Brainchild
Healing of the Lunatic Owl

LA RECENSIONE

From the first letter of OleEinar to the Debaseriots: "The gods of rock, as we know, are capricious and often condemn to oblivion without apparent reason formations that would have deserved a far different fate". Unfortunately, these enlightening yet painfully truthful words fit perfectly in the hypothetical description of too many bands that disappeared for various reasons after managing to leave us with only a few pieces of evidence of their sometimes truly dazzling passage in the world of musical expression.

Among the many warriors who fell prematurely in the cruel and ruthless battlefield of prog are also the Brainchild, a sextet that, in 1970, thanks to the production of Lennie Wright, percussionist of Web and Samurai, created an album quite close to the sounds of the works proposed by the two bands just mentioned, thanks especially to a robust wind section, embodied by saxophonist and flutist Brian Wilshaw and trumpeter Lloyd Williams, supported by drummer Dave Muller, bassist and singer Harvey Coles, guitarist and singer Bill Edwards, and pianist and organist Chris Jennings.

The album in question bears the curious name of "Healing of the Lunatic Owl" and opens fairly accessibly, with the short "Autobiography", in which Lloyd's trumpet and Brian's saxophone, through continuous solo flights, immediately establish the supremacy of the winds over the other instruments, of which only the guitar attempts a timid and fleeting response. Bill proves to be a rather versatile singer, with very heartfelt interpretations that range from calmness contrasted with the recurring tempo changes of "Healing of the Lunatic Owl", to the grit driven by continuous organ cues and the gloomy sound of the bass in "She's Learning", to the meditative tone accompanied by gentle guitar arpeggios and soaring over the ethereal flute of "Sadness of a Moment".

The string instruments take center stage again in "Hide From the Dawn", whose opening is indeed entrusted to the somber notes emitted by the bass and guitar, which, with repeated entries, traverse the whole composition, downsizing, as much as possible, the role of the winds, partially overshadowed also in "Two Bad Days", where the rhythm set by the piano and Harvey's tireless bass, weaves a balance between the different sounds that will find its definitive completion in the flowing and articulate "A Time a Place", literally studded with individual outbursts, continually supported by Dave's roaring drums. The latter, thanks to a remarkably inventive and changing technique, appears in great shape also in the jazzy and unpredictable cadence of the concluding "To B", whose celebratory tones, led by a particularly changeable and convincing flute, recognize a real ceremony in honor of the winds, destined to end in the chaos produced by the musicians in full force, who, after having created these acute dissonances, will be forced to eclipse themselves, unlike this creation of theirs, into the most absolute and impenetrable silence.