Of Queues and Cures is one of the last and finest examples of the instrumental Canterbury sound on record during the 1970s. This somewhat sweeping claim for
National Health's second album is made not only because of the complexity and quirkiness heard throughout, but because of the presence -- quite rare in the years to follow -- of fuzz organ, here played by
Dave Stewart prior to his departure from the group and the return of the arguably jazzier and less fuzz-inclined
Alan Gowen as sole keyboardist. Aficionados know that the fuzz organ, as played by
Stewart in this band and his preceding
Hatfield and the North,
Caravan's
Dave Sinclair, and of course
Soft Machine's
Mike Ratledge, was central to the Canterbury sound, and although
Ratledge was the groundbreaker,
Stewart really pushed the envelope on this one.
Phil Miller's "Dreams Wide Awake" calms down in its midsection, but it begins with one of the most crazed organ solos put to wax by anybody, Canterbury or not. "
Phil made the mistake of asking me to go a bit mad on the organ solo at the beginning of the number,"
Stewart commented with characteristic Brit understatement in the liners. And "a bit mad" it is indeed, as
Stewart begins his solo -- over a rocking vamp from guitarist
Miller, bassist
John Greaves, and drummer
Pip Pyle -- with the burning tone typical of the style but escalates the mayhem and transforms the organ into a roaring, screaming beast, upping the ante on
Keith Emerson during his organ-stabbing days with
the Nice.
Elsewhere, the politeness factor of
Hatfield and the North and earlier
National Health is roughed up by newcomer
Greaves, formerly of
Henry Cow.
Greaves' vocals are less polished than those of
the Hatfields'
Richard Sinclair -- and certainly less lovely than
Amanda Parsons' soprano -- not trying quite so hard to "make it sound nice" (as
Sinclair sang on
the Hatfields' debut).
Greaves croons (as he is credited) through the skewering of TV addicts during
Pyle's "Binoculars," a tune that could be applied to smartphones and video games today. "The Collapso" -- a joke on "calypso," ha ha -- is crammed full of changeups apparently designed to thwart attempts at dancing, and features steel drums from guest
Selwyn Baptiste, as well as the sound of
Pyle breaking glass from a greenhouse during an interlude sounding suspiciously close to the beginning of
Stravinsky's "Ebony Concerto." In "Squarer for Maud,"
Stewart seems provoked by a brief spoken word interjection from the erudite
Peter Blegvad to get down and dirty on acoustic piano, followed by more of that quintessential organ fuzz on an extended segment leading to a multiple-explosive finale. And the entire album is given a suite-like feel by the bookended themes of "The Bryden 2-Step," more scalar and less tuneful than "Tenemos Roads" from
National Health but given added power from its layered buildup and the presence of cellist
Georgie Born. ~ Dave Lynch