An album which comes with a certain weight of history attached to it, and for large parts it delivers under it … This was how the past was forged, and it’s fascinating to hear it happen.
Egg were a band who, although rather short-lived (69-71, and then a brief 1974 reunion), carry something of a reputation within the world of the ‘Canterbury’ scene of 1970s prog rock. This is largely due, I believe, to the presence of Dave Stewart on keyboards, the very same one who collaborated with Barbara Gaskin for a Number One single in the ’80s, yet who was NOT in the Tourists/Eurythmics despite the regular confusion! Stewart went on to be a key member of two of the most quintessential of all Canterbury bands, Hatfield & The North and National Health (in the latter of which Egg bassist Mont Campbell would also feature). This aside, the music of Egg themselves, especially on this 1970 debut, could barely be described as meeting the Canterbury criteria – which itself is somewhat nebulous to define, but ‘you know it when you hear it’, as the saying has it. Rather, this keyboard, bass, drums line-up has far more in common with The Nice, the spirit of Keith Emerson looming over proceedings noticeably. Indeed, many have compared this album directly with the ELP debut from the same year, but this album was recorded in late 1969, six months or so before ELP’s first effort. The classical incorporations and arrangements so beloved of Emerson feature heavily here, and compare favourably with The Nice for the most part. There is also, however an avant-garde, experimental element which will divide the crowd somewhat.
The first side contains shorter pieces, while the second is devoted to one long, multi-part ‘symphony’, so let’s begin at the beginning. Or rather not quite, as there really isn’t much to say about the opening Bulb, which is nine seconds long and apparently the slowed down sound of a lightbulb shattering. Well, what do you know? I’ve talked about it for longer than the track lasts. The first two songs feature the vocals of Mont Campbell, which are sparsely used on the album, and for good reason as his is a serviceable voice but no more than that. While Growing My Hair has some almost poppy, psychedelia elements to it, while I Will Be Absorbed is rather more substantial. Neither are the strongest moments, however, as things improve immediately with the classical adaptation of Bach’s Fugue in D Minor (you’ll recognise it, trust me), which is excellently done and must have been quite groundbreaking at the end of the ’60s. There is a diversion of just over a minute for the disposable piano piece dissolving into experimentalism which is They Laughed When I Sat Down At The Piano. More of them probably groaned, but we’ll let it go. The best piece is saved until last with the magnificently titled The Song Of McGillicuddie The Pusillanimous (Or, Don’t Worry James, Your Socks Are Hanging In The Coal Cellar With Thomas). Now, if there’s a more ‘prog’ song title than THAT I’d like to hear it! The track itself is superb – a relatively brief opening vocal section leads into a breathless instrumental workout which seems too short at just over five minutes. It’s a real standout – though not quite the end of the side, as the one-minute experimental sound collage Boilk ends things on another unnecessary note. It was extended into a similar piece by the same name on the band’s next album, but that would go on for an energy-sapping nine minutes!
Getting to the second side, we hit the multi-part Symphony No 2 – which, of course, is their first ‘symphony’ Naturally. Originally in four parts with the original Movement 3 omitted owing to copyright issues with Stravinsky’s The Rite Of Spring, that section is now restored, bringing it to a full 22 minutes – the first time the whole thing has appeared on vinyl. Almost all of the piece works beautifully, with plenty of classical cues to be spotted. Movement 1 is perhaps the best of all, utilising Grieg’s Hall Of The Mountain King to great effect in parts, and Movement 2 is almost as good, showcasing the drums of Clive Brooks heavily, but not to the extent of a mere drum solo. Things turn very odd indeed at this point however as, instead of the expected Movement 3, we get the strangely titled Blane, which is over five minutes of avant-garde experimentation, not as bad as Boilk for sure, but still overlong given its free-form nature. The actual Movement 3 comes up next (fourth, confusingly), and things are definitely strengthened by its inclusion, as the dark Stravinsky vibe is especially welcome after the left-field diversion of Blane. Finally, three minutes of Movement 4 bring things to a satisfying close with some hints of Holst to be detected if my ears do not deceive me. Stewart is, naturally, the dominant instrumental force throughout most of this side, and it (along with McGillicudie) is where the majority of this album’s reputation rests.
Overall, this is certainly a pivotal album in the development of progressive rock, with the genre still very much in its infancy when this was recorded. It’s something which should be taken heavily into consideration since, while this could be seen as a lesser cousin to ELP, it in fact came first and deserves enormous credit for the groundwork it laid. For my part, the biggest misstep is probably the incorporation of Blane in the middle of the symphony – while it is not the worst example of avant garde music you will encounter, it is so at odds with the rest of the rather serious piece that it seems a little like the oi painting The Laughing Cavalier with a custard pie shoved into his face! It may have been intended to leaven the more serious classical tone of the rest of the sections, but it has not dated well, and the piece flows better without it. Still, this is an album which comes with a certain weight of history attached to it, and for large parts it delivers under it. This vinyl edition doesn’t add any new gatefolds or inner sleeves etc, but it is, as previously mentioned, the first pressing to include the missing movement which had only graced a CD reissue before now. This was how the past was forged, and it’s fascinating to hear it happen.
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