One can count very few progressive American bands ever rising to the level of their popular U.K. counterparts. Kansas and Styx immediately come to mind, but there are a whole host of bands like Starcastle and even lesser-known ones like Yezda or Urfa who only achieved what is affectionately known as ‘cult status.’ One of these American progressive bands that indeed remains wonderfully cultish, still working today, is Crack The Sky.
Although it should be noted, that the band’s first three albums did chart in Billboard’s Top 200 and Rolling Stone (yes, great hater of all things prog) named Crack The Sky’s self-titled first album, “debut album of the year,” when it was first released in 1975, I’m not sure how many of the prog faithful have even heard Crack The Sky.
The jumpy staccato heaviness of opener “Hold On” into the double guitar riffing of the funky “Surf City” grabs the listener, even if the lyric to the latter is silly. It’s evident from the jump that this band has lots to say in their intricate playing, even among tongue-in-cheek moments.
Bandleader John Palumbo’s halting piano gets us into the story-song of “Sea Epic” next, reminding me of both Queen when the guitars open up, and Procol Harum’s “Salty Dog” with its strings and the subject matter. The harmonies and production of “Sea Epic” make it the first great song of the nine on Crack The Sky, the tune even managing to get positivity jaunty midway. It’s a wonderful change of direction dead center of the tune, Crack sounding like lots of poppy 70s bands of the time.
Change of direction, riffing across various styles of music, this is what Crack The Sky manages so well throughout this eclectic mix and lands them well into progressive rock territory. “She’s a Dancer” is just straight-ahead chunky rock and roll, once again showcasing this band’s harmonies, and their ability to change up their sound and approach, hints of “Lola,” the classic tune from The Kinks, abound. It’s interesting to note that Michael Brecker, his brother Randy, and David Sanborn all play horns in the jazzy bridge on “She’s a Dancer,” as they do later on this album.
We are onto the odd piano ballad, “Robots For Ronnie.” Strings slice through about halfway, while Palumbo throws forth probably his most heartfelt vocal here. The chorus manages over a stuttering beat, tight harmony “ahhs” feeding under a lyric about loneliness and where one might find solace. Things get all-together goofy, dancehall-like slow swinging during the bridge, but overall, “Robots For Ronnie” is a creepy look at modern parenting, a nightmare portrait of youth in the future, and a parody of 1970s piano pop. The fact that it touches on potentially serious issues just makes the song more satirical, while Palumbo slips in several ‘winks’ to let us know he’s having a bit of fun. The dazzling, sentimental piano intro and melodramatic vocal are our first clues. Then, as the lyrics get sillier, a string quartet and chorus try to pull our emotions in the opposite direction, the musical mockery building throughout the track.
The best musical satirists (and there aren’t many of them, I’ve tried the form myself to stunningly weak degree) are excellent musicians and composers, with guys like Frank Zappa, Randy Newman, Weird Al Yankovitz and the Christine Lavin-led Four Bitchin’ Babes some of the best. This weird little song shows that Palumbo really knew what he was doing in regard to wry commentary. He actually still knows what he’s doing, as the band’s brilliant more recent releases make clear.
Single electric guitar riffing, snapping snare, and quickly strummed acoustic get us up and running on “Ice,” the following song on Crack The Sky. There’s the occasional break for bass and drum solo snippets, distinctive electric guitar pedal effects coming to the fore that were so popular way back when, placing this one firmly in the time it was made. The big jam halfway has Joe Macre’s bass up front in the mix, then a middle instrumental section sees guitars and strings fight it out.
A chunky bass and electric power chord get us into the staccato groove of “Mind Baby.” The layering of harmonies in the chorus serves us well from the slightly claustrophobic verse stomp. Still, by the time the second verse comes in, the bleat of horns lifts the proceedings from what could have been just a simple rock tune into something coming close to Chicago’s early mix of rock and horn interplay. Things take off for a long lead guitar jam at the tail end of the song and once again we have be treated to a heady crackin’ brew from these crack-ers.
“I Don’t Have a Tie” features kinetic piano playing as Palumbo rolls out an equally quick vocal delivery. Here again, we are into rock satire with the line of the chorus, “I don’t have a tie to wear to your affair,” cluing us into the stab at present culture the narrator is referring to. Rick Witkowski and Jim Griffiths wail a good game even more on the end of this one.
At this point, as it is apparent throughout the album, one is obviously in the hands of a stellar songwriter with John Palumbo. What begins as an acoustic ballad set up for the last tune, “Sleep” tricks the listener. Just as you snuggle into Palumbo and his plucked acoustic, D’Amico comes in with a slightly off-center beat, acoustic strumming replaces the picking, and we are into a long lament about the nature of when and why we slumber, which seems to be a metaphor for life in general. Again, rich harmonies from John Macre, D’Amico, and Griffiths make the tune as we get turned around with guitar leads and flute to end Crack The Sky in solid form.
You are really missing something if you have yet to hear this record or Crack The Sky in general. I would urge all progressive music fans to submerge time-worn prejudice that prog-rock can only come from the U.K. and look to America, round West Virginia way, for what John Palumbo and his players manage on this debut and are still managing. And celebrate Rolling Stone getting something right. God knows, it doesn’t happen all that often.
~ Ralph Greco, Jr.
