Author: Peter Podbrežnik
Artist: Van Der Graaf Generator
Label: EMI Records
Release: 1970
Length: 46:32
Rating: 5/5
With their third album, “H To He, Who Am The Only One”, Van Der Graaf Generator finally and for all eternity etched their names among the greatest innovators in the history of British progressive rock, and made one of the best records of their turbulent career. Believe it or not, their excellent second album, “The Least We Can Do Is Wave To Each Other (1970), which shook up the prog world with an incredible mix of unbridled brutality and epic beauty, delivered through poetic visions of a dark, apocalyptic future, was only the warm-up for their greatest creative triumphs. The first of those is definitely this revolutionary album, a true masterpiece of darkly conceived progressive rock, made just a few months after its superb predecessor, which shows the incredible workaholism, energy and wealth of musical ideas of Messrs. Hammill, Banton, Jackson and Evans. These peculiar musical oddballs and visionaries, unique masters of their craft, seriously threatened King Crimson’s claim to the throne as the most exciting, experimental and dark prog rock band of the year with this album (interestingly, King Crimson also put out two phenomenal albums in quick succession that same year). King Crimson will come up several more times in this review, because the album has no shortage of ties to that apocalyptic “crimsonoid” spirit.
“H” is the album where their classic four-piece lineup finally took shape, one that, among other things, left the bass guitar out of its ranks, since it had become almost entirely unnecessary for their apocalyptic experiments. Their bassist up to that point, Nic Potter, lent his services on just three tracks, while after his departure he was replaced by keyboardist Hugh Banton on bass pedals, which he hid under his keyboards. This absence of bass guitar became one of the defining trademarks of the Van Der Graaf sound, along with the standard absence of electric guitar, which was usually replaced very effectively by David Jackson’s saxophone. Jackson often stuck two saxophones in his mouth at once (alto and tenor), which definitely put him among the biggest woodwind oddballs of the time. Guy Evans, undoubtedly one of the best jazz/rock drummers in prog rock, really shines in full light on this album and shows off some of the most fiery as well as most complex moments of his career; he especially stands out on timpani. Singer Peter Hammill, the undisputed genius and soul of the band and one of the best and most unique singers and poets in the history of progressive rock, occasionally picked up the acoustic guitar here (until he learned, more or less, to play electric too). Hammill, very interestingly, also invited his friend to help out on “The Emperor In His War-Room”, none other than the “father” of progressive rock, Robert Fripp (King Crimson), who played his instantly recognizable guitar solo on electric guitar.
Mixing VDGG and King Crimson elements is without a doubt a deal made in heaven (or, even more fittingly, in hell), a perfect instrumental apocalypse and the fulfillment of every prog fanatic’s dreams (this was only the beginning of the collaboration between Fripp and the band, which would peak with the next album). But that’s still far from the best moment of the album. “H” is packed with so many varied goodies and rich instrumental/vocal expression that my heart always skips a beat when I hear how effectively the band built sprawling bridges of mood between musical heaven and hell. Hammill’s instantly recognizable, poetic singing here is, in my opinion, one of the best of his career, at least when it comes to the harmonious alternation between low, brutal and high, clean registers. Through them he delivers, with great effect, his mostly apocalyptic, socially critical lyrics (these usually take aim at institutions and other harmful achievements of Western civilization). Banton evidently knocked on the gates of hell at that time to come up with such a demonic sound for his organs, while Jackson truly became the Van Gogh of his craft on saxophones and flute. The combination of Banton and Jackson is, in my opinion, the main key to the wicked essence that surrounds most of the songs on the album, though there’s no shortage of exceptionally beautiful, spirit-lifting moments either. As for how Evans manages to create so much rhythmic variety and such a vivid wealth of percussion, I’d struggle to find an answer. Broadly, I’d describe “H” as an apocalyptic mix of complex, mostly symphonic epics with numerous jazz improvisations and unique vocal drama, with the mood constantly shifting from majestic to wicked, all of it seasoned with Hammill’s apocalyptic, also quite sci-fi lyrics, which have always been very interesting to me, since some of them even proved prophetic over a certain span of time. Apart from one ballad, it’s all epic and highly complex pieces that instantly knock the unprepared listener off their feet with their incredible energy, and where you can discover something new with every listen.
The opening “Killer”, with its killing, anthemic main motif (which more than effectively stands in for a guitar riff), pulls us straight into the apocalypse. It’s incredible to hear how tastefully Jackson’s saxophone and the hellish layer of Banton’s organs intertwine in this motif. When Hammill’s brutal-sarcastic vocal jumps in, sounding here not just mocking but almost wicked, you really get the feeling the listener has ended up in the middle of a hellish pit. It’s interesting how the piano and acoustic guitar now and then calm the electrified, malevolent mood of the composition a little. Even though the hellish organ passages and the other parts swap places at breathtaking speed, the band keeps the melodic main motif present the whole time. The brutal chorus, with Hammill screaming as if some killer were really chasing him, can easily chill the blood in your veins. At one point an extremely interesting passage follows, with a crazy jazz improvisation, where we witness a true instrumental cataclysm on drums, bass, piano and saxophone. Jackson’s passages, and above all his saxophone improvisations, are what, alongside Hammill’s menacing singing, bring a touch of complete madness and paranoia to the piece. They manage to keep the melodic main motif nicely intact the whole time and bring it back to the front at just the right moments, although of course the obligatory madhouse on piano and organs follows in the end.
After the apocalypse comes a moment of total release of tension, in the form of the gorgeous symphonic ballad “House With No Door”, which rests on tasteful arrangements of Banton’s piano and very good contributions from Jackson’s flute. Peter’s vocal this time is almost unusually melodic and clean. Interestingly, when Hammill sings clean, in higher registers and without his “choleric” outbursts, his voice even sounds a bit like David Bowie (some of the vocal lines in the chorus might even be the highest of his entire career). The chorus is exceptionally beautiful and melancholic. Peter’s vocal expresses incredible longing and easily enchants the listener with its remarkable expressive power. The real symphonic treat, though, is the closing, extremely melodic arrangements on piano and Jackson’s flute, which count among the most enchanting moments in the band’s story. With this gorgeous ballad, VDGG prove how quickly and incredibly effectively they can shift the listener from hell to heaven and back through changes of mood.
“The Emperor in His War Room” is one of Hammill’s best poetic science-fiction/socially critical experiments and at the same time one of the most majestic symphonic moments on the album. It’s split into two sections, “The Emperor” and “The Room”. In the latter, the band is joined by the aforementioned special guest Fripp (if I may wax a little spiritual – a true musical dictator, tailor-made for a song about a dictator) on electric guitar. The ice-cold, Eastern-tinged opening motif on flute, organs, timpani and acoustic guitar shakes the listener right away with its dreadful atmosphere. In between, energetic passages on organs and drums start trading places, occasionally joined by Hammill’s furious vocal expression (where he tries to step into the role of an imaginary tyrant ruler), which reaches its peak in an epic chorus with vocal harmonies and an excellent symphonic arrangement. The central motif on flute and piano really paints a picture of a lonely tyrant. In my opinion, the listener can easily imagine some futuristic emperor. Personally, I usually think of the one from Star Wars, sitting and cackling on his throne while he picks which planet to destroy through the glass of his space station. Maybe the association sparked by the surname Hammill is partly to blame, I don’t know. In the second part, “The Room”, an incredibly turbulent passage kicks in, triggered by excellent instrumental interplay and a symphonic chorus with harmonies that sends shivers down your spine every time. Hammill again and again “slashes his veins” with his vocal performance; only the greatest masters of their craft are capable of such vocal expression, and Peter undoubtedly belongs among them. Then comes an exceptionally tasteful, instrumentally focused section, which is one of the biggest treats of the album. Here Fripp barges in on electric guitar with his instantly recognizable solo (it’s a bit reminiscent of the one from the famous King Crimson instrumental “Sailor’s Tale”). His solo layers beautifully over the machine-gun fire of drums and organs. Then that cold, spacey-oriental motif returns, as Hammill finally suffers his “nervous breakdown” and announces the downfall of decadent civilizations under the emperor’s fist. The ending, ironically, is exceptionally beautiful and serene.
“Lost”, which is likewise split into two sections, “The Dance in Sand and Sea” and “The Dance in Frost” (representing two extremes of one whole, interconnected epic), is yet another of the album’s epic highlights, with very good choruses. It’s opened by a motif on saxophone that’s almost, dare I say, “sick”, after which a bouncing rhythm kicks in on drums. Jackson’s saxophone madness, along with Hammill’s once again phenomenal vocal, which this time is up front and mostly geared toward high, epic registers (though he never runs out of anger), are the main attraction of this composition. The rhythm line is again extremely schizoid in nature and combined very effectively with the hellish sound of the organs. The majestic choruses are often followed by killer, hellish instrumental outbursts on drums, saxophone, organs and bass guitar (Potter showed one of his best moments here before leaving). The composition hangs the whole time on that thin line between genius and madness, which is more or less a constant of their sound. The instrumental madness is followed by a half-calm, relatively epic part, where Hammill steps in with a melancholic vocal and sings what is almost a dirge. An interesting saxophone improvisation joins in, along with a marching rhythm. A jazz-tinged instrumental section follows, built on calm interplay between saxophone and organs. But this calm is again followed by a veritable instrumental cataclysm, announcing the second section of the composition. Here the brutal motif returns, along with an epic chorus with a vocal that “slashes veins”. “Lost” really does sometimes sound like an icy pit in which demons dance at the bottom of Dante’s hell. I’d struggle to quickly think of another one of their creations that sounds more sinister than some of the improvisations on this excellent epic.
“Pioneers Over C.” is, in my opinion, the peak of Hammill’s science-fiction poetry. The lyrics are about the first astronauts to test the speed of light, but whose journey didn’t end well, since, due to the laws of physics (according to Hammill), they disintegrated in space and time and became some kind of disembodied ghosts, somewhere between life and death and completely alone in the depths of space. Besides being the most complex piece on the album, it’s also, in my opinion, the best one on it, since the band here pretty much demonstrates all of its experimental potential on the individual instruments to the fullest. The song opens with a strange effect, after which comes a rhythmic build-up on Banton’s bass pedal and Hammill’s mysterious, watchful vocal. Suddenly the gloomy mood lifts, majestic organs burst in, and a triumphant Hammill vocal follows, again sounding very poetic and telling the story of the unfortunate astronauts in a highly dramatic way. The composition has no shortage of juicy instrumental sweets. The majestic, epic choruses are often followed by an exchange of jazzy passages and interesting acoustic interludes (very solid use of acoustic guitar). Especially worth pointing out is an extremely interesting motif that repeats several times and sounds like a kind of apocalyptic march, laid over saxophone, organs and Hammill’s almost paranoid vocal. The psychedelic-tinged part on organs is interesting too, as are some of the saxophone improvisations, which sound almost mocking. In the second half the mood calms down considerably, a kind of lull sets in, and a very beautiful part on acoustic guitar arrives, joined by the clean, gentle tone of Hammill’s voice. It doesn’t last long, and in the very next moment comes Jackson’s completely unhinged saxophone improvisation, which sounds as if water had flooded into the bell of his horn. This is again followed by an instrumental, wound-up-to-the-max madhouse on piano, numerous psychedelic sounds and stormy passages on drums. Hammill’s vocal once again becomes mysterious and paranoid. The ending is excellent, since that central, signature motif repeats once more and is capped off by deliberately high-pitched vocal avant-gardism. For the grand finale there’s the obligatory, Zappa-tinged jazz improvisation on saxophone, which ends with the drone of an electronic effect on the keyboards.
“H To He, Who Am The Only One” is, in my opinion, one of the brightest jewels in the history of progressive rock and definitely among the four, if not three, best achievements in the band’s history, a band that up to then had shown incredible progress with every album compared to the one before. On release, the album was a great treat for everyone looking for fitting rivals to the then-“kings” of highly eclectic progressive rock, King Crimson (Genesis were only warming up, Yes were right on the verge of a sound change, ELP had only just appeared, Jethro Tull were still playing hard rock, Gentle Giant likewise, and Pink Floyd were still quite psychedelic and had yet to invent their recognizable sound). “H” was also a huge inspiration for some lesser-known prog rock bands, especially in Italy, where they knew how to appreciate VDGG’s work the most. The album still sounds incredibly fresh today and is a must for all fans of classic progressive rock built on darker notes and for admirers of unbridled experimentalism (including some of the more avant-garde leanings). At the same time, I have to add that this is a masterpiece that’s definitely not for every listener, especially not for some delicate souls who, instead of thinking for themselves, would rather let one trend or another lead them by the hand. In other words, something that “sharp-tongued doctor” Hammill and his band always sharply warned against. After the release of “H”, VDGG would by no means rest on their laurels, but would do something astonishing with their next album – they would not only take another creative step forward, but create their greatest masterpiece, which would at the same time be the peak of their creative output and one of the most magnificent triumphs in the history of progressive rock.
Line-up
Peter Hammill – vocals, acoustic guitar, piano (3)
Hugh Banton – organs, oscillator, piano, bass pedal (2,5), backing vocals
Guy Evans – drums, timpani, percussion
David Jackson – saxophone, flute, backing vocals
GUEST MUSICIANS:
Nic Potter – bass guitar (1,3,4)
Robert Fripp (King Crimson) – electric guitar (3)
Production
John Anthony
Track list
1. Killer (8:07)
2. House With No Door (6:03)
3. The Emperor In His War-Room (9:04)
a) The Emperor
b) The Room
4. Lost (11:13)
a) The Dance In Sand And Sea
b) The Dance In The Frost
5. Pioneers Over C. (12:05)
Bonus tracks from the 2005 reissue:
6. Squid 1 / Squid 2 / Octopus (15:24)
7. The Emperor in his War-Room (first version) (8:50)
