Concept Album

Art by Sarah Jane Comerford

For many people, myself included, the phrase ‘concept album’ will forever be associated with the progressive rock of the early to mid seventies. That period of time when it was perfectly acceptable to release lengthy, portentous, rockified variations on classical themes in ornately illustrated triple-gatefold sleeves (preferably designed by Roger Dean). Frank Sinatra may have got there first with In The Wee Small Hours, and The Beatles may have pushed the concept album further with Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, but the concept album truly came into its own in the purple, unfashionable, pre-punk seventies.

Many of the ‘concepts’ explored in these albums are daft beyond belief. Side two of Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s Brain Salad Surgery contains a monstrous thing called ‘Karn Evil 9: Three Impressions’ a twenty five minute long a suite of music which ‘boast’ the world’s longest drum solo, and lyrics which give an account of a dystopian future where humanity is enslaved by a centralised computer’s army of evil robots. Brilliantly, its co-author Pete Sinfield went on to write Heart’s “These Dreams” and “Rain Or Shine” by Five Star. Meanwhile, Rick Wakeman donned a cape and recorded prog-dramatisations of The Six Wives of Henry VIII, Journey To The Centre Of The Earth and the supremely ridiculous The Myths and Legends of King Arthur and The Knights Of The Round Table, which Wakeman preformed on ice while touring, causing the sometime Strawbs/Yes member to go bankrupt. No wonder that these days he’s a Grumpy Old Man. It may have been a lot of twaddle, but listening to such records now makes one yearn for a bygone age where mellotrons were inescapable and songtitles looked like the table of contents from some academic book you find in a university library. Yes’ The Yes Album, the least pretentious and best album the band ever made in many ways, contains a track called ‘Starship Trooper: (i) Life Seeker (ii) Disillusion (iii) Wurm’. The subtitles and Roman Numerals seemed to say “This is important! Pay attention!”, but Jon Anderson’s frustratingly flowery lyrics are more likely to draw chuckles from the unconverted, while ardent Yes fans look on disapprovingly.

The very best concept albums manage to shake off that air of self-importance, and are extraordinarily good whether you care to pay heed to the story or not. Gentle Giant’s Octopus is a prime example of this. The album is about the friendship between two giants. And why shouldn’t it be. It’s not exactly prog, being much more jazzy, punchy and danceable than that tag might suggest. Gentle Giant comprised Kerry Minnear and brothers Ray and Derek Shulman, both of whom had been members of Simon Dupree and The Big Sound. Camel’s Music Inspired By The Snow Goose is, as the title suggests, indebted to Paul Gallico’s short story of the same name and still sounds great thirty-three and a third years after its initial release. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall may be the best-known, best-selling concept albums of the 70s, but the curious are directed to the output of Gentle Giant, Camel, Yes and ELP, certainly they’re the most entertaining of the seventies concept album boom.

Looking beyond progressive rock, there aren’t many great concept albums to choose from. A notable exception is Donald Fagen’s The Nightfly. His debut solo album from 1982 is the first part of a trilogy that also included Kamakiriad and Morph The Cat. While those latter albums may be a little slick and tasteful for some, The Nightfly is an absolute treasure. It revolves around a series of images of 1950s America. The beginning of the Cold War, the dreams of the future, the space-race, the post-war optimism – all of it is presented here. ‘I.G.Y.’ sums up the mood perfectly in the lines “What a beautiful world this could be/ What a glorious time to be free”. Even the promise of “spandex jackets – one for everyone” is celebrated. It’s breezy and utopian, but the perceived threat of a nuclear holocaust lurks around every corner. ‘New Frontier’ is sung from the perspective of someone in “a dug-out that my dad built, in case the reds decide to push the button down”.

The last word in concept rock must go to The Residents, who are themselves a concept band. Everything they do is part of a concept. What that concept is exactly, is far too sprawling, complicated and downright crazy to outline here, but some things are clear. They like their anonymity, so nobody really knows who the members of The Residents are. They perform in a variety and disguises but publicity shots usually show them in tuxedos with eyeballs for heads and wearing top hats. They have a spokesperson give interviews on their behalf. They have collaborated with XTC’s Andy Partridge, Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz of Talking Heads and Lene Lovich. Their first major album, Meet The Residents, had a sleeve which parodied that of With The Beatles (titled Meet The Beatles in the US, of course). Cartoon seafish were scrawled over the Fab Four’s faces. They released an album called The Third Reich ‘N’ Roll which is ostensibly about the fascistic allure of rock and roll. Its second side was subtitled Hitler Was A Vegetarian. Its sleeve depicted Dick Clark brandishing a carrot. The music contained therein is an astonishing and frightening cover-megamix of rock and roll and sixties pop faves. Their best album though is 1980’s The Commercial Album. The Residents decided that the true music of America is the radio jingle, so they released an album containing 40 minute-long jingles. A note on the sleeve suggests that by repeating each track three times you can listen to the album as a collection of three minute pop songs. It is a superb album, dark, perverse, funny and occasionally very catchy. Everything a concept album should be, in fact.