Procol Harum
The Well's on Fire

I urgently need a new obituary... the founding fathers of classic rock are passing away one by one and, in this very month of February, just ten days after the departure of Ian McDonald, co-founder of King Crimson, last Saturday another of my heroes passed away, namely Gary Brooker, the singer, pianist, composer, co-founder of Procol Harum: seventy-six years old, and the fatality of cancer for him too, like McDonald.

Therefore, I choose to celebrate him by penning a few lines about this 2003 work, perhaps the best from Procol since the heroic times of the first six albums, 1967-1971. Gary sings as well as ever, brings some excellent songs of dazzling compositional quality, stretches things with respectable fillers; but above all, he makes peace on this occasion with his historic organist Matthew Fisher, and this is decisive: the elegant Hammond style of the old friend-enemy, the particular timbre and touch, both nothing less than sumptuous and effortlessly recognizable, are the big cherry on top of this record that sees the reunion of the two keyboardists as hadn't happened since 1969, during the time of the third album “A Salty Dog.”

“An Old English Dream” at the opening is not very interesting in the verses, but it manages to rise in tone in the chorus, beautifully lyrical. “Shadow Boxed,” a rhythmic but bland rock, is one of the fillers. “A Robe of Silk” holds the trademark, even if not thrilling: right from the start with only drums, with that characteristic Brookerian harmonic progression, even down to the poetic title (featuring Keith Reid in action, their lyricist and fully-fledged group member, which happened, as far as I recall, only for them and for Pete Sinfield's King Crimson).

“The Blink of An Eye” is an anonymous slow piece, with only a dusting of Procol Harum's melodic stigmata, which fails to remove the mannerist trappings from the composition. Surely Brooker at his age (here, 58 years) hasn’t lost an ounce of power and excellent range in his delivery: a great vocalist. “The Vip Room,” which follows in contrast, enjoys an excellent piano-guitar riff, as well as robust, tense, and passionate singing, even boasting a fierce slide guitar solo worthy of Rory Gallagher: one of the best.

“The Question” offers the rarity of the electric piano, an instrument Brooker has courteously ignored almost throughout his career. The piece is a predictable but graceful rhythm & blues, with simple and gentle jazz chord breaks from both the boss and lieutenant Fisher. “The World Is Rich” is the little masterpiece due to a sequence of brilliant and refined chords. The piece takes a while to get off the ground due to a murmured prelude in chorus, but then the singing melody is sumptuous, so strange above those unusual chords... So much, so much class.

“Fellow Travellers” says nothing, the melody doesn’t “cut through” and recalls something already done or heard in the past, and the arrangement dares nothing. Conversely, “Wall Street Blues” makes a great figure, thanks to a nice decisive piano+guitar riff: it’s a warm and American-like rock blues, mid-tempo, canonical if you want but perfectly arranged, performed, and constructed. Incidentally (who cares?... sure) I chose it as the ringtone for my Xaomi. It makes a nice contrast with the following “The Emperor’s New Clothes” which is very progressive, starting with only piano and voice and then developing very romantically and rhapsodically.

The last three things on the album are an ironic funky rock (in Procol’s manner... very... gentlemanly) varied with guitar wah-wah, titled “So Far Behind,” then the fiery rock blues “Every Dog Will Have His Day” in which Brooker allows himself to... howl honoring the title, and finally Matthew Fisher’s instrumental contribution, a failed attempt to rejuvenate the glory of “Repent Walpurgis” and “Whiter Shade of Pale,” two of the unforgettable masterpieces from the first 1967 album. Its title is even more abstruse than those: "Weisselklenzenacht," which I attempt to immediately translate as “White Night of Klenze” (?! Bavarian architect of the 1700s).

Thanks for everything to the mustached, later bearded, now deceased Gary Brooker, a great man. Many of his songs, and many of his piano lines, are in the history of rock, but particularly in my heart, saddened by these departures of great people who dedicated their lives to making many people feel better, myself included. I thereby rush to revise my Procol Harum discography, which in my collection never gathers dust anyway. Now that Brooker is no longer with us, listening to him will be an experience with a different flavor, a pinch more melancholy.