Focus On The Positive
Or
Why I Was Born In The Wrong Bloody Decade

This time, I turn over the editorial pages to guest contributor The Ineffable Trouserpress (aka David Beris Edwards)

Prologue

A landscape artist sets off from his house to paint a picture of the musical terrains around him. He soon finds himself at a crossroad. To the north lies the towering metropolis of Rock, in all its crowded, concrete glory. To the East is the historic town of Classical Music, with its delicate, crumbling buildings being lovingly restored by orchestras, conductors and skilled classical musicians. Behind him, to the South, lies the quaint little village of Folk, with its boozy, raucous tavern and expansive pastoral surroundings. Finally, to the West, are the misty, monochrome back-streets of Jazz - a place with no discernable centre, and an awful lot of intrigue and mystery. The painter - incurably indecisive - is at a loss for which direction to go in. Each setting would provide him with countless fascinating and glorious paintings - enough to fill a thousand galleries. How on Earth is he to choose? Or should he forget what surrounds him and paint a landscape of the mind and soul? Unable to choose, he makes the ultimate decision: He unpacks his easel right there on the crossroads and paints the whole damn lot, exactly as he pleases.

This might seem to be a reasonable analogy for the diversity of styles found with the genre of Progressive Rock (or as I prefer to describe it, the anti-genre), but it will help little to the uninitiated. Fortunately, I'm not setting out to summarise Prog for the bewildered newcomer (my advice to you, dear sir/madam/thing is to pop out and buy Close To The Edge - it'll do the job much better than I, and provide you with hours more pleasure to boot). No, in this article I wish to tell the story of how I, at one stage a bewildered newcomer myself, came to discover the most daring, exciting, fascinating, rewarding, unfathomable, enigmatic and downright orgasmic music man hath ever made. That might have been a little bit of hyperbole. You'll be meeting more of that later on in this article, so watch out for it, why don't you?

So, let us begin at the beginning, shall we? Here's the story of how I became an incurable prog-head:

I suppose it all began about four years ago (though the seeds may have been sown much beforehand), when as a tender, young 14 year old I came home to find my father dusting off the old record player.

"So you're resurrecting that thing, are you?" I asked quite eagerly (as old bits of technology have long held a fascination over me, even though I've not the faintest idea how any of it ever works).

"Yes - I thought you and your brother might want to hear some of our old records. Your Mum certainly does." My Dad, a pianist, hasn't had the desire to listen to an entire album for about twenty years, it seems.

At this point in my life, I had no strong feelings about music. I had played the viola in an orchestra and consequently had an appreciation for the classics. My brother had been getting into heavy metal, and though the likes of Metallica held little fascination for me, the so-called "classic" rock of Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin piqued my interest a tad. My Dad, at one stage very into playing jazz, had let a little of that magic dust rub off on me, and I'd sat down a couple of times to his Miles Davis and Thelonious Monk CDs happily enough. But all in all, I didn't know what I wanted from music, and about the only CD I owned that I regularly played was the orchestrated version of Mussorgsky's evocative, provocative and timeless work Pictures At An Exhibition*.

Amongst the works by UB40, Ultravox and othersuchlikes that littered my parent's record collection, I found a heavy, bronzey album cover that appeared to contain two records. I looked at the title: Focus 3 and in my head a little bell sounded.

"Dad, isn't that tune you and Uncle Andrew play by Focus?"

"What, 'Sylvia'? Indeed it is - should be on that album."

Sure enough, it was. I'd been in love with the tune "Sylvia" from the age of about four - it was a regular favourite of my Dad's, and the musicians he used to play with. With its strong, uplifting, joyful melody, it made me feel like few other pieces I'd heard. "The Great Gates Of Kiev" (yep, Mussorgsky again) is about all I can think of, in fact. Dad popped it on the turntable, and I watched with insurmountable anticipation as the needle made its slow descent. From that first percussive chk-a-chk of Akkerman's strings and the opening energetic roar of Van Leer's Hammond, I was in love. This was music as music was meant to be. Celebratory, expressive, vital, unique. Making sounds that had to be made. The track ended. I lifted the needle quickly before the next song would start. A strange reaction after hearing a tune that moved me so deeply, you'd think? But I was scared - Focus had made a piece of music so special that they could never possibly do so again, could they? Dad didn't play anything else from that album - it mustn't be very good.

So the days went on. When I got home from school, on would go "Sylvia." I'd listen to it two or three times in a row, but never let the needle slip onto the next groove, until finally curiosity got the better of me. "Carnival Fugue" began. At first I felt uneasy, slightly upset that Focus could let their music become so melancholy after the bubble of happiness that was "Sylvia." But still, the music drew me in. Akkerman's quiet, jazzy phrases said to me "Come on, join us. It'll be okay, don't you worry." The track picked up, but it was still in a lumbering, minor phase. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear this. But then, oh then ... An eruption of undiluted fun! A "Carnival Fugue" this track most undeniably was! Van Leer's flute solo lead me, like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, to turn over. I did. I have never regretted a single action less.

Still though, I was no Prog fan. I'd never even heard the term! It wasn't until talking in a chat room (yes, yes, I know...) one day about Deep Purple and Focus that a wise, old man (with a beard, of course), sent me an Instant Message:

-Do you like Yes?

-Yes?

-Yes. Yes.

-Umm... No.

-Oh.

-What?

-Do you like Yes?

-What do you mean?

This went on for some time, until he eventually twigged that I had no idea who Yes were. I explained to him that I was a naïve 14 year old, unaware of our rich musical heritage. I also informed him that I was unwilling to give him my mobile number**.

Well, to cut a bewilderingly long story (Ye Gods! I know I ramble, but this is ridiculous!) a little shorter - he told me to go out and buy Close To The Edge. I spotted it in HMV a month later, and did just that.

Well, you've read how I felt hearing Focus for the first time - just imagine what hearing CTTE was like!

Being the net geek I am, I Googled up some info on Yes. Apparently they were a "Progressive Rock" group. I looked at the reviews on the site a little more and to my surprise, Focus was listed as well! Heavens! Both Progressive Rock bands, eh? But aren't they completely different?

By now, the bug had set to work quite rapidly. I read about all these manifold groups and their exciting, enthralling, unique sounds. I desperately wanted to hear it for myself, and with no radio stations willing to broadcast it (grr)... I grabbed that nasty old bullock firmly by the horns and got a part-time job. Much as it pained me, much as it destroyed my soul - I needed to hear that music.

Well ... four years, and roughly 140 albums down the line ... I can't say I regret it. Having a part time job in Woolworths (well, until recently anyway), I managed to see a great deal of what goes on in the British music charts, and it saddens me, to say the least. To think that 33 years ago Tarkus became the #1 album in the charts, whereas today a new band creating similarly inventive music would do well to scrape the 150 mark is simply far too depressing to contemplate. So I shan't, at least not in this article.

That's it really. The story of how a humble teenager discovered there was more to music than teeth and tits. I hope I get to write some more - It's seems I've a lot to say on the subject.

*I'd just like to inform anyone reading this article who owns the hopeless ELP version of this classical masterpiece but not any of the manifold Ravel orchestral recordings that they have lost 10 points, and must give themselves a slap on the wrist. Read on, friend.

**I'm sorry Jack. No truly, I am.

Links: Metallica, Deep Purple, Led Zeppelin, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, UB40, Ultravox, Focus, Yes

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Published on: 2004-09-19 (2456 reads)