Just be warned, this review in one of the least objective you will find in this issue of Tarkus. A band that has meant such a lot to me as Hatfield can never be treated with cool distance and be evaluated after anything resembling unbiased, reasonable criteria.

How can I ever in a fairly balanced way explain to a poor reader that I get tears in my eyes reading that drum wizard Pip Pyle is no longer among us, How can I render the joyous feeling of hearing a precise and utterly cpmpetent band present old classics, un-recorded songs and improvisations in various concert settings at the beginning of the seventies. Is it possible not to be nostalgic and think back on the recording of “Koralrevens klagesang” and Richard Sinclair’s wonderful voice. Is it possible to reproduce in words how loose and informal the band always sounds, and that they with the greatest simplicity navigate in a musical territory full of odd rhythms, weird harmonies, but also beautiful melodies? How can a poor reviewer manage to describe such a unique synthesis of the complexity of prog, the harmonies of jazz and the melodies of pop with words?

Is it even possible to reproduce the funny anecdotes and the memories we get to share through the writings in the booklet? Is it really possible to avoid being seduced by Richard Sinclair’s fantastic voice and fundamental bass playing, Pip Pyle’s driving and creative drum work, Phil Miller’s slightly twisted and magical guitar sound, and not least Dave Stewart’s extremely competent keyboard work?

I don’t think it is possible for me to describe to you, dear reader, my serious plans to construct a time machine which will enable me to go back to 1973, somewhere in Europe, for example to a small club in France, where I can see those four guys delight a small, but enthusiastic public. No, I give up.

© 2007 Tarkus Magazine

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