BIGGING UP DOWN UNDER PROG
Thanks for the exposé of Australian prog [issue 87]. While I know I’m not the only fan of Caligula’s Horse in the nation’s capital these days, as a kid I often thought I was alone in the universe, walking the streets of Canberra humming along to Tales From Topographic Oceans or The Wall. The country at the time seemed obsessed with the pub rock sounds of AC/DC, Midnight Oil, The Angels and Cold Chisel (which I loved as well).
I never understood why there had to be two camps, though. Midnight Oil, for example, did incredible things with unlikely key signatures and bizarre chords. And in an issue jampacked with acts I would never have discovered, like Gazpacho and TesseracT, while also championing releases that were originally ridiculed, like Marillion’s majestic Brave, one is reminded to not hastily judge music that may not instantly appease and appeal.
Can I throw in one minor gripe?
While prog musicians are wonderfully experimental in their music, their band photos rarely do them justice. They often line up, po-faced with arms crossed or hanging like they have tennis balls in their armpits, with a look suggesting they want to beat you up if you dare call them ‘arty’. A fun game to play is grabbing a random issue of Prog and spotting the cranky line-up photo of a band in front of an old, abandoned building. I like your music, folks, even if you are a little arty and experimental and once listened to Yes, hoping you wouldn’t get beaten up for it.
George Huitker, Canberra, Australia