Eloy: Eloy (1971)
No, of course I couldn’t afford a vintage German pressing copy of this LP on the Philips label, which was distinguished by a dust-bin flap consumers could lift in order to gaze upon the cardboard detritus within ... but I bet my friend Jens has one!
Taking its name from the “Eloi,” a futuristic civilization in H.G. Wells’ 1895 novella, The Time Machine, Eloy, the band, was formed in Hannover, Germany, in 1969, by guitarist Frank Bornemann, just as progressive ideas were sweeping across the country’s music community, eventually to coalesce into the kraut rock movement.
After cycling through a long-forgotten battery of short-term musicians, Bornemann secured the services of Erich Schriever (vocals, keyboards), Manfred Wieczorke (guitar), Wolfgang Stocker (bass), and Helmuth Draht (drums), just in time to rush into the studio and push the record button.
At least that’s how it sounds based on the loose, lawless songwriting approach (arrangements optional), while a generous distribution of credits among the players reinforces my assumption that these songs were born in open jam sessions and presented to the world as not-quite-fully matured “musical teenagers.”
Albeit, rather impressive musical teenagers with a bright future ahead of them ...
Anyway, industrial noises precede the resounding power chords of “Today,” and then we’re off on a meandering, unpredictable, but frequently inspired flight (swinging grooves, poppy “na-na-na-na-nas,” etc.) through progressive rock’s infinite realm of possibilities.
Things only get wilder on the eight-minute “Something Yellow,” which comes to a complete halt numerous times, only to race off again in completely new directions with only the band’s collective urgency to bind things together, before collapsing, exhausted, into a psychedelic wah-wah heap.
And so it goes: Eloy’s eponymous track blends utopian lyrics drawn from Wells’ book with a mid-song drum and conga solo; “Song of a Paranoid Soldier” and “Voice of Revolution” rock as hard as Deep Purple or Uriah Heep (both obvious influences from the heavy metal side of the fence); and the hymnal, organ-led “Isle of Sun” owes everything to Cream.
At last, the curiously named but emphatically riffed “Dillus Roady” delivers the most cogent expression of Eloy’s heavy prog talents (again, largely based on Heep’s example) and serves as a belated (but better late than never) proof-of-concept for the group’s abilities and vision.
And who can blame a band (and why would we want to?), full of youthful piss and vinegar, for trying everything and anything in the studio playroom and promising to clean up their mess later -- especially when their record label, producers, and other “grown-ups” in the building were indulging their wildest impulses?
I certainly won’t ... rock on, Eloy!
p.s. -- The band went on to explore new strains of symphonic and space rock with several line-ups throughout the ‘70s and first half of the ‘80s, before scaling back their activities with a smattering ‘90s and new millennium releases.
More Obscure ‘70s Prog: Beckett’s Beckett, Birth Control’s Operation, Bodkin's Bodkin, A Bolha’s Um Passo à Frente, Clear Blue Sky’s Clear Blue Sky, Crack the Sky’s Crack the Sky, Culpeper’s Orchard’s Culpeper’s Orchard, Focus’ Moving Waves, Frumpy’s Frumpy 2, Fuzzy Duck’s Fuzzy Duck, Goblin’s Profondo Rosso, Gracious’ Gracious!, Hard Meat’s Hard Meat, High Tide's High Tide, Horslips’ The Tain, Jade Warrior’s Jade Warrior, Jericho’s Jericho, Jody Grind’s Far Canal, Kahvas Jute’s Wide Open, Lucifer’s Friend’s … Where the Groupies Killed the Blues, Murphy Blend’s First Loss, Nektar’s A Tab in the Ocean, Osage Tribe’s Arrow Head, Paladin’s Charge!, Patto’s Hold Your Fire, Premiata Forneria Marconi’s Photos of Ghosts, Quiet Sun’s Mainstream, Savage Grace’s 2, Steel Mill’s Green Eyed God, Stray’s Stray, Stray Dog’s Stray Dog, T2's It'll All Work Out in Boomland, Tempest’s Tempest, Toad’s Toad, Van Der Graaf Generator’s Pawn Hearts, Wild Turkey’s Battle Hymn.
