Second-generation English progressive rock representatives, Gryphon formed in the environment of the Royal College Of Music in London and in 1974, after just two years of activity, released their third album, "Red Queen To Gryphon Three", unanimously considered their masterpiece. The lineup at the time consisted of the traditional drummer (David Oberlé), bassist (Philip Nestor), and guitarist (Graeme Taylor), and two wind players, flutist Richard Harvey (today a renowned soundtrack composer) and bassoonist Brian Gulland, who both played an additional wind instrument, the crumhorn, a curved horn typical of the Renaissance.

It is their boundless love for medieval and Renaissance music that distinguishes the group and the work in question: it embraces the legacy of the best progressive rock of the previous five years and takes it to extremes, offering four long instrumental tracks lasting over thirty-eight minutes of music, where modernity (for the period) jazz-rock, medieval and Renaissance folklore, and hints of classical music sometimes alternate and at other times combine.
It is an undoubtedly ambitious work, formally very admirable; overall, it is a well-constructed piece, without lacking moments of particular charm, but in the long run, it turns out to be verbose, daring, a bit pretentious in its continuous search for juxtapositions between different eras and styles. This is immediately apparent in the first track, Opening Move: a solemn introduction like Genesis, classically themed piano, symphonies, Crimson-esque progressions for distorted bass and guitar, and a lively wind interlude serving as a divider, after which the piano theme and electric progressions are repeated for the remainder of the composition with the addition of other instruments and hallucinatory sound effects. Similarly, the effervescent medieval dance that opens Second Spasm gives way to acrobatics worthy of Gentle Giant, then makes space for bizarre interplays between winds and later a march where electronic and classical instruments intertwine (the lesson of Genesis is still evident); thereafter the first two acts are revisited with the usual addition of instruments.
The impression so far is that the group overflows with ideas and solutions, but the album leaves one rather perplexed in terms of emotional spontaneity and earns admiration rather for the musicians’ technical preparation. It is therefore no coincidence that the most reasonable and thus best track is the third, Lament: ten minutes of prog splendor, opened by an ethereal modern acoustic guitar melody upon which flute and bassoon first alter naturally, then, when the chords change, delicate and mellifluous electric guitar arpeggios take over; followed by calm but dark musings, which then transform into free-jazz deliriums interspersed with classical guitar arpeggios (evident in this case is the influence of King Crimson); the initial theme closes, replayed by the keyboards and then again by the acoustic guitar, over which the piano and flute gradually dissolve. Finally, Checkmate is a presumptuous display of means, even more convoluted and intricate, a hodgepodge of heterogeneous sound sequences technically very well structured but ideologically very free-form: again, the sensation is that our heroes aimed to impress with skill and talent rather than to move emotionally.

"Red Queen To Gryphon Three" is definitely recommended to progressive rock enthusiasts. The rest of the audience will probably be divided between admiration for the authors’ technical abilities and doubts about its actual substantive value. The Lament is still one of the most beautiful pieces of English prog and is worth an extra point. For the rest, the verdict is yours.

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