No one would have believed, in the last years of the 1970s, that musicians' affairs were being listened to from the timeless realm of cyberspace. No one could have dreamed that they were being scrutinized as an archaeologist with brush and chisel studies the shards of and middens of forgotten civilizations. And yet, across the gulf of decades, minds not measurably more arrogant than their own regarded those years with the condescension of history and slowly, and surely, passed their judgements upon them. — (With apologies to the shade of H.G. Wells)
Sometimes we outgrow the art we loved in our childhood or youth, but sometimes we lay aside a book or an album without fully intending to, until it is simply forgotten, like an old cup left outside and covered with the detritus of years.
But every once in a while, and more as if remembering a box long stored in the attic than unearthing something buried in the back yard, we come upon something we'd very nearly forgotten and find that it is unbroken, just waiting for re-connection.
And so it was that I recently re-connected with both Jeff Wayne and H.G. Wells — not to mention with the genre of 'progressive rock'. One of the fundamental roots of modern science fiction and one of the bizarre mutant descendants of rhythm 'n blues — how could I resist?
And how can you? But be warned: there is a sample on auto-play in the main story. If don't want to listen to it, look below the image at the upper left for the "off" button. Click — ah say — click for more!