I spent a few of my pre-teen years next-bedroom-door to an older brother who listened to everything from Dylan to Captain Beefheart. My love for Steely Dan took root in the days when “The Boston Rag” or “Rose Darling” or “Deacon Blues” crawled like a viper through the crack under his mostly-closed door.
And the Yes masterpiece “Close to the Edge” blew the top of my head off when it came up in the rotation of albums he’d stack on the spindle of the dining room stereo with speaker wires threaded through holes in the floor to the basement so our ping-pong tournaments would be accompanied by an uninterrupted flow of music.
But when I first heard the break that comes at :57 of Gentle Giant’s “Free Hand”…I think that was the precise moment I realized there was a dimension beyond the “Dream Weaver”, way out past “Maggie’s Farm” and further on than “Over the Hills and Far Away”. When that weird little break came I was pretty sure I didn’t like it. But I found myself listening for it again. And soon I was pretty sure I did. (That’s how the best progressive rock works.)
Coming back to this record as an adult I realized I was not mistaken about that mind-expanding moment; Gentle Giant were a progressive band in the most literal sense of the word. Even now most of their catalogue is more of a challenge than I’m up to. But the Free Hand album at least (their highest-charting at #48) I find wholly approachable, if unnaturally originative.
Listen to the clip above for the definitive version of the title track–the version that came through the crack under my brother’s door and through my open door, blew my doors off and opened other doors down many other hallways since.
But do watch the clips below to appreciate the instrumental virtuosity of this band, which is impressive equally to their envelope-shredding musical creativity. Gentle Giant took compositional complexity to a level beyond even that of Yes.
The second clip is essential to a full appreciation of what this band could do. “On Reflection” (also from the Free Hand album, by the way) is the very next song in the same live set. And unbelievably, every band member begins the song playing a different instrument than on “Free Hand”, some while singing complex vocal countermelodies. They’ve also moved from a prog/jazz rock to something in an almost Medieval style, showing off uncannily complex layered vocal parts.
Many bands of the era were shortcutting it in live performance, trimming instruments or harmonies from sophisticated arrangements to make songs performable; Gentle Giant did anything but. It seemed to be a point of pride with them, not to mention a source of obvious joy, to nail it.
Michael Peter Smith was once called by Rolling Stone magazine “The greatest songwriter in the English language”. I don’t think a compliment as towering as that needs my little crumb of assent on top.
But I will say that, having attended Catholic school for eight years back when nuns were fierce and formidable, this lyric flat-out nails it for me–nothing is sadder at eight years of age than that knot in your stomach on the first day of the school year when somehow you know summer’s over…
Sister Clarissa could have been on the stage But Jesus came over & told her He’d rather she taught the fifth grade Sister Clarissa is engaged to Our Lord He has promised to take her to heaven He never goes back on His word Sister Clarissa is eleven feet tall Her rosary hangs & it clatters & it clangs When she moves down the hall She writes Sister Clarissa up high on the board The chalk won’t dare squeak The children sit meekly without a word Somehow you know summer’s over.
(chorus) Who made me? God made me To know Him To love Him To serve Him in this world And to be happy with Him Forever
Sister Clarissa believes in free will The communion of saints The forgiveness of sins And a quiet fire drill And when she hugs you She hugs you too tight And she gives you a star on the forehead For spelling Connecticut right
(chorus)
Many years later on a memory walk Through the old wooden doors Down the same corridors Dusted with years of chalk You see Sister Clarissa And she looks just the same And the sound of her rosary still brings a chill And she remembers your name And the years disappear As though they’ve never been And you hear yourself saying Yes Sister No Sister Like you were ten And you’re so glad to see That she’s still the same way And to tell her you love her Before she goes over to Her Fiance
“Stay With Me” was one of the great soul hits of the 60’s that wasn’t, like Ike & Tina Turner’s “River Deep-Mountain High”, the commercial flop which Phil Spector believed to be his masterpiece.
Lorraine Ellison recorded for the Loma record label, a small, cash poor sublabel of Warner Bros. and home for a time to such artists as the aforementioned Ike and Tina, The Three Degrees, J.J. Jackson, and Linda Jones, who died between matinee and evening shows at the Apollo Theater. For the background story on “Stay With Me”, which peaked at #64 on the pop chart, I quote Leo Sacks in his liner notes from the Best of Loma Records compilation:
“There is a popular wisdom that you have to suffer to really sing,” (songwriter and producer Jerry) Ragovoy says. “I don’t buy it.” But “Stay With Me” came from deep inside Lorraine Ellison’s being. An unlikely chain of events preceded that memorable performance. Frank Sinatra was supposed to record with a 45-piece orchestra. But the Chairman of the Board backed out of the session, so Warners, obligated to the musicians’ union, asked Ragovoy to fill the time. Forty-eight hours later he walked into A&R Studios with string and horn charts that were downright supernatural. The room was packed wall-to-wall with ready-to-wail musicians; Ragovoy can still feel the joy and the awe unleashed as Ellison torched “Stay With Me” in one take: “Our engineer, Phil Ramone, kept saying, ‘Oh my God, oh my God…'”
But God wasn’t on her side after that night. “Stay With Me” was a crushing flop. Ellison was devastated…
Lorraine Ellison (March 17, 1931 – January 31, 1983)
Aaron Bruno’s AWOLNATION is a project marked by ambition and eclecticism. Throughout the 50+ minute debut album Bruno takes a bold, kitchen sink approach that ensures there’s something on the record for almost everybody.
“Wake Up” stands out for me, combining the urgently delivered message of the verses with an irresistible hook in the chorus.
The New Pornographers: “The Bleeding Heart Show” (2005)
There are certain so-called indie rock bands whose stuff will better justify the “classic” label years down the road. The Shins, certainly. And, for similar reasons I think, the New Pornographers. The combination of A.C. Newman and Dan Bejar’s smart and hooky songwriting, Neko Case’s contributions as vocalist, and the always-tasteful referencing of classic pop and rock of the past are the strengths that put them near the top of their class.
“The Bleeding Heart Show” eschews typical alternating verse-and-chorus structure for an arrangement that gradually builds momentum from beginning to end, a trademark writing style of Roy Orbison and…few others, actually.
The song was featured in the 2007 Morgan Freeman movie Feast of Love, as well as TV ads for the University of Phoenix and eMusic.
And just one more thing: I’ve never understood why the band didn’t sequence this as track one. If ever a song was suited to open an album this is it.