Procol Harum 1967
(Four stars out
of five) It is strange and somewhat unfair that I have taken 3 years and 640
reviews to finally discuss the first album to lead me from the ephemeral
pleasure of pop music to the cradle-to-grave rewards of progressive rock. I
suppose there are many reasons for this, some of which could only be extricated
by minimally reimbursed visits to the therapist's couch, but I could mention
that dysfunctional belief that I have simply moved on, like any wayward
teenager, to more sophisticated sounds. None of the reasons could take away from
my assertion that A Whiter Shade of Pale was an astonishing début, made
even more remarkable by the by-now legendary back story that the whole album was
hastily assembled to take advantage of the sure hit status of its opening track.
(The reviewer refers to the trans-Atlantic version of the
album, which did include the first hit single)
Back in
1974, my older brother was much enamoured of the work of one
Robin Trower, a guitarist himself much enamoured of
Jimi Hendrix. At one point the full orchestral version of Conquistador
graced our local FM channel and he casually mentioned that Trower was the
guitarist, which turned out to be false. The next moment a muzak version of A
Whiter Shade of Pale was used on the television station's interlude which
also featured a crystalline scene of winter in Montreal. The melody is so grand
that it even succeeds as elevator music. When I wandered for the first time into
the LP section of the local record shop, I emerged with this disk, already
repackaged to underscore that it included the 'original' version of
Conquistador. It turned out that poor Robin missed out on both of the
group's world wide hits, as he only took over from Rob [sic]
Royer for the shotgun recording of the remaining nine tracks.
While this rendition of Conquistador seems shrivelled when compared to
the 1972 hit, it came first, and is still a faithful ode to these bold men of
the past. Matthew Fisher's organ solo, albeit brief, actually covers more ground
than the later one by Chris Copping. From there it's unknown territory for the
neophyte, and what we discover is a rich organ and piano based sound with hints
of R&B and classical music, and lyrics that range from narrative with commentary
to absurdity. The tempo is slow more often than not, but punctuated with ditties
often enough to sidestep sameness.
At the time I remember likening them to The Band,
without realising that they burst on to the scene a year earlier. Particularly
in songs like the bittersweet Salad Days and even Good Captain Clack,
they conjured up the conflicts and the levity of The Night they Drove Old
Dixie Down and Rag Mama Rag. If nothing else, Gary Brooker sounded
like Levon Helm. Then of course there is the cheesy glitter rock of
Kaleidoscope which I only mention because a group called the Rolling Stones
seems to have been rather inspired by it in a 1968 song called Jumping Jack
Flash.
Other songs which remain high in my esteem are the off-kilter organ orgy of
She Wandered through the Garden Fence, the silly Mabel, and the
majestic finale Repent Walpurgis, which musters the most in terms of
overall band performance. Even Christmas Camel, stretched out a bit
beyond its worth, is noteworthy for its narrative style that would remain a
staple of early Procol Harum through good times and bad.
If you don't want to start your exploration of Procol Harum with one of
the many compilations available, I recommend their
début, as subsequent works pale.