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Review: Caravan, Fleece
While researching a book project about the west’s greatest rock shows, I recently came across an interview with a groovy young man named Pye Hastings of happening combo Caravan, which appeared in the Western Daily Press back in 1971. Reflecting on the seriousness that had become endemic in what was then termed ‘underground’ music, he remarked: “I think the market for groups like us is still there, but with more melody and nice arrangements and lots of changes. Good happy music just has to happen.”
He was right. The Canterbury prog veterans have rarely bothered chart compilers. But as musical fads come and go, they’ve retained an enviably loyal fan base over the last 54 – count ’em! – years, the local contingent of which was out in force for this date on the second leg of their covid-delayed It’s None of Your Business tour – titled, with typical Caravan drollness, It’s Still None of Your Business.
These days, founder Hastings is a sprightly 75-year-old whose voice takes a while to warm up during the crowd-pleasing opener Memory Lain, Hugh/Headloss from 1973’s For Girls Who Grow Plump in the Night album. He was never going to feature on any of those Greatest Vocalists of All Time lists and has lost much of his distinctive upper register over the years. But rather than straining for the notes, he wisely stays within his more limited range and seems quite relieved when singing more recent songs from the It’s None of Your Business, Paradise Filter and The Unauthorised Breakfast Item albums.
But that’s pretty much the only way in which the inevitable aging process has affected Caravan, despite all the gags about their advancing years and fading eyesight. Currently celebrating a mere 50 years in the band, multi-instrumentalist and MC Geoffrey Richardson remains the bedrock of their sound. Within the first few songs, he plays violin, flute, guitar and, er, spoons (on Golf Girl). Now 20 years into his second sentence with Caravan, Jan Schelhaas gives it plenty of gorgeous 1970s keyboards as he duels with Richardson. And Hastings’ guitar playing skills are undiminished.
But it’s the relatively youthful rhythm section that really keeps this otherwise septuagenarian incarnation of Caravan on its toes. Not unreasonably, older bands often have a tendency to slow down and coast a bit. There’s no chance of that happening here. Mark Walker, who replaced the late Richard Coughlan nearly a decade ago, still seems positively delighted to be playing with Caravan, the grin never leaving his face. Such is his excitement that he can barely sit still. It’s as though a prankster has sprinkled a box of tacks on his drum stool.
Take That bassist Lee Pomeroy is the latest recruit and plays perfectly in consort with Walker. He may not have appreciably increased Caravan’s negligible teen girl appeal, but Pomeroy, whose prog cred includes stints with Steve Hackett and Rick Wakeman, is a much more propulsive musician than his talented but very different predecessor Jim Leverton, who returned to r’n’b after putting in 25 years of service. This really shows when Caravan go full prog on the likes of For Richard, Nightmare and especially the barnstorming show closer Nine Feet Underground, which has rarely sounded so urgent. Generously, Hastings also cedes Pomeroy the lead vocals on a couple of verses.
As usual, Caravan’s masterpiece In the Land of Grey and Pink – inarguably one of the greatest albums of all time, and the one they were touring back in 1971 – dominates the set, but it’s great to find them finally digging a little deeper to disinter the lovely Winter Wine. Don’t be surprised if they’re still around to celebrate the 60th anniversary that’s already looming on the horizon.
Read more: Metal & Prog Picks: March 2022
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