New spins…

Eccentric brilliance, double entendres and Canterbury tales: prog’s gentlest geniuses get the careerspanning treatment they deserve on this epic 37-disc box set.

Words: Chris Roberts Illustration: Mark Leary

Edited by Dave Everley prog.reviews@futurenet.com

‘So much to do, no more time,’ sang Caravan on Nine Feet Underground, the elastic, enraptured 23-minute finale to 1971’s In The Land Of Grey And Pink, which was probably their twisty, turny, career zenith. Half a century on, that wildly enterprising suite still simultaneously dazzles and soothes with its tunnels and bridges; its three-point turns and tender heart; its absolute disregard for the paths music is supposed to follow; and its glittering string of guileful moments.

Caravan had much to do, and were doing it all over us. Yet their soft-spoken subtlety, the way their very English restraint meant they never shouted or pouted, perhaps played a factor in their never hitting the commercial heights of some of their peers. When these Wilde Flowers realigned as Caravan after some of their number had peeled away to rev up Soft Machine, they, by accident or design, fell upon the very epitome of what we now call the Canterbury sound.

With limbs in progressive rock, psychedelia, folk and jazz, and an undercurrent of classical structure, their music was often circuitous, clever and cerebral. The key to its enduring charm, however, is its sunny warmth: they embraced pop melody, rhythmic grooves and a sly, winking wit. If it worked, it was in, even if it wasn’t technically supposed to fit there. Their best albums are magically, at the same time, a Catherine wheel of ingenuity and invention and a comforting, reassuring soup of seductive sounds.

This 37-disc (yes, 37) box set is a career overview and legacy establisher that gathers all 14 (remastered) studio albums, the live albums and 11 previously unreleased concert recordings. There’s also a Blu-ray of Steven Wilson’s mix of In The Land Of Grey And Pink, and a DVD of rare, mostly 1970s live footage. On top of this, there’s a big hardback book and much memorabilia, including even a Caravan-specific map of Canterbury. It’s not cheap, and it’s a limited edition, but it doesn’t skimp on its celebration of their languid, low-key legend.

Who Do You Think We Are?

MADFISH

“ It doesn’t skimp on its celebration of their languid, low-key legend.”

While the tales begin with 1968’s eponymous debut, it’s as the decade turns, on If I Could Do It All Over Again, I’d Do It All Over You, that Caravan find their stride. Their penchant for sub-Pythonesque zany titles and adolescent double entendres hasn’t aged well, but this is where the line-up of Pye Hastings, David and Richard Sinclair and Richard Coughlan worked out their curious, unique fusion of whimsy and momentum.

…Grey And Pink then took them to their very own land: it remains the quintessential Caravan creation. 1972’s follow-up, Waterloo Lily, didn’t catch lightning the same way, but the next year’s For Girls Who Grow Plump In The Night (viola player Geoffrey Richardson’s debut) saw them back to their best, not least on cult classics Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss and The Dog, The Dog, He’s At It Again.

From here they settled into a phase of pretty good but not great releases, though enlisting Tony Visconti to produce 1977’s Better By Far resulted in the exquisite Nightmare. Dormant through most of the 80s, their best and least Dire Straits-y latter-day album is 2003’s The Unauthorised Breakfast Item, which knows all the right Caravan fan triggers to pull.

Among the mountain range of live sets, there are inevitably peaks and… well, troughs would be too strong a put-down. Some shows tap into the gentle fire that characterises Caravan at their most golden-glowing; others lapse into periods of studied tweeness that reveal their Achilles’ heel. When they’re in the mood, whether we’re talking the Marquee in 1983 or Holland in 1972 or Shepherds Bush Empire a few years ago, they conjure up that idyllic July afternoon by a riverside that you never actually had but always imagined would be life-affirming. They reconstruct a reverie within their revelry.

Perhaps it’s their collective personality that makes that possible. This isn’t music of the ego, and it’s the antithesis of the machine age (the computer age doesn’t even enter the conversation). Somehow they make a noise that feels like it’s just happening, sunlight on the garden, as if born of itself, and nobody’s sweating or grunting to move it along. Wherein Caravan are vessels, not stars.

It would be only just if this quite marvellous (if expensive) retrospective won them greater recognition and acclaim. While they never seem to have taken themselves too seriously, they deserve the critical kudos afforded to peers such as Robert Wyatt, Kevin Ayers and others. Maybe their spacey, stoner vibes sit more comfortably by the window at the side of things, content with a degree of fragility, raising an arched eyebrow at ambition, distracted by the midsummer haze pouring through that window, wondering how best to capture that in sound.

AURI

II – Those We Don’t Speak of NUCLEAR BLAST

Folky Nightwish side-project offers a soothing solution to 2021.

Tuomas Holopainen has his career meticulously planned out. Or at least he did until you-know-what struck in 2020. With extra time on his hands, Nightwish’s composer and keyboard player turned to his bandmate Troy Donockley, and popular Finnish vocalist and string player Johanna Kurkela (whom Tuomas just happens to be married to), and knuckled down to the second Auri album. The trio had always planned to release a follow-up to 2018’s longawaited Auri, and had a selection of new material penned and ready to go, but their day jobs took first priority. Until now.

“ The perfect antidote to these troubled times. ”

Those We Don’t Speak Of is the unconventionally beautiful fruit of their labour. The opening title track emerges from layers of irregular melodies that sum up the disharmony of the last 16-plus months. When Kurkela’s delicate, folky vocals align they bring hope from an enchanted dreamworld. Here, the sun always shines in forever blue skies, the lush grass is always soft underfoot, and the inviting streams are warm and sparkling. Kurkela’s voice and strings harmonise perfectly with Donockley’s lower register as the song gently flows into the acoustic elegance of The Valley, where there are elements of Nightwish’s softer moments – think The Islander or Harvest. This theme continues as the skipping melodies and accompanying birdsong draw to a close.

Let’s get one thing straight: Auri certainly aren’t Nightwish although there’s plenty for fans of the progressive symphonic band to enjoy via Holopainen’s cinematic keyboard flourishes and Donockley’s otherworldly pipes. Yet the overall flavour is more progressive, with unusual time signatures, touches of folk and Kurkela’s tender vocals, which are a world apart from Floor Jansen’s powerful, multi-octave range.

Inspired by folklore, fantasy novels and dreamscapes, the group’s second album sounds brighter and more organic than their self-titled debut. The gorgeous Pearl Diving is all storybook lyrics and lush harmonies reminiscent of Heather Findlay-era Mostly Autumn (a band with whom Donockley has frequently collaborated), The Long Walk is audibly inspired by Clannad, and Scattered To The Four Winds is packed with uilleann pipes, strings, and percussion from Nightwish drummer Kai Hahto making it the perfect soundtrack to Middle-earth’s The Shire. Closer Fireside Bard is the only song with a lead vocal from Donockley and is a world away from the electronic elements and celtic flourishes that graced their debut album.

Those We Don’t Speak Of might not contain fireworks, epic solos or full orchestras, but it’s the perfect antidote to these troubled times.

NATASHA SCHARF

BASS COMMUNION

And No Birds Sing BASSCOMMUNION.BANDCAMP.COM

Ambient-industrial soundtrack from one-man music industry, Steven Wilson.

Bass Communion is Steven Wilson’s selfdescribed “ambient/noise/ experimental project”, and an outlet for his more avant-garde impulses. And No Birds Sing features two pieces of music taken from a forthcoming psychological horror film.

The first, a 28-minute piece, is essentially sound design rather than composition. Water drips in a vast metal drum, a droning presence looms from out of the shadows. A wheezing child’s voice intones, ‘Listen, can you hear? ’, which is particularly startling on headphones. There are other distant voices now, like the type heard on EVP recordings trying to communicate from beyond the veil. The sound modulates and suggests movement, before breaking the surface and pitching up on some blasted heath.

The second, shorter piece begins in the same barren landscape, but hazy choral chords break through the clouds, bearing the gift of melody. It’s like the arrival of a phantom mothership offering solace in the dark, illuminating the earth in a slow swell of synthetic orchestra. One perhaps for Wilson completists only, but this movie for the ears adds yet another string to his considerable bow. JB

ANDERS BUAAS

Tarot APOLLON

Musical sketches of the mysteries of the occult.

Never one to shy away from ambitious projects, Norwegian multiinstrumentalist Anders Buaas has followed up his sizeable The Witches Of Finnmark trilogy with an album where he’s created 22 entirely instrumental portraits of the cards in a tarot deck. Every note here is written and played by Buaas, and the result explores wide stylistic variation.

There’s more than a little jolly folk in The Fool, a bit of portentous prog metal in The High Priestess and some sludgy guitar riffing going on to introduce The Devil. The longest track on the album, the seven minutes of The Hierophant, covers a lot of ground growing from bucolic guitar into a full symphonic rock workout. Not only is each “card” given a unique theme, but Buaas also reflects the nuances and complexities inherent in any reading of them – thus the track Death builds upon a slowly repeating brooding bassline, but blossoms into something altogether more colourful and varied.

Although the album can be enjoyed, and Buaas’ obvious talents appreciated, in its own right, it could also act as a prompt to explore the mysterious tarot more fully. Prog as entertainment and occult education. GMM

CHAIN REAKTOR

Homesick FREIA MUSIC

Dutch family affair marries modern prog with a melodic and metallic sheen.

Featuring brothers Bart and Arjen Laan on guitar/vocals and drums respectively, plus dad Erik on vocals and keyboards, Homesick is a massively assured debut.

Ostensibly, the album is concerned with the “gloomy loneliness that overshadows modern life”, but that doesn’t mean the music is unremittingly downbeat, sombre or depressing.

From opener The Day That Never Came – with its clever combination of Stranger Things theme-alike sequenced keys and insistent Middle Eastern percussion, which builds into a varied yet very contemporary-sounding

combination of crunchy guitar riffing, anthemic vocal hooks, and flute and keyboard solo interludes – through to Lonely City’s gorgeous intro and the dark funk of much of Stop Yelling, the band play around with feel and instrumentation, while retaining a strong identity and coherence. The title track is a great example of their range; an acoustic ballad making the transition to powerful rock statement.

There’s room for growth certainly, but this is a confident and impressive debut from Chain Reaktor and one hopes that there’s plenty more to come. GMM

THE CYBERIAM

Connected THECYBERIAM.BANDCAMP.COM

Chicago prog rockers hit new highs on album number two.

The Cyberiam are fronted by a singer who flirted with fame on reality TV show Popstars: The Rivals in the 2000s, but don’t be fooled; their prog credentials are as clear as day. Connected, their second full-lengther, finds the Chicago quartet in truly fine fettle, conjuring an intoxicating, easy-to-imbibe cocktail of Porcupine Tree’s attack, the melodic energy of Rush and Umphrey’s McGee groove.

The adroit playing is grand without being overly glitzy, with the spunky Moral Landscape allowing Brian Kovacs’ bass to roam free, and keyboardist Frank Lucas – who enjoys the tutelage of Dream Theater’s Jordan Rudess – adds vital flair.

Singer Keith Semple, meanwhile, ramps up the radio-friendly appeal with finely tuned vocals that are likely to tickle fans of Coheed And Cambria. Amid the many highs there are a few dips, though, and long track times can stifle the momentum. But they’re the exception rather than the rule. ‘We all want to be, to be connected,‘ sings Semple on the title track – an anthem for the Covid era perhaps? Judging from the quality on show here The Cyberiam will be linking arms with a lot of new listeners in the near future. CC

DIKAJEE

Forget-Me-Nots DIKAJEE.BANDCAMP.COM

Russian folk-prog that’s out of this world.

Based in St Petersburg, but sounding entirely otherworldly, Dikajee has conjured several new ways to bewitch and bewilder on her debut full-length. We’re firmly in ethereal, folkfuelled prog territory here, but there’s a dazzlingly allencompassing feel to these songs. The result is spellbinding from dreamy start to hazy finish.

Opener Forest is a twinkling revelation where delicate acoustic guitars collide with sweeping strings and layers of shimmering ambience. Lily Of The Valley is even more startling, like some long-lost Kate Bush outtake, deftly dressed in contemporary sparkle.

With faint echoes of Nightwish’s cinematic pomp mixed with intimate, skittering post-rock, Dead Garden and Misery scale the dynamic spectrum; Dikajee’s vocals alternately angelic and strident.