TARKUS TRIUMPH

There is nothing like a great three minute single. A song that grabs you, thrills you and then is gone. It’s been the staple of rock and pop music for over sixty years and shows no sign of becoming extinct, as we saw recently with the success of the Nuggets fiftieth anniversary box set.

Yet in the early 1970s rock fans were treated to music that explored new terrain, incorporating elements of classical, jazz and even folk music into a broad category that was termed 'progressive' simply because it sought to expand the sound of modern electric rock.

One of the earliest progressive bands comprised three musicians who had already paid their dues. Keith Emerson came from The Nice, Greg Lake had recently departed the first incarnation of King Crimson while Carl Palmer had been drumming for Atomic Rooster. Eschewing a regular band name the trio pressed their surnames into service and released their first album in 1970. It was simply called Emerson, Lake & Palmer and showed much promise and lots of instrumental flair.

It was ELP’s second album, however, that really threw down the gauntlet to bands hoping to stand out from the progressive herd. With a side-long centrepiece about a techno-organic armadillo it combined virtuoso playing with some outstanding melodic elements and plenty of strong musical hooks. Tarkus was given lyrical structure by the daft sci-fi story of the afore-mentioned beastie, a tale illustrated in the original gatefold cover by a series of fantasy drawings depicting various battles.

Good though Greg Lake’s singing is, it’s the keyboard wizardry of Emerson that is the centrepiece of Tarkus. He was to ELP what Eric Clapton was to Cream: a brilliant soloist ably supported by a bass-playing vocalist (Lake, filling the Jack Bruce role) and hard-hitting, inventive drummer (Palmer, showing that Ginger Baker wasn’t the only percussion master on the block).

Although the "Tarkus" suite is a twenty minute epic, the well-structured sections mean it never drags. The instrumental sections (often Emerson on organ, piano, and/or synthesisers) burst with grandeur, supported by Lake’s full, dramatic vocals. Palmer is busy in the background, augmenting the mood of what’s going out front. Many would claim that, along with  Yes’s "Close To The Edge" and the Genesis triumph "Supper’s Ready", this is the pinnacle of epic prog.

What then of the second side? Sad to report, it is somewhat patchy and the main reason why Tarkus is not as famous as the centrepiece suggests it should be. There are highlights, however. "Bitches Crystal" is powerful, almost brutal. "A Time and a Place" is excellent too. In "Jeremy Bender" we have an example of a recurring theme on ELP albums; the inclusion of a rollicking music hall song of dubious merit. Was it inspired by a love of Paul McCartney ditties like "Lovely Rita"? Who knows. But neither "Jeremy B" nor closing rocker "Are You Ready Eddy?" hold up well. "The Only Way (Hymn)" has a worthwhile message about thinking for oneself, but sinks under the weight of its own pretension. Fortunately the piano coda ("Infinite Space (Conclusion)" is inventive and entertaining.

Reservations aside, Tarkus the album does stand up over half a century after its release on 14 June 1971. The 50th anniversary picture disc offers the cover art pressed into the vinyl so its comic book grotesquery can be truly appreciated—so bad it’s good!—and reminds us that not all dinosaurs (or armadillos) are museum pieces. Some still rock. Progressively, of course.

© Bruce Jenkins—June 2023