I woke up singing this song, for some reason. Maybe it was the soundtrack to a dream I don't remember. What I do remember is how gobsmacked I was the first time I heard it. Senior year of high school, standing in a record store, and the little gallop and kiddie gunshot noises came over the sound system--and then those first notes, with their syncopated accents that made it hard to tell exactly where the beat was. What in the world...?
I fancied myself a teen piano idol in the Elton John mode, with a little Rick Wakeman thrown in, a little Keith Emerson, Tony Banks, a little delusion of grandeur. I went up to the counter, and looked at the LP jacket on the "Now Playing" stand. I'd never heard of Andy Pratt and here he was just playing the ass off the thing.
The story goes, he spent 500 hours in the studio on this song, playing everything except drums. He's every bit as good on bass as he is on keyboards. How does a guy who's capable of this not become a huge star? I remember digging the whole album. But this song is definitely the piece d'irresistible.
There are a couple of other YouTube versions, including one that intercuts a performance video of Andy in his 50s, looking like Art Garfunkel, but it's all obscured by special effects. This little montage of stills will do. And you can see Andy then and Andy now.
Or just close your eyes. It's the fall of 1973. Maybe you weren't there for it. But this song has just galloped into the world, beating "Bohemian Rhapsody" to the punch by two years, a one-of-a-kind musical vision announcing itself, blowing away one delighted listener after another. I was one of them. Still am.
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2 comments:
As it's been said "One man's religion is another's psychedelic." and for whatever reason I can relate to why this song sounds somewhat like an old fashioned alarm clock going off and vibrating it's way to the night stand's edge.
Some very keen studio crafting and playing to be sure, a pertinent reminder of a number of really great songs and artists who lived under glass so to speak.
Other artists of this genre such as Manfred Mann, Meatloaf and yes even Billy Joel deserve credit for putting massive amounts of energy into the grooves of vinyl we wore out turning 33 1/3 rpm long past the days end.
Songs, such simple forms and yet a space that has yet to be fully fathomed. KInd of like a vehicle which will run on any fuel that is put in the tank.
Thanks again for sharing one of your unique reflections with a vengeance.
Can you tell me how to subscribe your blog, the feed link is?
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