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Rating: Aimed at the devotees of this group, at sharp-eared musicians, at true nerds of record collecting, this box set—organized with four CDs and a rich, flavorful booklet (always referring to those categories just mentioned)—lives up to its title and scrapes right down to the bare wood the barrel of the incredible music left as a legacy by this seminal British progressive group.
It's twelve hours of music(!) extracted from tapes, little tapes, cassettes kept for decades at home by a couple of the band members, meticulously restored and rendered in the most listenable form possible by an incurable fan of the Gentle Giant, a Swedish musician and producer named Dan Bornemark.
The first three CDs, each around 75 minutes long, contain 79 (sic!) tracks, ranging among demos, alternate versions, intros, solos, choir experiments, experiments and some chatter, garnished with solo productions from almost all members after the group had disbanded, as well as a couple of tracks by Simon Dupree and the Big Sound, the sixties band of the three Schulman brothers from which GG would eventually spring. All these are high-resolution WAV files, standard for CDs.
The fourth disc, on the other hand, is a data CD—an infernal medley that includes first and foremost a terrifying MP3 archive showcasing rhythm tracks or alternative solos for guitar, sax, moog, glockenspiel… and then improvisations, whole live tracks (there’s even the entire night in Turin, 1973—a gem), basic rhythm tracks, minutes and minutes in the rehearsal room, personal demos from various members of the quintet. The cherry on top: 37 straight minutes of “samples”—sounds, riffs, fleeting ideas to listen to, internalize, and even plunder if you like.
To top it all off, more than 200 (arisic!) jpeg photos of the band in all poses and situations, together with a pot pourri of PDFs including tickets, setlists, music or lyric manuscripts, odds and ends as well as MPEG files with interview footage.
The cover is by the historic designer of their early albums, George Underwood, and in the inner booklet his best ideas to visually represent and decorate the Gentle Giant’s releases are printed, including the unique, unmistakable design that ended up on the debut album cover. To “chat” generously in the booklet is guitarist Gary Green, who fills it with anecdotes, situations, descriptions, and context around the various tracks collected in this work.
As for songs after the 1980 breakup, there is nothing particularly striking. The solo compositions by keyboardist Kerry Minnear, guitarist Gary Green, bassist and violinist Ray Schulman, and drummer John Weathers are nice, but lack the magic of their phantasmagorical seventies work. The two other Schulmans are missing: the elder Phil because he preferred a quieter, family-oriented career as a teacher, and frontman Derek who, as soon as the band’s story ended, decided to move behind the desk to become a successful manager and producer in the U.S.A.
Lords of rhythm, counterpoint, madrigal, jazzy fugue, multi-instrumentalism, inner-piece dynamics, a cappella and chasing vocals, rock-blues (guitar) solos, uncatchable bass lines, folk that’s suddenly twisted into hard rock and then slid into 18th-century baroque, Gentle Giant are not for everyone, inevitably.
Having seen them live helps—a lot: for all their cerebral complexity, they were tremendously engaging, fun, and relaxed—in a word, spectacular. To watch them jump from one instrument to another (I’ll just mention those played by Kerry Minnear in one single night: Hammond and Farfisa organs, acoustic and electric piano, cello, recorder, Fender Stratocaster, bass, Minimoog, accordion, vibraphone, and percussion!) is one of the fondest memories of my career as a passionate concert-goer.
Tracklist
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