Welcome back, my friends to the show that never ends. It's the 100 best classic progressive rock songs.
40. Jethro Tull: "Heavy Horses"
(from Heavy Horses)
Meanwhile back in 1978... It's an embarrassing commentary on how close-minded so many folks are that they probably have never even heard this song. Of course, the professionals who write most often about rock music in the ‘70s are not known for their fondness of multisyllabic words and material that obliges a modest understanding of world history. Back to basics? How about back to the 18th century? That is the vibe Jethro Tull was emanating circa 1978. The band that dropped not one, but two single-song album suites had evolved into a proficient troupe of professionals that incorporated strings, lutes, fifes and harpsichords into their repertoire.
To put it more plainly, the same years the Clash, the Ramones and the Sex Pistols were establishing a radically new and brazen rock aesthetic, Ian Anderson appeared on an album cover flanked by two Clydesdales. The title track is a typically literate -- and unironic -- tribute to the working horses of England that, much like prog rock, were soon to step aside, their demise having less to do with trends and tastemakers than technology.
(from Valentyne Suite)
Vibraphone and saxophone? Yes! Dave Greensdale, who supplies the vibes as well as some remarkable organ work, gets the drop on ELP, delivering keyboard-dominated prog before Keith Emerson made himself a household name. A bit jazzy, a tad trippy, it's still incredibly tight and multi-dimensional; at one instant frenetic and the next almost tranquil, this is mood music for those uninterested in paint-by-numbers performance. Released the same year as In the Court of the Crimson King, this album and especially the title track seem influenced by no one, but set a standard that would be frequently imitated but seldom surpassed.
(from Scheherazade and Other Stories)
One need not know who Scheherazade is or what One Thousand and One Nights is, but being aware of this famous character and text will help the listener appreciate what's going on and perhaps marvel at Renaissance's audacity for putting their spin on this, well, epic tale. What better way to condense an epic than create an epic, multi-part track? As usual, vocalist Annie Haslam provides vocals and lends a very appropriate feminine voice to the "story" of Scheherazade. Renaissance seldom lacked for purpose, but this track, more than any other, represents the triumph of ambition met with worthy material.
(from The Snow Goose)
One more from Camel's masterpiece. "Rhayader Goes to Town" is mostly a showcase for the criminally unheralded guitar virtuoso Andrew Latimer. On this track, he shreds like vintage David Gilmour, but with soul to spare and a technician's control of his instrument. Some (okay, a lot) of music from the prog genre was conceived as anti-commercial, as challenging to digest as it was to execute. For the most part, this was laudable, and in accordance with the savvy and discipline the music required (for both bands and fans), but too much of the music, either not discovered in the first place, or lumped in with all the good, bad and ugly, warrants a second (or first!) listen. The Snow Goose is certainly not easy listening, but it's easy to be enraptured by; for anyone seeking fresh insight about how prog sounded, when it was lean and mean, "Rhayader Goes to Town" could not be more strongly recommended.
(from The Yes Album)
Regardless of intent or method, prog rock could be quite dark and often heavy, as a cursory examination of cover art and song titles will confirm. That said, there was, of course, a vast amount of gentler, even elegant music. Few bands worked together in unison the way Yes did during their prime, each individual an imperative part of the whole. At various times, while Bill Bruford, Chris Squire and especially Rick Wakeman made unforgettable contributions, the classic sound was mostly defined by vocalist Jon Anderson and guitar god Steve Howe. "Starship Trooper" is perhaps the definitive showcase for Howe, allowing him to illustrate his utter mastery of the instrument (both acoustic and electric). When he and Anderson multi-track their guitar/vocal interplay, it's as close to heaven as prog rock ever got.
(from The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys)
Traffic will never be known as a prog rock band. This is a testament to the fact that Traffic can't be easily defined -- or dismissed -- as part of any particular genre; their interests were too wide-ranging, their abilities too matchless. Having mastered psychedelic rock in the late ‘60s and a more jam-based jazz-rock on the masterful (but not-proggy) John Barleycorn Must Die, Traffic became a bit of everything on their masterpiece The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys.
One look at the title and the hipper-than-hip album cover tells you all you need to know: these were some cool cats. Steve Winwood, of course, was the resident prodigy, but the sax and flute contributions from Chris Wood are crucial. On this super laid back track, Jim Capaldi turns in some of his finest drum and percussion work, proving that prog could, on occasion, be groovy, if not entirely fashionable.
From the Canterbury scene in the late ‘70s to full-on freak jazz in the early-to-mid ‘70s, in between Soft Machine got their prog on. Third is at once experimental in the extreme, but a very controlled and deliberate sort of experiment. The jazz and fusion influences are undeniable, but even with extended instrumental workouts, the results seldom seem like aimless jams or braggadocio. The passages with vocals have perhaps not dated so well, but there's a pulsating energy that drives the piece. This is music from the underground and it's probably best understood, and appreciated, as art that makes no apologies, but welcomes all who come to it with open ears, and minds.
(from The The Dark Side of the Moon)
Originally an instrumental intended for Antonioni's Zabriskie Point (and rejected for the eventual soundtrack), this Richard Wright composition found new life a few years later. The lyrics by Roger Waters not only provide a "story" but evidence a stunning maturity in the band's approach. Associations with outer space, which were always superficial in the first place, are now ancient history as Waters & Co. are setting their sights on the hearts of our darkness.
Continuing a growing preoccupation (which would later become an obsession) with war and soldiers, like his father, killed in conflict, Waters exhibits a concision that's able to leave a permanent mark: "'Forward!' he cried from the rear/And the front rank died / And the General sat as the lines on the map / Moved from side to side." Wright's piano solos and organ provide a solemn but beautiful foundation, and Gilmour's world-weary delivery is by turns hopeful and heartbreaking.
The mellotron certainly had its time and place. It became overused, a crutch for bands hoping to mimic the sounds made by bands like King Crimson and late ‘60s Moody Blues, but when properly utilized, it could produce an oddly enchanting (I can't quite bring myself to say "haunting") effect that even the strings it was designed to replicate can't quite convey. It was often employed as a layering effect, to embellish the other instruments, and the effect was surreal and murky; if it was loud or frequent enough to notice, it was probably being abused.
However, on "Watcher of the Skies", the opening song from prog rock benchmark Foxtrot, we are treated to the first (best? only?) mellotron "solo". It takes over 90 seconds for the other instruments to (slowly, brilliantly) enter and build, and that extended introduction might be the best wordless evidence for what we could define as the essential "prog rock sound": it's all in there, whatever it is. Then there are the lyrics, with allusions to literature (Keats) and some of Phil Collins's most satisfying accompaniment. As much as any song from the early ‘70s, "Watcher of the Skies" manages to invoke the past while commenting on the present, using new instruments and ideas to create a certain type of mood music that is crammed with feeling, intensity, and release.
(from Starless and Bible Black)
Percussionist Jamie Muir, whose wonderfully ragtag percussion contributions gave Larks' Tongues in Aspic its proper right-at-the-precipice atmosphere, departed, leaving King Crimson a quartet. Always up for a challenge, Bill Bruford simply expanded his repertoire, adding his own, more refined, percussive touches. These are put to ideal effect on album closer "Fracture", particularly the brief xylophone flair that quite possibly inspired Danny Elfman's immortal theme for The Simpsons. John Wetton locks in with Bruford to establish a sludgy groove, and David Cross subtly counters Fripp's ominous grinding, which builds Crimson's patented quiet-to-chaos dynamic before all Hades breaks loose courtesy of what may stand as Fripp's most ferocious solo.
Everyone doubles down (the beautiful brawling between Bruford and Wetton would continue to excellent effect on the subsequent recordings for Red), and Fripp -- as if it's even necessary at this point -- makes his case for all-time prog guitar guru. When one realizes most of the material from this album was recorded live or grew out of improvised jams, it only adds to the import of what Fripp, the ultimate perfectionist, was capable of when he shifted into high gear.