Procol Harum Grand Hotel (1973)

From musicwaves.org

A lot happened between “Broken Barricades”, their previous studio album released two years earlier, and “Grand Hotel”. The band was left bloodless, a shadow of its former self, falling into an unconvincing hard-rock. Since then, Robin Trower, who was probably cramped in his rhythm guitar suit, left to live his life as a guitar-hero, giving Gary Brooker back his peace of mind and the direction of the band that he should never have shared. As soon as he returned to the helm, Brooker led his band in a concert where he shared the spotlight with a fifty-two piece orchestra and twenty-four backup singers, returning to his classical, or at least orchestral, roots. Strengthened by the success of this experience, he released the same year as “Dark Side Of The Moon” the most accomplished album of his discography. 1973, a year blessed by the gods!

The couple Brooker/Reid is at its best. The compositions are at worst pleasant, at best bewitching. The texts are less dark, less disturbing, even if they evoke serious themes like suicide or illness and that the humour, with which they are sometimes enamelled, is necessarily of a black colour. The piano has regained a predominant role and regales us with a festival of crystalline arpeggios or vigorous chords. It reconnects with the organ in many tasty duet numbers. B.J. Wilson proves, if it was still necessary, what a great drummer he is, giving with finesse what it is necessary to avoid that certain titles get stuck in a too sweet melody. In spite of the predominance of the keyboards, each instrument manages to find its place and knows how to be heard without drowning the others. Finally, the numerous orchestrations allow the compositions to take a magnitude conferring them their letter of nobility.

Each title is a small wonder and would deserve a review. We will retain only three of them. The record starts with the majestic eponymous title, grandiose, precious, romantic, offering a few measures of waltz and knowing how to marry with happiness a refined and classicizing music to a pure rock and stripped of its savagery. ‘For Liquorice John’, written as a tribute to a friend who ended his life, transports us the time of a melancholic and unreal melody in the badly lit and foggy alleys of Sherlock Holmes. No time to recover from the emotion in which we were immersed that the angelic vocals of ‘Fires’ overwhelm us by the deep nostalgia it transmits.

“Grand Hotel” manages to be captivating from beginning to end while remaining very varied, as proven by ‘A Souvenir Of London’ with its banjo and its percussions with a spoon, or ‘Robert’s Box’, smiling rock of the islands. You will have understood it, if you must have only one Procol Harum, it is this one. Still, it would be a shame to stop in such a good way.

Procol Harum Grand Hotel (1973)

From theprogressiveaspect.net

It’s been a busy year so far for Esoteric Recordings. They’ve reissued albums from Curved Air, Chris Squire, Seventh Wave, and Procol Harum. Since reissuing the first four Procol albums three years ago I’ve wanted to see the label release some of the band’s classic ’70s albums, and the Still There’ll Be More anthology box set appeared in March this year, now followed by an expanded edition of Grand Hotel.

Originally released on the Chrysalis label in March 1973, Grand Hotel is considered one of the band’s finest works. The album went to number 4 in Denmark and number 21 on the Billboard album charts, the title-track inspiring Douglas Adams to write The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, the second book in his The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, published in 1980.

After the release of the adventurous live album Procol Harum Live: In Concert with the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra in April 1972, the time was right to take the orchestral vibes a gigantic step further. Grand Hotel was recorded at London’s AIR Studios that same year with Chris Thomas in the production chair, after working with the band on their fourth studio album, Home, released in the summer of 1970, but by September 1972 guitarist Dave Ball had left the band to form Bedlam with his brother Dennis and Cozy Powell on drums.

The album was originally going to be released in October but was delayed until early Spring of 1973, so the decision was taken to scrap about 90% and re-record replacing Ball’s guitar playing. Scheduled gigs were cancelled to allow them to return to AIR in November to undertake more recordings.

Grand Hotel is not just Procol Harum’s masterpiece, it’s an album that is like a flaming fire that will never, ever burn out. Toujours L’Amour (‘Always Love’ in French) is a break-up song with a dark comedic twist, Keith Reid’s lyrics describing a woman leaving her husband to start a new chapter in her life, he comes home to find the house empty and that she has taken their pet cat as well. Gary Brooker’s waltz turned rocking piano intro, B.J. Wilson’s intensive drum work, and Mick Grabham’s guitar delve into the man’s stunned reaction, giving the listener insights as his thoughts of starting a family fly away into the sky.

T.V. Caesar was inspired by the late-night talk show hosts like Johnny Carson, Dick Cavett, and David Frost who almost wanted to hypnotise their guests while talking to them, giving viewers insights on their secret fears, and it is still happening many years later with Jimmy Kimmel, Stephen Colbert, and Jimmy Fallon, to name a few. There are incredible lines describing the host getting details of the celebrity’s private life, the guests not wanting to talk about areas that reveal the skeletons in the closet they’ve hidden for a long time:“T.V. Caesar, Mighty Mouse
Gets the news in every house.
Who’s been doing what with who
How they do it when they do
Every fact, and every sinner
Every fact, and every figure.”

The choir, orchestra, Chris Copping’s incredible organ work, Brooker giving details on what the hosts are doing along with little spoofs of Frost’s “Oooh” vocal characteristics and, reminiscent of The Beatles’ Abbey Road side 2 medley, showing that the hosts have a darker side that they hide behind the mask they wear to please the audience.

The title-track, as I mentioned in the Still There’ll Be More box set review, features waltz piano and Wilson’s drums dancing from a slow to a mid-fast tempo rhythm, followed by the string section and the romantic beauty of the choir in a roaring ‘20s invitation to the Hotel, to dine, drink and spend the night. Bringing Home the Bacon is a song about hamburger joints, through the booming bass and snare drum, the soulful organs, romantic waltz piano, and Alan Cartwright’s bass the band take you on a roller-coaster ride, up, down, and through a spiralling loop.

The haunting beauty of Fires (Which Burnt Brightly) is again a waltz with beautiful vocalisations by Christiane Legrand. Reid’s lyrical context is dystopian in that this once beautiful place is now just piles of rubble and ashes. Legrand’s voice sets some of the background near the end section as the band gives her centre stage to hit the notes perfectly. For Liquorice John tackles the subject of suicide and is dedicated to Gary Brooker’s friend Dave Mundy, one of the early supporters of Procol forerunners The Paramounts. He loved the band, but hated the name and wanted them to change it to ‘Liquorice John and his All Stars’. He took his own life in the early ‘70s. This elegiac song moves through a haunting and mournful piano, Chris Thomas’ production gives an ‘underwater’ sound that makes it ominous and strange. The technology was so ahead of its times to create that surreal beauty.

The five bonus tracks on this reissue contains the raw version of the title track without the choir and the orchestra, plus four of the tracks recorded with Dave Ball during the original sessions. You can hear Dave bring some of the emotions through the mid-section of Toujours L’amour before Grabham delivered the goods on the album version. The raunchy slowed down blues rocker version of Bringing Home the Bacon features the concerto sections, Brooker going to town, getting the listener’s stomach growling for some of those juicy hamburgers to make their mouths watery. Fires (Which Burnt Brightly) is quite similar to the album version, but features a harpsichord that opens the introduction, giving some details of a work-in-progress. Copping’s organ is more exuberant than on the album version.

Now onto the DVD which is a full-length TV appearance that originally appeared on RTBF TV in Belgium on 25^th November 1973, entitled Procol Harum – Face Au Public. Without an orchestra, the band are having an amazing blast, not just hammering the classics, including the sobering sail to death on A Salty Dog, the sing-along of the roaring ‘20s/early ‘30s that Brooker’s clothing designs suggest on the romantic waltz of A Rum Tale, the stormy thunders of Conquistador, and Power Failure, featuring the late great B.J. Wilson’s incredible work on the drums; he doesn’t simply pound but shows his jazz chops, the band giving him centre stage. This song is their moment of fun with added humour, the DVD closing with the folky sing-along march of A Souvenir of London, Gary wearing a coat and hat and playing a six-string banjo. It beats out side 2 of the acoustic side of Led Zeppelin’s third album, the band having a blast, ending with Brooker taking his hat off and saying good bye, just before bassist Alan Cartwright throws his pick to land in Brooker’s hat.

Grand Hotel is not just Procol Harum’s magnum opus, it’s also an album that refuses to die. The 28-page booklet contains liner notes by Procol Harum expert Roland Clare, detailing the history of the album and the DVD. There are photos of their performance at the Hollywood Bowl in 1973, behind-the-scenes at the album cover shoot, and a poster for their performance at the College Park Auditorium, plus the illustrated lyrics.

When you think of albums that came out of 1973, you might think of Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, The Who’s Quadrophenia, David Bowie’s Aladdin Sane, Led Zeppelin’s Houses of the Holy, and Elton John’s Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, but Procol Harum’s Grand Hotel is quite often not included in the list. It has flown under the radar, but after nearly 45 years it’s time to re-open the doors to spend another night at Hotel Grande:“One more toast to greet the morn
The wine and dine have danced till dawn
Where’s my Continental Bride?
We’ll Continental slip and slide
An early morning pinch and bite (These French girls always like to fight)
It’s serenade and Sarabande
The nights we stay at Hotel Grande.”

Procol Harum Grand Hotel (1973)

From starling.rinet.ru

You know, I’m slowly becoming convinced that Gary Brooker is one of the greatest songwriters in the whole art rock genre, even if I still don’t really appreciate his voice. This is their sixth studio album in a row of constant tens, nines and eights. I remember when I first heard it I didn’t like it all – pompous, keyboard-drenched symphonic garbage, I thought, but I’ve been a fool. The album rules mercilessly – I just listened to it four times in a row and couldn’t get enough of it.

Trower’s departure made a significant impact on the sound, and yet they didn’t exactly return to base. New guitarist Mick Grabham is competent but not too prominent on the album; more significant is Chris Copping’s relegation to organ with the addition of a new bass player. This means that keyboards again fully dominate the band, and the sound is deep and full once again, based on piano/organ interplay. But this hardly sounds like Salty Dog or Shine On Brightly.

In fact, if I might permit myself the audacity of inventing the term ‘barocco rock’ (of course, if it hasn’t been invented already – I don’t want to steal anybody’s terminology), this is one of the few, if not the only, rock album in the world that would share the epithet. Everything about it, from the title to the album cover to the lush strings/choirs/piano arrangements, suggests that this is a fine example of barocco art. And I like barocco art.

The ultra-pompous title track says it all, in fact: a beautiful, romantic keyboard intro, grandiose lyrics (‘tonight we sleep on silken sheets’ and suchlike), orchestrated arrangements and quotations from waltzes and ‘Otchi chyornije’ (one of the few well-known Russian gypsy songs, if you’re not familiar). The quotations might seem somewhat banal and out of place, but the melody itself, along the lines of ‘A Salty Dog’ but still somewhat different, is gorgeous – nobody could pull off such pomp and totally get away with it like good old Procol. Everybody knows how hard it is to write a bombastic, orchestrated ode and make it impressive as well. But these guys were really really talented, and Brooker has an amazing talent of dealing with classical music without any special education.

Another fascinating example of baroque classicism on the album is the flabbergastingly great ‘Fires (Which Burn Brightly)’, based on the by now traditionally gloomy Reid lyrics and a heavenly piano phrase. Of course it has nothing to do with rock music, but why should it? We all know rock music as such does not exist, don’t we? Rock songs probably do, but rock albums don’t. And this isn’t a rock song, it’s a beautiful, sad lament highlighted by some generic, but pleasant female background singing. B. J. Wilson also swings out on this one, demonstrating his ample drumming talents, but it’s the keyboard line that really makes the song, as well as the swirling organ in the more “energetic” solo passage..

The rest of the album seems to almost be built around these two principal pillars: none of the other tracks are as grandiose, but most of them are still extremely well written, not always concentrating on the same grandiose style to allow some breathing space, but practically always containing some tasty hooks and nice moods. There’s only one obviously bad tune on the album, in fact – the dorky anti-television pamphlet ‘TV Caesar’; its ugliness doesn’t have as much to do with the straightforward silly lyrics (‘TV Caesar mighty mouse/Shares a bed in every house’) as with the painfully simple and nursery-style melody. It might have been less painful if the horrible refrain weren’t repeated for at least a million times throughout the six-minute long song. I hate the song utterly and deprive the album of the ten for exactly that reason. It’s one of the few examples where Brooker’s combination of ‘high art’ with ‘memorable hooks’ really does the man a disfavour.

But apart from that problem, the album’s reputation is immaculate. There are amusing, lazy shuffles with puzzling pseudo-autobiographical stories (‘A Rum Tale’ – with hilarious lyrics like ‘I’m buying an island, somewhere in the sun/I’ll hide from the natives, live only on rum’), some of them based on prominent sad and majestic piano (‘For Liquorice John’, a song that might seem repetitive to some but is completely redeemed by the subtle melancholic atmosphere so niftily created by these minimalistic piano lines). And if you want to have some reminiscence of why Procol Harum were actually called a ‘rock band’ with all that endless classical piano pop, they include a couple of convincing, er, symph rockers (‘Toujours L’Amour’ and ‘Bringing Home The Bacon’, with the best guitar on the album), that chug along with enough force and power to convince even the most venomous sceptics.

And finally, just so as for you to have some lightweight relief for your soul, there are two obscene ditties on the album, one about veneral diseases (‘A Souvenir Of London’), one about drug smuggling (‘Roberts Box’); the first one was even banned on the radio, although it ain’t that easy to discover what ’em lyrics are about. ‘Got a souvenir in London, gotta hide it from my mom’. That dirty old Keith! The songs are nice.

Thus, please don’t carry on the mistake that some critics and reviewers have made – namely, that Procol lost it entirely with the departure of Trower. It was certainly a big loss for the band (even if some of the fans only thought they’d gained from it, disliking Robin for his pushing the band back to the ‘roots’ on the previous albums), but Trower’s guitar never really lied at the very heart of Procol’s sound, rather serving as a powerful and very useful embellishment. And Trower didn’t carry away even a single bit of the band’s songwriting talents, nor did his departure influence the usual wittiness of Keith Reid’s lyrics. Anyway, chronologically speaking, this might just as well be the last great Procol Harum album. Dang it, how many great albums might one band have? They’ll soon beat out the Stones in the average rating if I keep giving them high marks such as these!