Show notes
THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…
Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, arrive properly at Daughter of Time.
And Colosseum apparently have something to say.
Quite a lot, actually.
This week’s descent begins with one of the most direct and politically charged tracks the band had recorded to this point…
THREE SCORE AND TEN
War.
Race.
East versus West.
Politicians dancing while gold pulls the strings.
Environmental ruin.
Humanity collectively sticking its head in the sand.
You know…
Light entertainment.
TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE
“Three Score and Ten” — Colosseum
This is the sound of the next great Colosseum lineup arriving fully armed:
Chris Farlowe. Clem Clempson. Mark Clarke. Dave Greenslade. Dick Heckstall-Smith. Jon Hiseman.
The production feels bigger. The instruments have room to breathe. Hiseman’s drums absolutely slam, and Farlowe attacks the lyric like someone has personally offended him.
But underneath all that power is a surprisingly grim message.
“Three score and ten” gives humanity its biblical seventy years, and Colosseum spend the song asking a fairly uncomfortable question:
What the hell are we doing with them?
Vietnam. The Cold War. Black and white waiting to fight. Medals gleaming in the sunlight. A world choking on the mess it created while the puppets keep dancing.
This may be the most overt political statement Colosseum have made yet.
And musically?
Fucking powerful.
DIGRESSION ZONE
ALL ROADS APPARENTLY LEAD TO RUSH
Because contemplating mankind’s inevitable destruction naturally makes Chaz think of…
Rush.
First up: “Bastille Day.”
Caress of Steel enters the operating theater, Geddy Lee reaches dangerous vocal altitudes, and Alex Lifeson once again demonstrates that tone is in the fingers.
Then comes “Anthem,” Neil Peart’s arrival, his enormous legacy, and the impossible question of replacing the irreplaceable.
That leads into Rush’s return to the stage and Anika Nilles taking on one of the most scrutinized drum chairs in rock history.
Different drummer.
Different approach.
Same living music.
And then Dr. Glund changes direction completely.
THE ELVIN BISHOP INCIDENT
Elvin Bishop Group — “Sweet Potato”
Blues. Groove. Gibson guitar tone.
And before anyone can regain control, the Doctor has wandered into a story involving gin, bullfrog beer, a red wig, a cat and some deeply questionable decision-making.
At which point Chaz finally remembers:
“This is a Colosseum show.”
Too late.
The damage has been done.
HIGHLIGHTS
Jon Hiseman proving that “busy” and “musical” are not remotely the same thing.
Chris Farlowe apparently attempting to sing through concrete.
The realization that Daughter of Time represents a genuine leap forward in Colosseum’s sound.
Chaz attempting to convert Dr. Glund to Caress of Steel.
Dr. Glund resisting.
Neil Peart receiving the respect he deserves without turning his legacy into a museum exhibit.
And an episode that somehow travels from mankind’s impending destruction to Elvin Bishop and bullfrog beer.
YOUR PRESCRIPTION
Administer one full dose of:
“Three Score and Ten.”
Volume should be sufficient for Jon Hiseman’s drums to rearrange nearby furniture.
Listen for Farlowe’s vocal force, Clempson finding his place inside the machine, Mark Clarke reshaping the bottom end, Heckstall-Smith bringing the brass artillery and Greenslade quietly holding the whole thing together.
Possible side effects include:
Reconsidering Caress of Steel.
Defending Neil Peart to strangers.
Searching for old Elvin Bishop records.
And suddenly asking yourself…
What happens then?
The guitar rocks.
The mind expands.
Nobody sells out.
The Blade of Judgment remains sheathed.
Let’s go grab a visky.
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