washing out
Washed away
With the rain

You bettеr pack a suitcase
Escape beyond thе city limits
Or watch your old self disappear
Before the end is writ in dough
It can only be delayed

Track six, “Eight Ball” is shocking and discordant, only because it’s so poppy, contrasting with not only most of Gazpacho’s post-Night music but with the first half of this album in particular.  Indeed, “Eight Ball”’s actually downright whimsical, something that would not be out of place in an 1890’s carnival or early twentieth-century musical.  I’m getting Ray Bradbury vibes, mixed with some animated classic Disney!  Despite being poppy, “Eight Ball”’s really good, and it makes me realize that I should never box Gazpacho into any particular category.

The poppy feel continues with the seventh track, “Immerwahr,” though not the whimsy.  This sounds a lot like a Marillion song–especially with the guitar on it.  I especially like the lyrics:

Leaving Chekhov in the drawer
Throw the bankers at the window
Where the panic and the fear
Palest moonlight ever
Silver everywhere
Was the greater meaning
Hiding in the past
Did we send it all to bed
While the spirits of the poor
Jitterbug on judgement day

Track eight, “Unrisen,” finishes the album.  While more poppy than the first five tracks of the album, it’s the least poppy of the final three songs.  The strings are especially gorgeous, and I had no idea if they’re real or synthesized.  There’s a definite playful quality to the keyboards, too.  And, once again, I really like the lyrics, though I’m not sure what they mean.

Now you’re an astronaut lost in endless universe
Within thosе lines are older days of othеrs, I withhold the nameless why
In glass and velvet green

Mystic cryptic secret whispers
Let them be the dreamless sleep for you

See how they drift in clouds and
See how they smile
Higher, higher into the deep blue
Sail the sea of tranquility

They remind me of the lyrics from the earliest Gazpacho albums.

Tad, I’m not sure how to conclude this.  I really like the new Gazpacho, and I think it’s a fine addition to their output as a whole.  What really draws me to Gazpacho, though, are their concept albums.  As such, while I’ll certainly and happily return to Magic-Eight Ball, I’ll probably return more often to Night, Tick Tock, Missa Antropos, etc.

Tad: Brad, thank you for sharing those lyric excerpts. I have a hard time understanding the meaning of most Gazpacho songs; I think they aim more for a mood or atmosphere than for a specific message.

I’m glad you noted the whimsical nature of the title track – when I first heard it, I also thought of a carnival ride! It’s somewhat unique in their catalog, and I like it a lot. Now that you mention it, I think the entire album is suffused with whimsy, including the title. Did you ever have one of those magic 8 ball toys? You asked a question, shook it, and an answer would float up to a little window: “Maybe”, “Definitely so”, etc.

I’d like to also give some praise for the opening bars of the closing track, “Unrisen”. With the keyboards and violin accompanying Ohme’s vocals, it sounds downright baroque to my ears – like something Vivaldi or Thomas Tallis might have composed. I swear, I can even hear a harpsichord in the background! Anyway, that’s just an example of the many musical delights I’m enjoying on this album.

While I share your love for their concept albums, I think Magic 8 Ball is one of their strongest collection of tunes. They sound really energized and confident on every track, and I am impressed with how they keep pushing the envelope after twelve albums. Here’s to hoping they record many more!

Music

Kate Bush’s Aerial Turns Twenty

Tad: Hello, Brad! Brad recently pointed out that Kate Bush’s album, Aerial, has turned 20 which is a good excuse to have a conversation about it. I have enjoyed seeing all the new fans Ms. Bush has acquired thanks to the inclusion of “Running Up That Hill” in the soundtrack of Stranger Things. That song is off my favorite album of hers, The Hounds of Love, but Aerial is a close second, in my estimation.

The two discs have different titles: Aerial: A Sea of Honey, and Aerial: A Sky of Honey. Listening to them recently rekindled my love for this sprawling set of songs. As a math teacher, I have to express my love for the track, “Pi”, in which Kate recites the digits of that ineffable irrational number and makes it sound seductive.

Brad: Hello, Tad!  So great to be talking with you.  A pleasure and an honor.  I’m writing this on the Feast of All Souls, the weather is gorgeous, and I got to sleep in an extra hour this morning.  It all seems so appropriate as I praise Kate Bush.

I have fond memories of first hearing about Bush in 1985.  I had missed her earlier albums, but I very well remember the release of Hounds of Love in the early fall of 1985.  It was my senior year of high school, and I was utterly blown away not only by side one–especially “Running Up That Hill,” “Hounds of Love,” “Big Sky,” and “Cloud Bursting.”  It was side two, “The Ninth Wave,” however, that completely gobsmacked me.  Here was pure unadulterated prog, all from an incredibly talented pop mistress.  I was in love (it didn’t hurt that Bush is incredibly attractive and possesses an angelic voice).

A year later, during my first semester at the University of Notre Dame, the compilation, The Whole Story, came out.  It, too, was excellent, and it made me start looking through Bush’s previous albums.  

Then, my very close friend, Greg Scheckler, now a renowned professional artist in New England, made for me a mixed tape of everything prior to Hounds of Love, complete with Greg’s own doodles.  It was glorious, and I wore that tape out!  Too bad–given Greg’s subsequent fame, his doodles might very well be worth something.  

Two years later, in the spring of 1988, one of my favorite movie directors, John Hughes, came out with one of his best films, She’s Having a Baby, and during the most emotional moment of the movie, Hughes used (and commissioned, I assume) Bush’s “This Woman’s Work.”  As much as I had loved Bush prior to this, this song and scene solidified my permanent loyalty to Bush.  Yes, at that point, I became obsessed with her as an artist.  And, I remain so to this day.

Though I very much liked The Sensual World and The Red Shoes, it was 2005’s Aerial that, once again, gobsmacked me.  Disk one was truly clever prog-pop, artistic to the nth degree, but it was disk two that blew me away.  42 minutes of pure prog, akin to what Bush had done with “The Ninth Wave,” but perhaps even better.  I loved side two, “A Sky of Honey,” that I played it on my iPod night after night as I fell asleep.  At the time, I was working on my biography of Christopher Dawson, and I was having a heck of a time shutting down my brain and sleeping.  Aerial: A Sky of Honey worked wonders on me–calming me down and serving as a potent but non-addictive Ambien!

Tad: Well, Brad, I didn’t immerse myself in Kate Bush’s music as much as you did – I think I was negatively influenced by that infamous Rolling Stone Record Guide that panned her work and compared her voice to a vacuum cleaner! Needless to say, I’ve revised my opinion of practically every artist those small-minded critics at RS dismissed.

Anyway, my thoughts on disc one of Aerial are all positive (with the exception of “Mrs. Bartolozzi”, which is a little too maudlin for me). “King of the Mountain” starts off sounding like a Windham Hill album with its synthesized/indigenous rhythms, and I absolutely love the way it transforms into a straight-ahead rocker. It’s a fantastic opener! I’ve already mentioned how much I like “Pi”, and the other highlight of the first disc is “How To Be Invisible”, another great rock song with a snaky, bluesy guitar hook that is wonderful. Her vocals dance over, under, and around the other instruments and demand I pay attention to her. It’s a wonderful song that I can listen to over and over again. “Joanni” and “A Coral Room” lower the temperature a bit and are a nice way to close out the disc.

I wonder if Ms. Bush would say she’s been influenced by Joni Mitchell? “A Coral Room” in particular sounds like late-70s Mitchell to my ears. 

Brad, give us your thoughts on disc one of Aerial, and start the discussion of disc two!

Brad: It’s worth remembering that when Aerial came out in November 2005, Bush hadn’t released anything since 1993’s The Red Shoes.  That’s a huge gap.  Beautifully, Bush spent those years raising her family rather than pursuing her career.  

Still, that was a long, long time for her fans to wait.  To be sure, though, it was worth waiting for.  

I really don’t know which album is better, Hounds of Love or Aerial.  When I list my all-time favorite albums (and I always list them without letting any artist/band have more than one entry), I always list Hounds of Love.  Most recently, I listed it as my 12th favorite album of all time.  I could just’ve as easily named Aerial.  I guess, in the long run, they’re pretty interchangeable in the grand scheme of excellence.

Like you, Tad, I thoroughly love disk one.  The Elvis-like confident sway of “King of the Mountain,” the quirky intensity of “Pi”, the Renaissance sound of “Bertie,” the insistence of the washing machine of “Mrs. Bartolozzi,” the truly clever pop of “How to be Invisible” with its incredible basslines, the profound and fetching tribute to St. Joan of Arc in “Joanni,” and the deep despair mixed with hope in the melancholic “A Coral Room” all contribute to this masterpiece of a release.

I think that what impresses me most about Bush is that she is always her own person, her own artist.  She sounds only, gloriously, like Kate Bush, even when she’s playfully imitating Elvis on the first track of the album.

But, for me, it’s disk two that makes this album truly extraordinary.  At 42 minutes, “A Sky of Honey” is simply perfection itself.  When folks talk about albums that demand headphones for a full appreciation, this is that album!  

From the child whispers and bird sounds of the opening moments to the anticipatory keyboards and string to Bush’s lush vocals with meaningful lyrics to the spoken expositions, this is a complete and total celebration of life in all its varied mysteries and profound wonders.  

Tad, as you and I have talked about, it’s often the bass that makes a great album a great album.  The bass work on “A Sky of Honey” is spectacular.  Combined with Bush’s vocal lilt, everything builds and builds until the music itself is ready to explode–the tension as thick as can be–in the last 15 or so minutes of the album.  Stunning.  Just simply stunning.

If Bush had released “A Sky of Honey” as a stand-alone album, I have no doubt that it would rank up there with Close to the Edge or The Colour of Spring.

Tad: Brad, you hit on something crucial when it comes to understanding Kate Bush; you said “she is always her own person, her own artist”. I remember reading an article about the recording of Hounds Of Love, and her record label was worried about marketing it, because it was so different from her earlier work. I believe she recorded it in her home studio, and she completely disregarded her label’s suggestions (to our benefit, I would add!). She is an artist who is fearless and blazes her own trail, not giving any thought to current musical fashions. Will people be listening to Taylor Swift’s music 50 years from now? I doubt it. Will people be listening to Kate Bush’s? Absolutely!

As far as my thoughts on “A Sky Of Honey”, I am in complete agreement with you. I think of it as a musical suite that chronicles a day – the chirping birds in the intro are greeting the dawn, and it closes with “Nocturn”. However, I’m not sure how the title track, “Aerial”, fits in with my theory! It’s a fairly raucous track that, as you so aptly describe it, is ready to explode.

Also, thank you for pointing out that “Joanni” is referring to St. Joan of Arc. Once I understood that, it clicked into place. 

And so, dear readers, if you aren’t familiar with Aerial, we recommend you check it out. It is timeless and beautiful music!

Music

An Interview with Jonas Lindberg

Jonas Lindberg & The Other Side’s 2022 album, Miles From Nowhere, burst onto the prog scene and made a lot of “Best of” lists. They are about to release the follow-up, Time Frames, and it does not disappoint. Lindberg was kind enough to take a few minutes and chat with me via Zoom.

Hi Jonas, thanks for taking the time to talk with me about your new album. Miles from Nowhere was my favorite album of 2022, and I am liking Time Frames just as much. Was the recording process for Time Frames the same as for Miles From Nowhere?

Pretty much – the recording process is the same, which means I do a full production demo, and then remove the drums. So Jonathan [Lundberg] records the drums, and he sends them to me, and I record almost everything, and then I go around and record vocals and lead guitars with the others.

So, the difference this time is that I actually have a studio to work in! I actually have recorded this one entirely in the studio. With Miles From Nowhere, most of my overdubs were recorded in my living room. So that’s the difference!

Well, Miles From Nowhere still sounds good, for being recorded in your living room!

Yes, it’s about where to put the mikes, and to understand that the room sounds weird.

I came of age in the ’70s, and I loved artists like Todd Rundgren, Boston, and Styx, and I’m hearing a lot of that style of rock in your music. Am I off-base with that?

Probably not. I haven’t listened to a lot of that, really. My influences are more – in the progressive genre – more Spock’s Beard. But they have probably listened to those bands, you know. I got that question earlier – it’s like it’s a new generation of influences. Of course, Pink Floyd has always been a big influence for me.

Yes, I can definitely hear early Spock’s Beard in your music. 

So, what are some of the lyrical topics in Time Frames?

Well, I tend to write about things that have happened to me. If I don’t have a clear idea what I want to write about, I take something that is evident or around me at the time. Some of the lyrics ended up being about parenting, you know, or my daughter, because I was on parental leave when I wrote the lyrics. A lot of the lyrics come from thoughts or things that happened during that time. So that might be a kind of overarching topic. But then you also have something like “Galactic Velvet”, for example, that’s completely different – it’s about space! [Chuckle]

I’m glad you brought that up; that’s one of my favorite songs. I love Jenny Storm’s singing on that. 

Yeah, she’s awesome. She’s really easy to work with, and she’s also incredibly fast at getting the right takes. For example, she sings a part in “The Wind” – the epic – her performance there was done in three takes.

What other musicians besides Jenny are on the new album?

Well, mostly friends of mine from university days. Jonas [Sundqvist], who is the other lead vocalist, we’ve known each other going back twenty years ago. We’re always writing music together, and we hang out together. We found each other through a Sting project that he had, doing Sting covers. And we went to school with Nicklas Thelin, who plays guitars; we went to the same classes at university. There’s Jonathan on drums, who I got to know better when I moved down to Stockholm and we ended up playing in a few different projects. Around the same period I met Calle [Schönning], the other guitar player who plays most of the lead guitar on the album. He’s just an incredible guitar player. Everything he plays, you know, everything is great! And then, also of course, my brother, [Joel Lindberg] plays guitar on a couple of songs. And my girlfriend Maria Olsson plays percussion.

Do you guys have any plans to tour?

I hope so, but it’s hard to tour, because I don’t really have a booking agent to make that happen. So I’m kind of doing everything myself! Right now, I’m more focusing on releasing the album, and then I’m planning on doing at least one or a couple of release concerts, somewhere in Sweden some time next year – I’m aiming for springtime. Then we’ll have to take it from there and see what happens. – how the album is received, you know.

Maybe you could do a pay-per-view streaming concert, or something like that.

Yeah, some kind of live film I’ve had in my head. Just an idea, but I haven’t anything set in stone – I’m just sketching at this point.

What are you listening to right now, besides your own music?

Right now, I’m in a little Steven Wilson period. I’ve been listening back through his catalog. When I was mixing this album, The Overview came out. And, being a fan of Pink Floyd, I was like, “Oh! Yes! That’s perfect for me.” Then I started going back, and I found all these albums that I had never listened to. That’s what I’ve been doing, mostly.

I’ve been a Steven Wilson fan since his Porcupine Tree days. I think my favorite solo album of his is his first, Insurgentes.

I haven’t gotten that far back yet!

Anything else you’d like to share, Jonas?

Go check out the album at my website, and I hope you like it!

Many thanks to Jonas for taking the time to talk with me, and we wish him lots of success with this new album – it’s really good! If you love progressive rock with a classic rock feel, you will not be disappointed with Time Frames. It is already one of my favorite albums of the year.

Jonas Lindberg and the Other Side’s official website is:  www.lindbergmusic.com/shop

Here’s the video for the single “Faces Of Stone”:

Music

Lifesigns Live In The Netherlands: Instantly Classic Prog

The British group, Lifesigns, released a 2-disc live album recorded in the Netherlands back in 2023. Brad and Tad have a conversation about why this is a fantastic live album and why Lifesigns is a fantastic group.

Tad: Brad, I’m so glad you suggested we review this album. It’s been out a couple of years, but it didn’t get the attention it deserves. I became a fan of Lifesigns when they released Altitude in 2021, which was one of my favorite albums of that year. Live In The Netherlands features live renditions of almost that entire album, which is definitely a plus!

On listening to it, I am impressed with how well they replicate the studio versions of the songs, while adding a lot of energy. 

Brad: Thanks so much, Tad.  From what I can tell, Lifesigns is pretty huge in Europe but just does get enough attention here in the U.S.  Our loss!  Back when we were at Progarchy, John Young got ahold of me and let me know about Lifesigns.  I knew about Young, of course–he’s a huge name in the prog and rock worlds–and I was honored, to be sure, to communicate with him.  He’s not only a gentleman, but I believe he is truly a good, good soul.  And, obviously, what a talent.  So, I’ve been proudly following Lifesigns from the beginning, being introduced to them with their first amazing album, the self titled Lifesigns.  

My first and lasting impression of that album is that it’s one of prog joy, much more closely related to, say, a Transatlantic album, than, say, Storm Corrosion.  There’s a real beauty as well as real innocence to the music that I deeply admire.  

When I say it’s related to Transatlantic, I don’t mean in sound, but in atmosphere.  While I wouldn’t call Lifesigns a Christian band, I would say they’re most certainly not adverse to Christianity and all it entails.  And, the fact that the openly Christian Dave Bainbridge is now a part of the band certainly doesn’t hurt this reputation.  It’s definitely not an in-your-face Christianity like some of Neal Morse’s work tends to be, but rather music and lyrics inspired by Christianity.  Again, the best way I can explain it is that Lifesigns radiates joy.

There’s also something humorous about what I just said.  When I became Facebook friends with John Young, back in 2013, I also became friends with the first bassist of the band, Nick Beggs.  Beggs, of course, is well known in the prog world, especially given his work with Steven Wilson.  Almost immediately after I became friends with Beggs, he posted a number of pictures of himself in the buff.  I will admit, I was utterly shocked and, in no uncertain terms, made my horror quite plain on social media!  Ha.  There’s a puritan streak in me, to be sure.  Young, however, gently reprimanded Beggs and suggested this might not be the best way to introduce the band to the public.  It all turned out well.

Tad: Brad, that is hilarious! Beggs is definitely a prankster, but he is an amazingly talented bassist.

Let’s talk about Lifesign’s Live In The Netherlands. It features an excellent playlist, with the first half of the show devoted to old favorites like “N” and “At the End of the World”. It’s the second half that really gets me excited, where they perform the entire Altitude album. They are an incredibly tight unit, and Dave Bainbridge really shines on guitar.

Like you, Altitude was a favorite of mine the year it came out, and I immediately picked up all of their other albums. I still think Altitude is their best, but they haven’t released a weak album to date. I love the title track, which runs a generous 15:49, but never lags. John Young does a fantastic job on keyboards and vocals. “Last One Home” is one of my all-time favorite songs, regardless of genre. I think it is just beautiful in its perfect melding of song and lyrics. The version on Live In The Netherlands is outstanding, with Bainbridge turning in a wonderful guitar solo reminiscent of Gilmour at his best. 

It’s interesting you find Lifesigns reminding you of Transatlantic, and I can certainly hear that in terms of atmosphere, as you say. When I listen to Lifesigns, I am reminded of the classic prog band, UK – especially their eponymous debut album that featured Alan Holdsworth on guitar. I think it’s because Young’s vocals remind me of the late, great John Wetton’s. Also, Young’s melodies have a way of turning a phrase that brings to mind late ‘70s prog. 

Anyway, I think for someone who enjoys melodic and uplifting prog, Lifesigns is hard to beat, and Live In The Netherlands is the perfect introduction to their music. It covers the best songs from their first two albums as well as including an excellent performance of their complete third album. Lifesigns doesn’t have much music on the streaming services, so I encourage people to support them by buying hard copies of their albums. 

Brad: Tad, what a great analysis.  I’d not thought of Lifesigns resembling late 1970s proggers like UK.  Now that you’ve said that, I can’t unsee it.  I think you’re absolutely right.  Maybe John Young has a particular 1970s sound that I’ve never quite realized. 

Again, for me, it’s best summed up as “joy” rather than overly precious or overly intricate or overly self-involved.  For whatever reason, John Young and his music inspires me to be a better person, to approach my own art with a love of life and a gratitude for all that made my own life possible.  Hence, I think of it as being Christian adjacent rather than out and out Christian.  Again, we know Bainbridge’s Christianity, but if someone told me that Young was also serious about his faith, I wouldn’t be surprised.

And agreed, Lifesign’s three (only three!) studio albums are all excellent, and I very much love the two live releases.  I suppose, if pushed, I would say that Lifesigns (the debut album from 2013) is my favorite, only because it was my introduction to them.  In terms of quality of music and lyrics and vocals, I would rank all three equally.  Again, this music just makes me want to be a better person. 

We haven’t explicitly mentioned Cardington, and I would like to praise that album as well for being every bit the equal of Lifesigns and Altitude.

If I had one complaint, it would be that I want more Lifesigns music!  Call me greedy, but I would love more than three albums over a decade.  Still, I’m sure that John has a ton of things going on, so I’m deeply appreciative of what we do have.

Though I’d not thought of this as having a late 1970s sound until you mentioned it, I would love for more prog to have this feel and atmosphere to it.  There are a hundred Radiohead and Porcupine Tree inspired bands, where are the John Young inspired bands?  I would love more of this kind of music: classy and classic, beautifully constructed, and majestically orchestrated.  The lyrics are perfect and compelling as is the music itself.

For me, Tad, Live in the Netherlands perfectly captures all of this.  Indeed, in terms of sound quality, I’m especially impressed, as the live album sounds just like the studio release, despite being in an uncontrolled environment.  I love the first set of older material and the second set of newer material.  My only complaint is that all of the banter has been removed from the live release.  I’m sure that John spoke to the audience, and I would love to know what he had to say.  Specifically, given what a gentleman he is, I’m sure that he’s an excellent frontman.

John, Jon, Steve, Frank, and Dave: if you’re reading this, please know that you are loved, and my desire to have more music from you is meant in the best possible way.  Thank you, hugely, for everything you’ve given us already.  Now, we just need to get all Americans to listen to you. . . .

Tad: From your keyboard to John Young’s ears, Brad! Yes, I wish they released more music, because the contemporary music scene needs more like it. And, dear readers, you can find all of Lifesigns’ music and merchandise at https://lifesignsmusic.co.uk/. Check them out!