There'll be more traditional, meat & potatoes rock & roll in due course but, like Catholic Boy, this is another one from that late 70s/early 80s musical perestroika period.
There used to be a strictly enforced law here in 70s England that sought to apply control and order over the way that kids listened to music. After your baptism via Sweet, Slade, Alice Cooper etc. it was time to begin your apprencticeship in earnest. And this would be provided for by regimented exposure to Quo, Sabbath, Zeppelin, Purple etc.; like an Atkins of Rock.
Punk came along and smashed everything up but, like an East German postman watching the Wall coming down, I waited until everyone else celebrated before I was truly comfortable with ditching my hard-earned apprenticeship (more of this some other time but God bless you, Ed Banger & the Nosebleeds!). The comfort arrived about 78/79. I took pieces of some of the stuff that Punk smashed up, glued and sellotaped them together into a spastic sculpture of my own imagination, dutifully worshipped and smelled the roses in all sorts of gardens.
So this is one of those roses. And I found it in a sci-fi, hippy garden in front of a house that was being squatted by punks and social activists. I was more than familiar with their earlier stuff and had become accustomed to the 'modern' sound by now. This album ticked all my boxes and seemed to really confirm that it was OK to cross-pollinate without fear of reprisal.
The real star of the show is that man Robert Calvert. A whole other university of human wonder. We'll do some of his solo stuff one day.
This album also contributed to the lesson I learned that lyricsheets can ruin one's appreciation of a good line. 'Burning hoop of doom' just doesn't do it like the line in my head.Click
There used to be a strictly enforced law here in 70s England that sought to apply control and order over the way that kids listened to music. After your baptism via Sweet, Slade, Alice Cooper etc. it was time to begin your apprencticeship in earnest. And this would be provided for by regimented exposure to Quo, Sabbath, Zeppelin, Purple etc.; like an Atkins of Rock.
Punk came along and smashed everything up but, like an East German postman watching the Wall coming down, I waited until everyone else celebrated before I was truly comfortable with ditching my hard-earned apprenticeship (more of this some other time but God bless you, Ed Banger & the Nosebleeds!). The comfort arrived about 78/79. I took pieces of some of the stuff that Punk smashed up, glued and sellotaped them together into a spastic sculpture of my own imagination, dutifully worshipped and smelled the roses in all sorts of gardens.
So this is one of those roses. And I found it in a sci-fi, hippy garden in front of a house that was being squatted by punks and social activists. I was more than familiar with their earlier stuff and had become accustomed to the 'modern' sound by now. This album ticked all my boxes and seemed to really confirm that it was OK to cross-pollinate without fear of reprisal.
The real star of the show is that man Robert Calvert. A whole other university of human wonder. We'll do some of his solo stuff one day.
This album also contributed to the lesson I learned that lyricsheets can ruin one's appreciation of a good line. 'Burning hoop of doom' just doesn't do it like the line in my head.Click
New "upgrade" forthcoming of this and other Hawk discs for you :D
ReplyDelete