Brian R Banks’ lifelong fascination with the margins of British progressive rock has given him a particular feel for their mixing of pastoral folk and symphonic ambition. In this review of Relativity, Banks writes with the knowledge of someone who has followed the band’s arc from their early beginnings to their latest incarnation under John Lees.
John Lees’ Barclay James Harvest: Relativity (Esoteric/Cherry Red EANTCD 1114)
Barclay James Harvest formed near Manchester almost 60 years ago, drew paper lots to decide a name from the three left, to issue a fine debut after John Lees and Stuart ‘Woolly’ Wolstenholme met at the local art college in 1964. Starting out first as rock ‘n’ rollers The Sorcerers, then The Blues Keepers, the new quartet signed (after a non-hit) to one of the leading progressive labels, Harvest (EMI) followed by Polydor, becoming one of the more distinctive progressive rock bands of our times. Not as successful financially as their friends the Moody Blues or Yes but always deeper and wider in their arc, they forged their own sound. If it doesn’t stun this time it will warmly stir, which is the hallmarked gold standard of true worth in music.
Their worldwide fanbase is still loyal, including German-speaking territories where they can headline festivals (after playing the first open-air concert in East Germany before the Wall came down, then in 1980 to 250,000+ outside the Reichstag which was recorded). Around 1998, after nine albums and two live doubles, BJH split into two over musical differences led by survivors Les Holroyd and here with guitarist /vocalist John Lees, whose new release Relativity is a confidently strong addition of group compositions to their legacy, which was an appropriate title for one of their recent live albums.
He’s joined by long-termers (since Nexus in the 90s) Craig Fletcher (bass, vocals), drummer Kev Whitehead (Animals, Yazz, Lisa Stansfield who he still records with since their Blue Zone days), and keyboards / vocalist Jez Smith (Wayne Fontana & The Mindbenders etc.). They also co-produced this crafted 80-minute work over seven years (twelve after their last, North, on the same label which was incidentally founded by their manager) that was cut at Abbey Road, evocatively mixed to reflect their immense sound by Stephen Tayler (Rush, Kate Bush, Tina Turner, VGG). The title, like gravitation, physics and chemistry, we’re told, links to the biological phenomenon of first love.
This motif underscores their other ever-presents such as religion/ cosmology, time, mortality, mysteries and beauty that threads here as a loose concept about human and cosmic interaction, seen in their once-heard-never-forgotten classics such as Mocking Bird, Galadriel, Child Of The Universe, Dark Now My Sky, After The Day et al. Thankfully there is no ‘upgrade’ to their sound: swathes of soothing, sonorous melody strongly emphasized by guitar prompting grandeur, even sublimity as it pulses and swells prompted by thought-provoking lyrics that are also in the booklet.
The title track’s Part One (Through The Dust) has an almost Hawkwindy galactic intro (and ending) until leads into a rocking melodic vibe, a phrasing reminiscent of their Medicine Man or Hymn without that song’s focus, to set the album’s feel (“Through the grey we pick our way… All we know is here and now / Searching time to show us how / we’ll never pass this way again / Through the darkness, into the light”) as the lyrics soar in tandem with the guitar and majestic sound. Nine minutes whiz by until sweeping, orchestral harmonies over a dreamy rhythm heralds Blood Of Abraham, on life in nature and being yourself.
Side two of the vinyl edition opens with a bouncy, organ-rocking shuffle powered by the engine room (Heard It All Before) about relationship problems during lifestyle changes that includes sound advice (and airport sampling!). Magpie is both a love song and thanksgiving for it, with gentle tinkling piano and plucked strings that meld into a fuzz box lilt. The simply titled Love is a folky view of regrets and forgiveness, as if Love is a person or guest at one’s table.
The spirited anthem with joyous refrain of Peace Like A River, the album’s single, has an uplifting message for when feeling alone, while the Jez Smith sang Hourglass is deeply reflective about life’s ages and passages Pushkin-like, closing with “The road is not a straight one / And there are so many hills to climb / Life is but a moment / Live it now, before you’re out of time”. Snake Oil targets money-making greed and dishonesty inherent in today’s modern world, via the metaphor of a medicine man’s travelling show of blind selling using false slogans, while The End Of Days, with sweet but powerful guitar from Lees showing his mastery of understatement, flags another of BJH’s constant themes (mortality). Lees’ Christian faith is clear when singing about Judgement Day here, with gospel-like passages and horns wedged with pagan or Gnostic verses.
Picture World draws together the album’s varied styles, perhaps unsurprisingly in view of the seven-year creative process. It asks: friends, how could we imagine back then where we would be now? Full circle sees Relativity Part Two, optimistically with the view that what has existed remains, its cosmic swirls like life’s stellar journeys among meteors and comets. Their signature sound, buoyant with ideas in meaningful lyrics, somehow suggest a definition of prog itself.
In this age of so much quantity but precious little quality (“Wrong does not cease to be wrong just because the majority share it”, wrote Tolstoy), the ludicrously undervalued-at-home Barclay James Harvest hold a masterclass without filler. This label has released most of their early material with interesting bonus material, and this time there is also a double vinyl edition and a deluxe surround mix with an unreleased stateside concert. This album is, quite simply, an uninterrupted delight from beginning to end as well as a signpost for exploring their history.
Brian R. Banks
