Fusion Orchestra
Skeleton In Armour

Well, let's admit it: if there's one genre that more than others has given birth (at least artistically) to a multitude of eccentric characters, not to mention bizarre, but definitely charismatic, it has been progressive. Here we are not talking about extreme cases like Magma, with their strictly Kobai language, Peter Gabriel dressed as a flower or, worse, as a slipperman, or Jamie Muir, unsettling in his way of striking objects of dubious compatibility with the concept of "percussion" behind an unflappable Fripp, but a singer who, in terms of "distorted" personality and style to say the least singular, can easily be placed on the same level as Slapp Happy/Henry Cow's Dagmar Krause. We are talking about Jill Saward, leader, guitarist, flutist, and jack of all trades for Fusion Orchestra, a band that, back in 1973, released an LP of inestimable musical value, inexplicably overlooked and still practically unknown today.

The record in question is called "Skeleton In Armour" and features, in addition to the aforementioned vocalist and jack-of-all-trades, Colin Dawson on guitar, Dave Cowell on bass and harmonica, Dave Bell on drums, and Stan Land on everything else (third guitar, synthesizers, percussion, and winds). The tracks follow one another, alternating between long, complex, and particularly inspired moments, and others that are short, humorous, and almost caricatural (in a heavily Canterburyan tradition, just to be clear), where the fun these English lads had while birthing a work capable of transmitting freshness and engagement with each new listen shines through.

Sten's winds open the curtain ("Fanfairy Suite For 1000 Trampits Pt. One") introducing the spectacular and overwhelming "Sonata In Z", during which the musicians create an immense mosaic of instrumental fragments interwoven and held together by Jill's uncontainable singing, who is also brilliantly showcased during her swift flute escapes and ringing vocalizations, recurring also in the daredevil "Have I Left the Gas On?", along with Colin's sharp guitar solos and the counter-tempos dictated by Dave’s drumsticks, truly phenomenal throughout the entire work.

The other Dave, after entertaining the listener with a delightful harmonica interlude ("Ok Boys, Now's Our Big Chance"), plunges into a dense and pulsing bass march during the title track, supported by the rhythm proposed by the same-name always upbeat drummer companion, who, after this umpteenth lesson in style, decides to allow himself a bit of relaxation during the very light and almost out-of-place "When My Mamma's Not at Home", where Jill seems to mock us, once again catching us off guard and taunting us with increasingly improbable vocalizations at the finale, followed, probably not by chance, by the very short "Don't Be Silly Jilly".

The guitars return to prominence with the decisive and at times aggressive tones of "Talk to the Man In the Sky", the last musical monument of the album, where technique, passion, and sudden changes of rhythm and atmosphere are the order of the day and manage to coexist in an enviable state of harmony, at least until Stan's winds return to mark the end of the journey with the celebratory airs of "Fanfairy Suite For 1000 Trampits Pt. Two", which in fact has the ungrateful task of lowering the lights on a show brought back after years and years of undeserved silence, but that, perhaps, through new listeners, might avoid sinking back into the abyss from which it was retrieved, because during in-depth explorations of forgotten depths, it’s plausible to expect to retrieve a chest or some old jewels, but an entire skeleton in armor, nowadays, surpasses all the most optimistic expectations. A near masterpiece.