Singing To God
Prog reflects on the influence that Cardiacs "brilliant ringleader" Tim Smith has had on progressive music
Words: Dom Lawson Portrait: Sarah Maher
When the news broke on July 22 that Tim Smith, legendary founder and leader of Cardiacs, had passed away, social media of a certain persuasion was awash with single white flowers and expressions of undying love. He would have rather liked that.
Cardiacs’ A Little Man And A House And The Whole World Window
On Land And In The Sea
Sing To God.
Tim Smith’s music was about joy. Despite being a bit hazy on exactly when it happened, I will never forget the greatest gig I have ever witnessed: Cardiacs, at Glastonbury, in some godforsaken tent at the top of a giant hill. Virtually no one knew that the band were playing when we all arrived at the festival site, but thanks to the fact that every giant crowd has a small number of secret and not-so-secret Cardiacs fans lurking in it, news swiftly spread about the show. By the time Tim Smith and his unhinged henchfolk hit the stage, the tent was beyond packed, with hundreds standing outside to catch a glimpse. I was in there somewhere, a bit pissed and stoned and beside myself with excitement. And, of course, it was a spectacular show, because Cardiacs gigs were never anything but. My abiding memory of the whole experience is of the entire crowd, not just singing but bellowing along with the triumphant crescendo at the end of Big Ship. Everywhere I looked, there were tear-streaked but beatific faces: the faces of Cardiacs fans, firmly in The Pond (the official name for a gathering of Cardiacs fans) where they belonged, and utterly consumed by wonderful, sizzling, spiralling, kaleidoscopic joy. As ever, Tim Smith surveyed the bouncing rapture before him and grinned, like a mischievous schoolboy.