by Michael Popke

If you frequent online progressive-rock communities, you’ve no doubt seen the question “What is prog?” posted countless times. The responses typically range from the overly intellectual to the downright offensive. So it is with extreme humbleness that I suggest there really is no “right” or “wrong” answer. We like progressive music because it affects us in ways far deeper than practically any other genre (save, perhaps, classical). It can incite an abundance of emotions, including passion, fear, joy, sadness and violence – sometimes all in the same song.  It forces us to move beyond the mainstream and actually think about what we’re hearing. At its core, “prog” means whatever we want it to mean.

When I was young, my dad would sit with me in my bedroom and listen to selections from my latest album purchases (usually by such artists as Styx, REO Speedwagon, Foreigner and Loverboy). But among the last titles I remember us sharing together was Asia’s self-titled 1982 debut. I was 14 years old.

While Asia’s epic synthesizers, grandiose orchestration and Roger Dean artwork may seem hopelessly dated now, it remains a classic album that – despite that dragon on the cover – brought the pretentiousness of Seventies progressive rock to a mainstream audience with a combination of accessible melodies and often-lofty lyrics. Today, Asia isn’t even considered prog in some circles. But for me, it was my introduction to an expansive world of music, one in which long songs about the apocalypse were not only permitted but encouraged. So long, Loverboy.

Prog enthusiasts can argue the merits of Pink Floyd, Genesis, Yes, Emerson Lake & Palmer, King Crimson, Jethro Tull, Marillion, Gentle Giant, Kansas and Camel for years – and they have. Throw some metal into the mix (Queensryche, Dream Theater, Rush and Iron Maiden), and you’ll incite some real heated debate. Queensryche’s lead vocalist Geoff Tate, during an interview with me several years ago, refused to acknowledge that his band played “progressive” music — even though renowned music  journalist Paul Gargano wrote that Queensryche defined “the parameters of progressive rock for mainstream America” in the liner notes to the then-new Live Evolution album.

But if these bands and all of their descendants – Spock’s Beard, RPWL, Pain of Salvation, Opeth, Magic Pie, DeeExpus, Ayreon, Porcupine Tree, Riverside, Symphony X and even Phish and Umphrey’s McGee among them – introduce new ways for us to hear music and provide enjoyment long after we think we’ve heard it all, then we certainly can call them “progressive.” They are advancing our understanding and appreciation of their art.

One of my most recent prog discoveries is Zevious, an aggressive New York City-based instrumental trio that tears a huge hole in the logic of labeling genres. On the band’s 2009 CD, After the Air Raid, Zevious takes influences from contemporary jazz artists like Vijay Iyer, the polymetric metal of Meshuggah, the vintage fusion of the Mahavishnu Orchestra and the avant-garde attitude of Magma. Challenging and not always easy to listen to, After the Air Raid defines adventurous music.

I’ve been in relentless pursuit of the adventure since I dropped the needle on side one of that first Asia record almost 30 years ago.

By  Peter Lindblad

Gentle Giant (from left): Kerry Minnear, Derek Shulman, Gary Green, Ray Shulman and John Weathers. (Capitol)

Gentle Giant had lost a brother … literally.

After touring in support of perhaps the British progressive-rock voyageurs’ finest hour, that sublime fusion of classical and rock elements that magically combined in 1973’s Octopus, Phil Shulman, feeling the tug of familial obligations, decided to part ways with the band he’d helped found.

His two siblings, Derek and Ray, were left behind to pick up the pieces.

“Our brother Phil was about 10 years older than us, and at the time, I think he had three kids at home,” recalls Ray. “We were on the road trying to develop a career, to get attention. For Phil that was just too much. And there was pressure for us. But actually, when he said he was quitting, we were filled with sadness, but there was relief there as well.”

Gentle Giant almost called it a day.

“There were times when, and certainly right after, we were talking about, ‘Are we going to split up? Is this the end?’” says Derek. “And we put our heads down and said, ‘You know, what the hell? Let’s carry on.’ And we developed into this five-piece … but it was a hard transition, and it was hard for Phil, too. I mean, I understand that.”

Scaled down to a five-piece, with original members Kerry Minnear (keyboards) and Gary Green (guitars) and new drummer John Weathers rounding out the band, they continued blending jazz, pop, British soul, blues and even medieval music in fascinating new ways.

The coming years would find them releasing challenging albums like In A Glass House, The Power & The Glory, Free Hand, Interview, Playing The Fool — The Official Live, The Missing Piece and Giant For A Day. In November, all seven of those LPs were released in digital form for the first time ever through the band’s own Alucard label via EMI Music’s Label Services Unit.

Derek and Ray reflected on each of those albums recently for Goldmine:

In A Glass House

Derek Shulman: I actually really like this record in retrospect … now that I’m hearing it, after we’ve done it how many years later, I think it shows an incredible amount of tension. And I think the tension comes through in a positive way, as opposed to a negative way.

When we were doing it, that was a time after Phil had left, and we’d decided to continue, and it was written with all of these influences and all these things going on: When were we going to tour? How were we going to tour? How can we make ourselves a five-piece with as much … hopefully, with as much energy and being able to project ourselves live …

Ray Shulman: Not to mention, the lyrical responsibilities fell on you.

DS: That’s right. And even the composition part, it was … we were trying to hold it down. So I just remember, just as an atmospheric situation, everything surrounding the album was extremely tense as far as I was concerned. And the whole transition from a six-piece to a five-piece was, I think … ultimately, it turned out well, but it wasn’t an evolution, it was a revolution. And we had to do it quickly.

The Power and the Glory

DS: [About its themes of power and corruption] All of these issues [the Nixon scandal] were happening, and it affected everything, but it’s not as if it’s a new subject. And subsequently, since then, it’s a subject which is ongoing and unfortunately, something that people … continue to write about, because absolute power absolutely corrupts, if you let it. And I think it was probably just an observation on what was happening politically but also [on] people that we thought had become friends who were becoming more powerful [and] suddenly disowned you or didn’t want to be part of what world you were in.

RS: Well, I like the album now. I like The Power And The Glory. I think it worked really well. It was great having a concept album, composition-wise. For me and Kerry, at the time, having a theme from the start was great really because you could actually outline [it]. I know the concept album kind of got much maligned after that.

But having a framework for, you know, this song has to capture this kind of mood … it was almost in a way like a musical, and you have to have a cycle through it.

Free Hand

DS: I like that album a lot, because I think the reason why it’s called Free Hand is I remember we had extricated ourselves from management, and we were kind of able to do certain things our way.

We were pretty stubborn and obstinate, and that probably is to our detriment, too, but it worked as far as the lyrical content was concerned. And I think that album came together extremely well lyrically and musically, because I think that was one where the rock element and the orchestral element and all the other instrumental influences that we had really gelled.

RS: [Talking about the synthesis of classical and rock elements on Free Hand] I think it’s a good combination. We probably lost a bit of the kind of ethereal-ness of maybe Octopus, but we actually sounded more like a band or more like a group. It sounds like a record that was made by a group rather as opposed to a band of individuals.

Interview

DS: Interview was of its time. Was it as good, if you like, or as well put together as Free Hand? Probably not, but I listened to it just recently in the last couple of weeks, and I liked it (laughs), as opposed to thinking it was OK. It’s not the same as Free Hand. It’s kind of pushing towards a new avenue to a certain degree, but I think, as Ray [has said], we moved generally. I mean, we didn’t stay in one place and become this band that did this kind of music all the way through. So this is moving the band into somewhere else. Maybe it was a dark hole, or maybe a blind alley, but it’s okay.

RS: Yeah, I don’t think it’s as cohesive as Free Hand. I think it’s a bit more disparate, all the bits. Individually, they stand up on their own, but as an album, it doesn’t quite hold together as a whole as well. “Design” is on that. Now “Design’ is a curious piece. I think it’s a bizarre piece.

DS: Yeah, you’re right, Ray. The elements were there, but they were more fractured. Maybe that’s why I like it, because it’s interesting to hear the fractured parts.

RS: What else was on there?

DS: “Empty City” … eh, iffy. “Another Show” … that was kind of bizarre timing. “I Lost My Head” was quite good. I like that song, that one for me personally.

Playing The Fool — Live

DS: I don’t know why we did it, but I’m glad we did it. Why? I don’t know, but it was good we did it then, because it was a culmination of the maturity of the group.

We’d taken the two major parts of being in the group, the recorded part and the live part, as being totally separate entities. We never tried to replicate the music which we recorded for our albums onstage.

RS: We’d have needed quite a few more people for that.

DS: Exactly. An orchestra. Actually, we did need an orchestra. That’s why we did [swap] all [our] instruments, because there were so many parts in there. It was, “OK, who’s going to do what? Well, Ray, you’ve got to play the trumpet now. And I’ll pick up the bass. What the hell? Why not?”

The Missing Piece

RS: In that year, ’77, there again you talk about the big cultural shift in the U.K. that was punk and a general derision of progressive music. I think we just didn’t know what to do, and we tried. I don’t know if it’s a good record or not, but it’s OK.

DS: I think fans, for the most part, who are ardent fans don’t think it’s a great record, but there are some things in that album that I think are very good. It’s actually well-played. I’ve got to tell you that.

Giant For A Day

RS: [Derek once said he felt Giant For A Day was contrived. Ray responded] Yeah, it was actually. I think it was. We had in mind a kind of sound we wanted to go for as well, which was probably too contrived.

I mean, we’d never been that way before. We’d never gone into the studio with a kind of sound in our heads, where we wanted to open up the drum sounds and all that kind of thing … It was a bad idea, but we did it. 

DS: We did it. It was an idea. We tried it, and it didn’t work. I mean, some parts did work … yeah, there were elements of contrivance. However, there are some songs on there which are actually pretty good. I mean, believe it or not, I think one of the best songs on the album is the instrumental, “Spooky Boogie.” It is dumb, but it’s really clever. I mean, we’re not talking about timing all over the place, and multi-instrumental stuff …

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