Caravan
In The Land Of Gray And Pink

For this series of reviews, I'll begin with a lesser-known branch—if it's possible to use such definitions—of English progressive rock, specifically linked to the Canterbury scene, hence the "Canterbury Sound." It's difficult, inappropriate, and incorrect to label and classify music in rigid "categories," but often for convenience—whether for analysis or for sordid reasons like fashion and/or commerce—we're forced to do so.

Everything begins in the latter part of the '60s with the Wildflowers, a group full of ideas but unknown to most, from whose ashes would arise Gong (with David Allen), Soft Machine (with the great Robert Wyatt and Kevin Ayers), and Caravan (with Richard and David Sinclair, Pye Hastings), whom I'll discuss in this review.
But what is this Canterbury sound? It's something that one "can't understand without experiencing it." One might simplify by saying the most notable characteristics are simple melodies (or seemingly simple...), much more complex harmonies and often rhythms, melancholic atmospheres, at times twilight-esque, romantic but never sappy. Alongside Hatfield & The North, Caravan represents these characteristics best, while limiting the jazz improvisations (Soft Machine), the extreme psychedelia (Henry Cow and Gong). A perfect balance, maintained at least until 1974 (their first album was in 1968).

I won't delve into the band's history here; whoever wants to know more can contact me or... take a stroll on the internet. I'll focus on the album: their third album, titled "In the Land of Grey and Pink," released in 1971 by Deram.
I believe that the stunning cover already presents the music more than my words can: the atmospheres present in the album seem to materialize in the pink and grey colors, in the fairytale essence that hovers in this extraordinary and fantastic landscape.

The album immediately opens with what would become one of Caravan's signature tracks: the lively "Golf Girl", where harmony perfectly melds with Jimmy Hastings' winds, the voice, in this case, of bassist Richard Sinclair, and the ever-so-dreamy lyrics. It's a lively piece, but the Caravan sound is all there. However, more representative in my opinion of the Canterbury Sound are the splendid and melancholic "The Land of Grey and Pink and Winter Wine," a piece that highlights another characteristic trait of Caravan, one of their trademarks: the long Hammond organ solos, slightly distorted but with a very unique note choice by David Sinclair, far from the pentatonic and bluesy standards in vogue at the time. In the harmonies, there's an elegant piano and very functional and clean acoustic guitar arrangements. Tying it all together is an original bass line, which is one of the album's leitmotifs.

But the album's highest point, one of the highest not only of the Canterbury scene but also of the entire English progressive scene, is the suite "Nine Feet Underground," over twenty minutes of fantasy, elegance, grit, and unease, rich with instrumental ideas, where the voices of R. Sinclair and Pye Hastings alternate perfectly. The rhythms change frequently but always without "trauma," the dreamy atmospheres, and the surreal lyrics complete this masterpiece. Here, the Caravan sound encompasses all its characteristics.
At

this point, nothing remains but to listen to this album, preferably on an evening with a slight drizzle typical of the Kent town.