| Sounds Like | The debut album by one of the most dramatic and certainly the most visionary of all the British prog bands saddled with the epithet jazz-rock opens with little care for any of that. Taking a deep draught from the King Crimson/Van Der Graaf Generator book of sonic brutality, the opening "Naked Death" is a hard-riffing, thunderous clatter of apocalyptic imagery which -- if Crimson hadn't already dropped the same bomb with "21st Century Schizoid Man" -- might have proved as lethal as the weaponry it discusses. The same taste for Armageddon permeates the remainder of the album. Some spectacular moments drift through the carnage; Robert Calvert's sax and Graham Wilson's guitar might be most comfortable in full bludgeoning mode, but they can show restraint as well. Unfortunately, vocalist Anna Meek is allowed no such luxury, coming across in places like an extremely bad-tempered Sonja Kristina and in others like a dehumanized version of Lydia Lunch. But if the first three tracks, clocking in at 15, four, and six minutes, respectively, leave you feeling battered, bruised, and maybe not inclined to walk this way again, 24 minutes of the closing "Embryonic Fusion" place Catapilla firmly back on course. A solid, sax-driven suite, of course it has its share of death, doom, and destruction-type lyrics and enough moments of spine-chilling chaos to remind you that Van Der Graaf's similarly side-long "A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers" was fresh on the racks as this album came together. Unfortunately, such comparisons -- though valid -- are also unhelpful. No matter how influenced one band might be by another, it takes a lot more than a Xerox mind to pull off a piece of music this long this successfully. The fact is, Catapilla not only completes the marathon, they also leave you wondering how 24 minutes passed so quickly.
Catapilla's second album is probably better-remembered for its gatefold cover -- a bug-headed lettuce leaf which opens to reveal a fat, juicy maggot -- than for its contents. Delve in deeper than that, though, and the music is even more striking . A magnificent disc, Changes offered an absolute shift away from the grinding Armageddon of Catapilla's debut, with the opening "Reflections" viciously carving out a new territory which floats with breathtaking audacity. For over 12 minutes, vocalist Anna Meek and saxophonist Robert Calvert duel and duet in a manner which would influence everything from Deep Purple's voice and guitar confabulations to Gong's spectral, spacy meanderings. Indeed, experienced Catapilla-watchers will not have been surprised to see Calvert working with that band's Gilli Smyth in the mid-'90s; the blueprint is all over "Reflections." From such a spectacular high, Changes drops back somewhat for the next two tracks, preferring to refine the jazz-rock compounds its predecessor found so profitable, but without the eye-over-the-shoulder toward Crimson and company. "Charing Cross" is jerky and arrogantly discomforting; it's the closest thing to the first album's brittle battery. The relentless "Thank Christ for George," on the other hand, is a smorgasbord of textures underpinned by some absurdly angry guitar and one of Meek's most effective vocals. But it's the reflective instrumental "It Could Only Happen to Me" which truly returns us to the peaks of the opener. A lovely sax melody haunts the same pastoral landscapes as Pink Floyd inhabited across "Atom Heart Mother" and "Echoes" before being scythed into silence about three minutes in, as Graham Wilson's guitar not only rewires everything you thought you knew about Catapilla, but comes close to rewriting prog history as well. A third album from this most visionary of bands, drawing its impetus from "Reflections" and "It Could Only Happen," might have rendered even Dark Side of the Moon academic. As it is, we can only dream wistfully, "What if?"
Dave Thompson, All Music Guide |
