Chapter Twenty-Eight: Prog

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Prog

There is something about prog.

Prog being short for progressive rock, which really means, in some circles, progressive rock music recorded in England in the 1970s.  The progressive aspect was meant to infer that this type of music was a progression, and evolution of rock music, blending rock’s standard blues and R and B basis with jazz, classical, and European folk music.  Though there had been progressive songs throughout the sixties, the first album of prog is widely considered to be King Crimson’s debut record, In the Court of the Crimson King, released in 1969.  Interestingly, the last album of the 70s prog era proper is often considered, ELP’s 1979 album Love Beach.  This is interesting because both albums, albeit by two distinct rock groups, feature the same singer, the delightful Greg Lake, a favorite of Jill’s, and now, of mine, I suppose.

The music takes you back to a simpler time, when the world was less complicated, but at the same time, it brings visions of future times and fantastical realms filled with hope and wonder.  It puts you in a position a lot like that Des Vu thing we discussed earlier.  That point where the nostalgia of the past and the promise of the future meet, sit down and share a bong hit or two over a discussion of their differences, of regrets, and promises that will never be fulfilled, of cherished memories, and dreams that slip ever further from our grasp.

The headlining bands of the 70s English Progressive Rock Era were:  King Crimson, ELP, Yes, Jethro Tull, Genesis, Pink Floyd.  The music almost always features lots of keyboards, predominately mellotron and Moog synthesizer, complex time changes, classical motifs and movements, and fantasy or sci-fi lyrics

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Of all the epics of prog, no song fits my story more than Epitaph, off Crimson’s debut:

“The wall on which the prophets wrote
Is cracking at the seams
Upon the instruments of death
The sunlight brightly gleams
When every man is torn apart
With nightmares and with dreams
Will no one lay the laurel wreath
When silence drowns the screams

Confusion will be my epitaph

As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it, we can all sit back and laugh
But I fear, tomorrow, I'll be crying
Yes, I fear, tomorrow, I'll be crying
Yes, I fear, tomorrow, I'll be crying

Between the iron gates of fate
The seeds of time were sown
And watered by the deeds of those
Who know and who are known
Knowledge is a deadly friend
If no one sets the rules
The fate of all mankind, I see
Is in the hands of fools” –

Lyrics by Peter Sinfield

Copyright 2020 by Diana Hignutt