At the end of the day, perhaps it comes down to the argument of escapism versus elitism. It's been so long since prog was a popular genre that the argument over its relevance has seemingly been left by the wayside. However, there are several attitudes we take for granted today that may never have existed outside of the general pop-critic population, but seem to have been perpetuated over the past thirty years to the point of being distorted and disproportionately trusted. Ultimately, that there is a humbly active prog scene today (check the cults of oddly named groups such as Spock's Beard or the Flower Kings if you're in doubt) might be the funniest anti-climax in rock. Allow me to shoot down some stereotypes:

"Prog is pretentious and bloated."

Yes, and Emerson, Lake and Palmer are often cited as the prime examples. While I can't defend a couple of those later 70s Yes albums, and the insane clown affair that is Pictures at an Exhibition, I will say that at their worst, these bands never approached the bombast of the slightest Sex Pistols or Stooges album.

"Only Dungeons & Dragons nerds listen to prog."

This idea may stem from prog's often-whimsical subject matter or mythical album covers, though I have to say that I've never heard a prog tune about the King of Carrot Flowers.

Prog doesn't rock."

...

Despite the superficiality of these kinds of criticisms, many of the original bands took them to heart, and by 1977 or so, most of them had receded into crass commercialism, or were forced out of the music business entirely due to changing trends. The ones that lived on were generally one of two ilks. The first was the style chameleon: Yes and Genesis are the two most famous examples, with the latter band going so far as to allow their frontman to lead them into the worst regions of MOR banality. The second type was the far more interesting proposition: bands that graduated from prog into even stranger realms. Henry Cow was this type of band, and what follows may change your perception of prog forever.

Henry Cow was founded at Cambridge University, England by guitarist Fred Frith and keyboardist/reed player Tim Hodgkinson. Percussionist Chris Cutler joined in 1971, by which time the band had settled into a regular unit. A diverse mix of influences (Zappa, modern classical composition, free jazz, etc.), along with the natural creativity and intelligence of the group members (most had finished their college degrees before Leg End was released in 1973), spawned a sound unlike any contemporary prog band. They were one of Virgin Records' first acts, and made their first tour with relative "superstars" Faust (and would later tour with Captain Beefheart)-- all of this during the heyday of "symphonic" prog bands like Yes and Genesis.

Henry Cow's sound always seemed to me a direct response to what was popularly passing as experimental music during their time. Where a band like Gentle Giant (one of the more compositionally complex prog bands) would take classical counterpoint and color it with rock groove and volume, the Cow would remove color altogether, opting for sheer intensity through concept (often manifested in Marxist political statements) and relentlessly dry arrangements. It wasn't enough that their tunes sounded like boisterous Schoenberg etudes, but they usually featured chamber classical instruments such as oboe, bassoon, clarinet and violin. And, where a typical prog band would have used this to evoke the Romanticism of composers like Brahms or Strauss, Cow laid all their cards on the table by naming themselves after the experimental American composer Henry Cowell. They seemed very intent on opposing (Cutler would later even initiate the musical collective Rock In Opposition) any stereotype one might throw at them.

I must admit this has always colored my perception of the band. If Yes were the double coconut-fudge of rock, perhaps best for escapist fantasies, then Henry Cow were certainly wheat germ. It's not that they weren't cool in their way, but there's a not-so-subtle academic aftertaste to much of their music for me. Western Culture was their final record, and is probably the most overtly influenced by modern classical composition. It's not very hard to hear why this music is important, in the sense that it lays the groundwork for a whole school of avant-rock and prog that doesn't cause cavities. My caveat would be one of aesthetics, because if you're looking for a party, you'd best dig out "Long Distance Runaround" instead.

By the time Western Culture was released in 1979, the group was mostly separated. Cutler and Frith would soon form the excellent Art Bears with Dagmar Krause (who had performed with Cow during several occasions), and Hodgkinson and reedist Lindsay Cooper wrote the pieces on this album exclusively. "Industry" begins things with a brain-freeze, as the opening organ screech gives way to dissonant guitar and hacking drums. Hyper-rhythmic figures (but certainly not "beats"), accentuated by stinging guitar and angular violin lines, suggest quite well whatever inhuman, technological madness the title implies. There are no vocals anywhere on the album, so the difficult melodies rely on the arrangers' skill with voicing in order to stand out. Now, if all of this sounds a bit technical, rest assured, that's probably appropriate.

"The Decay of Cities" brings in familiar sonorities with Frith's rather gorgeous acoustic guitar exposition. All of the players were unsung in the grand scheme of prog, though Frith was arguably the most important element for this group if only because he brought a much needed touch of the "real world" to the music. After the intro, an ominous trombone and piano duet ensues, and Frith reenters with guitar figures at once Asian and Cageian. There are some very clever things happening here, with kinetic trading of figures by percussion, guitar, piano and winds. Later on, saxophone carries the tune, sounding like a cross between an intense, somber jazz balladeer and flighty, post-Ornette bopper.

Cooper's first piece, "Falling Away," opens with a chorus of woodwinds, similar to some of Zappa's classical/jazz fusion experiments of the early 70s. This reference is short lived, as the band bangs through with drums and a mad ostinato line that reminds me of their Belgian brethren Univers Zero (another classically minded band, who were somehow even more deadly serious than the Cow). This leads to some of the most intense stuff on the record, as themes fly by at breakneck pace, while Cutler never stops pounding his kit (and still never actually playing beats). "Coretels Tale" is more of the same, with enhanced moodiness via creepy flutes, and some nicely Cecil Taylor-esque piano playing.

The original Western Culture closes with "1/2 the Sky" (though the reissue includes three more tunes, including a tribute to one of Cutler's favorites, Pere Ubu). Still no rest for weary ears, though I must say that I've always been impressed at Henry Cow's purity of vision. Whatever you want to say of prog, even on the experimental end, bands that remain true to their original spirit are rare enough that I respect these musicians based merely on principal. Of course, all of the individuals involved here would go on to very interesting careers in any number of odd settings, and I would be remiss if I didn't point out that even twenty years later they are more interesting than the majority of current experimental rock groups. So they're not as "entertaining" (or as easy to poke fun at) as Yes, or as cool to name drop as Can or Faust, but Henry Cow were as original an act as ever played "rock," and will probably continue to challenge listeners for as long as their work remains available.

-Dominique Leone, March 22nd, 2002