Against Doctor's Orders

You should have friends like mine! My buddy Stanley flew in from New Zealand last week, and he's staying with us in our not terribly big eastside apartment. We haven't seen each other since he moved to the Antipodes over a year ago.

Stanley emigrated for a bunch of reasons, but largely because he thinks New Zealand might be one of the last relatively safe places left. He makes a good argument, but this isn't the time or place.

We make an odd pair. He's a doctor, and frighteningly smart, whereas I make my living bullshitting about stuff that doesn't matter. It really shouldn't work, but Stanley seems to get a kick out of a sideline interesting of mine; bullshitting about stuff that I reckon does matter. In this week's episode, he listened to me jaw endlessly about the possibility of two Oswalds. But again, this isn't the time or place.

Turning the tables

Two nights ago, Stanley came home from his adventures in the city and announced, "I did something silly." Then he took me to the underground garage, opened the trunk of his rental car, and introduced me to my brand new and extremely expensive Cambridge Audio Azur 540A integrated amp, and Rega P2 turntable (bear with me, this isn't a plug -- the names will become relevant soon).

"Think of it as a belated wedding gift," he began, "and let's face it, money will probably be worthless in a few years, so why hang on to it? Besides, I know how much you love music, and your current stereo situation is appalling."

He's right about that; I've been gouging my vinyl to death with a 30-year-old Pioneer turntable patched to an even older Sansui amp that I found for 25 bucks. And don't even ask how I listen to CDs.

"The CD player will arrive on Friday," added Stanley. "It has to be shipped in."

Shipped in!! I ran my finger along the edge of the Rega P2 box.

"P2 is the name of the criminal Masonic organization that quite possibly ordered the murder of Pope John Paul I," I sniffed, through tears of gratitude. Stanley smiled and nodded.

The cost of love

Stanley's largesse is the culmination of a decade-long strategy designed to make me listen to the third Yes album, a.k.a. The Yes Album (as opposed to the first one, which was just called Yes. I know, I know -- I don't care either). It's been sitting on my shelf like a turd on a dinner plate ever since Stanley put it there 10 years ago.

Anyway, I listened to it finally, on a system that would actually do some justice to all its utterly pointless and wretched virtuosity, and maybe -- maybe -- I even got the point. I can at least report that I enjoyed The Yes Album on some level -- probably the wrong level, but what the hey! -- and I now intend to listen to all the Peter Gabriel-era Genesis albums that Stanley has been slipping into my collection over the years, too. If I'm drunk, I might even give that Gentle Giant LP a spin.

In the spirit of this thing we call prog rock, my tale has been windy, overlong and technically precise (hence the hand-wringing over album titles). But to quote my dear friend Elaine Corden, whose last column here was a masterpiece, "Oh yes, you'd like something to listen to..." So here's Bend Sinister, a local five-piece who brought their own charming neo-prog to the Cobalt a few years back and actually got away with it. I've been meaning to give them a nod since the release of a new EP last month. The track "Time Breaks Down" is more Supertramp than Emerson Lake and Palmer (or Yes); I'm just gonna say I think that's a good thing, and leave it at that. Enjoy!

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