 Emerson, Lake, & Palmer Even the liner notes of this reissue attest to the fact that Emerson, Lake, & Palmer were probably the most reviled band of their day, despite their enormous success in the early 70s. When discussing ELP, it's nearly impossible to avoid using words like "bloated," "bombastic," "pretentious," "ridiculous," "over-the-top," "tasteless," and "self-indulgent," and the single word most associated with the group: "excess." Everything this band did was done to excess, musically and personally – this was the band that made it acceptable to take 36 tons of equipment on the road – including a 1½ ton rig that elevated Keith Emerson's keyboard set-up, and drum cylinders made of steel … I'm sure the roadies' descendents will be having back problems for generations to come. And all of this for what, exactly? Wildly aggressive, in-your-face prog-rock powered by Emerson's arsenal of keyboards, Carl Palmer's tight, powerful drumming, and Greg Lake's theatrical vocals and comparatively unremarkable guitar and bass playing. Nowhere did all of this make as much sense (I'm using that phrase very loosely) than on Brain Salad Surgery, which for some reason I must say I love. I hadn't listened to the album in perhaps a decade when suddenly last week I was gripped by an overwhelming need to hear it again … and having sold my CD many years hence, I was actually inspired to go out and buy a new one! Rhino's "deluxe" edition puts the album in the best possible context, acknowledging that you have to accept the bombast going in, and making a strong case for the band being (at its best, as on this album) more vital than punk, which came about in large part because of bands like ELP. Punks got almost as much of a charge criticizing ELP as the band apparently did hearing the punks' criticisms, and Greg Lake, in the liner notes, accurately states that ELP was much more aggressive than punk ever was, although I'm not entirely sure that the whole point of punk was simple aggression. Still, in 2003, with social winds of change subsided and plenty of selective hindsight at our disposal, it's easy to appreciate an album like Brain Salad Surgery as being much more challenging and permanent than even the "good" punk albums. Strangely, punk now seems more reactionary than revolutionary, attempting to return to the plantation days of good old aggressive rock 'n' roll, while ELP really made music that aimed straight at the future. Of course, like all prog-rock bands, that future was filled with science fiction and fantasy elements, but the sonic assault of ELP on stuff like "Toccata" and "Karn Evil 9" on this album seems now entirely self-contained – not empty showmanship at all, but rather "outsider art" in the best sense of the word. Now, I'm fully aware that ELP was way over-encouraged by fans and record company executives, so they were hardly ever "outsiders" in that sense, but critically, they were never remotely taken seriously, and yet the sound is hugely impressive. ELP literally forces you to come with them or run in terror … they are more arrogant than probably any band except for King Crimson, but a great deal funnier, whether you laugh along with them or derisively at them. I'm not sure which I'm doing, exactly. The album opens with the utter pomposity of "Jerusalem," an English choral anthem done up with futuristic overkill … but it's marvelous. "Toccata" is based on a Ginastera piano concerto, rendered virtually unrecognizable with tons of sound effects and a "percussion movement" – Emerson claims Ginastera actually told him that he was the first person to capture the essence of his music. Now, that's exactly the type of thing that used to make the rock critics furious, but I just laugh. With or at Emerson, I have no clue. "Still You Turn Me On" is the token acoustic-ballad on the album, a very pretty, somewhat austere song with some ridiculous lines like "Every day a little sadder/A little madder/Someone get me a ladder!" I can only assume the humor is intentional, but either way it's perfectly enjoyable. This leads to the canned comedy of "Benny the Bouncer," admittedly one of my favorite tracks on the album, a British vaudeville throwback that features the weirdest type of synth-ragtime I can think of (actually, the only synth-ragtime I can think of). Then, the four-part suite of "Karn Evil 9," separated into three "impressions" and lasting almost 30 minutes in its entirety. The first part is the most well-known through classic-rock radio (the second "impression" of part 1 is the famous "Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends" song), the second impression is fusion-era-Keith Jarrett-esque jazz without vocals, then the last part is some ridiculous malarkey about man vs. computer. As horrible and overblown as it all is, I like it very much. I had no idea how much I liked this album until now. It certainly got a lot of play on my CD player in the 80s, but was jettisoned during one of my very first CD purges of the early 90s, only to lie dormant in my psyche until its rebirth recently. A phase, perhaps? Simple nostalgia? Maybe. But I greatly enjoy it without shame, whatever the reason. The music is dense, fusing synths with real harpsichords and tack pianos, "sonic curveballs" (to quote Harry Young) all over the place, and an overall attitude of insouciance that completely excludes the listener from any involvement or opinion – the music WILL go on regardless of what the listener thinks. I dig that. The pendulum has swung back around to where the music on the radio is so complacent that ELP again sounds ripe. They'll probably remain a running punchline, but you got to love a classic "headphones album" – they definitely don't make 'em like Brain Salad Surgery anymore. The deluxe edition adds a 13 minute interview track that does nothing to dispel the notion that the band's members are pretentious asses … and even without any further keyboard solos.
Review by George G. Brett |