Aural Fixations

VAN DER GRAAF GENERATOR
The Least We Can Do is Wave to Each Other
He to He Who am the Only One
Pawn Hearts
(Charisma/Virgin/Astralwerks)
When the history of progressive rock enters the discussion (yeah, I know, how often does that happen?), the names of the usual suspects pop up: Yes, Genesis, King Crimson, Kansas, Emerson Lake & Palmer. But there was a second tier of prog acts in the 70s that gained little more than a cult following. In many ways these bands were more genuinely progressive; without the burden of success and ensuing commercial expectations, artists like Gentle Giant, Gryphon, Lindesfarne, Barclay James Harvest, etc.were able to follow their muses wherever they led, without much fear of consequences.

One of the most notable of the prog bands that operated under the radar was Van Der Graaf Generator. Led by the enigmatic Peter Hammill, VDGG ambled down its own quirky path, influenced by the same jazz, blues and classical strains as the bigger bands, but not in exactly the same ways. The most obvious reason is that the band did not feature guitar as the main instrument; Hammill's acoustic strumming took a back seat to the prominent lines and frenetic solos of saxophonist David Jackson. Even Hugh Banton's keyboards are used more for texture than for sizzling leads. The other element that set VDGG apart was its emphasis on mood and atmosphere as much as melody. Not that the band wasn't capable of catchy tunes, but Hammill's visions of fear and paranoia required more than just a classical melody adapted to rock instrumentation. Now a series of digital remasters allows newcomers to discover the mysteries of Van Der Graaf Generator for themselves.

The Least We Can Do is Wave to Each Other, originally released in 1971 on the soon-to-be-influential Charisma label, is actually the second album under the moniker, though it's considered the first true VDGG album. (1969's The Aerosol Grey Machine was a Hammill solo record released under the band name.) This is the album that fits in most easily with most folks' perception of prog, with melodies that draw on the usual progressive rock sources. But Hammill's lyrics quietly undercut the good vibes. The lilting melody of "Out of My Book" carries sentiments like "There could have been peace but that eluded me" and "But I always hide when there's a glimpse of sun." With the exception of the occult-themed "White Hammer"—probably the closest thing here to a rocker—VDGG avoids or even corrupts the fantasy imagery so prevalent in other prog repertoires. Hammill instead prefers the wistful remembrance of the lovely "Refugees," the existential dread of "Darkness (11/11)" and the baffling wordplay of "Whatever Would Robert Have Said?" "After the Flood" is the obligatory epic; though it could confidently stand aside the windier Yes and Genesis epics, it rarely indulges in fancy soloing. Instead the song goes for the throat with the lines "And when the water falls again/All is dead and nobody lives"—hardly a utopian ideal. The reissue includes as bonus tracks an alternate, string-laden version of "Refugees" released as a single, and its more impressive B-side, the haunted "Boat of Millions of Years." [buy it]

By the end of 1970, VDGG had toured Great Britain and Europe and released its next album He to He Who am the Only One. Bassist Nic Potter is gone, leaving the low end to Banton's organ pedals, which gives the encroaching gloom some lift. The songs have gotten longer and more deliberate; both the melodies and Hammill's thoughts grow darker. "The Emperor in His War Room" takes an unnamed leader to task for his warmongering ways; "You are the man whose hands are rank with the smell of death," Hammill accuses over an expansive arrangement. "Killer" uses imagery of deadly fish and a squealing, Coltrane-derived sax solo to convey an unwilling sociopath. Alienation is a persistent theme, in fact, as the singer separates from a loved one and from humanity itself. "Lost" and the otherwise quite lovely "House With No Doors" leave their protagonists brewing in their own emotionally stunted juices. The long, multi-faceted "Pioneers Over C" sets the loss of humanity in a science fiction setting, but the thrust is eventually the same: "I am the one who crossed through space/Or stayed where I was/Or didn't exist in the first place." Not the happiest of records, He to He nonetheless finds the quartet taking several steps forward on its path to its own distinctive sound. The reissue includes two bonus tracks: the first version of "The Emperor in His War Room" and a lengthy, improvisational multi-part epic called "Squid 1/Squid 2/Octopus" that was intended for a double album but never before released. [buy it]

In 1971 the band unleashed what is considered to be its masterpiece: Pawn Hearts. With this three-song album, VDGG takes further steps away from accessibility and audience expectations. As Hammill's words become ever darker and stranger, the performances catch up: Banton's organ gets heavier and meaner in tone, Jackson's sax playing gets more angular and nasty, drummer Guy Evans beats the rhythm like a harried traveler driving away wolves with a torch. Hammill starts to snap out the lyrics like a werewolf. Sometimes the band juxtaposes the grit with friendlier sounds; the introspective ballad "Man Erg" balances lyrical piano and measured crooning against distorted organ licks, frenzied drumming and spiteful vocalizing. "Lemmings (including Cog)" relies more on musical violence, particularly on the parts of Jackson and Hammill; the angry music supports assertions like "What cause is there left but to die/In searching of something we're really not to sure of?" (The tuneage also punctures the pretensions of some of the more arch lyrical spume.) But those tunes are just the warm-up for the record's key track: the side-long monster "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers." VDGG puts all its dynamic and melodic eggs in one basket here, gleefully scrambling the results. God only knows what it's all about—the lyrics allude to Hammill's usual themes of self-loathing, alienation and self-absorption—but it's an impressive achievement, each section flowing smoothly into the next, belying the fact that the pieces were recorded separately without regard to how they would fit into the overall scheme. After that triumph, what else could the band do but split up? This edition also includes pieces composed by Evans, Banton and Jackson and intended for the same double album as the "Squid" opus, plus both sides of a concurrently released single. [buy it]

VDGG did indeed disband following the release of Pawn Hearts. Despite success in Italy (where the album actually hit #1 on the charts), the band found the combination of the tour/album grind and the increasingly hostile reception to its music too much. The group reconvened a couple of years later for another, less prickly series of records, before dissolving for the final time at the turn of the 80s. It's unclear how influential VDGG has been since. Certainly Hammill's poetic language in describing misanthropic self-absorption had some effect on the aesthetics of Goth rock, and I suspect you'd probably find a VDGG record or two in the collections of avant rockers like Jim O'Rourke. Detroit's Discipline seems to be the only contemporary prog band that boasts a pronounced VDGG influence, particularly that of Pawn Hearts. Prog is still a bad word in rock circles (despite the work of Opeth and Tortoise), but it'll be interesting to see if the visionary work of Van Der Graaf Generator is rediscovered by a new generation and recycled in innovative ways. Michael Toland