The Best Non-‘Epic’ Song by 10 Classic Prog Rock Bands
Here’s the very best non-“epic” tune (lasting fewer than 10 minutes) from 10 traditional prog rock bands!
Last month, Loudwire dove into the very best “epic” tune by 10 traditional prog rock bands, throughout which we confirmed like to the best 10-plus minute compositions from mainstays equivalent to Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, Rush and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Considering that the type is understood for having tunes that may final upwards of 10, 20, and even 40 minutes, it was no straightforward job!
Now, it’s time to take a look at among the top-tier style tracks that don’t exceed 10 minutes from among the identical teams (and a few new ones)!
READ MORE: The 10 Best Emo-Prog Bands of All Time
That’s to not say that every thing we’ve chosen is transient; the truth is, a handful of those items (be they apparent picks or hidden gems) nonetheless go for over 8 minutes, whereas one barely reaches the 3-minute mark! Also, among the acts under prolong into different musical territories – specifically, artwork rock, progressive pop and jazz fusion – but they’re inarguably rooted in progressive rock as effectively.
In any case, every observe embodies its respective artist’s superlative stability of economical runtime, wonderful songwriting and elaborate preparations!
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The Best Non-‘Epic’ Song by 10 Classic Prog Rock Bands
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Gentle Giant, “Cogs in Cogs”
Known for his or her notably intricate and unusual makes use of of polyphony and counterpoint (each instrumentally and vocally), Gentle Giant aren’t fairly as extensively celebrated as English friends equivalent to Yes, Genesis and Pink Floyd.
However, in relation to sheer dexterity and quirkiness, they is likely to be the very best of the bunch. The surprisingly quick “Cogs in Cogs” from 1974’s politically-charged The Power and the Glory simply affords the strongest mixture of the quintet’s many distinctive traits.
It erupts like a colourful puzzle, with Ray Shulman’s melodic bassline captivatingly juxtaposing keyboardist Kerry Minnear’s peculiar timbres and John Weathers’ regular percussion. From there, the devices proceed to run parallel and perpendicular to one another with eccentric however stylish brilliance; in the meantime, singer Derek Shulman belts out a few of his most mighty and interesting hooks, culminating in Gentle Giant’s trademark intersecting vocal patterns (which undoubtedly impressed successors equivalent to Neal Morse, Haken, Beardfish and Echolyn).<br />
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Jethro Tull, “Aqualung”
It’s tempting to keep away from the plain selection in favor of, say, “The Whistler,” “Minstrel in the Gallery,” “Wond’ring Aloud” or “Nothing To Say”. But, when push involves shove, it’s Jethro Tull’s three-part signature tune (“Aqualung”) that has to get the nod because it represents their transition into turning into the prog-folk ensemble and it nonetheless encapsulates almost every thing that made them so extraordinary.
The eponymous opener to the band’s groundbreaking – and not totally conceptual – 1971 LP, “Aqualung” examines the troubles of the homeless and is bookended by probably the most well-known riffs in rock.
Frontman Ian Anderson’s descriptive verses and the remainder of the music are equally gravely, if not bordering on early metallic heaviness. It’s the ingenious contrasts between these coarse endcaps, the bittersweet acoustic sections and the virtuosic central jam (full with an ideal guitar solo from the criminally underappreciated Martin Barre), although, that enable “Aqualung” to endure as a forward-thinking opus.
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Camel, “First Light”
As Camel’s 1975 instrumental opus, The Snow Goose, demonstrates, the vast majority of their soothingly dramatic Canterbury-esque magic comes from their preparations fairly than their vocals. (That’s not a knock towards frontman/guitarist Andrew Latimer, in fact, as his voice matches the music very effectively.) No different composition symbolizes that as splendidly as this introduction to 1977’s Rain Dances, which marked the debuts of ex-Caravan singer/bassist Richard Sinclair and ex-King Crimson saxophonist Mel Collins.
It begins as a blissfully jazzy cosmic voyage led by bouncy rhythms, acoustic strums, peaceable flutes and most significantly, magnetic keyboard-and-guitar motifs. About midway by, nonetheless, Camel tastefully transfer right into a extra subtly unsettling house, with chilling sound results and eerie spaciness constructing to a panoramic interruption from Collins as he and Latimer shut “Rain Dances” with haunting sentimental dysfunction.
It’s completely magnificent.
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King Crimson, “Epitaph”
Over half a century after it arrived, “21st Century Schizoid Man” (from 1969’s In the Court of the Crimson King) stays the quintessential progressive rock entry level. That stated, if we’re speaking about King Crimson’s debatably underappreciated knack for excellent songwriting, we have now to go together with this morose masterpiece from the identical album.
Influenced by the desolation of the Cold War, it kicks off with heavenly despair due to its use of downtrodden acoustic guitar arpeggios and lusciously divine mellotron swirls. Those elements – amongst others, equivalent to clarinet and timpani – evolve all through the journey with out dropping their poignant punch; but, it’s Greg Lake’s powerfully tender outcries that mesmerize with heartbreaking conviction.
Specifically, poetic strains equivalent to “If we make it, we can all sit back and laugh / But I fear tomorrow, I’ll be crying” and “The fate of all mankind, I see / Is in the hands of fools” hit simply as exhausting right now, cementing “Epitaph” a suffocatingly stunning however devastating cautionary story.
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Kansas, “Carry On Wayward Son”
Given its repeated appearances on traditional rock radio (and in quite a few films, TV reveals and video video games), “Carry On Wayward Son” – which isn’t a sequel to “The Pinnacle” from 1975’s Masque, regardless of what folks say – probably wants no introduction. That’s exactly why it’s right here, although. Beyond flawlessly capturing Kansas’ experience at merging style complexity and industrial accessibility, it’s been a serious doorway into progressive rock for beforehand uninitiated listeners for over 45 years.
Penned close to the tip of the writing periods for 1976’s Leftoverture, “Carry On Wayward Son” got here to guitarist Kerry Livgren like a divine nudge of “self-encouragement.” Its optimistic lyrics, enthusiastic singing (courtesy of keyboardist Seve Walsh) and radiant harmonies are an enormous a part of why its equally significant to Kansas’ followers.
Plus, each novice guitarist learns the primary riff, and the methods by which it seamlessly ties collectively its core construction with loads of refined deviations is downright unimaginable.
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Genesis, “Dancing With the Moonlight Knight”
If “The Cinema Show” was only a minute shorter, it’d be right here as a substitute, however it’s too prolonged to qualify so we’re going with a tune from the identical album (1973’s Selling England By the Pound). In phrases of personifying Genesis’ unmatched countryside Englishness, there’s nearly no higher choice, as “Dancing With the Moonlight Knight” fuses the group’s characteristically elegiac songwriting and madcap musicianship into a completely consultant deal with.
Its mushy starting is sublimely pastoral, with Peter Gabriel’s vivid and pressing storytelling gliding on prime of colourful accentuations and rural pianowork and acoustic fingerpicking. That comforting section quickly transforms into an imaginatively hectic and engrossing wave of sinister and playful actions as solely Genesis may create, with each member getting a second or two to shine as they shuffle masterfully between opposing temperaments.
As for its ethereal coda, effectively, it’s the majestically ghostly icing on the cake.
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Yes, “Roundabout”
Another staple of traditional rock radio (and, for no matter cause, “to be continued” fail memes), “Roundabout” is unquestionably Yes’ hottest observe and their best non-“epic” one. Its origin lies in singer Jon Anderson and guitarist Steve Howe joking about seeing “so many roundabouts” whereas touring. Because of how addictively and sleekly it balances catchy-as-hell melodies with crowd-pleasing (however nonetheless intricate) preparations, it’s an irresistibly adventurous and cohesive prog rock mainstay.
Aside from its legendary opening and joyful verses, “Roundabout” soars as a result of energetic bass taking part in and high-pitched backing harmonies of the late Chris Squire. Throughout, Bill Bruford spices issues up with resourceful (however not overly showy) syncopation, too, and naturally, Rick Wakeman peppers in fashionable textures earlier than allotting one of many best keyboard solos of all time.
Simultaneously serene and volcanic, “Roundabout” is a masterclass in prog rock synergy and an simple spotlight of 1971’s constantly exceptional Fragile.
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Pink Floyd, “Comfortably Numb”
Honestly, 1979’s The Wall – which is principally tied with 1973’s The Dark Side of the Moon as Pink Floyd’s largest file – barely homes any prog rock traits. (Instead, it prioritizes artwork rock, exhausting rock, progressive pop and even touches of disco.) Nevertheless, the quartet have been clearly a prog/psych rock band previous to it, so it’s honest recreation for this checklist, and third single “Comfortably Numb” is the final word instance of their affective craftsmanship and the essential chemistry of vocalist/bassist Roger Waters and vocalist/guitarist David Gilmour.
Centered round protagonist Pink’s emotional detachments and self-reflections, “Comfortably Numb” is subtly harrowing and deceptively stress-free.
The key to its affect is the distinction between Waters’ scientific verses and Gilmour’s brightly symphonic choruses. In addition to their overt musical variations, the previous’s manifestation of chilly maturity and the latter’s dreamy manifestation of childhood makes for a really intelligent juxtaposition.
Naturally, it culminates in Gilmour’s iconic closing solo, whose each tormented observe embodies Pink’s psychological ache, fortifying “Comfortably Numb” as an exquisitely disturbing triumph.
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Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, “Andy”
There’s no denying that Frank Zappa’s work was so eclectic and distinctive that, cumulatively, it’s just about unclassifiable. In different phrases, he’s a style unto himself, with a catalog that spans doo-wop, comedy/satire rock, pop, avant-garde, jazz fusion and Stravinsky-inspired classical (to call however a number of classes). Lots of his stuff approached progressive rock, too, and we will consider no higher summation of his various vary than “Andy” from 1975’s One Size Fits All.
In reality, it unfolds like a scrumptious casserole of musical concepts, kinds and timbres that might take a number of paragraphs to completely discover. Suffice it to say, then, that its mix of heat orchestration, radiate rock instrumentation, endlessly hooky melodies, quirky singing, intimidating rhythms and comical lyrics (“Is there anything good inside of you? / If there is, I really wanna know”) is completely mind-boggling.
Like a lot of his work, “Andy” is a creation that just about everybody can like however nobody can play, and it completely exemplifies Zappa’s distinctive and unquestionable genius.
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Supertramp, “Crime of the Century”
Admittedly, Supertramp are greatest identified for his or her lighter and/or extra mainstream artwork rock/progressive pop materials (“Dreamer,” “The Logical Song,” “Give a Little Bit,” ‘Breakfast in America,” “Goodbye Stranger,” etc.) All that stuff is great – don’t get us unsuitable – however they’ve additionally obtained various darker and trickier necessities up their sleeve, with the title observe to 1974’s Crime of the Century being the superlative one (subsequent to the marginally too lengthy for this checklist “A Fool’s Overture,” that’s.)
Written and carried out by Rick Davies (fairly than the arguably extra recognizable Roger Hodgson), its delicately distressed association and powerfully tender singing make the primary half irresistibly transferring and dynamic.
However, it’s the latter half’s evolution into arresting heartache that seals the deal, with probably the most chillingly lonely piano chord progressions you’ll ever hear complemented by a gradual inflow of gorgeously gloomy strings, horns and percussion.
It’s intoxicatingly haunting and unforgettable, with a faint callback to album opener “School” on the finish for added continuity and that means.
