the Rolling Stone’s brilliant Their Satanic Majesties Request. If any album is a direct response to Sergeant Pepper’s, it is this one.
Significantly, Satanic Majesties so obviously belongs to the set of “transitions to progressive rock” that many hardcore Stones fans do not like the album at all. In fact, in Rock: The Rough Guide, a publication written by fans, Peter Shapiro writes:
Brian Jones was fascinated with Moroccan music and obsessed with keeping up with the Beatles, of which there is ample evidence on “Paint It Black.” This reached its peak with The Stones’ response to Sgt. Pepper, the appalling Their Satanic Majesties Request (1967) which trawled the depths of 60s drug culture with its awful sci-fi concept and misguided space music. (p. 738)
To this, allow me to say that I like the album very much; in fact, on most days I would rather listen to it than Sergeant Pepper’s, because of the darkness of it. I’m not myself a fan of the drug culture of any period; however, one gets the sense from this reviewer that the problem isn’t so much the drugs, but instead which drugs; that is, the sort of Stones fan who dislikes progressive rock (I’d like to think that one could appreciate both for what they are) most likely prefers that Mick, Keith, and company stay with the drunk or strung-out variety of mind-altering substances rather than the sort that gets you onto Trans-Love Airways (“gets you there on time”—Donovan) or some other “sci-fi” excursion.
Now we have two further elements for consideration, psychedelia and science fiction. Both play important roles in progressive rock, each especially in their more visionary and utopian aspects. Of the many songs that could be mentioned in this connection, two from the late sixties that especially capture the visionary-psychedelic mood are “Journey to the Center of the Mind,” by Ted Nugent and the Amboy Dukes, and “Crystal Blue Persuasion,” by Tommy James and the Shondells. Shortly thereafter we hear the even dreamier works of Hendrix, Cream, and then two groups that overlap significantly with progressive rock “proper,” the Moody Blues and Pink Floyd. In Rocking the Classics, Edward Macan especially sees psychedelic music’s tendency toward time dilation and warping—i.e., playing long, trippy jams—as important in the transition to progressive rock (see pp. 18–23). All of this music came out in a very brief period, so similarities here are one part influence and one part Zeitgeist. The relationship between psychedelic and progressive rock will be explored in greater detail in the next chapter.
The Jimi Hendrix Experience and Cream also represent an interesting recapitulation of the blues roots of rock music, combined with extension, vision, and virtuosity. One argument that I will make in the next chapter is that a key element of progressive rock is virtuoso musicianship. Many of the musicians in groups such as the Beach Boys and the Beatles are underrated. However, with the arrival of Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Mitch Mitchell, John Entwistle, Jimmy Page, and others on the scene, we have entered the time of really excellent musicians who happen to play rock.
Of course, one might also say that the stage was well set at this point for everything to go completely overboard—and that progressive rock is exactly what you get when extended demonstrations of rock musicianship are ratcheted up that final notch. Well, it’s true that progressive rock, to say nothing of Clapton or Hendrix, sometimes went overboard. The other much-used term that comes up in this context is “pretentious.” My argument will be that the best works of progressive rock (or Cream or Hendrix, for that matter) justify the risks or overextensions that were required—such risks are part of music that aims to develop.
We cannot leave the realm of the late-sixties rock adventure without touching on two more bands, namely The Who and Led Zeppelin. They are another pair who reach back to the roots of rock and forward to sonic and intellectual explorations. Led Zeppelin did not form until 1968—the same year that Yes formed, as every reader of Chris Welch’s liner notes from the first Yes album is reminded—and their career is contemporaneous with the time of progressive rock. In addition to psychedelia, the group brought an interest in magic and what has come to be called “fantasy.” For our purposes they are not a progressive rock group, but instead a progressive blues-rock group that hovers at the edge of progressive rock. This distinction may seem an exercise in hair-splitting. Another way to put it is that Led Zeppelin show the ultimate difficulty in framing definitions and categories, because, as we shall see, they do meet the criteria for what I will call progressive rock. And yet, my guess is that most readers, even if they like or love Led Zeppelin’s music (I like some of it), will recognize that they are somehow quite different from groups that we would more readily associate with progressive rock. Categories can break down, but this doesn’t mean that they aren’t useful; in fact, one way that categories can be useful is when we put them to the test and see somewhat precisely what their limitations are.
The Who is one of my all-time favorite groups. They are one of the groups that I feel especially pained to pass by so quickly.13 As a “pure” rock singer, there’s no one better than Roger Daltrey, at least in my humble opinion. Keith Moon’s drumming was simply unbelievable—in the sense that no one could figure out what he was doing (perhaps least of all him), and yet it seemed to work in a bizarre, orchestral way. John Entwistle is one of the best bass guitar players, period, and he has influenced many other bassists, including several, such as Chris Squire, who have played an integral role in progressive rock. And now, here’s a ridiculous comment: Pete Townshend is not a great guitar player. This is the singular and somewhat silly reason that I do not consider The Who to be a part of the progressive rock trend. Townshend is, of course, a good guitar player; more important, he is a visionary and brilliant composer of extended forms that are based in a very solid foundation of rock and roll. Townshend can do more with just a few chords than just about anyone. Among those albums that set the stage for the extended works of progressive rock, we have to include Tommy (1969)—even if, for one thing, its appearance is cotemporaneous with the first progressive rock albums, and, for another, Townshend himself would most likely be unhappy to think that he contributed to the emergence of progressive rock (this is a person who once referred to “the unspeakable horror that is Led Zeppelin”). Quadrophenia (1973) went even further—indeed, Dave Marsh, who is no friend of progressive rock, compared the album to the “art rock” efforts of Genesis and King Crimson (p. 493). Among my “rock intellectual” colleagues, the great Tommy versus Quadrophenia debate rages on!
Now, for a moment, let us take what might seem a strange turn. Four of the groups mentioned in the last few pages feature excellent bass guitarists, musicians who opened new possibilities for what many people still think of, even now, as an instrument that should remain in the background. I’ve already mentioned John Entwistle, whose weaving, slithery lines started a revolution in bass playing. Jack Bruce and John Paul Jones, though more bottom-heavy in their approaches, all the same broadened the role of the instrument.
Then there is the great overlooked one: Paul McCartney. Of course McCartney has never lacked for attention as a member of the Beatles and as a singer and songwriter (nor can we say that he hasn’t been adequately compensated in the financial department!). But one thing that is easy to forget about the Beatles—and our present visual-media-saturated society (that is, with movies and television as the main carriers of the society of the spectacle) has made it no less easy—is that, at the end of the day, they were first and foremost a band, a group of people who played musical instruments and sang songs. Given that the bass guitar is often overlooked anyway, and that many people couldn’t even tell you who is playing the bass in the Beatles, perhaps it is to be expected that Paul McCartney’s contribution on the instrument hasn’t received
