Proto-Kaw
Before Became After

We are in the early '70s. A group of young men has a dream. They pour their hearts out, play everywhere, and try to stand out with their idea in a super crowded musical landscape. But between them and the future is that elusive record deal, that glory, that success denied to them. What to do? Each has their own life, family, relationships, a job. The disappointment is immense. They return to normal life. But one of them, the most stubborn, refuses to give up. He continues, and with other fellow travelers, carries on the project. Someone notices them, and thus the Kansas are born, an unforgettable and unforgettable band in the heyday of progressive rock's most brilliant and prolific period. The year was 2004. That young man from back then, the one who made it, understands that those friends from the past, who in the meantime never stopped loving that music and playing in basements, still mean a lot to him. Kerry Livgren has become a successful musician and wants to let those boys, whom he left thirty years earlier because he was determined to become someone, savor it too. He regards them as Proto-Kaw, or the pre-Kansas, in full right.

And here what should have happened back then takes place. A record is born that stops time and turns back the calendar and clock hands. Certainly, however, it cannot recycle the repertoire of that time: it would be anachronistic and already heard. What to offer? Their sound, made up of what the American prog movement and surroundings (especially early Dream Theater, but there's a bit of everything in the mix) have offered us in recent decades. With a touch of Kansas, naturally. Beyond easy comparisons, their music contains plenty of good rock; call it AOR, pump, hard, but the result does not change. And then there's him, John Bolton, who makes the difference. Omnipresent, all-powerful. A saxophonist with a clear jazz-like approach and a "decorative" flautist, with some parts that smell a lot like Jethro Tull. In this role, he replaces Don Montre, a member of the original lineup who is absent, having passed away prematurely.

The group of paunchy, graying fifty-year-olds knows how to do it, capable of giving points to many young hopefuls who today fill the musical landscape. Listen to the final track Theophany to believe it; it's the apotheosis, the summation of the entire repertoire and is served to us like the classic cherry on the cake. And here it all is: to load the mix even more, let's also throw in another ingredient, add some Journey for a good flavor. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful! Especially because the "before" pleases us so much in this era of so many disappointing "afters".