Flashman
Yep, it's time to uncover another prog band who were a victim of bad timing.
Flashman were a trio from Wales led by singer/pianist/composer Gerald Watkiss.
Watkiss' flamboyant, classically-influenced piano work was the centerpiece
of the band's sound. They were unusual in that in an era when the measure
of a prog-rock band was measured in the size of the keyboard player's rig,
Watkiss preferred to just stick to his piano. They were largely song-oriented,
though for British bands that was hardly new, many of the minor bands of
the UK that preceded them (think Fantasy or Cressida) occupied a similar
musical mould. They were set apart from their predecessors by a sort of
"glam-rock" element to their sound (and image), as opposed to the jazz and
folk influences commonly serving as the inspiration of many other such bands.
Despite this, all three of the band members (Watkiss, guitarist/bassist
Chris Hudman and percussionist Nick Walpole) had backgrounds in classical
music. In fact, Watkiss had composed a symphony by the age of thirteen!
The "unfortunate timing" part comes in the fact that the band received
its recording contract in late 1975, after winning a contest run by Pye
Records. 1976 was spent recording the album, and it was not till 1977 that
it got released. By then, the music scene had changed so, it was impossible
for such an album to get any sort of media attention, and it just crashed
and burned. It did manage to get a U.S. release, but on the Vanguard label,
which was notorious for poor promotion of its non-folk artists. Gerald Watkiss
followed up the album with a couple of solo singles and hasn't been heard
from since. A rather sad end for a fairly unique band, but there you have
it.
Though the album is by no means a "classic," it's at least something
different, and since prog albums of any stripe were a rarity in 1977, it's
something of an unpolished gem. As many proggers, as I've alluded to before,
seem to have a lack of appreciation for songcraft, replacing it with an
appreciation for complexity and instrumental prowess, albums like this
tend to get lost by the wayside. Though Flashman obviously had skilled
musicianship, they didn't go overboard with the flashy playing (well, maybe
Watkiss did on occasion). And though the tunes aren't especially complex,
with key-changes and bizarre time-signatures for days like many prog-rock
bands you could name, they do offer superb songcraft in spades.
"Godmakers" opens the album with a stately ascending piano/guitar theme
with some whole-note chime accents giving it an additional symphonic thrust.
Basically the A-verse carries on with the piano/guitar/chimes instrumentation,
with Watkiss' piano carrying the accompaniment. The B-verse inverts the ascending
piano figure to one that descends slightly, with drums and bass entering
and brass gradually joining them. The brass becomes more authoritative in
the refrain, with the chimes dropping out, replaced by temple-blocks and
other types of percussion and the piano breaking into a sort of shuffle.
The A-verse returns, this time minus the chimes, but plus bass, drums and
light brass. The B-verse and refrain reiterate much as before, then lead
into an instrumental break where piano, brass and tympani play fanfare-like
accents backed by chugging strings. It grows to an up-and-down motive expressed
on piano and guitar which leads us back into the refrain. Following the refrain,
the opening ascending piano figure returns as a slight choral backing vocal
splashes across the brass fanfares, and a powerful guitar solo rides through
the fadeout. The lyrics are nothing to write Mom about, some silly twaddle
inspired by the Bible apparently ("Forgive them for they know not what they
do/Oh Moses, if only I was you..." etc.), although not nearly so pompous
and ludicrous as many prog bands. At least they don't seem to be taking themselves
too seriously.
"A Summers Day" offers a change of pace, with solo piano as the lone
accompaniment for Watkiss' wistful voice for the first two verses. Bass
and drums join him for the two B-verses, then they drop out again for a
repeat of the first A-verse. It's a simple piano ballad, basically, with
very British lyrics ("I recall a cuckoo cried as you skipped out by the riverside...").
Short but sweet.
It's back to the upbeat stuff for "Love Me A Little," opening with a
flamboyantly classically-inflected piano filigree, quickly settling into
a rock & roll groove with prominent guitar and horns. The lead-in to
the first chorus rolls along with chugging cellos, while the first refrain
is something of a teaser, just a partial version with light strings and
piano leading into a brief instrumental break showcasing Watkiss' piano.
Following another similar verse, it's into the first full-on chorus, again
starting with with light piano and strings punctuated by tympani. Then the
guitar and brass enter, giving the music a greater authority, and as the
refrain continues it builds in intensity for the fadeout. The song won't
win many fans among proggers as it's about lovemaking, and they're likely
to find lines like "Cover me with the scent of your body" distasteful. Yet
it's likely to leave rockers cold as well, as for a song about sex, it's
so unbelievably twee. Still, I think it's cute for those very reasons.
"Jack Of All Trades" starts with a barrelhouse-type of piano sound, and
the "music-hall" feel carries on through the entirety of the piece. It's
just piano and soft drums (mostly thumping bass drum) for the first verse
and refrain, with guitar and bass entering the second time round. An almost
"Western saloon"-type of piano solo precedes a repeat of the chorus. Then
it's off to another verse, similar to the first, with the bass-drum carrying
the piece, but this time the bass guitar following it rhythmically, and the
guitar adding light fills here and there. One last full-on chorus, and then
it's on to a modified version of the intro serving as an outro with a decisive
ending this time. Not an highlight, but an amusing diversion nonetheless.
A dreamy Tony Banks-like arpeggiated piano part establishes the album's
second cameo ballad, the gentle and breathy "Dawn." Light vibes add some
colour to the first verse, joined by soft French horns in the second. Drums,
bass and strings enter in the bridge section, which rises in both key and
intensity. The strings diminuendo over the last verse, as the French horns
return, and the tune closes with pizzicato strings complementing the piano.
The lyrics are evocative of nature and, again, are very British. Like "A Summers
Day" it's a pleasing trifle, nothing more.
"Pauper's Tale" arrives immediately with a midtempo blend of piano, guitar,
bass and drums. A short guitar solo serves as the intro to the first two
verses. The chorus surprises a bit by being in double time. Another mini-guitar
solo precedes two more similar verses and another double-time chorus. A
sort of modified verse ("No happy life, no happy home/So once again, he
goes alone") serves as a lead-in to an unaccompanied piano cadenza, probably
the most explicitly classically-influenced moment so far. Over the chordal
backing of the cadenza, the band re-enters, giving Hudman a chance to take
a fine solo on guitar. As the final guitar note dies away, we're offered
more solo piano from Watkiss, closing off the track. The lyrics (about a
homeless man, as indicated in the title) are a bit over-the-top, with some
ludicrous "make-you-feel-guilty" lines ("He's got nothing you could ever
need/He's got nothing because of your greed..."), but musically it's pretty
damned good. It closes Side One on a suitably lush and demi-classical note.
"Tears" offers more balladry, but this time with some more to chew on
than the pastoral snapshots we were offered before. No intro is offered,
it's just straight into the introductory refrain with Watkiss singing to piano
backing. In the first verse, the strings enter, followed by two more refrains
(with a different set of lyrics) now backed by the orchestra. The piece closes
elegantly with a final orchestral verse, then another refrain featuring only
Watkiss' voice and piano unaccompanied. Though still quite short (barely
over two minutes) "Tears" is far more substantial than the album's other
ballads, as the lyrics have a personal tinge, and that comes through in Watkiss'
emotional performance, both vocally and instrumentally. He's aided by the
sympathetic string arrangement, worthy of Paul Buckmaster. A miniature gem.
"The Derby and Joan Suite" is, as you might guess from the title, the
album's lengthy centerpiece. Some proggers are bound to scoff at it, as it's
clearly made up of shorter songs (it is a "suite," after all), though thematically
linked and with Watkiss' classically-inflected piano work being the glue
that holds the thirteen-minute suite together. As with "Tears," the piece
opens with Watkiss singing immediately, backed by piano and...surprise! Organ!
Another keyboard instrument! Well, will wonders never cease? After he sings,
"The orchestra is ready, no mistakes..." at the end of the first verse as
if on cue the entire orchestra enters. A brace of further, orchestrated verses,
then we're off to a bouncy "piano concerto" bit with strings and tympani
complementing Watkiss' playful, staccato playing effectively. This leads
us into a totally different, faster and more rhythmic verse ("I've got a
new way of making you younger...") still featuring Watkiss solely backed
by his own piano and orchestra, and only the one verse appears in this largely
instrumental part, leading to further "piano concerto," then it's back to
a couple more of the somber organ/orchestral verses from the beginning.
Largely, this section is a brooding musing on growing old.
Part Two is an altogether more lighthearted affair. Basically piano/bass/drums,
using famous twosomes (Laurel and Hardy, Rogers and Astaire, etc.) to illustrate
the success of Derby and Joan's long-lived marriage, it quickly metamorphoses
into another classically-influenced showcase for Watkiss' flashy piano
playing, this time solely backed by bass and drums.
For Part Three, we're back to the somber mood. In fact, it's downright
depressing, with Derby entertaining thoughts of death (the "Please cut
the cords of my life, I wish to sleep forever" refrain is a bit much) as
Joan tries in vain to cheer him up ("But dear, don't you remember? This
photograph shows you smiling"). It's mainly back to Watkiss' solo piano
here, backed by light strings and woodwinds, in an appropriately minor key.
Part Four is considerably less morbid, with staccato piano pumping accentuated
by bursts of drums and brass. The bass and drums return for this one, accompanied
this time by brass and woodwinds (mainly flutes and clarinets). It's deliberately
dramatic, and is mainly a transition for...
Part Five, the big finale, which settles into a bouncy 4/4 piano part.
It's a celebration of Derby and Joan's realization that the joy in life
need not end just because they're in their eighties. The orchestral accompaniment
this time consists largely of woodwinds, with some playful clarinet inserts
and during the instrumental breat in the middle, a bassoon line leading
into a guitar part (its first appearance on this track), A couple of repeats
of the "Derby and Joan know it..." refrain, accentuated by Hudman's guitar,
follow, and it all finishes off with another decisive ending.
I can't imagine what the reaction to this album was like at the time.
A prog album with no synths, no Mellotron and only the barest minimum of
organ in which the big, long "prog track" was a tale of an 82-year-old couple's
marriage? It doesn't bode well. The few folks around into prog at the time
were probably not endeared by an album largely consisting of earnest songs
featuring no high-tech keyboards to speak of. But at least to my ears, the
classical influence is undeniable, and that transcends anything else. Besides,
I find it refreshing to listen to a band that doesn't overdose on Mellotron,
multiple types of electric piano, church organ, harpsichord, Clavinet and
every synth available on the market. Flashman used their composing skill
and musicianship to get their music across. There were no electronic effects,
no studio trickery, not even any overdubbing (apart from the obvious, Hudman's
guitar) it seems. It's pure music, and you can't fake that.
For comparisons, one has to go back in time a bit to bands like Kestrel
and Fantasy. The Flashman album, due to its heavy reliance of live orchestrations
in lieu of Mellotron and other electric keyboards probably makes it most
stylistically akin to Cressida's second album, Asylum, but with production
closer in sound to the Kestrel album (in part due to the greater proximity
in release). But Flashman's glam influence gives their music a quite different
flavour than the jazz/hippy folk sound that permeated Cressida and their
ilk. The Freddie Mercury-like piano work with less prominent, less hard-rock
guitar and the overt classical influence rather decidedly gives Flashman
their own sound.
So, in closing, you won't mistake Flashman for a lost prog classic or
anything. But they had something different to offer. They had a sound that
defies easy categorization, and that's an easy way to get in my good book.
Sadly, this curiosity is unlikely to ever see the light of day on CD. I for
one would welcome it, with Watkiss' solo tracks (and probably more extras?)
as bonuses. Go ahead and give Flashman a chance, if you get the opportunity.
You just might find yourself, as I was, pleasantly surprised.
BUY IT: Not on CD. Search for the Flashman vinyl at gemm.com.
Return
©2003 by Progbear