I am going down an ultra odd time signature, prog rock hole right now. Like, fast! I know that in a week or two I will crave nothing more than some Nick Drake or Flying Burrito Brothers. For the moment, however, when I get a free moment to enjoy music, I've found myself digging into the obscure solo discography of Yes, Genesis and King Crimson members. Today, I discovered this song while listening to Spotify in my classroom on my prep period. I paused it and listened to the intro four times in a row. As the students entered the next period, I cued the tune. They looked at me like I was listening to extraterrestrial jazz. That's because I basically was.
Here is a cut from drummer, Bill Bruford's (Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, U.K.) second album, "One of A Kind." It's like Daft Punk meets George Duke at a Scientology dance party with members of Return To Forever.... only better! My research tells me (because I couldn't figure this stuff out with my own mortal abilities) that each phrase of the intro piece is 19 beats (eighth notes/quavers) composed of a bar of 7, a bar of 7, and a bar of 5. So that's technically 19/8 time. Wowee Zowee!
You know the story. The Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star" becomes the first music video shown on MTV in the U.S. on August 1981. The 80's first flash in the pan is born. But do you know the next part of the story? The Buggles (Geoff Downes and Trevor Horn) brought prog rock dinosaurs, Yes, back to life for a brief stint as new wave zombies with rad guitar solos. Now, how the hell did that happen? Turns out that Downes and Horn were under the same management as Yes. After 1978's Tormato , an album featuring the forgettable "Don't Kill The Whale," Jon Anderson (vocals) and Rick Wakemen (keyboard wizardry) went splitsville. At that point, most people would probably agree that the band was dead. Steve Howe and Chris Squire saw it differently. Yes' management approached their buddies in The Buggles about jamming with the remains of Yes: Howe (guitar), Squire (bass) and Alan White (drums). What I can only imagine as a weird experience fo...
Jules & The Polar Bears is one of those bands that you want to like, but continue to remain on the fence about even after a decade of failed listens. Recently, I've been sampling bands from the late 70s and early 80s who released fake new wave albums -- major label acts who played middle of the road rock, but disguised it in skinny ties, brightly colored sweaters and catchy, Cars-y keyboard riffs. Jules & The Polar Bears are a good example. Their first record, 1978's Got No Breeding, was compared to Dylan, The Kinks and Springsteen. Personally, I hear a quirky Jackson Browne in the songwriting. Everything sounds bearded and mid-tempo, except Jules Shear, the singer. He gives the band a distinct sound with his "singing at the top of my range" yelp. But even with Shears' interesting squelch, the songs never break out of 70s rock conformity. The guitarist's resemblance to a member of Orleans or Doobie Brothers is telling. Enter 1979's "Fenêt...
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