Various Artists – So High I’ve Been: A European Rock Anthology 1967-1973 (Grapefruit)

David Wells’ Grapefruit’s usual stomping ground is the UK’s pop, folk-rock and psych scenes of the late sixties and early seventies, with the occasional excursion into American music. This triple box set switches the focus to Europe – from Finland to Spain, Switzerland to Iceland. On the first two discs this amounts largely to American and British influenced psychedelia, prog and hard rock. Quality is variable. A lot of the earlier stuff is derivative and forgettable, although there are exceptions. Swedish folk-pop act Oriental Sunshine’ gorgeous “Across Your Life” being one in particular. The third CD that covers the period 71-73 is where most of the gems lie, as the blatant Anglo-American influences are tossed aside. Here you have Faust, with the trippy repetition of “Rainy Day Sunshine Girl”, prog giants PFM, the singular space-heads Magma, Florian Fricke’s equally unique Popol Vuh, top Dutch acts Focus (“Sylvia”) and Golden Earring (the full six minute marvel “Radar Love”), but also some delicious obscurities such as the German-Italian Analogy, experimental Italian prog acts Banco del Mutuo Soccorso and Il Balletto di Bronzo, and the folky Icelandic group Svanfridur. In his sleeve notes, Wells bemoans the fact that the likes of Can and Neu fell foul of licencing issues, but to be honest, those are bands that are hardly lacking exposure anyway. A mixed bag, to be sure, but a worthwhile and, for the most part, interesting collection. CD 3 is actually pretty exceptional.

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DISC ONE
Beginning To Fly

DISC TWO
Throwing Snowballs At The Sun

DISC THREE
Speeding Into A New Sunrise

Song of the Day: Bob Lind – Mr Zero (1966)

Keith Relf of the Yradbirds had a UK hit with this song, but for me Bob Lind’s original is the best reading. It’s a remarkable work: lyrically deft in its tale of loser in love, but also quite complex in its musical structure with stanzas of eleven lines and a rhyming scheme that is definitely there but is quite difficult to pin down. Not a tune you could do at karaoke, but one that gets under the skin.

Here are the words:

And here is the song:

Ken Downie

I was really saddened to hear of the death of Ken Downie of the Black Dog. As regular readers will know, the band crop up regularly in these pages, and I’ve been a fan since I first heard Spanners back in 1995. Downie was the only member ever-present from its inception in 1989 (with Andy Turner and Ed Handley of Plaid). Since 2005, the group has been a trio of Downie plus Martin and Richard Dust, and an increasingly prolific one at that. The Black Dog’s engagement with the urban environment in these latter years, be it the brutalist architecture of the band’s native Sheffield, or the blights of modern life such as airports, has been inspired and inspiring.

Here’s “Nommo” from Spanners.

Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett and Oliver Coates – Death, Reverb and Decay (Editions Basilic)

This EP consists of the seven minute “Death, Reverb and Decay” plus a ten minute remix. This is a lovely, slow-burning piece for synth, bass flute and cello that taps into that mellow, melancholic vibe that Stars on the Lid made their own on their last two albums. Coates’ cello is particularly gorgeous. The remix is murkier and deeper. There is a bit more gloom and a little less charm to it. “Death, Reverb and Decay” is a great tune for the dark midwinter days.

The Black Dog Presents Sleep Deprivation: Greatest Hits Volumes 2 & 3

The Black Dog have had an insanely busy 2025 with the albums My Brutal Life 2 and Loud Ambient, the triple CD My Brutal Life: The Ambient Mixes, and now three releases that extend last years Sleep Deprivation record. The Greatest Mix Volume 1 appeared in June, and now it is joined by two further volumes of woozy, cinematic darkness. These are pay-what-you-like on Bandcamp, but that is in no way a reflection on their quality. Volume 2 is very much in the ‘theme and variations’ mould, slowly uncoiling synth waves and Lisa Gerrard-ish voice generations. It spirals around for a full 82 minutes, morphing this way and that. Where Volume 2 could be viewed as internalised music, Volume 3 is darker, grittier, more solemn. 2 has the feel of a night of fevered forgotten dreams, whereas 3 walks the streets in the small hours desperately trying to beat the insomniac wakefulness. Both are excellent, but it is the third that gets under my skin more.

Probably not for your Christmas party, though.