Soft Machine
Third

The Soft Machine surprised me.

They surprised me when I still didn't understand a blessed thing about music and was convinced that Pink Floyd were the only ones capable of giving me emotions through sounds. They surprised me when I heard them for the first time, when I bought that "Jet-Propelled Photographs," among the very first documents of their undisputed skill. Their story moved me, their vicissitudes between England and France in those musically and culturally fertile years. I was struck by that soft drum touch, that continuous progress towards unknown galaxies, that faint and subdued yet enchanting voice, that unprecedented foray into free-jazz meanders, that powerful bass pulse, that experimental quest so well accomplished.

I also began to search, to understand deeply what the hell was happening, what devil was operating there in Canterbury: I learned with immense pleasure that they were not only friends of Pink Floyd, but even of Hendrix; I learned with immense dismay that in June '74 misfortune struck that undisputed genius Robert Wyatt, paralyzing his legs and limiting his complete use of the drums as well as his contribution, albeit majestic, to the music from then on.

Returning to the beginnings, the original nucleus of the Soft Machine included among the most original musicians of the century, such as Daevid Allen, Kevin Ayers, Mike Ratledge, and the already mentioned Wyatt, who devised a blend nothing short of perfect of psychedelia, jazz, pataphysical surrealism, rock, and improvisation, leaving aside that slight pop detectable in the early recordings already from the second album and placing themselves, according to critics, between Zappa and Monk.

But we know it's difficult for many artists to coexist in a band without disputes, and a certain internal dichotomy is already evident in "Volume Two," where the jazz-rock taken too seriously by Ratledge almost clashes with Wyatt's psychodadaism; nonetheless, this second record approaches the masterpiece, remaining a step below the first.
How to overcome this? How to prevent such an ambitious project from being ruined by spirits with such different stimuli? And here is the stroke of genius! Just like Pink Floyd on Ummagumma's Studio Album, the Soft Machine also choose to entrust a side of the new album to each member, free to express their creativity.

Thus "Third" is born, a superb monument of experimental music and the entire art of the Twentieth century, a swan herald of a sudden dawn, a rainbow framing an autumn sunset, a blazing comet in boundless skies.

Difficult to conceive, difficult to achieve, difficult to comment on.

Three sides more beautiful than the other, giving space to the most unthinkable cosmic digressions, a grandiloquent synthesis of the "electric" neo-jazz of Miles Davis and the experimental minimalism of Terry Riley, with evident influences of Carr and Tippett, the crème of jazz.

In "Facelift", it's Hugh Hopper who gives the start, with his fuzz-bass and Elton Dean's free-style horns breaking in after about five minutes, in short, you start to freak out in the purest and most abstract free-jazz, without boundaries. Apocalyptic.

Melody and rhythm alternate in "Slightly All The Time", entrusted to Ratledge, where time accelerates and decelerates, and first the flute solo and the jazzy refinement on the hi-hats by Wyatt and then a new sax and bass theme demonstrate complete mastery as well as an exceedingly peculiar sonic research of the band.

"Out-bloody-rageous", always by Ratledge, is a perfect synthesis of the group (synthesis, heaven knows, we're still talking about a 19-minute piece!), it begins and concludes in perfect minimalist style, and the horns on the sound fabric of bass and piano, as well as the assertive progress of Sir Wyatt's drums, create one of the most intense and enveloping atmospheres that music has ever given to the human psyche.

These three works, concentrated on a single record, alone would be enough to elevate the Soft Machine and "Third" in particular to the peaks of modern, contemporary, and experimental music, without envying classical works or jazz commonly understood.
But there was a serpent that the master as well as genius and sublime Artist and Sir Robert Wyatt had been nurturing in his belly since 1967: he wanted to be the maker of a magnum opus, something that could remain within the canons of art for the centuries to come, something for which it would be right to coin the adjectives SUPERLATIVE, SENSATIONAL, ASTOUNDING, STRATOSPHERIC, UNPARALLELED, and everything that can start with S: to make it short, gentlemen, in three words: "MOON IN JUNE"!

And here, believe me, there is nothing more exciting, more complete, more beautiful!!!

In the already mentioned "Jet-propelled photographs", it is possible to hear an outline of 2.29 minutes, which already foreshadows what immense talent this man possesses, both for his skills as a drummer first and (unfortunately) percussionist later, and for his voice that pervades you like a howl, subtle, soft, magical expression of a concrete and abstract art, praise of chaos and madness, essence of being and the human condition.

I might seem drunk (and a bit, in fact, I am) but believe me, I have never heard anything similar and more thrilling, because this music enters the guts and transports me ethereal into all the space occupiable by my person!!!
Damn, it's 19.08 minutes of pure ecstasy, of total upheaval, of complete reverie! It's an adventure, what is more beautiful than venturing into unknown and unimaginable zones?
Robert Wyatt thus achieves his most noble intent, making us travel in the cosmos along with his improvisation, with his incredible ability to upset us, to guide us to the most desired state of the human soul, that is, relaxing still, perhaps lying on a soft mattress, contemplating everything and nothing, free, exalted, crazy.

Friends, companions, brothers, with an original brandy stock bottled in Trieste and MOON IN JUNE in the heart (just a moment, I'm going to the bathroom) you will succeed in realizing yourselves!
Here, if there is a Big Bang in music, this is Moon In June!