If there was a year when prog reached its nadir of unfashionability, 1996 was it. Britpop was riding the zeitgeist, while the rock scene was still under the lingering influence of grunge, keeping rock on the straight and rather too narrow for music lovers with a penchant for something more expansive. Not that anybody had told Pendragon. As this reissue of the Gloucestershire proggers’ fifth album The Masquerade Overture – now replete with gatefold vinyl packaging with leather effect finish, plus Simon Williams’s intriguing artwork presented on card sleeve inserts – reminds us, there were some UK acts keeping the home fires burning very effectively.
Not that the uninitiated would have realised at the time from the airplay, industry support and media coverage – or lack of it. The neo-prog movement of the early 80s that originally spawned Pendragon was a distant memory, with even Marillion struggling after parting company with EMI. But over in Stroud, singer-guitarist Nick Barrett and keyboard maestro Clive Nolan had found fresh impetus, making records on their own label Toff, and enjoying enough success to not just survive but expand their fanbase by touring across Europe. The Masquerade Overture would go on to sell over 90,000 copies, making them one of the era’s biggest independent prog acts.
It was the result of Pendragon moving away from the keyboard-heavy soft rock sound they’d dabbled with in the late 80s and returning to their first love: long-form compositions, conceptual narratives and colourful, fantasy-leaning imagery. It didn’t hurt that Barrett seemed to be a late bloomer as a songwriter, with 1991’s The World and 1993’s The Window Of Life cementing a strong new identity. But it was this 1996 release that would come to compete with its successor in their catalogue, 2001 release Not Of This World, as a fan favourite.
Any newcomers to the band’s music won’t take long to understand this record’s cherished status, as alluring melodic flourishes and emotive hooks beckon the listener into the first third of the album. The title track introduces the central concept, touching on how music can allow a social outsider to create new identities, explore fantasies and open up new worlds for themselves and their listeners. The foreshadowing of musical figures that will feature later are dripped into this introductory piece, before a full-blown operatic choir offers grandiose promises of what’s to come. One to turn up loud. As Good As Gold follows, with Barrett sensing, ‘I open my eyes and look up to the skies and I dream… dream that a new life will be born.’ Nolan’s synth flourishes sound like trumpet fanfares and the guitar lines whizz overhead like a Red Arrows display.
Nonetheless, a struggle against the odds is evidently in store as we’re told the protagonist is ‘fighting the laws of gravity’. Equally stirring is the more plaintive picture created by Paintbox: ‘I paint the path I want to take and paint a life of fire,’ our hero sings, as if referring to his own determination to go the artist’s way.
While the primary musical textures recall classic prog – from fizzing, florid synth decoration to skyscraping fretwork redolent of Gilmour, Latimer and Rothery – they are employed with sufficient skill to avoid sounding derivative. Meanwhile, there’s always room for less conventional sounds, such as the penny whistle that accompanies The Pursuit Of Excellence and its romantic vision of previous generations sailing to America to pursue their own dreams.
Inevitably, there are stormy narrative waters to navigate, as found in the latter parts of Guardian Of My Soul, where ‘The demons wake while the mannequin sleeps/And I pray the Lord my soul to keep,’ and we find ‘The Whore Of Babylon waiting in a doorway/To mug you and your pride.’ There’s light at the end of that tunnel, though, as Masters Of Illusion ends the original album with a defiant statement: ‘I’m the master of illusion, a master of disguise/and you won’t fear the world anymore…’
The first of two bonus tracks on this reissue is the seven-minute Schizo, another anthemic affair. ‘Mindblown and schizo, that’s where we are,’ goes the chorus. ‘Climbing hills and popping the pills, has it come this far?’ Gospel-ish backing vocals ease the uncertainty before Barrett drifts away onto the horizon of a yearning guitar solo. It’s followed by King Of The Castle, whose chorus is drawn from the climactic sections of The Shadow on the original LP. Yet here it works as an exploration around that focal point, accompanied by elegant strings and acoustic guitars.
The fact that it’s reprising a key passage from earlier in the set also ensures the whole affair retains a sense of the story coming to a natural Long may he roam.
