Master Index for The Progects

by nielskunze on May 17, 2019

Introduction to The Progects

Horned Prog Set 1 Breakfast in Prague

Horned Prog Set 2 Sometimes the Horns Are Implied

Horned Prog Set 3 Zappa’d

Horned Prog Set 4 Proven in the Groovin’

Horned Prog Set 5 Pop Rocks & Other Unsavoury Snacks

Horned Prog Set 6 Hot Coffee & Cold Fusion

Horned Prog Set 7 Quirky Jerky

Horned Prog Set 8 Lunch In Chicago

Horned Prog Set 9 On the Rocks

Horned Prog Set 10 On the Jazz

Horned Prog Set 11 A Bag of Rocks

Horned Prog Set 12 Get the Funk Outta Town

69 Give and/or Take 1 & 2 (The Music Archeologist Part 1)

69 Give and/or Take 3 & 4 (The Music Archeologist Part 2)

Progged Down & Getting Uppity Hours 1, 2 & 3 (Eclecticism 101)

The Progects: Thoughtfully curated, artfully mixed

by nielskunze on May 16, 2019

Cultural preservation is up to us. It is we the people— ourselves— who must determine what is worth preserving, and then take the appropriate steps to carry it forward for new generations.

Institutionalized and corporate interests will always promote and project that which has already proven to be popular, first as nostalgia to the aging masses, and then as recycled, modernized, updated fare for mass re-consumption by the young. But what is popular is not necessarily good; in fact, it is only ever rarely so.

The Progects concerns itself with music— specifically, progressive music, generally referred to as “prog.” Although initially, prog was an umbrella term for progressive rock, it has grown since its birth in the late sixties to encompass musical stylings including jazz, country and classical structures, along with ethnic influences in addition to common rock and roll. Essentially, prog has come to mean any music outside of “normal” structural conventions, often featuring marked complexity and/or eclectic instrumentation. Prog draws upon all styles and conventions in order to blend and repackage the familiar into unique and interesting and often novel forms, providing fresh interest and originality, where the strictly traditional might otherwise tend toward sterility and endless repetition.

I became a rabid prog-head already in my early teens. When asked— as kids do among each other— “What’s your favourite band?” I could only answer accurately with a list of five. As to which of the five might be my favourite on any given day depended entirely upon the mood I happened to be in. That list of five, in no particular order, was: King Crimson, Yes, Rush, Pink Floyd and Jethro Tull.

It was these five, more so than any others, who provided true excitement to my music enjoyment. Sure I liked Led Zeppelin, The Who, Boston, Black Sabbath and many other popular acts of the seventies, but it was the truly progressive bands who captured and aroused my imagination and transported me to other realms and worlds from the comfort of my own bedroom. Coming home from the downtown record shops every other week with a new stack of trippy music was the cherished prerequisite to magical adventures. And I loved it!

The Progects seeks to recreate that sense of endless discovery through providing hour-long mixes of progressive music. I earnestly wish to impart that sense of real excitement that carried me through my youth and has continued to only grow as I march now through adulthood. For those who “get it”, music is able to provide a unique stimulant to the psyche of the listener which no other art form seems able to achieve. This music is not background noise for attending to other tasks. It demands an actively engaged listener intent on experiencing a sublime joy unique to the musical experience. I know it sounds pretentious, and maybe it is, but who cares if it achieves a lifetime of pleasure along the way!

So far, the bulk of The Progects has focused mainly upon the 7 explosive years of unprecedented creativity which occurred generally among the years of 1969 to 1975. Up until fairly recently I had erroneously thought that prog was a small and very limited phenomenon mostly confined to this tiny historic period. However, not only was there an incredibly huge output of progressive music worldwide during these 7 golden years, the movement— or genre— has also grown enormously ever since. Recent changes in social media has allowed The Progects to mine the previously undiscovered global richness from the vintage era as well as attempt to keep up with the burgeoning developments in the growing genre ever since.

As a Music Archeologist, it is my duty and pleasure to sift through veritable mountains of tailings to collect the nuggets and gems of personal fascination in order to finally arrange them into publicly accessible exhibitions. I have always taken great pleasure in mixing and arranging music into themes, styles and narratives that tickle my imagination. It’s how I listen to music. The criteria determining which specific songs and segments make it into any of my mixes is simply that I like them. I don’t feel duty-bound to include pieces with supposed historic significance if the songs bore me. I honestly enjoy every one of the thousands of songs contained in these Progects. Indeed, this is something I would be (have been) doing anyway, strictly for my own pleasure. It’s just that now, with modern technological advancements, it has become feasible to share this passion with the world at large.

Finally we need not be concerned with copyright violations. YouTube has become the world’s largest music sharing site. Their processing algorithms are able to accurately identify songs holding copyright claims, and monetize videos containing these songs on behalf of the copyright claimants. The video uploader does not receive payment from the use of copyrighted material. As a result, the sharing of such videos acts as a promotional tool on behalf of the claim holders and the artists themselves.

Note: On my personal blog, The Free Radical, I have replaced the WordPress audio players with embedded YouTube videos in order to properly address these copyright concerns. What I was doing before, posting music mixes without any redress for copyright claimants, was in violation of copyright law. Now the appropriate parties are being paid as advertisements infiltrate my mixes. (This can’t be helped— sorry. But you can subscribe to YouTube’s premium streaming service which is ad free.) Additionally, on occasion a single track in one of the mixes may restrict the visibility of the video containing it due to the assertion of global rights by its claimant. When this occurs, I remove the song and note in the track listing below that the video has been edited, so there might be a tiny stumble in the otherwise seamless mix.

Currently, I have created several of my own sub-genres to divide The Progects:

Horned Prog: contains songs mostly from the vintage era, but not exclusively so. They are generally characterized by the use of wind or brass instruments, accounting for their “horniness.”

Epiprogue: this series includes second and third generation prog— so anything from the eighties until the modern day. My personal preferences tend to include Symphonic Prog and Eclectic Prog with a few Crossover (pop) numbers.

’69 Give and/or Take: focuses on psychedelic and prog tracks from the period of 1967 to early 1972, and is featured in the narrative on my blog called The Music Archeologist.

Progged Down and Getting Uppity: is the catchall umbrella term which can include virtually anything I like from any era. There will however be some commonality linking all parts of a mix.

There will be others.

As far as my tastes in modern (2nd and 3rd generation) prog are concerned, my contemporary list of five would be: Beardfish, Echolyn, Spock’s Beard, Izz and The Tangent. And then there’s always Frank Zappa who spans the vintage era through to the second generation proggers of the nineties. (Frank died in ’93.)

As a general rule, I like my prog rock to “rock out.” I shy away from a lot of the more atmospheric or space rock, and generally I’m not much of a fan of Neo-Prog— of which there is a true glut of bands operating in this mostly boring sub-genre. I like music that grooves.

If your own musical tastes overlap with mine, please check out The Progects either on my blog, The Free Radical, or on YouTube at the channel: Music Archeologist. Enjoy!

Horned Prog: Set 11: A Bag of Rocks

by nielskunze on May 15, 2019

Most of the songs on my list are primarily rock oriented… so here’s another batch.

You may notice that I chose to mix Bloodwyn Pig with Bloodwyn Pig– four songs in a row from the same album. It’s a great album! And most bands mix well with themselves.

And I did the same with the little-known band Satisfaction as well, clustering three songs together. Enjoy!

Horned Prog 11-A

Tracks:

  • 24 Famous Piano Licks -Nate Hance
  • My Fixation -Satisfaction
  • Don’t Be Short -Archie Whitewater
  • Dialogue 1 & 2 -Chicago
  • Beginnings -Chicago
  • Cold Summer -Satisfaction
  • Just Like Friends -Satisfaction
  • Go Through Changes -Satisfaction
  • Is It Loud? -Trifle
  • Time Will Change -Missing Link
  • Borderline -Greatest Show On Earth
Horned Prog 11-B

Tracks:

  • Mechelwind -Aera
  • G. Storm -Wilding Bonus
  • Sneezing Bull -Focus
  • Street War 1 & 2 -Rock Workshop
  • Look Upon Me -Hannibal
  • Mister Media -Warm Dust
  • Send You Son to Die -Bloodwyn Pig
  • See My Way -Bloodwyn Pig
  • The Squirreling Must Go On -Bloodwyn Pig
  • Worry -Bloodwyn Pig
  • Take What You Need -East of Eden
  • Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? -The Graham Bond Organization
  • Time Take My Life -Atomic Rooster

The Music Archeologist Part 2

by nielskunze on March 24, 2019

Go to The Music Archeologist Part 1

So now there was just this one thing left to do: end the world. And I was just a spectator.

We had walked some distance away from the car… into a lovely bit of desert nothingness, just sand and small clumps of scrub grass vying for our attention. We three were momentarily pensive, seemingly lost in our private thoughts… until Jay cheerfully smashed the silence.

“I looked high, saw the empty sky.” He was singing the Elton John song again, and it seemed strangely appropriate. “If I could only… could only fly! I’d drift with them in endless space, but no man flies from this place.”

Gord was kneeling now on the ground, inside a finger-drawn circle, further drawing some kabbalistic rune in the sand, muttering quietly to himself in something that seemed to resemble the Yiddish my girlfriend’s grandmother spoke. Figures.

“What’s he doing?” I asked Jay. I wanted him to walk me through our moment of doom— Gord so serious and focused… Jay suddenly carefree, almost happy… I had no idea what to think or feel…

“Him?” Jay seemed surprised that I would ask. “He’s organizing his intent, structuring his dream of destruction.” He said it so casually, like such a thing utterly lacked meaning or consequence. No big deal.

“The circle keeps it in,” he added, and I looked on bewildered. “Oh…” he realized suddenly, “I suppose you’re rather frightened… by all this.”

“Pfft… who me?” Honestly, I was struggling to keep my sense of humour. In the pit of my stomach— the place that really counts— I had accepted that this was the end. But my paranoid brain was still scheming, scrambling, looking for the exit sign.

“It’s nothing,” said Jay with perfect seriousness. Somehow this was meant to be a comfort. “Relax. Enjoy the evening.”

The sun was just beginning to dip toward the horizon. The very first hints of sunset colour were just becoming detectable. There was a promise of beauty coming like coolness to the desert sky… How do you enjoy the death of everything?

Apparently I said it aloud. “How do you enjoy the death of everything?”

“With everything you got,” said Jay. “Until it’s all gone.”

“Will it hurt?”

Jay looked suddenly wounded by the question. “Nah, it’s not really our prerogative to inflict pain… at least, not anymore.” For that last bit he looked directly at Gord, levelling some vague accusation.

I let the insinuation go and continued on more directly. “But we’re gonna die…?” It was half question, half statement.

Jay looked directly at me with soft eyes and smiles, the visage of compassion incarnate as he answered. “Well, I imagine you’ll die… when you lose all context… and there being no sun and all. But me and him, we exist elsewhere, so we’ll just carry on… elsewhere.”

Most of what Jay was saying flew past me as I stared death’s reality in the face, really for the first time in my sixteen years on this planet… er, in this realm, I mean.

“What’s death?” I asked next.

“A very old agreement,” answered Jay quite easily.

“An agreement!” That didn’t sit well with me. “Whose agreement? Who agrees to die!”

“You all did,” answered Jay softly, soothingly. And then he added “It was a good invention. Adopting a strict death policy was the right thing to do.”

“What?!!” Apparently, we earthlings had chosen death for ourselves… and that just didn’t seem at all right to my helpless victim mentality.

“Free will is the supreme law of the universe,” explained Jay. “You’d do well to remember that. Everything proceeds and develops according to mutual agreement. Y’all agreed to die when you were born here… from the lowliest blade of scrub grass to the mightiest of kings.”

I didn’t doubt in the slightest the veracity of what Jay was explaining. I accepted that it was true, but I just couldn’t fathom the necessity of it. “Why?!” I nearly cried. “Why on earth did we choose death?”

Jay sat down in the sand, getting comfortable before answering. “Have you ever played poker?” he began. I nodded with a look of puzzlement creeping upon my face. I sat down across from him as though we were about to play. I half expected him to pull a deck of cards from the sleeve of his robe. He continued. “And do you play for money?” he asked. Again I nodded. “Why?” he finally asked. “Why not just play for fun?”

“Because… because playing poker isn’t fun if you don’t play for money.”

“Exactly.” Jay elaborated upon my simple declaration. “When there’s nothing at stake, nothing to lose, players are typically reckless. They can bluff without consequence, and they never have a compelling reason to fold. In such circumstances, it’s not much of a game, is it?”

The cutting elegance of Jay’s explanation removed a lifetime of scales from my eyes. It made such simple sense. We made Death the bank, holding the value of our chips for when we eventually cashed them in. And just like the previous one in the car with Gord, I was really warming to this conversation with Jay. However, a definite sense of irony was creeping over me as I realized that I was receiving these kick-ass existential answers right before it was all about to end… forever. Apparently, life loves irony above all else!

Now a million questions were coming to mind! And Jay seemed more than content to answer in his simple and direct way.

“What about reincarnation? What are souls? Does Satan exist? What’s the deal with the moon?” These were the first questions to come to mind, and I felt no hesitation to voice them.

Jay leaned back laughing, truly enjoying the apocalypse. “Where would you like me to start?”

I didn’t know. My thoughts were an enthused jumble. And Jay seemed to understand perfectly. He just jumped right in.

“Hmm…” he pondered and stroked his chin like some wise cliche. “Let’s start with souls.” Okay, I was bright-eyed and attentive. “Souls consist of personal agreements— binding agreements— that carry on beyond the confines of a single lifetime. So yes, reincarnation is real. You can’t just go around making contracts with your fellow earthlings, and then just simply die and have the slate wiped clean. We’d be right back to playing the game without meaningful consequences. Souls are attached to a specific will— a line of choices stretching through time held together by propensity and persistent tendencies. That which survives death is merely the sum of your proclivities in life.”

“We are survived by our habits?” That seemed dire!

“Yes,” Jay agreed, “that’s a very succinct and accurate way to put it. Those habits determine the circumstances of your subsequent incarnation— that, and the outstanding agreements you’ve made. Souls need resolution… and that drives action in life.”

“Karma,” I said to myself.

“I hate that word,” said Jay. “It has way too many stupid connotations… like it’s some kind of tit-for-tat universe based in reward and punishment, balancing good with evil. It’s way simpler than that. Karma is just something outstanding that needs to be resolved— because those involved agreed to eventually resolve it, mostly through experience gained.”

“So… there are no Lords of Karma?”

“No! God no!” spat Jay into the first hints of twilight. And then he quickly added “There are no gods at all.”

I looked at him gape-mouthed. I turned my head to stare at Gord muttering inside his circle. I turned back to Jay, wearing my incredulity conspicuously, like drool running down my chin. “What… what do you mean there are no gods?” I was pinning him with my eyes.

Jay fell over backward laughing. “There are no gods!” he cackled. “Trust me,” he gasped, “we’re all the same… you… me… him…”

“But… but… he’s the creator,” I insisted, jutting a thumb toward Gord.

“Indeed he is,” said Jay, returning himself to an upright position. “But do you really think that he created you? Really?”

The question was just so blunt it knocked me upside the head. I’d had this idea what a creator was, what a god might be. And then I’d met these two jokers… and certain ideas began to coalesce and congeal in my brain as we’d progressed in these conversations. But now as Jay asked me pointblank whether I really thought that Gord or someone like him had “created” me, it seemed pathetically absurd.

“No,” I whispered. And for a timeless moment I was utterly adrift in immeasurable confusion. And Jay, of course— my hero— came immediately to my rescue.

“The only thing he ever created here,” he said nodding toward Gord, “was the opportunity for you to create yourself… for me to create me… for everything to create itself, along with its own parameters of existence. He’s the God of Opportunity, nothing more, nothing less. You, me, him… we’re all exactly equal. I’m no higher than you. Gord’s no higher than me. We’re all made of exactly the same stuff. And in terms of potential, we’re identical.”

Now that’s what I call revelation! It cut through eons of bullshit and baggage with the simple ring of truth. But there were things still unreconciled, habits of thought and being that couldn’t be so completely and easily undone.

“But he’s about to kill us all!” I insisted. “And there’s really nothing I can do about it,” I argued. That smacked of inequality to me!

“He’s not killing anyone,” answered Jay calmly. “He’s simply removing the sun.”

“Now you’re splitting hairs!” I shouted.

“He IS the one who put it there in the first place,” answered Jay with perfect grace and ease. “And that created the opportunity for all this.” He stretched his arms wide as though embracing all eternity. “Things didn’t work out. The self-created creatures of earth forgot themselves and became lost… despite the revealing light of the sun. It’s time to pull the plug. Nothing has been lost. Everything has been gained.” Whatever Jay was telling me, he, himself, believed it. But I was still having a hard time.

“He’s dooming us all to oblivion!” I insisted, though I hardly even knew what I was saying.

In that most infuriatingly calm manner of his, Jay gently elaborated. “If you were caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare and I looked on, would you want me to wake you?”

“Well, I suppose. But…”

“And when you awaken from a dream, whether fearsome or sweet, has anything been lost? No,” he immediately answered, “on the contrary, you have gained the experience of the dream to carry with you in your newly awakened state… to dream again, as you so choose.”

“Really?” I was somewhat mollified, but not wholly convinced. “That’s all this is… the ending of one dream so another can begin?”

“Verily.” He said it. And I believed it. But there was something lurking in his eyes suggesting that things were just slightly more complicated or impactful than what he’d just described. I let it go though, choosing instead the obvious peace of mind he offered. I relaxed into the dusky quiet and mulled things over for a bit… while Gord muttered and gestured inside his magic circle and Jay hummed the refrains he remembered from the car ride here.

In my quiet rumination, I convinced myself that the end of the world really wasn’t a big deal after all. Shortly, I’d be dead… just like I’d been supposedly thousands of times before— each lifetime a new self-created dream. Dreaming… waking… dying… just consciousness at play. But why didn’t I have any memory of dying before? Thousands of times before? You’d think it might just be the sort of traumatic event one would surely remember. I was just about to ask Jay about that when I suddenly realized that no, I can work this out on my own. And so I did.

The idea of past-life memories had always been intriguing but controversial. But suddenly, now with my new insight, I had it figured pretty damn quick. We couldn’t be allowed to retain clear memories from past lives. Who wouldn’t allow it? We— ourselves— couldn’t allow it. If we permitted ourselves to remember our deaths and the past lives we’d lived, we’d be right back at square one again, playing poker for nothing. Remembering our many deaths would negate death, rendering it— and life— meaningless once again. Our constant reoccurring amnesia was necessary. It made the game possible. Remembering our past lives would be like being able to see all of the cards all of the time. The fun of the game always lies in its secrets, the things we don’t know, can’t know. How boring and pointless would poker be if all the cards were always dealt face up?

And just like that, I suddenly understood the meaning of life!

We were here to create unsolvable mysteries for ourselves… and spend eternity trying to solve them. Why? Because it was the best fucking game in town! Could there be a better reason?

I let that question hang in my mind like my best Sunday suit from when I was a kid and my mom dragged me to church every week. Just having a once-a-week suit to sit among once-a-week friends worshipping a once-a-week god begged an unending litany of unanswerable questions… and suddenly I had outgrown them all! Just like that!

God! Had there ever been an evening more beautiful than this!

The sun was beginning to get kinda low on the horizon. I knew that Gord would have to make his move soon. I was actually looking forward to it. Go figure.

To pass the remaining time, I re-engaged Jay in conversation. “So what’s with all the muttering in Yiddish?” I asked, glancing at Gord.

“It’s not exactly Yiddish,” Jay explained. “It’s the root language. There’s power and inherent meaning in sounds— their placement, repetition and patterning. It’s why we love music. A well composed tune can bring a brute to his knees or lift the darkest heart.”

I liked where his explanation was leading and I told him so. He took that as an excuse to continue.

“Sound is a correlate of light.” He paused to let that sink in a bit. “Is it mere coincidence that there are seven colours of visible light in the rainbow and seven whole notes in the western musical scale? Of course not,” he answered. “Sound is merely light stepped down to the languid pace of everyday life. Sound is a tool for creators inside the creation. Light is a tool generally wielded from the outside. Well, no, that’s not exactly right. Gord can explain it better.”

And at that very moment Gord turned to us and spoke.

“It is time,” is all he said, standing there with a strange fire in his eyes.

Jay sprang into action and helped me to my feet. Then we both flanked Gord outside his circle, and turned toward the setting sun.

“With your left hand point at the sun,” he instructed Jay. “And you with your right,” he said to me. “When I grab each of your free hands, the circle will be broken, the deed done… untied the Gordian knot, the Seal of the Sun.”

And that was it. Without any further preamble or explanation, Gord grabbed both our free hands. A jolt of ecstatic electricity shot through our trinity and flew like a deranged lightning bolt from earth to sun…

…demolishing it in an instant.

The sun winked out. It vanished from the sky. And darkness swallowed everything…

…except that I could still see the spot where the sun had been just a second before. I thought it was something akin to an after-image burned onto my retina. But what was I doing still standing here, witnessing anything, still having retinas at all? And I knew for certain that something was amiss when I heard Gord curse into the darkness.

“Shit!”

To say that the ride home in the car was weird would be a bit of an understatement, but perfectly understandable… even if nothing else at the moment was… perfectly understandable.

It was a waxing gibbous moon that night. Gord was pensive and tight-lipped. Jay seemed typically unconcerned, calling from the back seat for “More tunes, man!” I obliged.

“And the Tyne God has arrived,” sang Ginhouse from the car speakers. Finally, Jay thought it prudent to break the ice with the obvious question. But first I gotta say that it was both nice and wholly unnerving to have someone else asking the questions for once!

“So… what was that?”

“Black Sun,” is all Gord offered. Apparently that meant something to Jay. It was gibberish to me. After a moment, Jay sighed, and did what Jay does.

“You might as well talk it through,” he said to Gord. And it was Gord’s turn to sigh. And then Gord began to babble… and that was perhaps the most disconcerting thing of all!

“The rumours were true after all… The Black Sun is real… The council tried to warn me… I thought it inconsequential, even if true… Now, I don’t know… Those fuckers! Grey traitors! This changes everything!”

I waited for an explanation, but instinctively I knew that the preceding events hadn’t been fully digested yet. Jay’s calm demeanour must have rubbed off on me. I kept quiet while Jay gently prodded.

“Who’s behind it?” he asked.

“The Grey Men.”

“I see,” said Jay, but I didn’t.

“Who are the Grey Men?” I queried the darkness and the silence once I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Those who have lost the capacity to dream,” said Gord.

“Completely lost it,” added Jay. And then further for my benefit he elaborated upon the Grey Men. “There are beings in the earth realm who have over many lifetimes invested themselves in external power, to the eventual exclusion of their own inherent power to dream. Having forgotten how to dream, they instead manipulate others to dream the reality of their bidding, reinforcing the external, institutionalized systems of power upon which they rely as manipulators.”

“The Grey Men are stalkers,” added Gord. “They stalk dreamers for their own ends and means.”

“It’s all part of the game,” resumed Jay. “Stalking and dreaming occur in every realm. They are the two obvious means to power. Either you are able to dream the reality you wish to experience, or you influence the dreams of those who can… dreamers and stalkers. The Grey Men are exclusively stalkers.

“Usually, it’s not a big deal,” he continued. “Stalking is inherently inferior to dreaming. It’s derivative, whereas dreaming is clean and direct. A few stalkers is like fleas on a dog’s tail. It’s an annoyance, but it’s not the end of the world. Stalkers are just parasites.”

“But the Black Sun!” interjected Gord. “That’s collusion, co-ordination, organization. The parasites have an agenda of their own!”

I was understanding really very little of this. I just wanted to keep the conversation going. “But why?” I asked. “What’s the purpose of the Black Sun?”

“It’s purpose was fulfilled tonight,” replied Gord ominously. “The Black Sun was created and hidden behind the real sun precisely for the purpose of thwarting my world-ending intention on this very eve. They will not allow the dream to end. And they will do everything in their power to ensure that the dreamers never awaken again.”

Hmm, that didn’t sound very good!

I know what you’re thinking, and I was thinking it too— all of it. Gord and Jay answered all of my immediate concerns and what you need to know now, before I resume the full telling of this tale, is that yes, the real sun came up the very next day right on schedule. And yeah, for awhile there back in ’72 folks talked in whispers about the day the sun winked out for a moment. And even though millions of people around the world witnessed the sun blink, they eventually talked themselves out of believing that it had really happened… because… how could it?

But it did. You KNOW it did.

’69 Give and/or Take 3

Tracks:

  • Tyne God -Ginhouse
  • Giant -Gentle Giant
  • Song to Comus -Comus
  • In Ancient Days -Black Widow
  • Alucard -Gentle Giant
  • Black Sabbath -Black Sabbath
  • Dreammare -Uriah Heep
  • Obsolete Machine -Tasavallan Presidentti
  • With You There to Help Me -Jethro Tull
  • Epitaph -King Crimson
  • Dawn -Grannie
’69 Give and/or Take 4

Tracks:

  • In the Beginning/Lovely to See You -The Moody Blues
  • Look Into the Sun -Jethro Tull
  • Treat -Santana
  • Kings and Queens -Renaissance
  • Ice -Spirit
  • Sweet Dream -Jethro Tull
  • Sun in a Bottle -Ginhouse
  • Ina Gadda Da Vida (excerpt) -Iron Butterfly
  • To Cry You a Song -Jethro Tull
  • Innocence -Renaissance
  • Hypomode de Sol -Jean-Luc Ponty
  • Just Trying to Be -Jethro Tull

The Music Archeologist Part 1

by nielskunze on March 21, 2019

The experiment had failed.

The earth realm was slated for destruction… again. Not a correction, mind you; not even a massive one. This time it would be completely dismantled. The members of the board had voted, and the Outlandish decision was cast. Earth had become a danger to itself and others. It had to go.

“How exactly does one go about disassembling a world anyway?” asked Jay.

“It’s a realm,” grumbled Gord.

“What?”

“There are no worlds,” answered Gord, affecting his usual air of superiority, “only realms.”

“Okay…” conceded Jay, “how does one properly set about obliterating a realm? Especially such an aged one? Earth’s been around a very long time.”

“Dissolve the sun,” said Gord rather tersely. It made sense. Gord had been the inventor of suns. And much like Edison had done on the human scale, his little invention had changed absolutely everything. Suns, stars… lightbulbs— they were game-changers.

“Well, good luck with that,” offered Jay, turning to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Gord pointedly. “You’re just as mixed up in this thing as I am,” he insisted.

Jay wanted to object, but he knew there’d be no point. It was true. He was as fully entangled with the earth realm as its creator was. He had agreed to share the responsibility for his mentor’s creation the moment he had entered that realm… and had seriously fucked with its destiny. That Gord had managed to extricate him at all from his own follies, lo that long ago, was a miracle in itself. Now, here they stood, outside, so seemingly apart, contemplating the ultimate fate of earth, both knowing what had to be done.

“We’re going back in, aren’t we?” asked Jay mostly rhetorically.

“Yup,” came the immediate answer.

“Shit.”

I first met Gord and Jay on June 21st, 1972. It was a Wednesday. It was the first week of summer holidays. I was sixteen. I was at work, at the record shop.

My boss had left the shop in my young but capable hands for the afternoon. The record on the turntable was King Crimson’s ’69 debut ‘In the Court of the Crimson King.’

I could’ve sworn I was alone in the shop. It was slow, even for a Wednesday, and I had a perfect view of the front door from the counter at which I stood. Nobody had come through those doors for at least twenty minutes.

The song was ‘Moonchild,’ towards the end, during the noodley bits. My teenage self was unable to understand why Mr. Fripp had insisted on including those aimless unstructured noise sessions on each of the first Crim albums, sometimes lasting more than ten minutes each. It seemed to me that vinyl real estate was at a premium, and any self-respecting artist would want to cram in as much awesomeness as was humanly possible on each and every record… and here was Fripp and the boys serving up a steaming pile of noodles, with not even a morsel of meat to savour. I didn’t get it.

Anyway, that was my train of thought when Gord and Jay suddenly “appeared” in the shop. I swear they never came through the front door. They were just suddenly there, peering at me over the Black Sabbath ‘Master of Reality’ display left over from last summer.

My next train of thought was that these two were really Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock, freshly beamed into my reality, here to save the world or some such thing. (Oh the irony of that thought, I would later realize!)

Nope. No pointy ears. Neither of these two oddballs was Vulcan. They appeared human… mostly.

“Can I help you gentlemen find something today?” I asked nonchalantly, trying to cover up my deepest paranoid suspicions, as I emerged from behind the counter.

My very straightforward query seemed to catch both of them a little off guard. “Um… yes… well…” stammered the one who seemed to be in charge— the leader, so to speak. “What is it exactly that you sell?”

Okay, that threw me for a bit of a loop, coming from someone standing in the middle of a record shop utterly stuffed to the brim with records. “Ah, music,” I answered, biting back my profound incredulity.

“Oh, how lovely!” beamed the other one, the nice one— the one I later learned was Jay. “We’ll take some of that please,” he added. “We love music!”

“Um, anything in particular?” I asked, struggling to keep my composure.

“How about this?” asked Jay, holding up the Black Sabbath album from the rack before them.

“Master of Reality,” I read the cover. “Doom metal,” I quickly added, not knowing what else to say.

“Sounds perfect,” muttered Gord just loud enough for me to hear, although I doubt that was his intent.

“The first song is Sweet Leaf,” I began to ramble. “It’s an ode to Mary Jane.” Nothing. No reaction. “Um, marijuana… cannabis…?”

“Ah, cannabis!” For a second there I thought I saw Gord actually smile with the sudden recognition. But then his mood turned on a dime as his natural bitterness seeped through again: “Only worthwhile thing you freaks ever managed to dream up.”

Who the fuck was he calling a freak! Thirty seconds in and this was easily already the strangest conversation I’d ever had. And it never really got any better.

I honestly didn’t know what to make of these two, but somehow I ended up taking a liking to them nevertheless. They were either two of the most naïve middle-aged men in the history of modern civilization, or they were escaped lunatics from the asylum and possibly serial killers. Either way, they were some real freaky people, and I’d always taken a shine to freaky people in general.

It turns out that what Gord and Jay were really after was a ride into the desert. They had important business in the desert. Sure… why not?

I drove a cherry red ’67 Mustang. I wasn’t all that keen on taking it into the dusty old desert, but I could always wash it when I got back. I was always washing that car. God, I loved that car!

It was still early— late afternoon… on the longest day of the year. My boss, the owner of the record shop, had relieved me at 4, and after a quick stop at the 7-11 for slurpees, we were on our way to the desert. Gord was strapped tightly into the passenger seat beside me (who wears a seatbelt in 1972?), while Jay was sliding back and forth across the freshly Armor-Alled vinyl bench seat in the back as I took most of the corners a tad too fast— as teenage boys driving Mustangs tend to do.

During a straight stretch of road I spied Jay in the rearview mirror holding the newly-purchased “Master of Reality” album up to his ear as though he actually expected to hear something. I shoved the cassette tape into the deck instead of even attempting to explain.

“It’s a mixed tape I made,” I shouted above the music blaring from the speakers. I was always so proud of my mixed tapes. Working in a record shop scored me access to some real obscure gems. Jay instantly seemed to genuinely like it while Gord was quite content with his usual scowl.

When Elton John got to the shushy part in “Empty Sky,” where it got all quiet for a bit, I asked the fellas “So what are we doing out in the desert anyway?” They looked at each other conspiratorially for a moment. Then Gord just shrugged and answered straight out.

“We’re going to end the world.”

“I thought it was a realm,” interjected Jay.

“To him it’s a world,” scolded Gord.

Neat. I didn’t believe them. Of course I didn’t, but I thought it’d be fun to play along. “End of the world, you say? We’d best get stoned then.”

Both of them looked horrified until I explained that getting stoned was the same as getting high on cannabis— a thing to which they were both surprisingly amenable. I pulled the pre-rolled after-work fatty from my cigarette pack and sparked it up. Ten minutes later and the tunes were sounding heavenly and Gord was actually managing a look of honest contentment… until I resumed the conversation.

“So why exactly are we ending the world today?”

I saw Jay squirm a bit in the back seat, but it was Gord who answered. “Because you fuckers just can’t seem to get a damn thing right!”

I laughed. Heartily. C’mon, it was funny. Hysterical, really. “What d’ya mean?” I asked feigning a serious tone.

Gord bent to pick up a newspaper from among the garbage strewn on the floor at his feet. (Yeah, despite the Turtle Wax and the Armor All, I was still a sixteen-year-old kid, after all.)

“This!” he exclaimed, holding up the front page, and smacking it with the back of his hand. He then read the headline to me: “Valedictorian Urges Peers to Follow Their Dreams.” It was a small-town newspaper, and that was just the sort of thing we might consider news.

“What?” I was genuinely perplexed.

“You dip-shits get everything exactly backwards!” Gord raged. “Follow your dreams! Follow your fucking dreams! Why don’t you try leading them instead?”

Somehow there seemed to be something profound in that. I can’t say that I exactly got it right at that moment, but the irascible Gord was definitely onto something.

“Don’t follow your dreams,” I reiterated, “lead your dreams instead.” There was indeed a profound logic in that… or maybe it was just that I was super high on Thai chronic. Whatever, it satisfied something in me.

But Gord was something less than satisfied. The weed obviously hadn’t completely tamed his irascible nature. “I really thought you’d have figured it out by now,” he lamented angrily.

“Figured what out?”

“Base reality,” he said very matter-of-factly… to which I had no reply, mostly because I had no clue what he might be getting at. I shot him a quick look of puzzlement and then waited for him to elaborate.

“There was always just one thing… one thing to protect and cherish… the one thing that no matter what else might happen, it would surely save you. If only you could remember this one thing, it would always rescue you, redeem you, and set the world aright again. But you— every last one of you— forgot it. And now it’s lost… and the world is doomed.”

I really thought Gord was going to tell me what the ‘one thing’ was. Nope. I had to ask, and even then he couldn’t just come out with it. It seems Gord had found a teaching moment— the only thing that apparently made him happy… or, at least, less bitter. He launched into some metaphysical bullshit, like all this end-of-the-world stuff was real and perfectly serious. I kept a straight face.

“There’s only really two things going on here.” He gestured with a grandiose flourish to indicate that “here” was the entirety of the world. “This is a binary realm.” Here he paused to look at Jay, confirming some private joke that wasn’t all that funny. Turning back to me, he continued. “Expansion and contraction.”

Apparently those were the “two things.” I had been expecting something a bit more revealing, insightful, profound. But he was getting to that.

“It’s all about mind, you know.” He paused again to let that settle in, but its significance was mostly lost on me. I still didn’t know where this was going. “And what do we call the expansion of mind?” he asked, fully expecting an answer. I um’d and ah’d a bit incurring some fresh Gordian wrath. “C’mon! We covered this already!”

I shrugged. He sighed. And Jay answered into the awkward silence.

“Dreaming,” he said from the back seat. “Mind expands through dreaming.”

“Yes,” Gord acknowledged. “Dreaming is like a yawn and a stretch for consciousness.”

Okay, I was starting to get it. “So… dreaming is the ‘one thing’ you were talking about earlier— the one thing to be cherished and protected…?”

“Yes, the CAPACITY to dream, really DREAM. Precisely.” Gord suddenly looked almost pleased. Almost…

“But what’s this bit about contraction then?”

“Dreaming can either be wholly private or decidedly social. Dreams can be shared— experientially.” Again with the pause… but now I was really starting to get it. I picked up the thread…

“So… this whole reality— this realm,” I corrected as I met Jay’s gaze in the rearview mirror with a wink, “is a shared dream.”

“Yup,” is all Gord said. I was expecting a bit more fanfare than that. After all, I was really beginning to catch on… but I was still unclear about the whole contraction thing and I said so.

“It’s a freewill universe,” answered Gord. “We can experience the dream of another only through agreement, by making contracts.”

“Ah, that’s what you meant by contraction!”

“Contracts put limits on things… keeping them from expanding into absurdity or just plain oblivion. You need a lot of agreements to make a complex reality like this one work. You need a lot of contracts.” Gord had really warmed to our conversation now, and I was diggin’ it too.

“So where are all these contracts filed?” I asked. “Which law office is keeping track of all our agreements?”

“That’s what the sun is for,” answered Gord. “And we’re here— today— to dissolve the sun.”

“Wait… what?” I didn’t understand how the sun could be the grand repository of agreements among all living things on earth. After all, that’s what Gord was saying… if I was following. Gord seemed to understand my confusion immediately.

“I liked it better,” he began to explain, “when people thought the sun was made of moondust and phlogiston. Beats the hell out of this helium fusion nonsense.” Well, that didn’t help my understanding any better. Gord continued. “All that is… is consciousness. Existence and consciousness are exactly equivalent. You could even say they’re the same thing— the only thing. Consciousness is— that’s our starting point.”

“Cogito ergo sum,” I said.

Okay. I kinda enjoyed this mystical crap. But the knit of my brow communicated clearly that I was teetering on the brink of being lost again, so Gord started in on another tack.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Um, I’m driving.”

“So stop. We’re here anyway,” he added.

We were really in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, and I said so as I stopped the car.

“It’s perfect,” said Gord, stepping out to immediately gaze at the blazing sun overhead.

I got out too, and flipped the seat forward to let Jay out from the back. We stretched and breathed in the desert heat for a moment and then Gord resumed his tutorial.

“Now close your eyes.” I did. “What do you see?”

“Nothing,” I answered automatically.

“Bullshit!” raged Gord. “That’s a learned response. And it’s patently false. Now tell me what you actually see with your eyes closed.”

I did as I was told. “I see… colours… lights… random patterns. It’s a jumble. It’s chaos.” Until that very moment I had never realized how much there was to see when I simply closed my eyes. My previous answer of “nothing” seemed rather absurd suddenly. How did I never notice this before!

“I looked high, saw the empty sky!” sang Jay to the desert at large. “If I could only… could only fly!”

Gord deftly ignored him. “Light is the substance of dreaming… and dreaming is what minds do. They can’t help it. Consciousness is inherently creative. It automatically fills all voids in time and space. Light occupies space, thus creating it. Time is filled by structure or organization. Time depends on patterning. These things together create realms… or reality as you know it. And I simply call them dreams.”

Holy shit! I think I was really getting it. Somehow all of this was actually making sense… at least, to my thoroughly stoned inquisitive self. Gord seemed to acknowledge my progress and thus continued.

“Dreaming is projected outward from the source of consciousness— your mind. In every moment, it is natural for you to radiate highly structured quanta of light in every direction. You are the source of light… as is every living creature.” Now we were really getting to the crux of the matter! “The sun is foremost a receptacle. First, the sun gathers the light from all dreamers within its realm. Then, the sun’s own consciousness processes all of the information individually received from uncountable sources, noting in particular where they are in agreement. And finally, it returns that same light restructured and re-patterned as a collective consciousness which is qualitatively more than the mere sum of its unfathomably varied parts.”

And here, Gord actually smiled— a genuine ear-to-ear grin. And rightfully so, I thought. This shit was righteously profound! And then the next realization hit me like a ton of bricks!

If what Gord had just managed to explain to me had any real validity at all, that meant that these two jokers really were here to dissolve the sun and bring an end to the world. Shit!

’69 Give and/or Take 1

Tracks:

  • Empty Sky -Elton John
  • Madame Sunrise -White Lightning
  • In Circles -T2
  • The Nile Song -Pink Floyd
  • 21st Century Schizoid Man -King Crimson
  • Looking Around -Yes
  • Bring Out Your Dead -Colosseum
  • Son of Mr. Green Genes -Frank Zappa
  • Jumping Off the Sun -Colosseum
  • No More White Horses -T2
  • The Kettle -Colosseum
’69 Give and/or Take 2

Tracks:

  • Ojo -Leo Kottke
  • Suite: Judy Blue Eyes -Crosby Stills & Nash
  • Nature’s Way -Spirit
  • Big Yellow Taxi/Woodstock -Joni Mitchell
  • The Narrow Way -Pink Floyd
  • The Journey -Ginhouse
  • Tales of the Riverbank -Dancer
  • April -Deep Purple
  • The Moon Is Down -Gentle Giant

Music Archeologist’s Note:

The majority of songs in this set are from the year 1969. Some are from 1970 and ’71. Only “Tales of the Riverbank” is from 1972. I had acquired an unofficial copy of that fabulous song from my older brother’s friend Gerry only a week or two before the events in this story took place.

Go to The Music Archeologist Part 2

Horned Prog: Set 10: On the Jazz

by nielskunze on March 15, 2019

The Jaan Kuman Instrumental Ensemble, represented by the bald guy with the trumpet in the album collage, is one of those eastern bloc recordings that doesn’t have a bad minute on it. It’s just great jazz the whole way through.

Often, jazz can be a very polarizing genre of music. Folks tend to really love it or really hate it. And I have one foot in either camp. Hardcore avant-garde jazz that’s dissonant and meandering, lacking a discernible rhythm or melody, tends to piss me off after a couple of minutes. I like my jazz to have recognizable moments of true musicality, something for my brain to latch onto. I guess you could say that I like my jazz to be smooth– but not slip-in-your-own-vomit smooth. It has to have a bit of an edge, a definite groove.

This set is classic– yet somewhat obscure– pure jazz… just the way I like it!

Horned Prog 10-A

Tracks:

  • Uskaw -FEZ
  • Hey Boys Try Harder -Jaan Kuman Instrumental Ensemble
  • Hulk -Archie Whitewater
  • Cross Country -Archie Whitewater
  • A New Way -Eela Craig
  • Pass the Plate -The Crusaders
  • Caprice -Jaan Kuman Instrumental Ensemble
  • The City -Mark Almond
  • Terminus -Jaan Kuman Instrumental Ensemble
  • Faidadiesis -Bella Band
Horned Prog 10-B

Tracks:

  • Latin Dippy Doo -Flight
  • Take Your Clothes Off When You Dance -Ed Palermo Big Band
  • I Met a Man -Head
  • Song for the Bearded Lady -Nucleus
  • G.B.H. -Head
  • Contrasts -Jaan Kuman Instrumental Ensemble
  • Loneliness Is Just a Word -Chicago
  • Aire -Chicago
  • Flying South in Winter -Tonton Macoute
  • Happy ‘Cause I’m Going Home -Chicago

Go to Set 9: On the Rocks

Horned Prog: Set 9: On the Rocks

by nielskunze on March 13, 2019

This one leans to the rock side of prog… with a bit of orchestral fun to begin. The opening song by Renaissance reminds us that the human voice is the ultimate “horn”. Annie Haslam is simply superb!

Hour 18 gets a bit proggy in the middle while still maintaining its rock orientation… a little foreshadowing of things to come…

Horned Prog 9-A

Tracks:

  • Prologue -Renaissance
  • The First Ring Made of Clay -Roger Glover
  • Cemetery Junction 1 & 2 -Room
  • Satisfaction -Collective Consciousness Society
  • Revolution’s Eve -Alquin
  • Just Lay Back and Enjoy It -Satisfaction
  • Mississippi Delta City Blues -Chicago (scratch track)
  • Smutsig Jord -Splash
  • Real Cool World -Greatest Show On Earth
  • Rockin’ Chair -Lighthouse
  • Magic’s in the Dance -Lighthouse
  • Vehicle -The Ides of March
Horned Prog 9-B

Tracks:

  • Genesis -McCully Workshop
  • Kids Hunting -Missing Link
  • Frankenstein -The Edgar Winter Group
  • Blue Space -Window
  • Inter Galactic Cosmic Triolet -Christian Boule
  • Infinity Machine -Passport
  • Naissance -Carpe Diem
  • La Vaca Roja -Bubu
  • Talle -Missus Beastly
  • Pastorale -Galliard
  • Home Again -Trifle
  • Dirty Old Town -Trifle
  • Spectaculum -Ardo Dombec
  • House of the King -Focus

Go to Set 8: Lunch in Chicago

Go to Set 10: On the Jazz

Horned Prog: Set 8: Lunch in Chicago

by nielskunze on March 13, 2019

My list of songs had grown to more than 300. Each set would use no more than 30. The last set, “Quirky Jerky”, had given me an idea for better organization. I grouped the potential “Horned Prog” songs into 4 sub-sub-genres: Rock, Jazz, Funk and Prog. Each of the remaining sets will predominantly belong to one subset of these four.

Additionally, I had noticed that since the earliest sets I had amassed quite the list of Chicago songs too. Remember when I said this all began with the search for songs I could mix with Chicago? It was time to do just that.

(If you’re wondering which of the Chicago albums are the ones worth purchasing, that would be Chicago I, II, III, V & VII. For Chicago II, I would highly recommend the Steven Wilson remix from 2017.)

Prior to 1978, Chicago was one thing. And after January 23, 1978, Chicago was quite another thing. The two versions do not compare.

Guitar player Terry Kath was obviously the band’s “coolness factor.” It was Kath who gave them that rough edge, the jagged groove, that was integral to their classic seventies sound. When on that fateful January day in 1978 Terry accidentally took his own life through an act of morbid stupidity, that classic– progressive– sound was extinguished.

The band would go on to enjoy numerous top-forty hits thereafter, but they were of a style that left prog heads like me cold and disappointed. It was in January of 1978 that the music officially died. And Terry was the symbol, the sacrifice, defining that awful moment in music history.

Horned Prog 8-A Lunch In Chicago

Tracks:

  • Poem for the People -Chicago
  • Street Music (Parts 1,2 & 3) -Prague Big Band
  • Phantom -Window
  • Goodbye -Chicago
  • Nightwatch -Window
  • Sing a Mean Tune Kid -Chicago
  • Introduction -Chicago
  • To Mrs. V -East of Eden
  • Ella Banta Dum Bundy/Very Last Time -Rock Workshop
  • New Dawn Breaking -Galliard
Horned Prog 8-B Lunch In Chicago

Tracks:

  • Spinal Tap excerpt -Nigel on “sustain”
  • Listen -Chicago
  • Alibi Annie -Trifle
  • Lowdown -Chicago
  • The Climb -Fungkus
  • Second Chance -Daddy Cool & the Groove Bug
  • Drivin’ -Daddy Cool & the Groove Bug
  • Vyrodok -Soviet Funk Volume 1
  • Living Reason -Rock Workshop
  • Farandole -Bob James
  • Something Going On -Galliard
  • Now That You’ve Gone -Chicago
  • Oh What a Feeling -Crowbar
  • While the City Sleeps -Chicago
  • Green Side Up -The Web
  • Prelude to Freedom -The Ides of March

Go to Set 7: Quirky Jerky

Go to Set 9: On the Rocks

Horned Prog: Set 7: Quirky Jerky

by nielskunze on March 13, 2019

It’s hard to precisely put my finger on what exactly makes a song “quirky” in my mind. Even though they’re musically sound, they’re hard to take seriously.

As the Horned Prog endeavour progressed I seemed to amass a long list of songs which I considered quirky– but worthy. Eventually I decided I’d have to dedicate a whole set to the expression of this aural weirdness. And this is it!

A song like “I Talk to the Wind” may seem anything but quirky… until we view it from a historic perspective. The rendition featured here is one which predates the famous version that would appear on the eponymous 1969 album which seemed to define the prog genre thereafter. (I’ll let you figure out what album I might be referring to.)

Horned Prog 7-A Quirky Jerky

Tracks:

  • Locomotive Breath -Jethro Tull
  • Digging My Lawn/Little Children -Giles Giles & Fripp
  • Mom and Dad/Oh No -Ed Palermo Big Band
  • Rose Garden -3rd Avenue Blues Band
  • Aquarius (Let the Sunshine In) -5th Dimension
  • I Talk to the Wind -Giles Giles & Fripp
  • Crazy Daisy -East of Eden
  • Spring Theme-Summer Theme -Dr. Dopo Jam
  • Sabre Dance -Ekseption
  • Maudie James -Samurai
  • Look at the Animals -Jethro Tull
  • Iguana -Iguana
  • Tapeworm -Creative Rock

Tracks:

  • The Dog Breath Variations -Ed Palermo Big Band
  • The News -Window
  • New Religion -Trifle
  • Reverend T. McKinnon -The Web
  • Old Fashioned Prayer Meeting -Trifle
  • Spiritual Rebate for the Stoned Zen Pimp -Peter Berkow & Friends
  • Aquaman -Fungkus
  • Robin the Boy Wonder -The Marketts
  • 5 Degree Ocean -Christian Boule
  • Too Loose to Get Tight -Sod
  • Pass the Pencil -Daddy Cool & the Groove Bug
  • Lady Pig -Creative Rock
  • America Drinks and Goes Home -Ed Palermo Big Band
  • Why You Bustin’ My Balls? -Ed Palermo

Go to Set 6: Hot Coffee & Cold Fusion

Go to Set 8: Lunch in Chicago

Horned Prog: Set 6: Hot Coffee & Cold Fusion

by nielskunze on March 13, 2019

It was at this point that I learned that Quebec had a burgeoning prog scene during the seventies too. What’s odd is that I’m Canadian, and despite being a total prog head since my early teens, I had no idea that our provincial neighbours were tearing it up.

I’ve always appreciated Quebec’s “fuck you!” attitude. Nearly all French-Canadian bands refused to sing in English. That left them with rather insular careers. Many were fabulously famous in their home province but virtually unknown in the rest of the country. Europe provided an alternate marketplace where language wasn’t such a deal-breaker.

There’s only a couple of francophone bands featured here, and only one with lyrics, but this begins to set the stage for many foreign language bands yet to come.

Horned Prog 6-A

Tracks:

  • Provisoir -Opus-5
  • La Ville -Syncope
  • Sea Monsters excerpt -Flame Dream
  • Life Can Be Like Music -Maxophone
  • Kaleidophonia -Maxophone
  • Actions -Messengers
  • La Matanza -Messengers
  • A Time A Place -Brainchild
  • Stormy Weather Friend -Clareon
  • Harmonies II -Freeport
  • Take Off -Perigeo
Horned Prog 6-B

Tracks:

  • Follow That with Your Performing Seals -If
  • Two Bad Days -Brainchild
  • Intro (Übermorgen) -Surgery
  • The Empyreal Ballet -Window
  • Ebony Variations -Audience
  • Nothing You Do -Audience
  • Wishing Well -Kallabash Corp
  • What Did I Say About the Box, Jack? -If
  • Change -The Keef Hartley Band
  • Rage -Syncope
  • Bottle Mind -Ekseption
  • Desserts/Forest Flower-Picking/Prelude -Dr. Dopo Jam
  • Photo Musik -Christian Boule

Go to Set 5: Pop Rocks & Other Unsavoury Snacks

Go to Set 7: Quirky Jerky