CAMEL: “Air Born – The MCA & Decca Years 1973 – 1984”

What does it sound like?:

Here we have yet another comprehensive boxset, this time of ‘The MCA and Decca Years 73-84’ in Camel’s back catalogue. For the vast majority of those with an interest, this will safely encompass the period when the band caught their attention. That certainly includes me. I can’t comment on the ‘lavish illustrated book with essays and a poster’, let alone the 5 BluRay CDs that weren’t available to review, but that still leaves a whopping 27 discs in which to wallow.

This is made up of 10 discs of the original studio albums, from their eponymous debut through to Stationary Traveller. Straight away, I am wondering who this is for. Anyone with the inclination to shell out £177 for a boxset, is going to be in deep with the band, and is likely to have several of these albums already, so offering the dedicated fan to own duplicate copies without a hint (yet) of a remaster seems odd.

There’s a few demos, single versions and bonus tracks, each tacked onto the contemporary studio albums, which makes sense, as there’s precious few of them, so those extras would barely have made up a CD of their own. What appears to be missing is A Live Record but, not so. It is found among the 13 discs of OGWT, BBC In Concerts, ‘Live in the Studio’ recordings and actual live gigs. This actually makes sense, as that double live was odd in that its timespan was of three distinct tours from three different years.

That leaves four discs of ‘New Stereo Mixes’ by Stephen W Tayler, of ‘four of the band’s most iconic albums’. Well of course, any right-thinking Afterworder will bridle at the thought that any band could have produced quite so many albums deemed ‘iconic’, but I go further than that. I don’t even think they’re the best four Camel albums. So maybe I should state my history with the band, so that you can judge whether you trust my judgment.

Camel were actually one of the first bands I saw live, as a teenager, and the show left a long and favourable impression on me. I have plenty of these early albums on vinyl and, when the time came to re-purchase on CD, Camel were one of those bands where I was happy to repurchase.

The debut album now feels atypical, betraying their bluesier origins, and I have to say that it was definitely not iconic. Nonetheless, some consistent themes were already present – a tight rhythm section in Andy Ward and Doug Ferguson, an inclination towards high tempo instrumental blowouts and virtuosic performances from both Pete Bardens and Andy Latimer, whose command of guitar might obscure that he was no slacker on the flute either. Within a year, the follow up Mirage had consolidated all these, but then salted the flavour with their first venture into ‘concept’ territory, and the prog die had been cast. The evidence from the live recordings in 1974 is that they were firing on all four, well able to carry an audience with them through the endless riffing and changes of pace.

I hardly need explain that by 1973, rock music had escaped the shackles of conventional song and, indeed, singers. It would be fair to say that Andy Latimer’s singing is not what you carry home with you at the end of a Camel gig. It is often found well back in the mix and, you suspect, it was good news that the band hit their stride when the record companies were no longer demanding a hit single with a catchy vocal. To quote the prog rock book title, ‘The Music’s all that Matters’; Camel fitted well into the times. Their next move consolidated that and took them to another level.

Concept album? Check. Live performance with an orchestra? Check. At the Royal Albert Hall? Why the hell not? At least they didn’t perform it on ice. The Snow Goose established Camel in the prog rock firmament and that is amply evident in the response of the audiences to the various live recordings peppered through the boxset. I begrudgingly concede that it might even be iconic. But I’m not that wild about it; when those retrospective CD purchases came around, it was the one album I didn’t bother with, being satisfied with the version on A Live Record. The music felt constrained by the need to follow the narrative, and, while there are some characteristic flights of fancy, many of the pieces were unusually short for the band, and to me, that felt like it held back the music from wilder development. But what do I know?

Well, I do know that I love the string of albums that came next. Apparently Moonmadness did have some concept behind it, with four of the tracks reflecting in some way the members of the band, though still through the lens of Pete Bardens and Andy Latimer doing all the writing – Fragile, this ain’t. Again, instrumentals like Chord Changes are to the fore; even where there are lyrics (Song Within a Song), they are secondary to the arrangements that drive. For me it was a relief that fewer tracks meant longer tracks and a chance for the music to develop, none more so than with Lunar Sea, an episodic piece structured to build and display the band to their best advantage. Slick changes of time signature, jazzy interludes, vaulting soloing; it’s all there but, what matters, it’s done well. This became their calling chord with every live performance; they had made clear what Camel were for, what they were about.

Line-up stability came to an end with the departure of Doug Ferguson, but, hell, did the band turn a negative into a positive. They did far more than just find a replacement; they persuaded Richard Sinclair to join. Not only did they get a bassist who could join them in a jazzier direction, but they now had a proper voice too. Then, to boot, they got Mel Collins on board, and they were flying. For me, this is the definitive, the dream Camel line up; all five members bringing considerable gifts to the party. But first, Rain Dances. There’s familiarity in set pieces that are still predominantly instrumental. First Light builds gently as the title suggests it should, before the sax rents the fabric and the band storm off at a pace. They always delighted in the excitement of a fast lead out, but the new boys give it a sense of propulsion and sheer brilliance. Then straight into Metrognome, and they do it all over again, only here we get our first treat of Sinclair’s rich, deep voice, before a handbrake turn in the music sends them all racing off in 5-time beneath soaring guitar. Now’s the time to say it. The ever present delight of Camel is that Andy Latimer is one of the most fluid, melodic guitarists in the business. The licks aren’t there to show off or to impress; they’re for lifting the heart, and they do. Track after track, he finds some new way to grace the world; on Unevensong, the pay off is layer after layer of Andy, harmonising with himself, and what sets it all apart is that it is utterly joyous. But Camel was not Andy’s vehicle; in every regard, but most noticeably in the writing, it was a partnership. Pete Bardens’ keyboards were central. If he wished, he could do the fireworks, but his strength was in textures and in anchoring the sound of the band, playing as key a role as Rick Wright did in Floyd. This matters, as we will discover.

If they were shining in the studio, live they were on top form. A Live Record gave us some examples of this edition of the band but, truth be told, the sample could have been better. Two discs in this set come from the Rain Dances tour, recorded at Hammy Odeon. Everything is tight and vital; the arrangements are familiar, yet depart sufficiently to keep you on the edge of your concert seat. You’re there. The set list essentially consists in a sample from The Snow Goose, pretty much all of Rain Dances, plus the ever-dependable Never Let Go and Lunar Sea. There’s also Sing Within a Song off Moonmadness, massively enhanced by Sinclair taking on vocal responsibilities. It really is very good and I can say it was a delight to get to that stage of the review. In fact, over the last few weeks, I have listened to more versions of Lunar Sea than you might think possible, and I don’t tire of it; it’s a magnificent thing. If they were superchefs, this would be their signature dish. But, boy, it’s as if Pete and Andy composed it knowing that Mel and Richard would join the band, because it really takes flight with this incarnation.

Breathless is a worthy sibling to Rain Dances, though Richards’ vocals are peppered more liberally, even where the songs themselves still find their souls in the instrumental passages, witness Echoes. That said, in a rare departure from the Latimer/Bardens credits, Sinclair brings some Caravanesque humour to his own song, Down on the Farm. Back on Rain Dances, Tell Me may have been the first time that the lyrics and the vocals took centre stage; that wouldn’t have happened without Richard Sinclair at the mic. His moment comes again on Breathless with Summer Lightning. As a baritone myself, I do appreciate being able to sing along to Sinclair-era Camel! The vocals are gorgeous, but so too is the musical direction; half the track is an extended Latimer wigout, Andy at his most expansive and expressive.

All good things, etc etc. For whatever reason, Bardens parted company after Breathless, which brought us to I Can See Your House From Here. This was 1979. For context, the previous year, Genesis had brought out And Then There Were Three, while Gentle Giant had been a Giant for a Day. Prior to that, Wakeman’s cascading keyboards and Anderson’s inimitable lyrics had somehow been fitted into a single format and found number 7 in the charts. Everyone was at it. Was it a loss of faith in the prog format? Was it a post-punk chastening? Was it industry pressure or, who knows? maybe they all genuinely wanted to head in that direction. ICSYHFH didn’t just see the departure of Bardens, flattered by the need to replace him with two keyboard players; Sinclair and Collins were gone too, leaving just faithful Andy Ward still holding it all together at the back. His songwriting partner gone, writing credits are more diverse; it’s a lighter, poppier sound, not all bad by any means, but an era had passed. No disrespect to Kit Watkins, Jan Schelhaas or even my beloved Anthony Phillips, but the Latimer / Bardens synergy had gone. I find nothing to fire me up in the next three studio offerings, iconic or otherwise, but what really closes it down is the live performance. The new five-piece were recorded in 1981 for the BBC In Concert series. Andy is still emoting beautifully on the fretboard, but the keyboards jar. Elsewhere the band have gone backwards vocally, missing Richard already. Heaven forfend, the once-wondrous Summer Lightning is sullied by, I can hardly bring myself to type it, a vocoder. Frankly, it’s a travesty.

It would be a shame to go off on a sour note, and there’s no need. We finally get to those four iconic albums, remixed by Stephen W Tayler. In fact there’s five, as they squeeze both the debut and Mirage onto one disc. Can you tell the difference? I believe you can. There’s a lightness to be heard, without it being shiny. They are a pleasure to listen to. What I wonder is whether Mr Tayler has more up his sleeve, as there is more material ‘Remastered 2023’ knocking around. Has he got Rain Dances and Breathless waiting for some future occasion? Will this material ever be available individually, or forever is it to be restricted to those faithful enough to fork out for boxsets where I guarantee many of the discs will be played only once. It seems a shame to bury treasure.

What does it all *mean*?

To borrow a phrase, ‘Super Deluxe Boxsets are God’s way of telling you that you have too much money.’ One could argue that, at an average of around a fiver per disc, this is an absolute bargain, but any economists reading this will recognise that the law of diminishing returns is bound to kick in. But don’t let me leave you with the idea that this was a slog to get through. There’s some new riches in here – the 77 live performances, the remixes.

Goes well with…

four of their albums, separately re-issed on vinyl apparently. A reproduction system good enough to allow you hear the subtle improvements in the mix.

Release Date:

24th November. £177 from RecordStore, amongst others.

Might suit people who like…

pushing back against the notion of keeping everything on ‘the cloud’; empty nesters who now enjoy the luxury of the departed kids’ bedrooms providing ample storage space.

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