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A New Day Yesterday: UK Progressive Rock & The 1970s
Music journalist Mike Barnes (MOJO, The Wire, Prog, and author of the acclaimed biography Captain Beefheart) goes back to the birth of progressive rock and surveys the cultural conditions and attitudes that fed into, and were in turn affected by, this remarkable musical phenomenon. He examines the myths and misconceptions that have grown up around progressive rock and paints a vivid, colourful picture of the Seventies based on hundreds of hours of his own interviews with musicians, music business insiders, journalists and DJs, and from the personal testimonies of those who were fans of the music in that extraordinary decade.
608 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 5, 2020
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Mike Barnes
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January 4, 2025
Following great popularity in the first half of the 1970s progressive rock quickly became, due to its alleged combination of musical pretension and theatrical schlock, the genre that dare not speak its name. For decades after admitting that you liked it was rather like saying you thought Jeffrey Archer was the greatest living novelist or your favourite TV drama was Neighbours. In his introduction to this mammoth survey of the genre Mike Barnes quotes a Rick Wakeman joke which neatly encapsulates the torment of the closet prog fan stranded in a harsh and uncomprehending world: a man goes into a record shop to buy a progressive rock album. Once inside he is so overcome with social embarrassment that he buys almost every other record in stock. Finally in desperation he whispers to the assistant: ‘Have you got any prog?’ ‘Yes’, replies the assistant, ‘we keep it behind the counter. I’ll put it in a brown paper bag for you’.
Nowadays people tend to be much less prog phobic but it wasn’t so long ago that you could dismiss the whole thing as pretentious rubbish without even being invited to justify yourself. Such a cavalier attitude would, of course, be regarded as unacceptable with any other musical form. This blanket dismissal seems particularly odd when, as Barnes demonstrates, it was an unusually eclectic genre which combined rock with classical elements, folk and jazz.
Still, it must be admitted that prog was not without its easily mockable aspects: Keith Emerson and his flying piano, the cape wearing Rick Wakeman performing his epic suite The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table for full orchestra, choir, rock band and fourteen skaters on ice, or Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson playing the flute while standing on one leg and clad in tights and codpiece. In retrospect, though, all of this just seems like good fun and proof that these musicians, contrary to reputation, didn’t take themselves too seriously. Glam, which happened more or less concurrently with prog, was equally ridiculous in many ways - certainly from a sartorial point of view - but has always escaped opprobrium. Similarly, the supposedly reprehensible grandiose aspects of prog (including such snappy song titles as ‘The Revealing Science Of God: Dance Of The Dawn’) now strike me as rather touching in their sincere if sometimes naive ambition.
Barnes mixes biographies of the groups with critical analysis of the music while also sketching in the historical context. He conveys what was innovative and exciting about this music and is generally forgiving towards its occasional excesses. He makes the interesting point that the term ‘progressive rock’ was rarely used at the time (and the diminutive ‘prog’ never used, it seems). Bands like Pink Floyd, ELP and Genesis were simply part of the mainstream. As a rock obsessed teenager in the mid-‘70s I bought albums by Yes, David Bowie and Black Sabbath and made little distinction between them; it was all just rock music. The obsessive concern with categories and subgenres came later.
Barnes regards progressive rock as an approach to music making rather than a particular sound - ‘progressive’ in the dictionary definition sense - and as a result his book is extremely wide-ranging. In addition to covering the famous names he also explores the less familiar byways of the genre: the whimsical jazz-rock of the Canterbury scene, the apocalyptic visions of Van Der Graaf Generator, the dissonance and atonality of Henry Cow, Ladbroke Grove ‘freaks’ like Hawkwind and Quintessence, progressive folkies, and even - oxymoron alert - progressive medievalists in the shape of crumhorn wielding Gryphon. The inclusion of Roxy Music might raise a few eyebrows (weren’t they glam?) but there is a case for it. Their early work remade and remodelled different musical styles in a very progressive rock sort of way (except when Roxy did it critics called it postmodernism).
I’ve read a number of books on the subject and this one, with its combination of breadth and critical insight, is for me the definitive account: everything you always wanted to know about progressive rock but were too embarrassed to ask.
Nowadays people tend to be much less prog phobic but it wasn’t so long ago that you could dismiss the whole thing as pretentious rubbish without even being invited to justify yourself. Such a cavalier attitude would, of course, be regarded as unacceptable with any other musical form. This blanket dismissal seems particularly odd when, as Barnes demonstrates, it was an unusually eclectic genre which combined rock with classical elements, folk and jazz.
Still, it must be admitted that prog was not without its easily mockable aspects: Keith Emerson and his flying piano, the cape wearing Rick Wakeman performing his epic suite The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table for full orchestra, choir, rock band and fourteen skaters on ice, or Jethro Tull’s Ian Anderson playing the flute while standing on one leg and clad in tights and codpiece. In retrospect, though, all of this just seems like good fun and proof that these musicians, contrary to reputation, didn’t take themselves too seriously. Glam, which happened more or less concurrently with prog, was equally ridiculous in many ways - certainly from a sartorial point of view - but has always escaped opprobrium. Similarly, the supposedly reprehensible grandiose aspects of prog (including such snappy song titles as ‘The Revealing Science Of God: Dance Of The Dawn’) now strike me as rather touching in their sincere if sometimes naive ambition.
Barnes mixes biographies of the groups with critical analysis of the music while also sketching in the historical context. He conveys what was innovative and exciting about this music and is generally forgiving towards its occasional excesses. He makes the interesting point that the term ‘progressive rock’ was rarely used at the time (and the diminutive ‘prog’ never used, it seems). Bands like Pink Floyd, ELP and Genesis were simply part of the mainstream. As a rock obsessed teenager in the mid-‘70s I bought albums by Yes, David Bowie and Black Sabbath and made little distinction between them; it was all just rock music. The obsessive concern with categories and subgenres came later.
Barnes regards progressive rock as an approach to music making rather than a particular sound - ‘progressive’ in the dictionary definition sense - and as a result his book is extremely wide-ranging. In addition to covering the famous names he also explores the less familiar byways of the genre: the whimsical jazz-rock of the Canterbury scene, the apocalyptic visions of Van Der Graaf Generator, the dissonance and atonality of Henry Cow, Ladbroke Grove ‘freaks’ like Hawkwind and Quintessence, progressive folkies, and even - oxymoron alert - progressive medievalists in the shape of crumhorn wielding Gryphon. The inclusion of Roxy Music might raise a few eyebrows (weren’t they glam?) but there is a case for it. Their early work remade and remodelled different musical styles in a very progressive rock sort of way (except when Roxy did it critics called it postmodernism).
I’ve read a number of books on the subject and this one, with its combination of breadth and critical insight, is for me the definitive account: everything you always wanted to know about progressive rock but were too embarrassed to ask.
February 20, 2020
Keep your fingers out of my eye.
I always think "Watcher of the Skies" by Genesis, or possibly "Return of the Giant Hogweed", is a good litmus test for whether someone will 'get' progressive rock or not. If you can't suspend your disbelief long enough to appreciate the grandiose mellotron chords, syncopated riffing and young men singing very earnestly about intergalactic travellers and giant carnivorous plants for seven minutes, baby you ain't ever gonna scale the heights of "Close to the Edge", "Karn Evil 9" or "Nine Feet Underground". Also, they're cracking choons, right? And furthermore, the first snare note played by Phil Collins in the verse of "Watcher" is The Most Perfect Drum Stroke Ever. (Yes, it is possible to have a favourite drum stroke, and if you don't believe this we already have a Problem.) You need to be prepared to go all in with this stuff and roll with it, nay, bask in its unapologetic if often discreetly tongue-in-cheek pretention. Those who accept unquestioningly that rock (&/or roll) must be a concise three minute blast of pure energy delivered only with adrenaline, however imperfectly, are never going to swallow it; go back to nursing that Clash LP. Prog rock, for me, has always been about providing you with the most bang for your buck musically, ideally over an extended duration and in an odd time signature chosen as much for the sense of achievement the players obtained from mastering it as because it makes a change from the usual 4/4. You like tunes? We got loads of 'em! Usually played in quick succession one after another, if not several simultaneously. Don't like this bit? Don't worry, there'll be another one along in the next two bars, unless it's a bass solo. As a callow 15 year old in a time of shiny jackets and indie cardigans, I bought "Foxtrot" on a budget cassette for £3 from Asda, slipped it into my Walkman with trepidation, and duly pledged my immortal soul to that crazy 9/8 rhythm. To my view, Prog is something like a modern English folk art - invented here and unique in its most distinguished flowering to our nation, even if we've since forgotten how to do it well and often have to get a gang in from Poland instead.
Like all the finest examples of the genre, Mike Barnes's "A New Day Yesterday" is a grossly extended, convoluted, involved and squirrelly piecework where you never know what the next chapter may bring. It's neither a comprehensive, linear history of the form, nor a cohesive analysis of the progression of Progressive - how could it be, when even those on the scene admit they were beavering away in their own bubbles, mostly isolated from whatever their peers were doing (although initially, pretty much every thinking rock musician who heard what King Crimson were doing in 1969 put away childish things and immediately struck out for shores unknown). When Bill Bruford took a side gig playing with Genesis in 1976, it was assumed he must already be familiar with their catalogue having come up through the ranks of Yes and Crimson - in fact, he'd had no previous exposure and had to learn on the job. Unlike in jazz, leading prog musicians did not typically collaborate or swap places with other bands, meaning that any notion of a collective songbook or hierarchy of influence can be pretty much discarded. Faced with this, Barnes opts for a wide-ranging survey, an Observation if you will, tackling key bands and personnel in dedicated chapters and mixing straight biography with archive press reports and first hand interviews. It says much for his persistence at this that he is equally able to uncover fresh insights while relating well-worn tales of the early days of Yes, Genesis, Crimson, Floyd and the other usual suspects, as with those having less name recognition. There are several chapters devoted to the 'Canterbury Scene', which turns out to be less an overall philosophy or approach than a group of disparate individuals who briefly shared some geographical, professional or even vaguely allusive connection to the town. Along the way, some sacred cows are slaughtered (no, it wasn't all about equalling Classical music - soul, R&B and jazz were at least as formative; no, it may have been predominantly straight, white and male but was never intentionally so) and a few biases confirmed (yes, it was primarily an overachieving middle class thing - but so was punk in many cases; and yes, obviously it was ALL about hobbits).
That said, the more obscure bands of the era, those whose recordings have lately been rediscovered, remastered and acclaimed as "lost treasures", are mostly glossed over. Fans of the likes of Cressida, Affinity, Spring, Trees or Fields will be left somewhat bereft, as they feature here only in passing if at all. This is a shame, given that some of the most interesting tentative explorations date from this early experimental period during which the field was wide open, and even more so when johnny-come-lately art school poseurs Roxy Bloody Music get half a chapter. Never mind, there's always Flashback magazine, eh. As representation, the transcript here of an interview with the former members of early 70s Vertigo signing Gracious will have to suffice, although perhaps the sheer bathos of this closing quote from their drummer stands as a suitable valedictory to all such abruptly truncated endeavours: "After we split up we did a Marquee reunion gig the next year, ... and it sold out in minutes. It almost broke my heart." ("After that, I signed on the dole," adds their guitarist.)
Perhaps in recognition that an endless succession of rock band stories would soon become repetitive, 'divertimento' chapters break up the latter half, examining particular aspects of the period such as festivals, fashions, sex and politics. In truth, some of the material here arguably has little to do with prog itself ("What is this 'physical love' of which you speak?") but it helps to round out an overall picture of 1970s Britain as it emerged blinking from the psychedelic daydream.
More unfortunately, the task of proofreading this mighty work appears to have dismayed its editor almost as much as listening to one of the more challenging Third Ear Band pieces. There are numerous instances of literal repetition, often within the same paragraph, where a sentence was clearly relocated without its original placement being excised. Occasionally a word is missing or a clause prematurely terminated, momentarily interrupting the flow. These flaws do not unduly detract from reading, but they mar an otherwise impressive effort.
By 1977, a chill wind was blowing through the ranks of the progressive milieu as formerly indulged artists suddenly found their calls going unreturned (and their bills unpaid) by record companies diverted towards chasing a new generation and inflating the hype of punk. In truth, most of the best work had already been produced in the first half of the decade, and bands that had reached their definitive expression (what Bruford memorably termed a statement of "This Is What We Do And This Is How We Do It") were often repeating the same tricks in increasingly outlandish settings to diminishing effect. Barnes captures this period well too, gathering a fair spread of opinion on the great pub rock pretender, from the uncomprehending dodos surprised by the sudden ambush to the more indulgent (and commercially safe) wise beards who saw it simply as an exciting, if ultimately limiting, return to basics. Pete Brown's downbeat scepticism is likely most on the money here: "It was phoney... The punk thing destroyed the album market for ten years." Today, even prog-averse journalist Nick Kent will admit to retaining more sympathy for the sincerity of the proggers than the cynical claims of ex-punks.
Where Paul Stump's The Music's All That Matters: A History of Progressive Rock is forthright and waspish but often overly didactic, Hegarty & Halliwell's Beyond and Before: Progressive Rock since the 1960s is frequently academic and obscure, and the numerous fan-written hagiographies are keen but usually inadequate to their task, Mike Barnes has pulled all this varied material together into an engaging kaleidoscope of impressions, accounts and facts that, if it fails to offer a holistic narrative of Progressive Rock, is never less than tremendously engaging throughout. Contrary to my initial hopes, I am left still feeling that the definitive book on Prog remains to be written - but in light of what's here, I am less certain than ever of what it should contain or how it might be organised. That's fine; perhaps nobody who embarked on their first listen of some hairy maestro's side-long Gesamtkunstwerk ever found it to be quite what they expected, but that doesn't mean the journey wasn't ultimately rewarding. In the meantime, this will keep you happily preoccupied for at least a couple of plays of "Tales From Topographic Oceans".
I always think "Watcher of the Skies" by Genesis, or possibly "Return of the Giant Hogweed", is a good litmus test for whether someone will 'get' progressive rock or not. If you can't suspend your disbelief long enough to appreciate the grandiose mellotron chords, syncopated riffing and young men singing very earnestly about intergalactic travellers and giant carnivorous plants for seven minutes, baby you ain't ever gonna scale the heights of "Close to the Edge", "Karn Evil 9" or "Nine Feet Underground". Also, they're cracking choons, right? And furthermore, the first snare note played by Phil Collins in the verse of "Watcher" is The Most Perfect Drum Stroke Ever. (Yes, it is possible to have a favourite drum stroke, and if you don't believe this we already have a Problem.) You need to be prepared to go all in with this stuff and roll with it, nay, bask in its unapologetic if often discreetly tongue-in-cheek pretention. Those who accept unquestioningly that rock (&/or roll) must be a concise three minute blast of pure energy delivered only with adrenaline, however imperfectly, are never going to swallow it; go back to nursing that Clash LP. Prog rock, for me, has always been about providing you with the most bang for your buck musically, ideally over an extended duration and in an odd time signature chosen as much for the sense of achievement the players obtained from mastering it as because it makes a change from the usual 4/4. You like tunes? We got loads of 'em! Usually played in quick succession one after another, if not several simultaneously. Don't like this bit? Don't worry, there'll be another one along in the next two bars, unless it's a bass solo. As a callow 15 year old in a time of shiny jackets and indie cardigans, I bought "Foxtrot" on a budget cassette for £3 from Asda, slipped it into my Walkman with trepidation, and duly pledged my immortal soul to that crazy 9/8 rhythm. To my view, Prog is something like a modern English folk art - invented here and unique in its most distinguished flowering to our nation, even if we've since forgotten how to do it well and often have to get a gang in from Poland instead.
Like all the finest examples of the genre, Mike Barnes's "A New Day Yesterday" is a grossly extended, convoluted, involved and squirrelly piecework where you never know what the next chapter may bring. It's neither a comprehensive, linear history of the form, nor a cohesive analysis of the progression of Progressive - how could it be, when even those on the scene admit they were beavering away in their own bubbles, mostly isolated from whatever their peers were doing (although initially, pretty much every thinking rock musician who heard what King Crimson were doing in 1969 put away childish things and immediately struck out for shores unknown). When Bill Bruford took a side gig playing with Genesis in 1976, it was assumed he must already be familiar with their catalogue having come up through the ranks of Yes and Crimson - in fact, he'd had no previous exposure and had to learn on the job. Unlike in jazz, leading prog musicians did not typically collaborate or swap places with other bands, meaning that any notion of a collective songbook or hierarchy of influence can be pretty much discarded. Faced with this, Barnes opts for a wide-ranging survey, an Observation if you will, tackling key bands and personnel in dedicated chapters and mixing straight biography with archive press reports and first hand interviews. It says much for his persistence at this that he is equally able to uncover fresh insights while relating well-worn tales of the early days of Yes, Genesis, Crimson, Floyd and the other usual suspects, as with those having less name recognition. There are several chapters devoted to the 'Canterbury Scene', which turns out to be less an overall philosophy or approach than a group of disparate individuals who briefly shared some geographical, professional or even vaguely allusive connection to the town. Along the way, some sacred cows are slaughtered (no, it wasn't all about equalling Classical music - soul, R&B and jazz were at least as formative; no, it may have been predominantly straight, white and male but was never intentionally so) and a few biases confirmed (yes, it was primarily an overachieving middle class thing - but so was punk in many cases; and yes, obviously it was ALL about hobbits).
That said, the more obscure bands of the era, those whose recordings have lately been rediscovered, remastered and acclaimed as "lost treasures", are mostly glossed over. Fans of the likes of Cressida, Affinity, Spring, Trees or Fields will be left somewhat bereft, as they feature here only in passing if at all. This is a shame, given that some of the most interesting tentative explorations date from this early experimental period during which the field was wide open, and even more so when johnny-come-lately art school poseurs Roxy Bloody Music get half a chapter. Never mind, there's always Flashback magazine, eh. As representation, the transcript here of an interview with the former members of early 70s Vertigo signing Gracious will have to suffice, although perhaps the sheer bathos of this closing quote from their drummer stands as a suitable valedictory to all such abruptly truncated endeavours: "After we split up we did a Marquee reunion gig the next year, ... and it sold out in minutes. It almost broke my heart." ("After that, I signed on the dole," adds their guitarist.)
Perhaps in recognition that an endless succession of rock band stories would soon become repetitive, 'divertimento' chapters break up the latter half, examining particular aspects of the period such as festivals, fashions, sex and politics. In truth, some of the material here arguably has little to do with prog itself ("What is this 'physical love' of which you speak?") but it helps to round out an overall picture of 1970s Britain as it emerged blinking from the psychedelic daydream.
More unfortunately, the task of proofreading this mighty work appears to have dismayed its editor almost as much as listening to one of the more challenging Third Ear Band pieces. There are numerous instances of literal repetition, often within the same paragraph, where a sentence was clearly relocated without its original placement being excised. Occasionally a word is missing or a clause prematurely terminated, momentarily interrupting the flow. These flaws do not unduly detract from reading, but they mar an otherwise impressive effort.
By 1977, a chill wind was blowing through the ranks of the progressive milieu as formerly indulged artists suddenly found their calls going unreturned (and their bills unpaid) by record companies diverted towards chasing a new generation and inflating the hype of punk. In truth, most of the best work had already been produced in the first half of the decade, and bands that had reached their definitive expression (what Bruford memorably termed a statement of "This Is What We Do And This Is How We Do It") were often repeating the same tricks in increasingly outlandish settings to diminishing effect. Barnes captures this period well too, gathering a fair spread of opinion on the great pub rock pretender, from the uncomprehending dodos surprised by the sudden ambush to the more indulgent (and commercially safe) wise beards who saw it simply as an exciting, if ultimately limiting, return to basics. Pete Brown's downbeat scepticism is likely most on the money here: "It was phoney... The punk thing destroyed the album market for ten years." Today, even prog-averse journalist Nick Kent will admit to retaining more sympathy for the sincerity of the proggers than the cynical claims of ex-punks.
Where Paul Stump's The Music's All That Matters: A History of Progressive Rock is forthright and waspish but often overly didactic, Hegarty & Halliwell's Beyond and Before: Progressive Rock since the 1960s is frequently academic and obscure, and the numerous fan-written hagiographies are keen but usually inadequate to their task, Mike Barnes has pulled all this varied material together into an engaging kaleidoscope of impressions, accounts and facts that, if it fails to offer a holistic narrative of Progressive Rock, is never less than tremendously engaging throughout. Contrary to my initial hopes, I am left still feeling that the definitive book on Prog remains to be written - but in light of what's here, I am less certain than ever of what it should contain or how it might be organised. That's fine; perhaps nobody who embarked on their first listen of some hairy maestro's side-long Gesamtkunstwerk ever found it to be quite what they expected, but that doesn't mean the journey wasn't ultimately rewarding. In the meantime, this will keep you happily preoccupied for at least a couple of plays of "Tales From Topographic Oceans".
October 3, 2021
When punk rock came out in 1976 more than a few punks snarled about how they were going to put overindulgent progressive rock (read: prog rock) bands out of business, which made me laugh out loud. Prog rock at its best was dark, hard, and was surely the forerunner of goth. The three best examples are Knife Edge by Emerson Lake & Palmer, Killer by Van Der Graaf Generator (oh, do you like Peter Murphy? Meet Peter Hammill), and the classic 21st Century Schizoid Man by King Crimson. The latter song was so bleak and dark half the band quit rather than play it every night on tour.
But getting to the book, well, Mike Barnes' writing is overelaborate to the point of being dull and long-winded. His segment about who was the first prog band seemed petty and rather unimportant. What I did like were some great anecdotes, i.e. the time Keith Emerson of The Nice began sticking knives in his organ. One of his roadies, Lemmy (prob before he joined Hawkwind) walked up to Emerson and said, "If yer gon stick knives in yer organ use a proper one, lad", and produced a huge German hunting knife for Emerson's use. Hah! This book was long, long overdue.
But getting to the book, well, Mike Barnes' writing is overelaborate to the point of being dull and long-winded. His segment about who was the first prog band seemed petty and rather unimportant. What I did like were some great anecdotes, i.e. the time Keith Emerson of The Nice began sticking knives in his organ. One of his roadies, Lemmy (prob before he joined Hawkwind) walked up to Emerson and said, "If yer gon stick knives in yer organ use a proper one, lad", and produced a huge German hunting knife for Emerson's use. Hah! This book was long, long overdue.
February 22, 2020
Essential for anyone who has any interest in any prog.
June 26, 2020
Really enjoyable meander through progressive rock in the 1970s. I took my time with this, adding notable tracks to. Spotify playlist and listening along. Mike Barnes is clear that his subject is progressive rock and not Prog, a term which encompasses a particular subset, albeit one that most readers would be more familiar with. Barnes finds few concept albums and fewer wizards and hobbits. He does find musicians willing, and able, to push the boundaries of ‘popular’ music, whose influences are as likely to have been Leoš Janáček as Elvis Presley.
Rather than a strict chronology, Barnes finds themes with which to structure the book. He begins with the big hitters - King Crimson, Pink Floyd, ELP, Genesis, Yes and Jethro Tull - before taking a look at some possibly less well-known groups. This is perhaps the book’s only weakness, at least for me; I have never really had much interest in ‘the Canterbury scene’ and can’t get on with Van Der Graff Generator much either. I did find Henry Cow, of whom I had never interesting and came away with a renewed appreciation of Gong and Steve Hillage.
The book ends with a reappraisal of the often repeated theory that punk was a reaction to, and the end of, progressive rock (it really wasn’t) and revisits some of the better known names, and how they had changed by the decade’ s end.
Rather than a strict chronology, Barnes finds themes with which to structure the book. He begins with the big hitters - King Crimson, Pink Floyd, ELP, Genesis, Yes and Jethro Tull - before taking a look at some possibly less well-known groups. This is perhaps the book’s only weakness, at least for me; I have never really had much interest in ‘the Canterbury scene’ and can’t get on with Van Der Graff Generator much either. I did find Henry Cow, of whom I had never interesting and came away with a renewed appreciation of Gong and Steve Hillage.
The book ends with a reappraisal of the often repeated theory that punk was a reaction to, and the end of, progressive rock (it really wasn’t) and revisits some of the better known names, and how they had changed by the decade’ s end.
February 7, 2022
A disappointment. A case of What If? This might have been better if the author had just limited himself to 1968-74 and not got embroiled with the debate about what is 'Progressive Rock'. So....still waiting for the definite book for this classic era.
I feel that this review posted by Sentinel on Amazon accurately and cogently reflects my views :
Prog rock was an important part of my adolescence, and given the many positive reviews, and the sheer size of the book, I was both excited & optimistic. Sadly, I was wrong. Another reviewer questioned whether Barnes really liked/knew the music he writes about, and I felt that too. He struggles to arrive at a definition of what prog rock is, then just decides for himself as he goes along. As a result, Uriah Heep, Manfred Mann's Earthband, and even Led Zep are all rejected in favour of many obscure bands, and with an over-reliance on the 'Canterbury Scene'.
Even bands which make it into the frame, such as Pink Floyd, are only grudgingly praised: with 'Dark Side' he finds it 'hard to understand its appeal'. To make matters worse, he regularly drags Nick Kent, prog rock's 'kryptonite critic' to assassinate the band, calling them 'incredibly limited as musicians'. He does a similar hatchet job on Moody Blues, slagging off their dress sense in a 'review' of 'In Search of the Lost Chord', and lining up a queue of critics of the band.
This is bad enough, but his inclusion of bands which I feel never gained enough critical credit, such as Barclay James Harvest, Renaissance & Camel, gave me a similar impression to the reviewer who thought he didn't really know or like these bands. Even when he analyses a song/track he lacks the skill to be able to 'let you hear the music': all that's left on the cutting room table are a collection of individual aspects of the song, but the life of it is lost. Very sad, as I had high hopes for this 600 page monster. Barnes structure lets him down: his layout is very unwieldy, so the book hops across unrelated chapters, bands suddenly reappear many pages after being 'reviewed' (there's even a chapter on punk rock, perhaps Barnes true love?). There's also far too much poor quality interview material included, which adds nothing to the reader's understanding or insight, and there are far too many mistakes here for someone who lives as a music journalist. For example, his interview with Sonja Kristina of Curved Air is a pointless detour, which adds little to the reader's understanding of the band, or its music, and just makes reading an even more turgid experience.
All this aside, the main problem with this book, apart from Barnes pretence to know/like much of the music, is the fact that he's unable to make the music 'sing' to the reader. This isn't an easy thing to do, but if you investigate Mark Prendergast's 'Ambient Century', or Tom Moon's '1000 Recordings to hear before you die', you'll discover music journalists who with a sentence or two (sometimes just a phrase) can send you out, eager to track down a specific piece of music, and hear it for yourself. I'll admit it's an expensive effect, but a great way to discover new & exciting music. Sadly, neither are books specifically about prog rock, though it does appear in both, with many other musical approaches.
I realise, given all the rave reviews, and people who surprisingly find Barnes a good writer, that potential readers may well ignore this piece. However, it might be worth checking out if your local library holds a copy of 'A New Day Yesterday'. That way, you can borrow it, and see whether you really want to spend your money on adding it to your collection....?
I feel that this review posted by Sentinel on Amazon accurately and cogently reflects my views :
Prog rock was an important part of my adolescence, and given the many positive reviews, and the sheer size of the book, I was both excited & optimistic. Sadly, I was wrong. Another reviewer questioned whether Barnes really liked/knew the music he writes about, and I felt that too. He struggles to arrive at a definition of what prog rock is, then just decides for himself as he goes along. As a result, Uriah Heep, Manfred Mann's Earthband, and even Led Zep are all rejected in favour of many obscure bands, and with an over-reliance on the 'Canterbury Scene'.
Even bands which make it into the frame, such as Pink Floyd, are only grudgingly praised: with 'Dark Side' he finds it 'hard to understand its appeal'. To make matters worse, he regularly drags Nick Kent, prog rock's 'kryptonite critic' to assassinate the band, calling them 'incredibly limited as musicians'. He does a similar hatchet job on Moody Blues, slagging off their dress sense in a 'review' of 'In Search of the Lost Chord', and lining up a queue of critics of the band.
This is bad enough, but his inclusion of bands which I feel never gained enough critical credit, such as Barclay James Harvest, Renaissance & Camel, gave me a similar impression to the reviewer who thought he didn't really know or like these bands. Even when he analyses a song/track he lacks the skill to be able to 'let you hear the music': all that's left on the cutting room table are a collection of individual aspects of the song, but the life of it is lost. Very sad, as I had high hopes for this 600 page monster. Barnes structure lets him down: his layout is very unwieldy, so the book hops across unrelated chapters, bands suddenly reappear many pages after being 'reviewed' (there's even a chapter on punk rock, perhaps Barnes true love?). There's also far too much poor quality interview material included, which adds nothing to the reader's understanding or insight, and there are far too many mistakes here for someone who lives as a music journalist. For example, his interview with Sonja Kristina of Curved Air is a pointless detour, which adds little to the reader's understanding of the band, or its music, and just makes reading an even more turgid experience.
All this aside, the main problem with this book, apart from Barnes pretence to know/like much of the music, is the fact that he's unable to make the music 'sing' to the reader. This isn't an easy thing to do, but if you investigate Mark Prendergast's 'Ambient Century', or Tom Moon's '1000 Recordings to hear before you die', you'll discover music journalists who with a sentence or two (sometimes just a phrase) can send you out, eager to track down a specific piece of music, and hear it for yourself. I'll admit it's an expensive effect, but a great way to discover new & exciting music. Sadly, neither are books specifically about prog rock, though it does appear in both, with many other musical approaches.
I realise, given all the rave reviews, and people who surprisingly find Barnes a good writer, that potential readers may well ignore this piece. However, it might be worth checking out if your local library holds a copy of 'A New Day Yesterday'. That way, you can borrow it, and see whether you really want to spend your money on adding it to your collection....?
May 9, 2022
writing this a while after i read it to say i originally picked this from the library on a whim being vaguely into prog rock, and it was an enjoyable meander through the scene and overview of some of the prominent bands, but i have since gotten way more into prog rock and i do in fact have this book to thank because i checked out a lot of the albums/artists it talked about :~)
June 20, 2024
Excellent 600 page tome about Prog rock in the early 1970s covering a wide array of groups with great stories
April 21, 2020
A few months before this book’s March 5 release date, as I put it in my cart to pre-order, I thought, wait, didn’t I just read a prog book? Maybe not “just,” but a few years ago, yes, David Weigel’s The Show That Never Ends: The Rise and Fall of Prog Rock (2017), a very well written history by a bloke with a background in political journalism. Still, it left a lot uncovered, and I knew Mike Barnes would come at it from a different angle, as an accomplished music journalist who contributed to The Wire Primers: A Guide to Modern Music (2009) and Captain Beefheart: The Biography (2001).
Sure enough, it was easy to spot Barnes’ bias toward the more adventurous, experimental and wild side of prog, such as the massive experimental big band/avant jazz prog experiment Centipede, King Crimson’s Red (1974), Van der Graaf Generator, Robert Wyatt, Gong, 801 with Phil Manzanera and Brian Eno, and This Heat. But he doesn’t neglect the popular favorites, and is largely diplomatic, balancing his criticisms of Pink Floyd and Emerson Lake & Palmer with plenty of positive things. At least for the early stages of their careers.
His m.o. isn’t sacred cow-tipping, but he did use words of other critics for the more biting criticism of Dark Side as “some kind of miserablist stereo demonstration record” for a “lowest common denominator audience.” By the time we get to The Wall, he doesn’t pull any punches, thankfully.
Aside from the downfall of ELP via Works and Love Beach, those kind of criticisms are actually pretty rare, as Barnes enthusiastically romps through the 70s, ignoring linear timelines squeezing in artists who are at best, prog-adjacent such as Roxy Music and Brian Eno, Faust, Henry Cow, Kevin Ayers and Hawkwind. It wasn’t until 70% into the book that he delves into prog precursors Procol Harum, Traffic and Family.
It took me over a month to get through this 600+ page book, not because it’s dry (though, you know, a nonfiction book on prog won’t appeal to everyone), but because I was constantly curating a playlist to accompany my reading. It had me doing deep dives, revisiting the catalogs of Jethro Tull, Soft Machine, Mike Oldfield, Hatfield And The North, National Health, Camel, Greenslade, Gentle Giant, Gryphon, Strawbs, Curved Air, Steve Hillage, Quiet Sun and Steve Hackett. It also provided fresh insights into favorites I was also very familiar with such as Crimson, Van Der Graaf, Yes and Gong. There were a few unnecessary chapters, as if Barnes was trying to pad it out to reach a thousand pages, called “Divertimento Nos. 1-6,” including drugs, fashion, “funny foreigners,” sex, politics and festivals. For the most part they were awkward and did very little to add to the book in his attempt to flesh out the cultural context.
Also, it figures that a writer for The Wire and Beefheart biographer would frame This Heat as the ultimate culmination of prog’s achievements by the end of the decade. They were a great band that conducted some very interesting experiments, a convenient crossroads where prog, avant rock, tape experiments, industrial music and post-punk intersect, but their importance was a bit overstated in the context of prog history. It’s also not surprising that, post-1970s, he has no time for the likes of Marillion or Porcupine Tree, but rather sees the spirit of prog more in Wire, Magazine, Kate Bush, Sonic Youth, and a bunch of post-rock bands. Clearly someone else will have to write the book covering contemporary prog, along with all the other prog outside of the UK. Bring ’em on!
Sure enough, it was easy to spot Barnes’ bias toward the more adventurous, experimental and wild side of prog, such as the massive experimental big band/avant jazz prog experiment Centipede, King Crimson’s Red (1974), Van der Graaf Generator, Robert Wyatt, Gong, 801 with Phil Manzanera and Brian Eno, and This Heat. But he doesn’t neglect the popular favorites, and is largely diplomatic, balancing his criticisms of Pink Floyd and Emerson Lake & Palmer with plenty of positive things. At least for the early stages of their careers.
There was a certain coolness about The Dark Side Of The Moon and a typical slow 4/4 grandeur that Mason had been keen to avoid as a potential cliché, but from Atom Heart Mother onwards it was a feature of almost every track that he and Waters played on. Certainly by the end of side two, this kind of uni-pace begins to feel like a trudge.
His m.o. isn’t sacred cow-tipping, but he did use words of other critics for the more biting criticism of Dark Side as “some kind of miserablist stereo demonstration record” for a “lowest common denominator audience.” By the time we get to The Wall, he doesn’t pull any punches, thankfully.
What The Wall particularly shows is that the writer who had set the controls for the heart of the sun in 1968 now had come up with the monolithic, ugly and practically useless structure of a huge wall, which was left to stand like an outlier, a kind of monument to the end of the Seventies, emblematic of the emotional blankness and dysfunction that had gripped Pink Floyd.
Aside from the downfall of ELP via Works and Love Beach, those kind of criticisms are actually pretty rare, as Barnes enthusiastically romps through the 70s, ignoring linear timelines squeezing in artists who are at best, prog-adjacent such as Roxy Music and Brian Eno, Faust, Henry Cow, Kevin Ayers and Hawkwind. It wasn’t until 70% into the book that he delves into prog precursors Procol Harum, Traffic and Family.
It took me over a month to get through this 600+ page book, not because it’s dry (though, you know, a nonfiction book on prog won’t appeal to everyone), but because I was constantly curating a playlist to accompany my reading. It had me doing deep dives, revisiting the catalogs of Jethro Tull, Soft Machine, Mike Oldfield, Hatfield And The North, National Health, Camel, Greenslade, Gentle Giant, Gryphon, Strawbs, Curved Air, Steve Hillage, Quiet Sun and Steve Hackett. It also provided fresh insights into favorites I was also very familiar with such as Crimson, Van Der Graaf, Yes and Gong. There were a few unnecessary chapters, as if Barnes was trying to pad it out to reach a thousand pages, called “Divertimento Nos. 1-6,” including drugs, fashion, “funny foreigners,” sex, politics and festivals. For the most part they were awkward and did very little to add to the book in his attempt to flesh out the cultural context.
Also, it figures that a writer for The Wire and Beefheart biographer would frame This Heat as the ultimate culmination of prog’s achievements by the end of the decade. They were a great band that conducted some very interesting experiments, a convenient crossroads where prog, avant rock, tape experiments, industrial music and post-punk intersect, but their importance was a bit overstated in the context of prog history. It’s also not surprising that, post-1970s, he has no time for the likes of Marillion or Porcupine Tree, but rather sees the spirit of prog more in Wire, Magazine, Kate Bush, Sonic Youth, and a bunch of post-rock bands. Clearly someone else will have to write the book covering contemporary prog, along with all the other prog outside of the UK. Bring ’em on!
July 5, 2020
I'm slightly torn about my rating for this book. Most of it is excellent, but there are some ridiculous blunders and bloated faff.
In amongst the genuinely intriguing stories of bands, the author seems determined to convince the reader that sexism didn't exist in the seventies. He then includes a frankly excruciating chapter on 'it' (sex) which was completely out of place, especially with the constant refrain of 'knockers'.
The book ends with some bizarrely misguided criticisms of Pink Floyd. Apparently everything post-Dark Side was dull, and The Wall was uninspired. Not enjoying this stuff is fine, but what a strange statement to make.
Toss in some tediously predictable jibes about religion, poor editing (with whole sentences essentially rewritten within the same paragraph), and the obligatory condemnation of pop, and the excellence of the book is somewhat ruined by the last page.
A real shame. The concept is fantastic, and a lot of work has clearly gone into recreating the prog-world of 1970s Britain in the words of those who were there. It manages to avoid fawning over the bands, and wisely present an unpolished, imperfect image of the movement. However, a lot of this is lost in the immense beer gut this book seems to be lugging around.
In amongst the genuinely intriguing stories of bands, the author seems determined to convince the reader that sexism didn't exist in the seventies. He then includes a frankly excruciating chapter on 'it' (sex) which was completely out of place, especially with the constant refrain of 'knockers'.
The book ends with some bizarrely misguided criticisms of Pink Floyd. Apparently everything post-Dark Side was dull, and The Wall was uninspired. Not enjoying this stuff is fine, but what a strange statement to make.
Toss in some tediously predictable jibes about religion, poor editing (with whole sentences essentially rewritten within the same paragraph), and the obligatory condemnation of pop, and the excellence of the book is somewhat ruined by the last page.
A real shame. The concept is fantastic, and a lot of work has clearly gone into recreating the prog-world of 1970s Britain in the words of those who were there. It manages to avoid fawning over the bands, and wisely present an unpolished, imperfect image of the movement. However, a lot of this is lost in the immense beer gut this book seems to be lugging around.
May 2, 2025
First off, brush aside your stereotypes of symphonic bluster, the hobbit caricatures, the lyrical flights of fancy and foolishness, the preening singer, those artsy public (in the British sense) schoolboy prodigies and/or stoned misfits. Mike Barnes in A New Day Yesterday will, if not eradicate your prejudices, at least restore your faith in intelligent music. Barnes patiently interviews dozens of musicians, singers and songwriters who, from 1969-74, took part in a movement that melded the uplift of psychedelic moods with the complexity of longer formats for composition, integrating myriad genres: Asian, African, opera, cabaret, orchestral, folk, R&B, jazz, minimalism, freakbeat, proto-punk, Krautrock and camp.
Not forgetting a sense of humor, for the most part, Barnes listens sympathetically to those he talks to. His discussions range as widely as his roster. He starts with the ‘60s; he argues that King Crimson’s 1969 debut represents beginning of prog as we know it.
Yet he doesn’t let its leader Robert Fripp’s posturing, Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters’ pomposity or Nick Mason’s ineptitude get in the way of critiques of excess. Barnes takes a nuanced approach instead of easy potshots. These British artists committed — the application of that word’s psychiatric and judicial senses might be apropos to Peter Hammill of Van De Graaf Generator and Floyd’s Syd Barrett — to breaking radio’s three-minute song barriers. They upended staid preconceptions about what entertainment for the audience could encompass. They pursued subtler explorations of sonic depth, spiritual awe and, at their best, personal liberation from convention, whether religious, technical, aesthetic, sexual, political or corporate.
Barnes introduces us to lesser-known figures such as prankster Ron Gessin, NME journalist Ian MacDonald, producer Eddie Offord, instrumentalist Charles Hayward (who with This Heat bridged the illusory prog-punk generation gap), the group Gracious and Sonja Kristina of Curved Air, one of the few females prominent in this hirsute era. While Barnes’ generous discussions with diverse participants allows readers to appreciate the vividness and the blurriness of the performers gathered to groove, he does, for about a third of this lengthy compendium, bog down in the weeds of the so-called Canterbury Scene featuring Kevin Ayers, Robert Wyatt, Soft Machine, Matching Mole, Caravan, Camel, Gong and Hatfield and the North. It’s intermittently engrossing, yet this dogged concentration may weary audiences expecting deep dives into ELO, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull or Roxy Music. Barnes hurries past lots of innovative albums, although as these may be familiar to deep prog heads, he adds illustrative, insightful and wry anecdotes.
These chartbusters earn their spotlight, but for a fleeting set rather than as headliners. On the other hand, this allows Barnes to elevate contenders such as Gentle Giant, Family, 801, Fruupp, Renaissance, Gryphon and Hawkwind. The last-named come across as one of the few bands who gave back to their community, staging free benefits, while a disproportionate number of their peers became insular, snobby and grubbing. As the plight of talented Yes/Crimson drummer Bill Bruford shows, like actors, these scrappers had to survive, taking what they could get at offer, never knowing how long their tenure in any group would outlast a punch-up at that night’s gig.
Barnes’ transition away from the zenith of prog rock over half a decade peaks as Peter Gabriel leaves Genesis. Fittingly, Gabriel’s solo career, which saw him sidle into a vibrant crossover flow in which Brian Eno, David Bowie and Fripp also progressed beyond their original incarnations, found Gabriel riding the crest of an emerging wave of audial invigoration, as punk ebbed and warped.
Barnes neatly skewers The Clash’s Paul Simonon and Joe Strummer for their hyperbolic hatred of their shaggier forebears. He demonstrates adroitly how saturnine post-punks Magazine built on the exemplars of the earlier ‘70s. Barnes could have noted that Howard Devoto’s former mates in Buzzcocks themselves took their motorik beat from Can, beloved by Pete Shelley. He might have elaborated how John Lydon post-Sex Pistols channeled a teenaged admiration for Faust and Van De Graaf into Public Image Ltd., alongside likewise devoted fans Keith Levene (at 15, a roadie for mid-career Yes) and Jah Wobble. Barnes does include Wobble in his shortlist of career survivors who kept the spirit of the creative musicians and singers they grew up with. This conclusion deserves its own expansion, at the cost of cutting back on, say, reams of tedium on fringe mainstay Daevid Allen’s hippie-beatnik drug dabbling.
This musical history will appeal to insiders first, yet it will also encourage readers to revisit or discover innovative records long consigned as unhip. The narrow-minded attitudes engendered and flaunted during the arch backlash against Tales from Topographic Oceans, Tarkus or Nursery Cryme need to finally vanish, decades past late-70s posed slouches and camera-ready snickers. Instead, the follies and the failures of the progressive rock epoch need to be weighed against the achievements and accomplishments of its practitioners, who at their peak, refused to compromise, just as their pretending-prole punk successors claimed to call their predecessors on their own hypocrisy. Barnes’ study may ramble on as long as a triple-disc ELP opus, but he makes his case that prog rock, as a common album-sleeve sticker from those days assured us, “is your best entertainment value.”
(This from May 2nd 2025, Spectrum Culture)
Not forgetting a sense of humor, for the most part, Barnes listens sympathetically to those he talks to. His discussions range as widely as his roster. He starts with the ‘60s; he argues that King Crimson’s 1969 debut represents beginning of prog as we know it.
Yet he doesn’t let its leader Robert Fripp’s posturing, Pink Floyd’s Roger Waters’ pomposity or Nick Mason’s ineptitude get in the way of critiques of excess. Barnes takes a nuanced approach instead of easy potshots. These British artists committed — the application of that word’s psychiatric and judicial senses might be apropos to Peter Hammill of Van De Graaf Generator and Floyd’s Syd Barrett — to breaking radio’s three-minute song barriers. They upended staid preconceptions about what entertainment for the audience could encompass. They pursued subtler explorations of sonic depth, spiritual awe and, at their best, personal liberation from convention, whether religious, technical, aesthetic, sexual, political or corporate.
Barnes introduces us to lesser-known figures such as prankster Ron Gessin, NME journalist Ian MacDonald, producer Eddie Offord, instrumentalist Charles Hayward (who with This Heat bridged the illusory prog-punk generation gap), the group Gracious and Sonja Kristina of Curved Air, one of the few females prominent in this hirsute era. While Barnes’ generous discussions with diverse participants allows readers to appreciate the vividness and the blurriness of the performers gathered to groove, he does, for about a third of this lengthy compendium, bog down in the weeds of the so-called Canterbury Scene featuring Kevin Ayers, Robert Wyatt, Soft Machine, Matching Mole, Caravan, Camel, Gong and Hatfield and the North. It’s intermittently engrossing, yet this dogged concentration may weary audiences expecting deep dives into ELO, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull or Roxy Music. Barnes hurries past lots of innovative albums, although as these may be familiar to deep prog heads, he adds illustrative, insightful and wry anecdotes.
These chartbusters earn their spotlight, but for a fleeting set rather than as headliners. On the other hand, this allows Barnes to elevate contenders such as Gentle Giant, Family, 801, Fruupp, Renaissance, Gryphon and Hawkwind. The last-named come across as one of the few bands who gave back to their community, staging free benefits, while a disproportionate number of their peers became insular, snobby and grubbing. As the plight of talented Yes/Crimson drummer Bill Bruford shows, like actors, these scrappers had to survive, taking what they could get at offer, never knowing how long their tenure in any group would outlast a punch-up at that night’s gig.
Barnes’ transition away from the zenith of prog rock over half a decade peaks as Peter Gabriel leaves Genesis. Fittingly, Gabriel’s solo career, which saw him sidle into a vibrant crossover flow in which Brian Eno, David Bowie and Fripp also progressed beyond their original incarnations, found Gabriel riding the crest of an emerging wave of audial invigoration, as punk ebbed and warped.
Barnes neatly skewers The Clash’s Paul Simonon and Joe Strummer for their hyperbolic hatred of their shaggier forebears. He demonstrates adroitly how saturnine post-punks Magazine built on the exemplars of the earlier ‘70s. Barnes could have noted that Howard Devoto’s former mates in Buzzcocks themselves took their motorik beat from Can, beloved by Pete Shelley. He might have elaborated how John Lydon post-Sex Pistols channeled a teenaged admiration for Faust and Van De Graaf into Public Image Ltd., alongside likewise devoted fans Keith Levene (at 15, a roadie for mid-career Yes) and Jah Wobble. Barnes does include Wobble in his shortlist of career survivors who kept the spirit of the creative musicians and singers they grew up with. This conclusion deserves its own expansion, at the cost of cutting back on, say, reams of tedium on fringe mainstay Daevid Allen’s hippie-beatnik drug dabbling.
This musical history will appeal to insiders first, yet it will also encourage readers to revisit or discover innovative records long consigned as unhip. The narrow-minded attitudes engendered and flaunted during the arch backlash against Tales from Topographic Oceans, Tarkus or Nursery Cryme need to finally vanish, decades past late-70s posed slouches and camera-ready snickers. Instead, the follies and the failures of the progressive rock epoch need to be weighed against the achievements and accomplishments of its practitioners, who at their peak, refused to compromise, just as their pretending-prole punk successors claimed to call their predecessors on their own hypocrisy. Barnes’ study may ramble on as long as a triple-disc ELP opus, but he makes his case that prog rock, as a common album-sleeve sticker from those days assured us, “is your best entertainment value.”
(This from May 2nd 2025, Spectrum Culture)
July 15, 2020
I'm always torn about books on music: part of me thinks that it's impossible to write about music, it has to be experienced; equally, part of me is very interested in discovering new music, getting a perspective on music that I like or that I haven't really found space for in my heart.
Progressive rock aka Prog Rock or simply Prog has got a bad reputation, particularly amongst those whose teenage years coincided with Punk / New Wave, which allegedly wanted to 'kick over the statues' of Prog. My teenage years straddle both Prog and Punk and whilst at University, in the years 1976 to 1979, went from sitting cross-legged listening to Tangerine Dream to being told 'We Hate Students' by The Slits.
Consequently, I am perfectly happy listening to the best of Prog alongside the best of Punk: I like both styles of music. As the book suggests (yes, this will be a review of the book, eventually!) Prog did start to lose its way in the mid-1970s and there were clearly abominations which were self-indulgent, pompous and overblown as the desire to go further (wherever that may have been), and grander than the previous album, took hold.
One of the charges laid against Prog is that it's all a load of drivel about wizards and elves, swords and sorcery and all that fantasy stuff (which I hate with a passion). Thankfully, one of the first myths laid waste by Mike Barnes is that one. There are a few albums of that nature, but they are a minority, and, as they say, 'you pays your money and you makes your choice'.
The book begins its story in the late 1960's, 1967 for arguments sake, setting the seeds for the development of what became known as Progressive Rock. It then moves on to a stab at identifying the first album which could be termed Progressive, according to his 'definition'. He proposes 14 potential candidates for that title, then reveals the one he believes has the best claim on being first. If you want to know what the 14 are or even the one - read the book!
Another myth is that Progressive Rock is about some Frankenstein's monster-like amalgamation of Rock and Classical music. He kills this stupid generalisation too. Progressive originally only meant that the bands, musicians etc, were not happy to keep repeating themselves, especially when they hit on a winning formula, but rather chose to explore other musical styles alongside rock. Prog thus includes elements from jazz, folk, Eastern musical forms, and may even use orchestras to increase their dynamic range.
The book's chapters cover the usual suspects: King Crimson, Yes, Genesis, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, Camel, Caravan, Gong, Henry Cow, Hawkwind and more. It also includes many lesser-known players who made noteworthy 'out-there' albums, some I'd never heard of (which was pleasing), along with psychedelia (briefly), the 'Underground' and Ladbroke Grove freak scenes.
The end of the book deals with punk and closes with what bands like Yes, Genesis, Pink Floyd and others did, post-punk. The section on punk contains some interesting reminders that, despite their message of 'killing the dinosaurs', many of punk's prime movers (John Lydon, Mark Perry, Joe Strummer et al) were actually fans of bands like Hawkwind, Van Der Graaf Generator, Can, Bowie etc, though they did have a valid point about the separation between band and fans, owing to the huge venues needed to stage ever more lavish stage sets.
Overall, then, a good book on Progressive Rock. Mostly I found myself in agreement with his thoughts on bands, albums, and songs, though not always. There are occasional errors, but these are minor and do not detract from the book. I'm also glad to say I learned stuff I didn't already know and there are albums I've either listened to again or have lined up to investigate as I'd never heard them or of them, in some cases. The book includes a fair number of photographs and suggests specific albums by different bands to explore. I don't think you can ask for much more from a book on music.
I'd thoroughly recommend this to a fan of Prog or anyone who is interested and open-minded enough to give something different a try. I guarantee there is at least one album in here for everyone, even though it may be a different one for each person. Read it or, better still, buy it!
Progressive rock aka Prog Rock or simply Prog has got a bad reputation, particularly amongst those whose teenage years coincided with Punk / New Wave, which allegedly wanted to 'kick over the statues' of Prog. My teenage years straddle both Prog and Punk and whilst at University, in the years 1976 to 1979, went from sitting cross-legged listening to Tangerine Dream to being told 'We Hate Students' by The Slits.
Consequently, I am perfectly happy listening to the best of Prog alongside the best of Punk: I like both styles of music. As the book suggests (yes, this will be a review of the book, eventually!) Prog did start to lose its way in the mid-1970s and there were clearly abominations which were self-indulgent, pompous and overblown as the desire to go further (wherever that may have been), and grander than the previous album, took hold.
One of the charges laid against Prog is that it's all a load of drivel about wizards and elves, swords and sorcery and all that fantasy stuff (which I hate with a passion). Thankfully, one of the first myths laid waste by Mike Barnes is that one. There are a few albums of that nature, but they are a minority, and, as they say, 'you pays your money and you makes your choice'.
The book begins its story in the late 1960's, 1967 for arguments sake, setting the seeds for the development of what became known as Progressive Rock. It then moves on to a stab at identifying the first album which could be termed Progressive, according to his 'definition'. He proposes 14 potential candidates for that title, then reveals the one he believes has the best claim on being first. If you want to know what the 14 are or even the one - read the book!
Another myth is that Progressive Rock is about some Frankenstein's monster-like amalgamation of Rock and Classical music. He kills this stupid generalisation too. Progressive originally only meant that the bands, musicians etc, were not happy to keep repeating themselves, especially when they hit on a winning formula, but rather chose to explore other musical styles alongside rock. Prog thus includes elements from jazz, folk, Eastern musical forms, and may even use orchestras to increase their dynamic range.
The book's chapters cover the usual suspects: King Crimson, Yes, Genesis, Pink Floyd, Jethro Tull, Camel, Caravan, Gong, Henry Cow, Hawkwind and more. It also includes many lesser-known players who made noteworthy 'out-there' albums, some I'd never heard of (which was pleasing), along with psychedelia (briefly), the 'Underground' and Ladbroke Grove freak scenes.
The end of the book deals with punk and closes with what bands like Yes, Genesis, Pink Floyd and others did, post-punk. The section on punk contains some interesting reminders that, despite their message of 'killing the dinosaurs', many of punk's prime movers (John Lydon, Mark Perry, Joe Strummer et al) were actually fans of bands like Hawkwind, Van Der Graaf Generator, Can, Bowie etc, though they did have a valid point about the separation between band and fans, owing to the huge venues needed to stage ever more lavish stage sets.
Overall, then, a good book on Progressive Rock. Mostly I found myself in agreement with his thoughts on bands, albums, and songs, though not always. There are occasional errors, but these are minor and do not detract from the book. I'm also glad to say I learned stuff I didn't already know and there are albums I've either listened to again or have lined up to investigate as I'd never heard them or of them, in some cases. The book includes a fair number of photographs and suggests specific albums by different bands to explore. I don't think you can ask for much more from a book on music.
I'd thoroughly recommend this to a fan of Prog or anyone who is interested and open-minded enough to give something different a try. I guarantee there is at least one album in here for everyone, even though it may be a different one for each person. Read it or, better still, buy it!
February 12, 2023
i listened to this, so my enjoyment of it was tempered by my inability to glaze over the meandering middle third, the sensation roughly akin to removing ticks from a dog after a hike in the woods. the feeling of accomplishment and competence giving way after the tenth, hoping you’re done soon. the chapters on king crimson, yes, and genesis all had varying degrees of reward and discovery. i was so unbelievably excited by the king crimson chapters that i actually bought ANOTHER ENTIRE book about them, so rich was the prose about their music, inspiration, and process. then came an entire chapter on the moldy blues (that dig began life as a typo before becoming the new standard insult to a band whose music i find almost as boring as the circumstances under which it was made.) a whole host of bands i had never heard up came tumbling out like a dryer whose door is opened mid spin. i’m excited by some of the discoveries i made by the author’s exhaustive (and exhausting, at times) inclusion of bands whose names i’d only read in dusty corners of sedentary record stores whose new arrivals bin represents the only hope you have of finding something you want to buy, if it all. gracious is a very cool band, and i never would have known. the problem is that some of these bands feel like their inclusion is engineered to thoroughly chart the connections between players and groups in an extremely incestuous scene and reduce the inevitable flood of angry input from baby boomers whose pet favorite prog band from two or three records in the early seventies wasn’t included. at a certain point i have to admit to grumbling things like ‘that is the whitest thing i have ever heard’ and ‘another expletive organ player when will this end.’ then towards the end he starts employing interludes that laced context and insight through the connective tissues of these stories, and it’s revealed that some of the more interesting bands (for me, to be fair) represented had been held in reserve for the home stretch. so it picked up again. some of the editorializing and knot picking going on here is counter productive. a stretch early in the book dealing with and transparently yearning to pardon progressive rock’s problems with inclusion of people of color and women in its infancy goes by in a haze of churlish syllogisms. as much as i admire his bold stance of speaking truth to the the accepted narrative of the ‘genius’ of the wall and the barely supressed cattiness with which he paws away the efforts of bands who had clearly ceased to be as special as they once were, it struck a sour note against his milquetoast recitation of the accomplishments of bands who might never have been so special at all.
this is definitely a case of caveat emptor. i bought this book because i wanted to see if their was anything worth discovering in those dusty record shelves. i was looking for one off records with stupendous lead playing and singing i could grow to love or ignore, like any other prog record i listen to regularly. just from the notes i took i have tens of hours of stuff i want to hear that i didn’t know about, or didn’t know had potential merit before. however it seems to me that i would have felt less soporified (totally a word, not even gonna check) if he’d brought some of his obviously good taste to bear on his discussions of boring or uninspired music instead of tacitly condoning it with limited criticism or insight.
this is definitely a case of caveat emptor. i bought this book because i wanted to see if their was anything worth discovering in those dusty record shelves. i was looking for one off records with stupendous lead playing and singing i could grow to love or ignore, like any other prog record i listen to regularly. just from the notes i took i have tens of hours of stuff i want to hear that i didn’t know about, or didn’t know had potential merit before. however it seems to me that i would have felt less soporified (totally a word, not even gonna check) if he’d brought some of his obviously good taste to bear on his discussions of boring or uninspired music instead of tacitly condoning it with limited criticism or insight.
March 23, 2025
3/5 as this is likeable and very readable but not groundbreaking in any sense.
Basically this is a superior version of Weigel's The Show That Never Ends. My big problem with that book was its muddled intent and structure- it bounced between relatively intensive coverage of three big acts (Yes, Fripp/Crimson, The Nice/ELP), with intermittent coverage of a handful of other acts, and analysis of their careers was mostly in terms of albums and tours (possibly just because Weigel was not around while the movement was happening). Barnes (who was around England in the 70s) instead goes for individual chapters on many different artists, documenting their origins and career during prog's early-70s heyday, with the length and depth of the chapter varied to fit the material. Space is deliberately given to more obscure acts, often only familiar to genre aficionados (eg Gracious, Kingdom Come, Curved Air), in addition to the big names. Witnessing the rise (and sometimes fall) of each of these groups in brief gives a better picture of prog as a whole than Weigel's diffuse chronological approach. Barnes deliberately keeps his scope to the UK and the 70s (most books on prog inevitably focus most heavily on British acts, but this is often an unconscious, unacknowledged bias rather than a deliberate limitation of scope).
What's missing, and what seriously limits this book, is any serious musicological analysis of the music; Barnes does not attempt to construct an explicit theoretical understanding of "prog" as a phenomenon. This should be read as more like a composite biography of an artistic movement than as a critique or study of the music it produced, and it will be more interesting to existing fans of the music than to anyone else. There is also little analysis of the business side of things- how this very involved, technical style of music became so commercially prominent, and then stopped being so.
The editing is uneven (eg typos, repeated words, etc) and there are some embarrassing factual stumbles in the text- eg the chapter on Genesis conflates the guitar techniques of tapping and hammer-ons (entirely different things), Barnes mistakenly credits "Take Five" to Dave Brubeck (it's a Paul Desmond composition, recorded by Brubeck's Quartet) and "The Survivor" to H.P. Lovecraft (it's an August Derleth story ostensibly based on a Lovecraft concept). The index somewhat alarmingly conflates Ian McDonald (multi-instrumentalist, founding member of King Crimson and later of Foreigner) with Ian MacDonald (real name Ian MacCormick, music journalist and sometime lyricist, brother of Bill MacCormick of Quiet Sun and 801)- both recurring figures in the story.
Basically this is a superior version of Weigel's The Show That Never Ends. My big problem with that book was its muddled intent and structure- it bounced between relatively intensive coverage of three big acts (Yes, Fripp/Crimson, The Nice/ELP), with intermittent coverage of a handful of other acts, and analysis of their careers was mostly in terms of albums and tours (possibly just because Weigel was not around while the movement was happening). Barnes (who was around England in the 70s) instead goes for individual chapters on many different artists, documenting their origins and career during prog's early-70s heyday, with the length and depth of the chapter varied to fit the material. Space is deliberately given to more obscure acts, often only familiar to genre aficionados (eg Gracious, Kingdom Come, Curved Air), in addition to the big names. Witnessing the rise (and sometimes fall) of each of these groups in brief gives a better picture of prog as a whole than Weigel's diffuse chronological approach. Barnes deliberately keeps his scope to the UK and the 70s (most books on prog inevitably focus most heavily on British acts, but this is often an unconscious, unacknowledged bias rather than a deliberate limitation of scope).
What's missing, and what seriously limits this book, is any serious musicological analysis of the music; Barnes does not attempt to construct an explicit theoretical understanding of "prog" as a phenomenon. This should be read as more like a composite biography of an artistic movement than as a critique or study of the music it produced, and it will be more interesting to existing fans of the music than to anyone else. There is also little analysis of the business side of things- how this very involved, technical style of music became so commercially prominent, and then stopped being so.
The editing is uneven (eg typos, repeated words, etc) and there are some embarrassing factual stumbles in the text- eg the chapter on Genesis conflates the guitar techniques of tapping and hammer-ons (entirely different things), Barnes mistakenly credits "Take Five" to Dave Brubeck (it's a Paul Desmond composition, recorded by Brubeck's Quartet) and "The Survivor" to H.P. Lovecraft (it's an August Derleth story ostensibly based on a Lovecraft concept). The index somewhat alarmingly conflates Ian McDonald (multi-instrumentalist, founding member of King Crimson and later of Foreigner) with Ian MacDonald (real name Ian MacCormick, music journalist and sometime lyricist, brother of Bill MacCormick of Quiet Sun and 801)- both recurring figures in the story.
July 24, 2020
This book was extremely readable to me, and I zipped through it pretty quickly, even with having to do lots of other things with my time instead these past 3 weeks. It was very interesting to me to read what was going on in the UK culturally, as I experienced this time in the US. I had just been discussing this on a progressive music chat, here is pretty much what I had to say about that piece:
Leading up to it, there was the psych era that was born here (US), in multiple responses to the Vietnam War, the youth culture's exploration of philosophies and drugs, the wealth of the US in that time period, which made some of it possible. I'm one of those who feel that psych led to prog, not everyone feels that way.
There was a different slant in European culture, I think partly because of having been more directly involved in WWII to start with. But the interchange between the youth of US and England and then more of Europe because of the ease of communicating (not like today, however), but we all learned of the music of both continents and then the exploration of other music idioms such as Middle Eastern and Indian, etc.
And now on to the review:
This book digs deeply into both the youth culture and the band culture, with forays into how the band members actually lived (many communally, some in much nicer circumstances than others). It explores the heavy hitters in depth as well as some of the satellites and the interplay of band members roving from one set of players to another, some in search of fame and fortune, some to satisfy that something else that many musicians feel, a need to "get better within myself and produce something....not heard before." That being a quote from Bill Bruford, who played with many of the best and continued stretching into other genres for many years after the "classic" 70's period.
Highly recommended for anyone who lived through the time and especially for those who were moved by this music, no matter on which continent you may reside.
Leading up to it, there was the psych era that was born here (US), in multiple responses to the Vietnam War, the youth culture's exploration of philosophies and drugs, the wealth of the US in that time period, which made some of it possible. I'm one of those who feel that psych led to prog, not everyone feels that way.
There was a different slant in European culture, I think partly because of having been more directly involved in WWII to start with. But the interchange between the youth of US and England and then more of Europe because of the ease of communicating (not like today, however), but we all learned of the music of both continents and then the exploration of other music idioms such as Middle Eastern and Indian, etc.
And now on to the review:
This book digs deeply into both the youth culture and the band culture, with forays into how the band members actually lived (many communally, some in much nicer circumstances than others). It explores the heavy hitters in depth as well as some of the satellites and the interplay of band members roving from one set of players to another, some in search of fame and fortune, some to satisfy that something else that many musicians feel, a need to "get better within myself and produce something....not heard before." That being a quote from Bill Bruford, who played with many of the best and continued stretching into other genres for many years after the "classic" 70's period.
Highly recommended for anyone who lived through the time and especially for those who were moved by this music, no matter on which continent you may reside.
June 28, 2020
Let me start by saying a few words about a different book, Rob Young’s Electric Eden. English folk rock is a genre I am very very passionate about but what that book ended up as was a mess where Young obviously had his conclusion sorted out before writing, and cherry picked a very Wire friendly selection of records to prove his point. But that’s dishonest. It completely misses the moments where pop music and folk rock intersected, for example, because a folky pop song didn’t really fit into what he wanted to say
Barnes, thankfully, avoids this completely. He’s happy to discuss almost prog records and dalliances with pop music. He’s happy to say some records aren’t very good. Admittedly he has enough space to do that in (insert your “as bloated as Tarkus” joke here) but he also does it because he’s a fan. He’s very much in love with this music and wants to praise it. Sadly this means occasionally his writing is a bit awkward and lumpy (especially in his necessary but slightly stilted diversion chapters, especially the ones about politics and feminism) but at best it’s like reading a very long fanzine about this stuff
And it is infectious. As in I’ve now listened to Yes properly and quite liked it. I draw the line at ELP (I’m not mad) but it has made me listen to and reappraise a lot of records, and does so with a keen eye for detail and an impressive array of interviewees. Not a perfect book but, like the genre, it tries for something magisterial so you can’t blame it for occasionally going through a duff passage
Barnes, thankfully, avoids this completely. He’s happy to discuss almost prog records and dalliances with pop music. He’s happy to say some records aren’t very good. Admittedly he has enough space to do that in (insert your “as bloated as Tarkus” joke here) but he also does it because he’s a fan. He’s very much in love with this music and wants to praise it. Sadly this means occasionally his writing is a bit awkward and lumpy (especially in his necessary but slightly stilted diversion chapters, especially the ones about politics and feminism) but at best it’s like reading a very long fanzine about this stuff
And it is infectious. As in I’ve now listened to Yes properly and quite liked it. I draw the line at ELP (I’m not mad) but it has made me listen to and reappraise a lot of records, and does so with a keen eye for detail and an impressive array of interviewees. Not a perfect book but, like the genre, it tries for something magisterial so you can’t blame it for occasionally going through a duff passage
April 14, 2020
Appropriately for the subject matter concerned and the fact that the book encompasses a decade, this is a monster tome. It is however, a near perfect evocation, as far as I can recall being of a certain age myself. This is in depth, musically literate and full of treasure. Yes, it does focus on some of the more famous names of the period but it it also manages to namecheck a significant group of the periods more interesting and unique musical talents. I like the 'divertimento' chapters that bring in some social and cultural context. This helps to firmly anchor the book in its period.
If, like me, you still listen to the likes of Egg, Yes and Hatfield & the North etc then you will enjoy this book. He even has a good word to say about Tales From Topographic Oceans which is fine by me as this much villified album really is the pamir of the periods output.
A brilliant and affectionate but balanced and fascinating account.
If, like me, you still listen to the likes of Egg, Yes and Hatfield & the North etc then you will enjoy this book. He even has a good word to say about Tales From Topographic Oceans which is fine by me as this much villified album really is the pamir of the periods output.
A brilliant and affectionate but balanced and fascinating account.
June 7, 2022
Finally finished this bad boy. I do not share the claims about what time period Mr. Barnes decided to focus on. It's already quite a large book, and a detailed account of the post-1974 albums would have made it incomprehensible. I'd go further and say that the bulk of brilliance of progressive rock was released before 1974 anyway. Fight me on this.
I certainly can come up with my own list of my minor claims to this book. ABINW2 is the worst song on The Wall? Seriously? What about The Trial or Waiting for the Worms? Waters at his wimpiest. I personally don't like Marillion, but their appraisal by Barnes is savage. Peter Gabriel haven't turned 30 in 1978 when he supported Bowie on tour, etc.
Overall, it is a very good book, well-researched, and with first-hand data. It sets the context and origins, is properly structured (you can skip the chapters of the artists you are not yet familiar with and go back to them later), and has a nice addition of divertimentos chapters.
I certainly can come up with my own list of my minor claims to this book. ABINW2 is the worst song on The Wall? Seriously? What about The Trial or Waiting for the Worms? Waters at his wimpiest. I personally don't like Marillion, but their appraisal by Barnes is savage. Peter Gabriel haven't turned 30 in 1978 when he supported Bowie on tour, etc.
Overall, it is a very good book, well-researched, and with first-hand data. It sets the context and origins, is properly structured (you can skip the chapters of the artists you are not yet familiar with and go back to them later), and has a nice addition of divertimentos chapters.
June 13, 2023
As a long-time fan of progressive rock, I ate this book up. I appreciated the purview of the book--to look at UK prog rock from the early- to mid-70s. This was definitely the golden era for the genre.
Probably the best part of the book is how comprehensive it is. It covers the big players (and my personal favorites, i.e., Genesis, Yes, Pink Floyd), the well-known acts (King Crimson and ELP), and even the lesser-known bands who are still noteworthy (Gentle Giant, being one of the best progressive rock bands in my opinion, gets some good coverage here).
It also delves into other bands like Wendy Cow, Gong, Egg, Hawkwind, Caravan, and others.
The book is ambitious, coming in at around 600 pages. But it does the genre justice. It's much better than other books on prog rock that I've read (I'm thinking of Weigel's "The Show That Never Ends" for example).
Probably the best part of the book is how comprehensive it is. It covers the big players (and my personal favorites, i.e., Genesis, Yes, Pink Floyd), the well-known acts (King Crimson and ELP), and even the lesser-known bands who are still noteworthy (Gentle Giant, being one of the best progressive rock bands in my opinion, gets some good coverage here).
It also delves into other bands like Wendy Cow, Gong, Egg, Hawkwind, Caravan, and others.
The book is ambitious, coming in at around 600 pages. But it does the genre justice. It's much better than other books on prog rock that I've read (I'm thinking of Weigel's "The Show That Never Ends" for example).
March 14, 2020
A well-written, well-researched book with a structure that makes it much more interesting than others in this field. To a large extent the author relies on his own interviews which makes the book better and makes the chapters on the more well-known artists seem like new. Well, almost new anyway. The chapters on the "big" groups aren't more than 20-25 pages long so they seldom drift away. The range of artists that gets written about is quite impressive but I guess everyone who reads this will miss some artist that they think should have been mentioned. Personally I can only think of one omission that would have deserved a chapter (or at least half a chapter or..) in the book but that doesn't really change my view of the book. I really enjoyed this book!
December 17, 2025
My musician friends and I discovered progressive rock in the 1969-1970 time frame and I remember it just as Mike Barnes described it. His book is not only comprehensive and well-researched, but well-written, as I would expect from a true journalist. It is also very entertaining, full of insider and forgotten trivia. I had an enjoyable time strolling down this particular memory lane, digging out old vinyl I haven't listened to in a while, remembering the friends, some now departed, and where we were when we first heard Yes on Los Angeles FM radio, or saw Genesis for the first time in Hollywood, or the first Gentle Giant show I worked as a member of the audio crew in 1974. Thanks for making the memories so vivid, Mike.
June 18, 2020
A pretty thorough look back at the mostly progressive rock scene from the late 60s to the 70s. Mixed opinions from prog rockers to the punk scene but I am with Steve Hillage on this. Punk was an important part of my music upbringing as was prog rock, even if my knowledge of prog was nowhere near as full as my love and knowledge of punk.
Favourite chapter was Gentle Giant where I discovered the (unknown to me) fact that the brothers had previously formed Simon Dupree and the Big Sound. From now on, and I live Gentle Giant, they will be Genital Gnat to me.
Ray Smillie
Favourite chapter was Gentle Giant where I discovered the (unknown to me) fact that the brothers had previously formed Simon Dupree and the Big Sound. From now on, and I live Gentle Giant, they will be Genital Gnat to me.
Ray Smillie
March 22, 2020
This book actually explained the Prog rock phenomenon too me! As a swede we didn’t really have many bands like that as our 70s-rock climate was really politizised (progg with two g:s), so this was welcome as a crash course. A hefty reading at close to sixhundred pages, but it is always entertaining and enjoyable and written from a good perspective on the age of dinosaur rock bands. Laughed aloud at some of the Pink Floyd put-downs!
June 12, 2020
For prog fans who appreciate Canterbury and Yes at the same time. Also delves into Family and Third Ear Band as well as many others and briefly goes down side roads about fashion and gender roles. I was super impressed by the quotes/remembrances from really articulate and insightful fans. Really helped to have headphones on while reading and access to Youtube and Spotify. Highly recommended for the faithful few.
August 1, 2020
Wasn't sure whether to give this 3 or 4 but gave it the benefit of the doubt for the sheer achievement of covering a vast number of bands. That said, too often this book feels like an encyclopaedic compilation of articles rather than a unified study. The music of some bands is explained incredibly well but others are given a more cursory look. The author knows his stuff but occasionally reveals a more conservative worldview than I expected.
September 16, 2020
As a fan of progressive rock this book is right up my alley. From King Crimson thru Yes and Genesis and ELP and lots more it covers the height of Prog in the 1970’s. Most Prog fans will know the majority of this. IChapters are devoted to each band rather than a chronological or geographic approach. This made the book a little dry for me, but it does cover the main artists.
Interesting for those interested.
Interesting for those interested.
August 22, 2021
A long but satisfying look at progressive rock in the 1970's.
I generally concur with the narrative put over by the author, and was particularly pleased with his convincing destruction of the very notion of that horrible phrase "symphonic prog". Likewise his clear demonstration of the myth that is passed off as the "Canterbury Scene".
And, most thrillingly, it has me investigating bands who I allowed to pass me by at the time.
I generally concur with the narrative put over by the author, and was particularly pleased with his convincing destruction of the very notion of that horrible phrase "symphonic prog". Likewise his clear demonstration of the myth that is passed off as the "Canterbury Scene".
And, most thrillingly, it has me investigating bands who I allowed to pass me by at the time.
April 30, 2021
A useful read. Some irritating bits - the chapter on the Moody Blues couldn't resist tired and dull clichés - and there were the odd mistakes. It wasn't all obvious stuff and I would recommend it to fans of Prog and even more so to those ageing punks who have been regurgitating the same 3 chord trick for 40 years.
July 10, 2025
Doesn't take in everything - in fact, many worldwide prog scenes from the era are overlooked. But this is specifically about UK progressive rock, and it's pretty comprehensive within the bounds Barnes sets for his examination of the topic. Full review: https://fakegeekboy.wordpress.com/202...
April 13, 2020
A fascinating overview of Progressive rock music in 1970s Britain; its growth, its ossification, and then its apparent antithesis in punk. As one whose musical taste was flourishing in that period, I found many points of resonance in Barnes's analysis. A wonderfully evocative and informative read.
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