Comus

/ greenpete58 / 18 Comments

Personnel:
Roger Wootten: acoustic guitar, lead vocals
Glenn Goring: guitars, hand drums, backing vocals
Bobbie Watson: lead and backing vocals, percussion
Colin Pearson: violin, viola
Andy Hellaby: bass, backing vocals
Rob Young: flute, oboe, hand drums
+ Lindsay Cooper: bassoon
+ Keith Hale: keyboards, synthesizer, marimba
+ Gordon Coxon: drums, percussion
+ Jon Seagroatt: flute, oboe, hand drums

Folk music, like blues, jazz, and rock, comes in many variations. One type of folk song are rural ballads. Others might be rural but take the form of “murder ballads.” The folk standard “Pretty Polly” is a fairly well-known rural murder ballad. It concerns a girl who is lured into a forest, murdered, then buried in a shallow grave. There are different interpretations (it’s folk, after all) but it was originally known as “The Gosport Tragedy” and dates to 1720s England. Everyone from Cincinnati, Ohio’s all-female Coon Creek Girls to Ireland’s Gilbert O’Sullivan has performed it. Bob Dylan used the music for his bleak “Ballad of Hollis Brown.”

Halloween is an ideal time to profile a band that put a twisted pagan spin on murder ballads. Comus is maybe the darkest folk group (progressive folk) ever to emerge from the British Isles. They began in Bromley, Kent in 1969 around art students Roger Wootten and Glenn Goring. The original incarnation made only one album, First Utterance. But original vinyl copies on the Dawn label are as sought-after as Beatles lunchboxes. Comus, however, never graced a lunchbox. And for good reason.

Those familiar with David Bowie‘s song, “Memory of a Free Festival” from his second album might know that it was inspired by an actual festival organized by an arts group, the Beckenham Arts Lab, curated in 1969 by Bowie with journalist Mary Finnegan. This arts collective may have been modeled after Andy Warhol’s Factory. It met regularly at a former folk club called The Three Tuns, located in the Beckenham section of South London.

One of the music acts developing their material at the Beckenham Arts Lab was Comus (name chosen by manager Chris Youle and inspired by Greek mythology and poet John Milton). Bowie must have been impressed with Comus because he chose them as support act on an early tour.

Three Tuns Pub, location of Beckenham Arts Lab

Although rooted in the English rural/murder ballad folk tradition, and citing Bert Jansch and John Renbourn as music influences, Comus was equally enamored with envelope-pushing Velvet Underground. (Maybe Velvets/Warhol disciple Bowie introduced them to the music.) First Utterance, with outer sleeve art by Wootten, inner by Goring, might best be called acoustic acid-folk, the guitars, violin, flute, and hand percussion creating an ominous world of black paganism. The songs were mainly written by Wootten (top left in above photo) while he was immersed in your standard 1960s “drug-induced haze.”

The best way I can describe First Utterance is this: Roger Chapman (Family) meets Gillie Smith (Gong) meets Ian Anderson‘s flute while in a facility for the criminally insane. Murder, rape, torture, mental illness, and necrophilia might be the kind of disturbing subjects that certain corners of our entertainment industry have discovered will titillate certain corners of the populace today. But in 1971 such subjects still caused consternation. (This was only two years after the Manson murders.) First Utterance cuts like “Drip Drip,” “Diana,” and “The Prisoner” make Black Sabbath sound like the Archies. I won’t reproduce any lyrics. Suffice to say, the images conjured are not for the squeamish. Maybe not for the non-squeamish. And musically, other than a few snatches of melody, First Utterance is a spooktacular ho-hum. Some nice acoustic guitar and flute here and there, and interesting ideas are suggested. But the ideas are never developed, and Wootten and Bobbie Watson‘s vocals, especially the former’s, are pretty atrocious. Atmosphere, there is. But even a cardboard box has atmosphere.

The record, not surprisingly for an album of repulsive themes issued on a tiny label, fell flat on release. Perhaps this is why the band scrapped their second utterance. The aborted second sessions featured noted bassoonist Lindsay Cooper (bottom left in photo above), who soon left Comus after getting an offer to join Henry Cow. (Definitely an upward move.) It then took two more years to finally release something, the more conventional and less shocking, To Keep from Crying (1974). Cooper appears only on the title cut, while Gong saxophonist Didier Malherbe helps out. The band itself considered this album a “disaster.”  Comus ultimately splintered. Wootten changed his surname to “Raven,” briefly lived in Sweden, and contributed to songs by Henry Cow brother band, Slapp Happy.

As often happens these days, it took a popular, successful music act to pull Comus from the abyss. In this case it was the Swedish prog-metal band, Opeth. The leader, Mikael Åkerfeldt, evidently is a fan. (Åkerfeldt’s earlier band had the delightful name of “Bloodbath.”) Because of Åkerfeldt’s enthusiasm, Comus rose from the dead for a belated issue of some of their discarded second sessions, calling it Out of the Coma. New members were then enlisted for live appearances (see Personnel above), and the band also, somehow, despite its meager output, managed the obligatory cash-grabbing box set.

First Utterance

Though once an obscurity, Comus today is praised to the hilt by a niche of psych and prog collectors. Might this be reflective of our times? Has there been a numbing of sensitivities? My own feeling is that Wootten and company deliberately intended to shock as a way of countering some of the twee pastoral folk of the time, and distancing themselves from then-in-vogue “peace and love” vibes. Shock rock on a fast track. Wooten is quoted as saying, “The love and peace thing, it was very weak. It didn’t have any teeth, and you wanted to give it a kick.” 

Certainly, some of the “love and peace thing” did lack “teeth.” But kicking pearly whites doesn’t necessarily translate into something better. The Velvet Underground countered those same peace/love vibes much earlier. But Uncle Lou didn’t do shock for the sake of shock. He wrote about people who were sad and tragic, many that he personally knew. And even Sister Ray wasn’t criminally insane. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I see little redeeming value in songs intended to shock about rape and (other things). And I guess we each set our own lines that shan’t be crossed.

I’ll stick with Black Sabbath this October 31. Happy Halloween.

EP
“Diana” / “In the Lost Queen’s Eyes” / “Winter is a Coloured Bird” (1971)

Albums
First Utterance (1971)
To Keep From Crying (1974)
Out of the Coma (2012)

Live Album
East of Sweden: Live at Melloboat Festival 2008 (2011)

Box Set
Song to Comus: The Complete Collection (2005)

Procol Harum

/ greenpete58 / 16 Comments

Somewhat late…but I learned that David Knights, bass player in the classic lineup of English progressive rock band, Procol Harum, died this past June. Knights was one of many rock musicians who had a brief flirtation with fame, then – almost overnight – vanished into the mist.

Longitudes loves these types. It also loves Procol Harum, a band with a singular sound, and yet another British act unrecognized by the Rock ‘n’ Dollars Hall of Sham, which, like the current U.S. president, loves wearing its ignorance on its sleeve. So herewith is my paltry tribute to a legendary band and its little-known bass player.

Personnel (pre-reunion):
Gary Brooker: vocals, piano
Keith Reid: lyrics
B.J. Wilson: drums
Robin Trower: guitar, vocals
Matthew Fisher: organ, vocals
David Knights: bass
+ Chris Copping: bass, organ (replaced Fisher and Knights)
+ Dave Ball: guitar (replaced Trower)
+Alan Cartwright: bass
+ Mick Grabham: guitar (replaced Ball)
+ Peter Solley: organ, synthesizer

The origin of the band name “Procol Harum” seems to be anyone’s guess. It reputedly came from a friend’s (or drug dealer’s) cat – either blue Burmese, brown Burmese, or Siamese – and is a misspelling of a Latin phrase roughly meaning “beyond these things.” The group itself emerged from the ashes of Southend, England R&B group Paramounts, led by singer and pianist Gary Brooker. The Paramounts had a minor hit with a cover of the Coasters‘ “Poison Ivy.” Brooker had bigger ideas, though, and left the band to team with bespectacled non-musician/lyricist Keith Reid to compose more ambitious material. These two constructed the basis of the dirgelike, Baroque-rock song, “A Whiter Shade of Pale,” some lyrics of which allude to non-musician Geoffrey Chaucer‘s “The Miller’s Tale” (which Reid evidently had never read). To record the song, the twosome hired organist Matthew Fisher (since credited as song co-writer), bassist David Knights, guitarist Ray Royer, and drummer Bobby Harrison (replaced in studio by sessionist Bill Eyden).

Front: Brooker, Fisher, Knights
Back: Trower, Wilson, Reid

Many, including this writer, consider “A Whiter Shade of Pale” (1967) to be the foundation for the rock genre known as “progressive rock” (aka “art rock”), although the Moody Blues album Days of Future Passed (1967) could equally hold that distinction. The song hit number 1 in the UK, number 5 in the U.S., and is one of the most covered songs in history. It prompted Brooker-Reid to convene a “proper” band for continued musical developments. Harrison and Royer departed, and Brooker brought in fellow Paramounts Robin Trower and B.J. Wilson. This grouping – Brooker, Reid, Fisher, Knights, Trower, and Wilson – comprise what most Procol fans consider the most memorable lineup, recording three exceptional albums: Procol Harum, Shine on Brightly, and A Salty Dog and becoming a major attraction on the rock festival circuit.

Following A Salty Dog, Fisher left for a minor solo career and production work. Knights followed him out. The others brought in another ex-Paramount, Chris Copping, to capably handle both organ and bass on Home and Broken Barricades. After the last-named LP, highlighted by the pounding “Simple Sister,” Trower left for a successful solo career that continues to this day. All of the albums after this were good for at least a couple excellent tracks – particularly a live, fully orchestrated version of early song “Conquistador,” which in 1972 gave Procol another massive hit – but overall LP quality declined, until the dismal Something Magic convinced Brooker-Reid to call it a day.

In later years, Brooker reformed pieces of the group. (Drummer Wilson, one of rock’s most powerful, unique, and under-appreciated percussionists – who almost joined Led Zeppelin – died tragically in 1990.) Brooker also issued several solo albums (the first produced by George Martin), was keyboardist in Ringo Starr & His All-Starr Band, Bill Wyman’s Rhythm Kings, and backed friend Eric Clapton. Trower, of course, has earned a spot in the pantheon of rock guitar gods. His first three solo albums (including the classic Bridge of Sighs) were produced by Fisher.

But what of mysterious one-time bass guy David Knights? After leaving Procol in 1970, he formed a group called Ruby which issued one unheralded album, Red Crystal Fantasies (1974), produced by Ken Scott. Knights either wrote or co-wrote five of the ten tunes. He also went into artist management. One of his early clients was R&B and pub-rock songwriter/musician Mickey Jupp, from Southend, whose association with all things Procol is too extensive to detail here.

According to his widow, Sandie, Knights was very humble, a “homebody” who lived quietly, preferring to stay home with their cats whenever she vacationed. He was a vegetarian, steered clear of drugs, and eventually swore off alcohol and cigarettes. Their courtship is quite interesting. After seeing a Procol Harum show in Minneapolis in 1969 and becoming smitten with the bass player, who was clad entirely in black (“Lightning bolts shot through me!”), Sandie pursued him for three years. He ultimately surrendered. They moved in together, got married nine years later, and remained a couple an astonishing 54 years. He died as he lived, quietly, age 81, with Sandie lying at his side.

Thanks for your music, David.

(And thanks to the Procol Harum fanzine “Beyond the Pale” and Sandie Knights for kindly providing information on David.)

Original Albums:
Procol Harum (1967)
Shine On Brightly (1968)
A Salty Dog (1969)
Home (1970)
Broken Barricades (1971)
Procol Harum Live: In Concert With the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra (1972)
Grand Hotel (1973)
Exotic Birds and Fruit (1974)
Procol’s Ninth (1975)
Something Magic (1977)

Reunion Albums (Studio Only):
The Prodigal Stranger (1991) (w/Brooker, Trower, Fisher, Reid)
The Well’s on Fire (2003) (w/Brooker, Fisher, Reid)
Novum (2017) (w/Brooker)

300th Blog Post

/ greenpete58 / 21 Comments

Hip, hip … (Yes, only six weeks since America’s birthday, and people celebrating themselves again. Sorry!)

But if anyone other than myself might be interested: this is my 300th blog post covering 14 years, not counting a few repostings. For my 100th and 200th anniversaries, I posted links to my articles that either got a lot of attention, or that I was particularly fond of.

For this one, I’ll merely give a brief history of longitudes:

I started this vanity project in October 2012 after I published my first book, a nonfictional historical biography of a 19th-century sailing ship. For the first few postings, I used the name “Latitudes.” But this word seemed too banal, and the double meaning was meaningless. So I shifted Earth coordinates.  

I initially intended to temporarily advertise my book. The University of Alabama Press was very kind, but its marketing department? Not exactly Scribner. (Then again, it’s a history book, and we all know history is irrelevant. Especially now.) Uh…anyway, I’ve always had a lot on my mind, and a desire to broadcast it, and so my maritime marketing idea expanded into what you now see.

For the first dozen or so years, I covered all sorts of topics: history, the sea, music, movies, books, politics, environment, hiking, travel, tropical fish stores…even managed a couple interviews. After the soul-killing 2024 U.S. presidential election, I shifted to strictly music appreciation, my great love and comfort zone. I needed shelter from the looming apocalypse. Then, in January 2026, after my wife and I moved back to the states after sheltering in beautiful southern Spain, I felt obligated to speak out. Then, recently, out of concern for my mental health, I’ve returned to music.

(Hopefully, come November, elections and brains in this woeful nation will not have become entirely poisoned and I can stick with music.)

I did take one or two short breaks from WordPress. I don’t whip these essays off willy-nilly. While they are never perfect, I do devote a lot of time and thought to them, and I want them to convey exactly what I intend. And unlike internet and commercial news, I’m a stickler for correct English, grammar, typo elimination, and source reliability.

Longitudes is a labor of love: all my own words, no links to other people’s words, no advertising other than my books, no Artificial Unintelligence…straight from a human heart and brain, no matter how imperfect the brain may be.

Maybe I obsess over these essays too much. But I need respites, which help recharge my batteries. I may take one now. We’ll see.

There are some readers who have bravely chained themselves to this blog since the quill pen, even through all my rants and my poor attempts at humor. I won’t name them, since that means leaving out people. But please know I appreciate you (and everyone else who reads, “likes,” and shares their thoughts).

Oh, what the heck! Here’s a link to my very first WordPress “article.” It reads like a vapid sales pitch in one of those slick, technicolor, local-attraction pamphlets you see in the lobbies of mid-priced motels. If it was any more inoffensive, it would deserve to be illegal. Anyway, longitudes gives you permission to laugh:

Making Amish

The Canterbury Scene, Part II

/ greenpete58 / 12 Comments

Hello Hello. Back with the second part of my “Canterbury tales,” and thank you for joining me. In Part One I discussed the antecedents of the “Canterbury scene,” a musical milieu associated with the progressive rock genre. The bands I covered are the Daevid Allen Trio, Wilde Flowers, Soft Machine, and Caravan.

Artistic success does not always ensure popular success. Whilst the two last-named bands are fairly legendary in prog circles, issuing many critically respected albums, they never attained the commercial heights of Pink Floyd or Yes. But they were good enough to birth an entire cutout bin’s worth of fine groups and soloists.

Elder statesman Daevid Allen, a founder of the Softs, for example. He made some very interesting, folkish solo records (click here) while also helming the hippie space-rock collective Gong, named after a mythical planet, and which spawned guitar hero Steve Hillage.

The Softs’ Robert Wyatt formed Matching Mole, an early version of which included Caravan’s David Sinclair, and he and the Softs’ Kevin Ayers sustained long, respectable solo careers, with Ayers’ band The Whole World introducing Mike Oldfield (Tubular Bells) to the whole world.

Caravan’s Richard Sinclair formed the Canterbury all-star band Hatfield and the North. They evolved into National Health, but minus Sinclair, who came close to being Peter Gabriel‘s bass player, but found Gabriel’s music too simple after Hatfield! Instead, he joined Camel (some might argue that was a step down).

Second album by Canterbury supergroup, with Richard Sinclair, Dave Stewart, Phil Miller, Pip Pyle. The woman on the cover is Joan Crawford, assigned the alias “Ruby Crystal”

Some artists from outside Kent “absorbed themselves” through association into the Canterbury scene: Uriel/Egg (click here), Delivery, Gilgamesh, Lady June, Allan Holdsworth, and Bill MacCormack/Quiet Sun. The drum seat in fusion outfit National Health was briefly held by Bill Bruford (Yes, King Crimson).

There’s also a little known acid-folk group called Spirogyra (unrelated to the U.S. pop-jazz band Spyrogyra) whose members met at University of Kent in 1969. They developed independently, but singer Barbara Gaskin also eventually became “absorbed” into the scene we’re now discussing.

While I could rhapsodize over these and related artists until the next World Cup, I promised I’d identify what distinguishes the Canterbury scene from other more famous names in prog rock.

For starters, the scene was very “incestuous”…though in a good way. The musicians all supported each other. Enough talent existed in Kent that there was usually no need to search outside for it. But occasionally, a few “outsiders,” to their benefit, did drop in as fill-ins, producers, or sessioners: Nick Mason (Pink Floyd), Eno (Roxy Music), Phil Manzanera (Roxy, Quiet Sun, 801), Andy Summers (Police), and Michael Giles (King Crimson) are a few.

One of the Canterbury scene’s more avant-garde releases

Also, unlike some other proggers, the Canterburians, while serious about making good music, and despite a strong literary and intellectual bent, never took themselves seriously. The lyrics had in-jokes, name drops, and puns. (One Caravan album is titled Cunning Stunts. I’ll say no more.) There was abundant humour and self-deprecation, a low-key Dadaism and appreciation of the absurd. And there was no showboating, no “Look how technically amazing I am on my instrument.” Emphasis was on group dynamics and compositional arrangement (which could be very complex), and individual grandstanding was frowned on. This musical emphasis was reflective of a strong anti-capitalist, pro-socialist proclivity, particularly with Wyatt, and allied the Canterburians with similarly leftist, non-Canterbury band, Henry Cow.

And while prog is known for downplaying the influence of American black music – and, thus, prog (often termed “art rock”) gets flak from certain rock ‘n’ roll purists (I won’t namedrop) – the Canterburians did add improvisational jazz elements to their music. Richard Sinclair, perhaps the scene’s most representative musician (and most loquacious spokesman), claims his whole musical world opened up after accidentally hearing Eric Dolphy‘s album, Out to Lunch.

Above all these were gifted writers and arrangers, and impressive, although humble, instrumentalists. To try and single out any one Canterbury musician for praise would be a fool’s errand. It’s not a stretch to say they were all great.

Ayers’ third album, with guests Robert Wyatt and Mike Oldfield

The Canterbury scene’s best years were 1967 to about 1975. After that, much of the music slipped into clinical fusion-style noodling and lost much of its charm. If you’d like to dip your toes into this fascinating sub-genre – which I highly recommend – I’ve provided below what I think is a trustworthy top 10 “buyer’s guide.” And believe it or not, versions of Caravan, Soft Machine, and Gong are still on the road. Though Caravan’s Richard Coughlan has passed, and Richard Sinclair lives in Italy whilst cousin David is in Japan, Pye Hastings still records and tours with versions of Caravan.

The fact that the Canterbury scene is so little known outside of serious prog listeners is alternately frustrating and satisfying. It is frustrating because this is such great music, yet it nevertheless has remained largely unappreciated by “the masses.” Let’s face it: these artists will never join Pink Floyd, Yes, Genesis, and Moody Blues in that monstrosity with the word “fame” in it.

But it is also satisfying because cultists like me gain a certain selfish satisfaction from keeping the secret to ourselves. I saw what happened when Nick Drake was discovered by “the masses” in the years after his death. The result? His graceful music being exploited by Volkswagen to sell cars. 

So do me a favour. If you favour this music…please keep it to yourself. Thanks.

Second release in Gong’s “Radio Gnome Invisible” trilogy

Like every list, substitutions can easily be made. But I think the following albums are best representative of each artist’s style:

Soft Machine, Volume II (1969)
Kevin Ayers, Joy of a Toy (1969)
Caravan, In the Land of Grey and Pink (1971)
Egg, The Polite Force (1971)
Gong, Camembert Electrique (1971) or You (1974)
Robert Wyatt, Rock Bottom (1974)
Steve Hillage, Fish Rising (1975)
Hatfield and the North, The Rotter’s Club (1975)
Daevid Allen, Now is the Happiest Time of Your Life (1977)
Richard Sinclair, Caravan of Dreams (1992)

The Canterbury Scene, Part I

/ greenpete58 / 23 Comments

Music is an art form that enhances our lives. It is an outlet for boundless creativity and imagination (and, disappointingly, one of the first victims of budget cuts). But like all art forms, music has good and bad. It also has genres, styles, trends, personalities, and histories.

I’ve always been intrigued by how certain geographic regions can produce musical styles unique to those regions. There are distinct differences between country blues from the Mississippi Delta and country blues from the Piedmont region. Or West Coast versus East Coast jazz. In the 1960s, San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury district produced rock bands that had a singular sound. So did Laurel Canyon, Greenwich Village, Liverpool, and “Swinging” London.

My blogging friend Clive recently reminded me that he’s a native of lush, green County Kent, England. Another friend, Mike Miller, put together a list of favourite rock flautists, to which I felt compelled to add my own favourite: Jimmy Hastings, flute player extraordinaire from the cathedral city of Canterbury, in Kent.

The Wilde Flowers, circa 1966. L to R: Brian Hopper, Robert Wyatt, Richard Coughlan, Hugh Hopper

For a long time I’ve extolled the merits of what is known as the “Canterbury scene.” No, I’m not referring to archbishops, or the fictional pilgrims that Geoffrey Chaucer created in the 14th century. I’m talking of a music environ whose peak years were the late 1960s and early ’70s. The artists in this environ are usually associated with the genre known as progressive (prog) rock…although, these same artists might bristle at being called “prog,” since their music has its own unique characteristics.

(And some, like Robert Wyatt and Hugh Hopper, argue there was no “scene” at all. Wyatt was actually born in Bristol, and Hopper claimed the term “Canterbury scene” is just a convenient tag for journalists. Well, I’m a journalist, so I’ll use it!)

The most fanatical of prog “heads” already know about Canterbury. But many casual listeners overlook the “scene” (for lack of a better word) that percolated here, and which produced dozens of extraordinary musicians, some of whom are still active. Hopefully this article will shine a light.

In 1961, when there were only a few hippies, and those that existed were called “beatniks” and wore berets, goatees and played bongos and recited poetry to jazz music, a 23-year-old Australian beatnik named Daevid Allen met his landlady’s son, 16-year-old Robert Wyatt, in Lydden, near Dover, Kent. Despite the age difference, the two were mutually “beat.” Wyatt introduced his friend Hugh Hopper to Allen, and they formed the jazz group, Daevid Allen Trio. This group managed some rough gigs at the Marquee Club in London, and at London’s Institute of Contemporary Arts, where they met Beat Generation writer William Burroughs. The trio also experimented with Terry Riley-influenced tape loops while visiting Paris. But they disbanded without making any official recordings.

The scene congealed later, in 1964 in Canterbury, where Wyatt then lived, with The Wild Flowers. This group had roots in local Simon Langton Grammar School for Boys. More a fluid music “collective” than actual group – the Wild Flowers lineup continually fluctuated – the original members were Wyatt (drums), Hopper (bass), Kevin Ayers (lead vocals), Richard Sinclair (guitar), and Hugh’s older brother Brian (guitar, and the only consistent member). Ayers soon added an “e” to the first word of their name to honour humorist and societal rebel Oscar. Unlike the Rolling Stones, Beatles, and those bands’ “children” to the west and north, the Wilde Flowers, like the earlier Daevid Allen Trio, dug American jazz and poetry as much as blues and early rock ‘n’ roll.

Soft Machine, 1967. L to R: Kevin Ayers, Robert Wyatt, Mike Ratledge, Daevid Allen

Jane Hastings, sister of Jimmy, and a stunningly beautiful and wealthy model married to millionaire zookeeper and casino owner, John Aspinall, bankrolled the Wildes (and later Canterbury groups) after 20-year-old playboy Ayers seduced her away from her husband. 

The Wildes lasted five years but never left Kent. However, two significant bands sprouted from them: Soft Machine and Caravan. The Softs included Wyatt (drums), Ayers (bass), Wyatt’s old mentor, Daevid Allen (guitar), and keyboardist Mike Ratledge, the son of Richard Sinclair’s school headmaster. After getting Burroughs’ permission, they took their name from one of his novels. A bit later, Sinclair, now playing bass, founded Caravan with three latterday Wildes: guitarist Julian “Pye” Hastings (younger brother of Jimmy and Jane), drummer Richard Coughlan, and organist David Sinclair, Richard’s cousin.

Are you starting to see some connections?

The first to record were the Soft Machine. In early 1967 they converged on London and cut the poppy “Love Makes Sweet Music,” b/w “Feelin’ Reelin’ Squealin’,” both written by Ayers and produced by Chas Chandler and Kim Fowley, respectively. They then made some demos, much more progressive, under producer Giorgio Gomelsky. Performance-wise, they alternated LSD-soaked shows with Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd at London’s ultra-hip psychedelic club, UFO. Then in 1968 they toured the U.S. with The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Here, they recorded their Tom Wilson-produced debut album (minus Allen, who’d left the band after being denied a visa re-entry). But Ayers became disillusioned with the tour-and-record grind and quit, eventually to go solo. The other two then brought in old Wilde bassist and Softs roadie, Hugh Hopper.

Caravan, circa 1970. L to R: Pye Hastings, David Sinclair, Richard Sinclair, Richard Coughlan

Meanwhile, brother band Caravan had been rehearsing in a local church, and sleeping in tents in the country. Their first album, Caravan, came out in 1969 on UK Verve. It was propelled by David Sinclair’s intense Hammond A-100 organ, and showcased a beautiful flute solo by Jimmy Hastings on “Love Song With Flute.” Often overlooked even by progsters (UK Verve soon folded, and the LP sound mix is mucky and murky), this album is a great example of how 1960s psychedelic rock was recalibrating itself into 1970s prog rock.

Next time I’ll discuss some branches of the Canterbury scene family tree, and explain how it differs from certain more illustrious progressive rock artists. Until then, lie perfectly still, and enjoy one of my favourite Caravan songs.

Joni, Neil, Gord, and 1960s Toronto

/ greenpete58 / 10 Comments

Night in the city looks pretty to me
Night in the city looks fine
Music comes spilling out into the street
Colours go flashing in time – Joni Mitchell

My wife and I just returned from a long weekend in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. We’d never visited despite the city being only a day’s drive from our home.

It felt good to put the bullying U.S. in our rearview mirror and breathe some figurative “fresh air,” greeting our friendly and cosmopolitan northern neighbour despite the literal smoky air from the wildfires Canada now struggles with…probably exacerbated by global climate change, the science of which our childlike U.S. leaders continue to ridicule.

One item on my agenda, along with visiting the Hockey Hall of Fame, was an excursion to Toronto’s Yorkville District. Every large city has one bohemian enclave, and in 1960s Toronto it was Yorkville. Here, many now-legendary maple-leaf musicians first plied their craft.

Yorkville in the 1960s

Yorkville is no longer the hippie haven it was in the ’60s. Gone are the little coffeehouses like Riverboat, the Half Beat, the Purple Onion, Village Corner, El Patio, and Penny Farthing. The Bloor-Danforth subway line was built, shooting land values sky-high, and the district is now filled with high-rises, fashion boutiques, art galleries, and a few small parks, one of which had a musical duo vainly trying to re-conjure the magic. As in most such places, the hippies have been displaced by tourists (like us). Even as far back as 1980, Saskatchewan native Joni Mitchell was lamenting that, in Yorkville, “the quaintness is now slick” and the district had become “Chic-y-Poo Lane,” possibly referencing her nostalgic song, “Sisotowbell Lane.”

But in 1964 Mitchell performed straight folk songs here as Joni Anderson, just prior to meeting short-lived hubby Chuck Mitchell. She claims she survived on “rice pudding and tomato juice” until belatedly getting a musician’s union card so she could appear in clubs. Her song “Night in the City” from her haunting, underrated debut album, Song to a Seagull, is about Yorkville. (The marriage to Mitchell inspired her ironically titled song, “I Had a King.”)

Joni Mitchell, 1964, when she was Joni Anderson

Winnipeg native Neil Young also played here, possibly premiering the first song he ever wrote, “Sugar Mountain.” Then he grew his hair, left Sugar Mountain, and headed to Los Angeles in a refurbished hearse with bass player Bruce Palmer, where they met Stephen Stills and formed Buffalo Springfield. 

Another Yorkville regular was perhaps the most purely Canadian singer of all, Gordon Lightfoot. He played Yorkville as one-half of a duo called the Two-Tones (the other half being Terry Whelan) before going solo, his songs like “I’m Not Sayin’,” “For Lovin’ Me,” and “Early Morning Rain” finding homes with everyone from Nico to Peter, Paul and Mary to the Grateful Dead.

Canadian folksingers Ian & Sylvia (“Four Strong Winds,” “You Were on My Mind,” “Someday Soon”) and David Wiffen (“Driving Wheel”) were also Yorkville regulars. Occasionally, American blues artists like Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee played Yorkville.

Yorkville in 2026

Lynn and I also visited Massey Hall, very close to Yorkville. This famous music venue was built in 1894. The building exterior features Moorish arches, while the interior resembles Spain’s Alhambra. In 1981 it was designated a National Historic Site of Canada.

But our interest here is music. Massey is the chief venue for the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. It was also the site for what some jazz historians call “The Greatest Jazz Concert Ever.” On 15 May 1953, five of the greatest on their instruments ran through a slate of bebop classics: Charlie Parker (alto sax), Dizzy Gillespie (trumpet), Bud Powell (piano), Charles Mingus (bass), and Max Roach (drums). It was the only time all five of “The Quintet” played together. The concert is preserved on Jazz at Massey Hall.

Joni, Neil, and Gord also performed at Massey, after they’d graduated from Yorkville and achieved fame. Lightfoot, in fact, set a Massey record by playing here 140 times. Others who performed at Massey include Bob Dylan, Cream, Sparrow (pre-Steppenwolf band with John Kay), Rush, and Bob Marley and the Wailers. Speakers have included Winston Churchill, Thomas Mann, Helen Keller, the Dalai Lama, and Salvation Army founder William Booth.

(In the U.S., our totalitarian, culturally stunted leaders subject us to televised, caged street fights.)

Outside Massey Hall

But getting back to Yorkville, we ate at a nice Italian place called Trattoria Nervosa (excellent but pricy food, outstanding service). We would have eaten at Hemingway’s on Cumberland Ave., but bar seating was the only thing available due to the World Cup final being shown. Not a big disappointment, because that Hemingway never visited here.

***

If this travelogue piques your interest and you decide to visit Toronto, we recommend getting a hotel near Toronto Pearson Airport. To reach the city centre, take the hotel shuttle to the airport then the UP Express train to Union Station. Cheap tickets, quick and comfortable commute.

Next time I’ll be visiting County Kent, England for a few Canterbury (Scene) musical tales. If you like bananas, golf, or flying teapots, you’ll want to join me. Thanks for reading!

Amazing Blondel

/ greenpete58 / 11 Comments


Some of you may notice the odd title. “Amazing Blondel” was the name of a music group. I’ve decided to take a breather from the nonstop political circus and return to my great love: music.

I’ll probably return to documenting the decline and fall of the American empire, maybe after we’re firmly ensconced in the second Dark Ages, and assuming that the facsimile of a man in the White House hasn’t pushed a red button. 

Socrates told the truth and was poisoned. Demosthenes looked for the truth and wound up living in a barrel. Longitudes is taking a break. Thanks for tolerating my schizo tendencies.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes. I left off with Upp way back in December. Here’s another interesting British ensemble that floated under the radar but whose post-First Dark Age music I find unique and very enjoyable.

Band Personnel:
John Gladwin: 12-string guitar, lute, double bass, theorbo, cittern, tabor, tubular bells, vocals
Terry Wincott: 6-string guitar, harmonium, recorders, flute, ocarina, crumhorn, pipe organ, tabor, harpsichord, piano, mellotron, percussion, vocals
Eddie Baird: lute, glockenspiel, cittern, dulcimer, 12-string guitar, percussion, vocals

Amazing Blondel was formed in 1969 in Scunthorpe, Lincolnshire, England to champion the instrumentation and evocations of Medieval and Elizabethan-era England. They were similar in that regard to the folk-prog band Gryphon, whom I wrote about here. But there are a few differences.

Blondel was less prog-inclined and easier on untrained ears than Gryphon. They were three instead of five, and the songs were shorter, softer, less complex, with fewer instrumental gymnastics, and with precise, articulate singing. And beautiful singing it was. Here’s a capsule history:

L to R: Gladwin, Baird, Wincott

Amazing Blondel took their unusual name from a French trouvÃĐre (minstrel) serving English King Richard I (“Richard the Lionheart”). His name was Jean Blondel de Nesle. The story goes that a perceptive chef heard one of their songs and excitedly remarked, “Oh, very Blondel!” The members added “Amazing” in the fashion of another Brit folkie band, Incredible String Band.

Gladwin and Wincott had been in three unknown groups, the Dimples, Gospel Garden, and Methuselah, issuing both singles and albums, all vanishing quickly. Last-named group did hard rock and was signed to illustrious Elektra, strangely, in America. But the twosome preferred acoustic and chose to fashion their own idiosyncratic brand of rock with instruments like lutes, citterns, and theorbos. Their bag of tricks eventually grew to roughly forty instruments.

First album was released on Bell Records, same label as Gryphon, and overseen by a popular session guitarist named Big Jim Sullivan. A patchy affair with clunky vocals, horns, and drums, it borrowed heavily from the Band. But after signing with Island Records (on recommendation from Free) and being augmented by school friend Baird, the group showed tremendous growth. This three-piece Blondel played the first Glastonbury Festival, in 1970, and released three superb albums: Evensong, Fantasia Lindum, and England.

Gladwin emerged as an original arranger/writer with the voice and enunciation of…well…what an Elizabethan minstrel might sound like. The trio  combined distinctive chamber-folk, pastoral musicality with exotic instrumentation and wardrobes on both LP and at live settings, opening concerts for top bands of the era:  Genesis,  Traffic,  Procol Harum, Spooky Tooth,  Fairport Convention,  Steeleye Span.  Like Gryphon, Blondel were perfectionists who played seemingly every traditional Anglo instrument imaginable, on original compositions in style of “pavanes, galliards, and madrigals” (Wikipedia). Gladwin later described having custom built for him a seven-string classical guitar that imitated sound of a lute.

After England, arguably Blondel’s peak, group’s main composer, Gladwin, left, Baird assuming the writing reins. Album Blondel (aka the “purple album”), with guests Steve Winwood and Paul Rodgers (Free, Bad Company), was last Island release. A fine record, it nonetheless felt Gladwin’s departure, with slighter songs and vocals, intrusive drums, and overall prog-lite mood more reminiscent of Barclay James Harvest than Jean Blondel de Nesle. Succeeding albums pushed farther from the Renaissance and closer to mainstream 1970s rock.

However, long after Baird and Wincott disbanded, Gladwin reconstituted the band, initially touring as “John David Gladwin’s English Musicke.” A not-bad reunion Blondel album with the full trio,  Restoration  (1997), resulted. There have also been a slew of live albums and compilations (partial list below). Gladwin and Baird died only last year, leaving Wincott the only original member.

If you’re into the more esoteric progressive (prog) rock acts, or UK folk rock – or even classical music and you aren’t snobbish – do yourself a favor: take a trip back in time and check out any of Amazing Blondel’s Island Records albums. And if you see him, tell Jean Blondel de Nesle that Pierre Poopel de Ohio says “Merci beaucoup.”

Original Albums:
Amazing Blondel and a Few Friends (1970)
Evensong (1970)
Fantasia Lindum (1971)
England (1972)
Blondel (1973)
Mulgrave Street (1974)
Inspiration (1975)
Bad Dreams (1976)

Reunion Albums:
Restoration (1997)
The Amazing Elsie Emerald (2010)

Live Albums:
Live in Tokyo (1977) (Note: actually recorded in Scandinavia!)
A Foreign Field That is Forever England (1996)

Compilations:
Englishe Musicke (1993)
Going Where the Music Takes Me (2006)
On With the Show (2007)

Longitudes Celebrates July 5 and Announces Its Candidacy

/ greenpete58 / 5 Comments

America’s 250th celebration of itself is over. Thank God. It was a very muted Fourth of July (despite my turning 68 that day). Not many flags in my neighborhood, not as many firecrackers.

I don’t know if this is because people are much lazier these days due to constant digital diversion, or because they feel as I do: this country is fucked, big time. One political cartoon I saw sums up my own feelings: it’s hard to celebrate America’s birthday when  the country is on life support. I mean, really, flag wavers. If a loved one was in IC with tubes sticking out everywhere, would you be dancing and blowing noisemakers? I think not. Either Americans are  phenomenally dumb, or their values lie in the gutter. Only two choices, pick your poison.

Dump never says anything that has value, but one thing he’s right about is that Americans “don’t care.” Of course, he’s speaking of their indifference to his deplorable behavior and destructive policies. But I think the indifference applies to a lot of things.

Average guy Graham Platner…soon to be harvesting oysters again

I’m now teetering on the edge of shutting everything down. My precarious emotional state not only affects me, it affects my family. Since returning from Spain eight months ago, I’ve been fairly active politically. But one gets weary when the victories only come in droplets. Fascist Republicans have a lock on all three branches of government and are now making substantial inroads into control of our elections and mass media. Concentration camps are in operation. (Does all this sound familiar?) Yet Democrats continue to display their impotence.

Just recently, a Maine oyster farmer and Democrat named Graham Platner destroyed his chances of winning a Senate seat when sexual assault allegations were made against him (allegations which, of course, he’s denied). Maine Democrats have demanded he quit. He probably didn’t have a chance, anyway. The only consolation is that incumbent Senator Susan Collins is probably the only Republican in the country who might still be considered “moderate.”

At least Democrats rid their stalls of manure like Platner. Republicans? I won’t even go there.

Maine Senator Susan Collins (R)

Not sure why Maine Dems couldn’t vet this unknown entity better before endorsing him. Maybe they were in a rush? Aren’t there better candidates in that state than horndog jarheads with Nazi-era tattoos on their chests? Doesn’t Edmund Muskie have any grandchildren in politics?

But this latest debacle has me thinking. It’s commonly understood Republicans can’t win on issues alone, which is why they rely on negativity, lies, scandals, conspiracy theories, and character assassinations. And they often succeed (witness the implosions of George McGovern, Michael Dukakis, John Kerry, Hillary Clinton, and the “birther” nonsense around President Obama – and this is merely at the federal level). Evidently the reason for GOP success is that, as that great philosopher Donald Dump opines, Americans don’t care…about character, issues, and policy. After all, if they cared about education, affordable health care, sensible immigration policies, climate change, gun control, economic security, civil liberties, the Constitution, the rule of law, and traditional values like honesty and integrity, they would not have voted for a twice-impeached, insurrectionist, convicted felon, “birther” and conspiracy-monger. Am I right??

So if that’s the case…why do Democrats insist on always emphasizing the issues? It’s a losing strategy! Americans have trouble understanding these complicated things! They…just…don’t…care.

The late Maine Senator Edmund Muskie (D)

I was only joking earlier when I said I’m thinking of shutting everything down. I figure if a macho action figure with a disturbing J.D. Vance beard, with a limited education and a wardrobe from Tractor Supply – like Graham Platner – can get as far as he did, I can do the same. Not only am I better looking, I’ve never sexually assaulted anyone (except myself), and I lack a Nazi tattoo on my chest (or anywhere else). Plus, if need be, I can be as ignorant or wrong on the issues as any Republican can, especially our pedophile-in-chief.

So I’m thinking of announcing my candidacy. Since Americans don’t care about the issues, my platform will rely on character assassination of my opponent. No talk of any confusing stuff. As with the Republican Party, I want to dumb things down for the average American as much as possible.

And as soon as they find out I was born on the Fourth of July, I’ll be a shoo-in for the presidency.

Coping Tactics for 2026 America

/ greenpete58 / 8 Comments

Last post, as a break from the relentless negativity, I promised I would discuss ways to cope (without mentioning drugs or chemicals that blow things up) when you see your country being eaten alive by fools, bigots, Machiavellians, clowns, apathetics, and a dozen other nouns.

One of the people I mention below recently wrote that – beyond any conceivable notion of reason and rationality – 70 percent of Republicans (another dirty noun) still support the child-monster in the White House. How can this be? From where do they get their information? Surely he’s wrong. Surely he meant 70 percent don’t support him. Yes…that’s what he meant. They do not support it.

Well, that’s one coping mechanism: blissful blindness.

He also pointed out that Democrats appear exhausted by the daily outrages. I think he’s right with that one. Under normal circumstances there are ways of pointing out to people why drinking carrot juice might be preferable to drinking turpentine. But when people claim they really like swallowing turpentine, there is little you can do.

We all need escape doors in this black malaise (except, apparently, Republicans). To that end, here are a few ways longitudes copes:

Write about the shit that’s goin’ down. I find purging the mental toxins with a pen is therapeutic. Psychologists all encourage their patients to keep a journal. WordPress is my psychotropic journal. I fully realize my words will never assist an election outcome. But they assist me.

Comment on other likeminded bloggers’ sites. This is related to the above, but it helps to know there are other Age of Enlightenment apostles besides myself.

Read books by enlightened writers. I think I have a fairly diverse reading diet, leaning toward histories and classic lit, and I also watch podcasts by folks who think along similar lines: veteran folksinger Tom Rush, who sends me “Rockport Sundays” music and interviews every…Sunday. Radio icon and nerd extraordinaire Garrison Keillor, who sends me vintage “Prairie Home Companion” shows every Friday, which always induce smiles; and Brent and Michael, two very sharp, gay “digital nomads” who left the U.S. after the 2016 election and make me jealous with their Substack travel pieces.

Divorce Facebook.

Volunteer. Last week I manned the ACLU tent at a local Pride festival. I’ve also gone door-to-door, thanks to Indivisible.org, alerting fellow Dems about area presence of  Dump’s personal Gestapo known as ICE. Again, feels good to hobnob with my own species.

Friend Laura at ACLU tent

Exercise. It’s well-documented that blood pumping helps reduce anxiety and depression. I realize not everyone can do it, but I train for and run marathons, and I find abusing my body for 15 to 20 miles does wonders for my outlook. Maybe not my lower back and legs, but so what? Physical pain displaces the mental pain.

Music. My biggest passion. While driving I listen to Sirius’s RealJazz or Little Steven’s Underground Garage (depends on the deejay), occasionally the Beatles channel. Saturday nights I slap on headphones, flick off the lights, and make love to a couple LPs from my small (700) vinyl collection. Once in a green moon I’ll supplement the music with C. indigo. Oops. Promised I wouldn’t mention drugs. Oh well.

Nature. Trees, plants, animals, fresh air, and Thoreau-like solitude are a great way to calibrate one’s perspective. Might be hard to believe – and the presidential imposter in the White House certainly doesn’t believe it – but there’s a much more valuable and rewarding world beyond caged violence, cheating on the golf course, and the daily crimes of Wall Street and Washington. When things get really bad, I dig out my backpack and find a good mountain where, as wilderness activist Walkin’ Jim Stoltz once said, “things work the way they’re supposed to work.”

Centennial Mountains, Montana-Idaho

Grandchildren. Not everyone is as lucky as my wife and me. “Gigi” and I not only have our health, we also have four beautiful grandchildren, three of whom live close by. Every time we see them I forget all the crap and get wrapped up in their love. That being said, it’s difficult to gaze on their still-innocent faces while knowing the awful world they will inherit. But maybe our current course will be reversed. If not, Canada and Western Europe have wonderful universities and visa options.

How do you cope? 

Next on Agenda: Suppress the Democrat Vote

/ greenpete58 / 3 Comments

The fascism machine of Donald Dump and his Republican cult keeps right on rolling (in-between their White House caged violence displays, cockfights, and head-butting contests).

Immoral wars, concentration camps, First Amendment assaults, murders of protesters, blatant bigotry, monuments to thyself ad nauseum, aren’t enough when you have to transform a nation from First to Third World…and even certain Third World nations undoubtedly now use America as a punch line.

The U.S. is five months away from its midterm elections, when the country’s somnolent populace has a chance to swing the House and Senate to Democrat and rid this nation of its nightmarish pox. It will be difficult enough to awaken dumbass America to do the right thing (since we’ve proven time and again that we’re not up to the task.) But Dump and his fellow crypto-Nazis aren’t taking chances. Here’s a laundry list of their recent efforts to sabotage the electoral process (courtesy Indivisible.org):

If dubious, please note the source links that Indivisible conveniently and responsibly provides, and click them if you need confirmation (then note the quotations, and further source-click, if necessary). These voting assault stories are for real, and not, as conservatives always love to claim, “liberal fake news.” The last item I listed – intimidation of election volunteers by mask-wearing FBI agents – hits literally close to home, as Cleveland is in my home state, just a few hours north.

We are a nation now being run by maniacs. These are people who are anti-science, anti-environment, anti-education, anti-democracy, who start wars of political convenience where innocents, including children, are senselessly slaughtered, with the only response being a figurative shrug of the shoulders. The hellish figures now running the country (into the ground) might be cunning, but are also so phenomenally stupid, they make Hitler and Mussolini’s brown- and blackshirted gorillas look like Harvard PhDs. The indecency this government displays, devising new ways, almost daily, to screw anyone it dislikes, in the process trampling any honorable values America may have possessed, truly defies belief.

Yet most U.S. citizens continue to snore while wearing their Walmart “FREEDOM” t-shirts. I’d bury my head in the ground out of shame, but I fear being grouped with the yahoos around me whose horses’ heads are buried from indifference.

But there’s always hope…I guess. Next time I’ll discuss some ways of coping that I’ve found useful that don’t involve drugs, alcohol, or nitroglycerin.