STAINED GLASS STORIES

Although bracketed under the symphonic sub-genre banner, little-known American outfit Cathedral are in actual fact much more Van Der Graaf Generator or Emerson, Lake & Palmer than say Genesis or Yes, though in truth their sound probably falls somewhere in between. Released in 1978, 'Stained Glass Stories' treads a curious path, with a sound characterized by oddly-calibrated guitar riffs, thick, galloping basses and a plethora of keyboards - moogs, synths, mellotrons and electric pianos all appear - which tend to dominate the group's sound. To put it mildly, we are slap bang in the middle of unashamedly full-blown prog-rock territory here, with the emphasis firmly on the progressive, the Cathedral sound edged with a serious and occasionally-mournful art-rock veneer which eschews the playful melodies and emotive streaks found in the very best of the genre whilst simultaneously eroding any 'rock' ingredients, making for a sound that juxtaposes soft, classically-tinged sections with harsh, dissonant passages. It's not an altogether pleasant listen, the group's over-emphatic approach and multiple use of different instruments producing a strangely cluttered effect, whilst the addition of lead-singer and percussionist Paul Seal's odd vocals seems excessively, almost deliberately, off-key. Whilst there's no denying the actual musical abilities of the five Cathedral members - Seal is augmented by Fred Callan(bass), Tom Doncourt(keyboards), Rudy Perrone(guitars) and the strangely-named Mercury Caronia(drums) - the group's overall sound remains condescendingly over-emphatic and simply far too busy for it's own good. This is best summed up in the two longest pieces which bookend the album, with both the ever-shifting 'Introspect' and the final, eleven-minute-plus 'The Opening' overcooked to the point of tedium. A complex, cold and fussy album that borrows heavily from a number of superior British groups, in thend 'Stained Glass Stories' ultimately suffers from a complete lack of emotion, rendering much it's skilfully-played content strangely empty.

STEFAN TURNER, STOKE NEWINGTON, 2012