Procol Harum's Rolling Stone ratings

Far too easy to despise

Magnus Lundin writes, 'This is what Rolling Stone gave Procol Harum in a booklet dated from the late seventies'. 

Peter Christian adds the following from the Rolling Stone Album Guide, 1992

Ever since Paul McCartney underscored the melody of Eleanor Rigby with a string quartet, many pop players have attempted a fusion of rock and classical music. The Moody Blues and Emerson, Lake and Palmer came up with grandiose versions, ELO contrived a much more pleasant mix - but the band that pulled off the idea with absolute mastery was Procol Harum.

United by tremendous ambition, all of the musicians were adept soloists - pianist Gary Brooker's voice was not only a first-rate blues vehicle, but was graced with the command to handle Procol's oft-times stentorian lyrics; Matthew Fisher played organ with rare subtlety; BJ Wilson was a drummer as unique in his way as Keith Moon or John Bonham; Robin Trower flourished not only technique but sheer rock power. And in Keith Reid, a literary figure who wrote the words to their songs, Procol found a lyricist whose odd, vaguely surreal lyrics matched their own very distinctive vision.

Even if Trower and Wilson were brought on board only after its release, the staggering Whiter Shade of Pale provided the blueprint for Procol's early glory. Based on Bach's Suite No.3 in D Major, this was music of a haunting resonance - and the single remains the centerpiece of the group's impressive début. The two-keyboard approach, heard first on Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited and Blonde on Blonde, was employed with a fresh majesty, and Brooker's singing had all the urgency of a prime R&B vocalist's. Shine on Brightly developed the sound, with 'Shine on Brightly' having nearly the power of Pale. With A Salty Dog and such standout cuts as the title track, Wreck of the Hesperus and Boredom, Procol purveyed spacious, crafty epics. Brooker favored classical progressions; virtually never did he limit himself to the standard three chords of rock & roll and, while the playing was always first-rate, the group seldom came off as self-indulgent.

Matthew Fisher, however, then departed: the first of Procol's significant personnel losses. Broken Barricades showed the group going in for a heavier, less leisurely style, especially on the full-out attack of Simple Sister; with Whisky Train, off Home, Procol proved it could rock with undeniable credibility. Trower, the only true rocker of the group, then left, however, and the band developed signs that it had lost the creative tension that initially inspired it. Grand Hotel was capable, with Brooker going in for Tchaikovsky-like stylings on the title track; Exotic Birds and Fruit demonstrated a strong, if short-lived return to form; and the group's last two albums were unnecessary. Ninth, produced by the ace songwriting team of Leiber/Stoller, jettisons almost all of Procol's classical music leanings; Something Magic just sounds exhausted. The 1991 comeback, The Prodigal Stranger, was deeply uninspired.

Of the compilations, The Best of and Classics are interchangeable and excellent; also of note is the outstanding 1972 live album that produced a great symphonic reworking of Conquistador, a classic from the début.