Johann Sebastian Bach’s ‘Toccata And Fugue In D Minor, BWV 565 Toccata’ opens a three-disc set of Bach’s Organ Works played by Karl Richter that I have been listening to. As far as pieces of classical music go, this is as famous a piece that you could find even if its full title may not be naturally tripping off the tongue, you can be certain that everyone has heard it at some point. It has drama, a suggestion of horror and whether presented as an attention-grabbing opener or an explosive interlude, this is music that leaves its mark. I would recommend a deep dive into Bach’s organ music; it will realign your audio head with its interweaving complexities and mind mashing progressions that somehow make sense of the confusion and in time resolves into a satisfying immersive experience. You do not need to unpick the mathematical nuts and bolts of how this music was put together, or played so fluently, to wash yourself with its wonder and magnificence. Yes, it demands the attention of the listener but that is no bad thing, music is relegated to background wallpaper too much as far as I’m concerned.

The last time that the more intellectual and long form sounds of classical and jazz sat with acceptance as part of the mainstream audio menu was probably the late sixties and early seventies. This was the time when prog bands would routinely dip into the classical canon to fuse and reimagine the music in a louder, electric context. Today prog rock has mutated into something that holds very little resemblance to the early ambitions of the much-derided form. New forms of prog sound to me closer to a darker, often gothic, heavy metal; still conceptual and open to long form ideas but nevertheless unrecognisable to the prog rock bands that gave the format its name. People like Genesis, Pink Floyd, ELP and King Crimson had classical music, even if only in their schooling, as a natural part of their DNA and so lengthy compositions where the singer would disappear through instrumental fugues and reprises were far more commonplace. The fusing of these more ambitious ideas in parallel to merging of the jazz worlds improvisational and far-out excursions was central to the new ground being broken in music of the period.

Even John Peel, as part of his journalistic sideline, would be seen writing about Proms concerts at the Albert Hall, enthusing about the expression of a violin solo as much as he noted with discomfort the elitism and tangible snobbery in attitudes. That is most likely the reason so much that happens in the classical world can seem disconnected from the mainstream, that feeling of requiring a degree of musical education to get inside can be off putting, I guess? Yes, there are always attempts to make the two compatible; in recent years Pete Tong has been, I assume successfully as it is still going, presented modern dance music in an orchestral setting but personally, I do not hear enough happening in much of the EDM style to reel me in. Go back and listen to a gorgeously pastoral flute or piano solo on a Caravan album for example, or a Bach referencing lightning fingered guitar pattern by Robert Fripp and you can see the pathways and sense the doors opening to the centuries of other musical progressions that have gone before. It is such an exciting world to dive into, but you must not do it casually. Go all in and free your mind. Similarly, this playlist starts with Bach before driving through pop, rock, indie, alt, soul, r&b, folk, psych and prog before ending over four hours later in jazzier realms, think of it as a long form journey in sound…

I think the past month might go down as the juncture in my musical journey when I finally started to love King Crimson. It is certainly not the month when I started listening to them, that began at least five years ago when I began collecting the remastered anniversary CD re-issues of their original late sixties, early seventies output. True to my usual form when investigating a back catalogue, I tried to go chronologically starting with the iconic sleeved debut album ‘In The Court Of The Crimson King’ which, considering its reputation as a classic not only in Prog Rock but Rock music in general, made for a rather marmite introduction. The mellotron override and orchestral flourishes were all familiar to a man who had spent decades exploring Prog’s more flowery, classically ambitious and pastoral early seventies landmarks but the unmistakable sound of terror riding a wave of borderline deranged madness was, to say the least, a little disturbing. No wonder early band members would quit King Crimson because they just could not take making music with so much abrasive aggression anymore. Not only that but through all the albums I listened to, running from that first outing up to 1974’s ‘Starless And Bible Black’, the sense of a band struggling to find themselves would return frequently. And if Crimson themselves could not settle on what they were, how on earth was the listener going to stand a chance?

But then there are enough inspired moments in all those records to delight the senses and send a confused yet stimulated listener returning for more. For example 1970’s ‘In The Wake Of Poseidon’ can sound like a pale replica of 1969’s now classic debut album in places, but then the genius that is ‘Cat Food’ crawls into view and suddenly King Crimson play and deliver like the band we always read about on paper, all lyrical flare and seductive sonics punching holes in walls with a discordant background rumble never too far from the surface. And so, it was this month that I finally came to listen and absorb properly the second Crimson album of 1974, the indisputably superior ‘Red’. This is absolutely the record where everything came together, where the jagged edged attack of Robert Fripp’s guitar work is weaved into shape by the intricate thunder of Bill Brufords’ drumming while John Wetton on bass and vocals gave the band a front man capable of leading the vocal without ever troubling Fripp’s status as leader and creative focal point. Fripp is and remains an arch contrarian with a singular, incorruptible artistic vision who will jettison absolutely any personal friendship he may have with any band member if it serves the music better. It is almost too predictable that in the immediate aftermath of ‘Red’ being released in 1974, Fripp would disband King Crimson, not returning to this musical identity for another seven years. Much like that other great and unpredictable musical independent Bob Dylan, Fripp has little interest in arriving at his destination, all too aware that the music can only remain relevant if you can maintain a constant state of becoming. The genius occurs only in creation, not in the realization or the arrival. And sometimes in life, you have to deconstruct everything you might have put together in order to start building again. The problems arise when others struggle with change, but that in itself is no reason not to follow through with what your heart and soul are telling you.

One of my first ever interactions with another music journalist occurred after a Paul Simon concert in 1991 that I attended. I think it was in the Daily Telegraph that the review appeared and, having loved the gig from start to finish, I was rather disappointed with a write up focusing on Simon’s spontaneity zapping over-rehearsed presentation that, in the writers opinion, sucked any sense of occasion and personable interaction out of the show. Over three decades later I can see he probably had a point, I seem to recall that during that tour Paul would play ‘You Can Call Me Al’ then word for word, every night, repeat a scripted ad-lib about “this is a party” and play the whole song again. Anyway, aggravated that the quality of the music has not been properly reflected, I wrote a reprimanding letter to the journalist advising him of his factual inaccuracies and highlighting the concert material I felt had not been fairly represented. You see, at the time, I felt that Paul Simon was almost the only artist from the sixties who could hold his head high with present-day releases that still felt relevant whilst pushing his own musical journey forward. Time has kind of held my opinion to be true; in 1991 acts like Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney had done little to turn around their late 80s doldrums although I would now admit my knowledge of people like Neil Young, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and Lou Reed was not as deep as it would become after I lived through my twenties later that decade. I should also note that the journalist in question went to the trouble of replying to my letter duly noting my comments, a classy touch that ensured I never wrote a similar missive again simply because I disagreed with someone else’s opinion.

I mention this because during the past month I delighted in a three-and-a-half-hour cinema experience watching the newly released Paul Simon documentary ‘In Restless Dreams; The Music Of Paul Simon’. It is a deep dive into the mans career giving it the time and scope that one of the twentieth centuries greatest songwriters warrants. The archive footage is plentiful and as a long-time fan I was thrilled to witness many clips that were new to me, especially from Paul’s frequent late seventies appearances on Saturday Night Live where he sought to extinguish an over-earnest reputation by gamely sending himself up in comedy skits. Many of the music clips were played long enough to really bathe in and new perspectives burst forth on many key moments from the man’s history. Art Garfunkel may feel a little aggrieved as much as he was fairly represented in the Simon & Garfunkel years, I do think the implication that he would not take a bullet for Paul when a stage invader approached the singer during the 1981 reunion concert in Central Park is unfair. That incident happened in a split second, Artie did not have a moment to think and to suggest he was unwilling to step in had an actual physical assault taken place seems unnecessarily harsh. Maybe the film could have focused less on the creation of last years ‘Seven Psalms’ album, as fascinating as that story is thanks to the seed of the idea coming to Paul in a dream and the trauma of hearing loss impacting him during recording, and not ignored all of the music Paul released over the next thirty years after 1990, that back catalogue has some under appreciated gold dust in there too. Ultimately, the film prompted me to enjoy an extremely rewarding revisit to the Paul Simon back catalogue during October. I am a rock! However, the monthly playlist, as always, features seventy-four other acts in addition to a little nugget from the man himself…

Apologies for the slightly later in the month posting of the playlist this time around. Life has got in the way a bit but not to the extent that the music exploration has stopped. In fact, alongside the usual record/song hunting the past month has seen me dive into some bumper fun archive box set packages from some of my favourite artists. Amongst these was the impossibly expanded John Lennon ‘Mind Games’ set; a release that received a surprising amount of positive critical reaction but there was little about it’s six discs to convince me that this was ever more than a middling Lennon album. As fascinating as the evolutions of the tracks is, you cannot escape the fact that half the material was John on auto-pilot in order to hit the requisite track numbers to justify an album release. It goes without saying though that when he hit the mark, Lennon was a master and his voice remained one of the all time great rock ‘n’ roll sounds.

With a new Neil Young Archives volume on the shelves I thought it high time I actually caught up with the previous Volume II. It is the live material that brings the gold for the most part and the whole chronological structure leads you to wonder why other legendary acts do not adopt a similar approach. The answer is that in most cases it would not be that interesting, repetition and over familiarity would become an issue but this is never the case with Neil Young. Standing still for more than a couple of months was impossible for him it seems with new songs, re-imagined old songs, unexpected cover versions and bold audience baiting experiments ever present in his live experience. I found similar satisfaction in the second volume of the Joni Mitchell Archive series. Here too there are complete concert recordings alongside other buried treasure like hotel room chatter and a superb radio session for John Peel that retains the DJ’s effusive introductions and spoken segues.

Peel featured heavily on my favourite box set from the last month, a rollicking eight disc set chronicling The Faces in session and in concert for the BBC in the early seventies. It is easy to hear why the DJ, who only a few years later would go it alone on Radio One in getting behind the Punk movement, found so much to love in this band. It was an affection that found him gushing during one live ‘in concert’ session how he would like to apply for the job to be The Faces roadie. Other than being a red-hot soulful British bluesy rock band, they just seemed so switched on to the overriding joy this music could provide and squeezed every last drop of juice out of the experience. They did not take themselves too seriously either, something that Peel always had a tendency to fall for, and on more than one occasion can be heard joking how they want to get the performance over with speedily so they do not miss last orders. Each of these sets have a track featured in this months playlist alongside a heady mix of Psych, Folk, Blues, Rock, Pop, Jazz, Soul and beyond…

There is light at the end of the tunnel

Out of all my long term favourite bands who could still reunite with original members, REM are the ones who would prompt the most excitement. I write this because a reunion, of sorts, has taken place over the past month when all four were inducted into the Songwriters Hall Of Fame. To mark the occasion, they sat down together for an in depth interview and at the ceremony itself, reunited for a performance of ‘Losing My Religion’. That however, is almost certainly going to be that. When asked during the questioning about the possibility of any future reunion tour they all seemed resolute in their position, this is not something that is ever going to happen, no matter how much money is on the table.

They forever were a band acutely aware of the pitfalls that befall big rock bands in the 80s and 90s. Music fans first and foremost, I always thought this the one facet that gave them an edge over the competition, REM were pointedly vigilant in not becoming a U2 or such-like and only releasing new music around a five year tour cycle or stagnating as a live band with a punched in identikit set list. They rigorously pushed back these lazier trappings of the elite, especially when they themselves became part of that same club, always seizing initiatives like live rehearsal shows of new material or albums worked into shape during soundchecks. And so it seems to this day, the no-no of a lucrative reformation remains beyond the pale, you cannot expect a second opportunity to leave your legacy in a healthy place.

Michael Stipe referred in that interview to his reluctance to attend a reformed Velvet Underground back in 1993, but also acknowledged he probably regrets that decision now. I saw them too that year and definitely have no shame in taking that one-off opportunity while it was there. But it is true, they did rough ride with their own legacy a bit, no way did the Velvets do anything to enhance it with that reunion tour. It’s saving grace was arguably that it imploded before it even reached the US, but how can a band like the Velvet Underground open for U2, honestly? By refusing to go down the reformation route REM are also respecting another too often ignored universal truth, that when something has reached the end of its life span there is never a turning back. Everything has its time, a brief or, with luck, an extended period in the light when your actions and deeds are received and experienced to maximum effect, but it never lasts forever. And, when the finishing line is crossed, there is no going back. That which is gone can never return and all we can do hence forth is honour the memory and dive into the legacy with a sense of appreciation. I have been doing that very thing lately.

Enjoy the playlist… doesn’t feature any REM or Velvet Underground actually but there you go… others do…