Yeah yeah - I’ve gone down something of a prog rabbit hole this morning. Aphrodite’s Child is the album that Pink Floyd should have made as their final sign off. It rambles on and on and bloody on. But it still kept my attention whilst going about my morning tasks. It must all mean something. I’ve no idea what. That the appeal of prog, right? The band name is awful, as is the album art. Never judge a book, etc. Decent.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

A complete hairdryer of an album - in every respect. Style and substance. I don’t know why it’s called soft rock. There’s nothing half, erm, hearted about this. It’s ridiculous of course. I quite like the pantomime feel to the bangers like What About Love and These Dreams. Heart were never cool, and neither was I.

⭐ ⭐

HYPE ALERT: The opening two tracks that segue Kayleigh into Lavender gives The Beatles' closing tracks on Abbey Road a run for its money. Blimey. Hype over. Misplaced Childhood is still a bloody great album, completely out of step, then and now. Marillion stood out like, well, like a time machine gone wrong back in 1985. It was quite a bold move during such tribal times. I could never commit to them back in the day, despite secret bedroom playbacks. I don’t give a shit these days. I bloody love Marillion. Fish. He’s a one.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Very rustic, very laboured. Yet still there’s a soul element running through from start to finish. Bob Elms dropped a track over the weekend. Nice, I thought. The third album from The Band is new to me. My finger hovered over a cheapo cheapo ebay purchase. The stream finished. I couldn’t quite bring myself to committing.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

This was a random listen after Late Junction dropped the track Flight of the Ibis. I admit to never having heard of McDonald & Giles. The modern internet wasn’t a great deal of help, either.

Flight of the Ibis is lush. The production is so rich with the analogue bass and drums pushing the song forward. It’s a hazy song for the current May hazy days. It would probably work well during mid-winter as well.

Elsewhere and the rest of the album is half decent. Things get incredibly funky on The Workshop. The random sax blowing in and out is a nice touch. Plus I do love an album that has a ‘suite’ of songs. The styles change, but they still sound connected.

This is quite a breakthrough record for an album that came out in 1970. It takes the King Crimson blueprint, but adds a lot more energy and vibe. I doubt that vibe was a thing in the year I was born. Christ, this album is old, much like me…

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Twaddle. Crap twaddle.

⭐

Orange Juice’s Rip It Up. This was something of an ebay BARGAIN. Prices of around £30 are not uncommon. Somehow I managed to land this one for £3. GEDDIN.

It’s perhaps a near perfect pop album, with the lead single being the absolute perfect pop song. It stills sounds so alien to me. The drums and rhythm sound exotic, more than forty years on. The guitars fall up and down the scale.

I’ve only realised in recent years that the song should be understood in its literal sense: Orange Juice were at a stage where they wanted to… Rip It Up and start again. Sometimes the best plan is to say fuck it, and come back with a Plan B. Or C, D or E.

Just Kick It Until It Breaks.

Thirty three minutes in and WOH! Here we have Long Hot Summer. It’s the season, etc; it somehow feels appropriate. It also still sounds bloody lush.

The occasion was Paul and Mick dropping in on Jo Wiley for a chin wag about Cafe Bleu Deluxe. I’ve still not picked up a copy of the CD boxset. But it will come, don’t worry.

EXTREME fan boy, etc - but I just bloody love seeing photos of those two together again. The ending was messy - not in a personal sense, but certainly in terms of major label support and a feeling out of being out of time.

The quality never went away; and neither did the loafers, judging by the smiling press shot with Jo Wiley. Would it be too much to wish for new music from TSC?

I was dreading this. Track 1 almost did for me. To bail or not to bail? Wait! What’s this? It’s gets a little more melodic with Tuesday’s Gone. There’s even a pleasant piano solo in there. It then reverts to hairy old bollocks form. I bailed, natch.

⭐ ⭐

George Benson’s Breezin'. There’s always been a jazz funk fusion blend to my musical tastes, etc. It’s the perfect album to signal the start of early summer. I may even dig out my Soul Boy plastic sandals to complete the look. Martinis ahoy! Or cheapo Lidl lager, as is more likely to be the case…