The problem with coming in late on an artwork lauded as “influential” is that you’ve probably encountered the work it influenced first, so its truly innovative qualities are lost. Thus, if you are hearing Big Star’s debut album for the first time decades after its release (as, inevitably, most people must), you may be reminded of Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers or R.E.M., who came after — that is, if you don’t think of the Byrds and the Beatles, circa 1965. What was remarkable about #1 Record in 1972 was that nobody except Big Star (and maybe Badfinger and the Raspberries) wanted to sound like this — simple, light pop with sweet harmonies and jangly guitars. Since then, dozens of bands have rediscovered those pleasures. But in a way, that’s an advantage because, whatever freshness is lost across the years, Big Star’s craft is only confirmed. These are sturdy songs, feelingly performed, and once you get beyond the style to the content, you’ll still be impressed.
(Reprinted from Allmusic Guide‘s review of Big Star’s #1 Record album)
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
Every Moment Has A Song 