This week, Chaz Charles and Doctor Glund grab hold of one of Colosseum’s strangest musical excursions…
Rope Ladder to the Moon.
Written by Jack Bruce and Pete Brown, the song begins as something almost folk-like and becomes, in Colosseum’s hands, a sprawling psychedelic jazz-rock playground of vibraphone, Hammond, saxophones, guitar, bass and Jon Hiseman apparently deciding that conventional song structure is merely a suggestion.
And then they hear it live.
Rope Ladder to the Moon — Colosseum
One song.
Several decades.
Almost no rules.
Chaz and the Doctor trace the song from Jack Bruce’s restrained original through Colosseum’s studio treatment, the magnificent 1971 Colosseum Live performance, and the reunited band’s radically different 1994 version.
Along the way:
The Doctor’s diagnosis?
“Well-constructed self-indulgence.”
The highest possible compliment.
Jack Bruce – “Rope Ladder to the Moon”
→ The original blueprint.
→ Shorter, quieter and almost coffeehouse folk.
→ Colosseum apparently heard it and thought: Needs another six minutes.
Colosseum – “Rope Ladder to the Moon”
→ The Grass Is Greener.
→ Colosseum Live.
→ The 1994 reunion.
→ Same song. Completely different animals.
Then somebody discovers another rope.
Brian Auger & Julie Driscoll
→ “Rope Ladder to the Moon.”
→ “Indian Rope Man.”
→ “The Flesh Failures (Let the Sunshine In).”
→ “Season of the Witch.”
→ Hammond-heavy British jazz-rock opens another enormous rabbit hole.
And suddenly Chaz discovers Julie Driscoll—her unusual phrasing, precise enunciation, soulful delivery and what the Doctor can only describe as her “science-fiction voice.”
Naturally, this eventually leads to Driscoll sharing a stage with Chris Farlowe.
The predicted mushroom cloud follows.
Administer one “Rope Ladder to the Moon.”
For maximum effectiveness, compare:
Recommended accompaniment:
A proper hi-fi.
A questionable beverage.
Enough uninterrupted time for Jon Hiseman to finish whatever the hell he’s doing.
Possible side effects include:
Buying a vibraphone.
Developing an unhealthy interest in Brian Auger.
Hearing Julie Driscoll’s voice in science-fiction movies that do not actually contain Julie Driscoll.
And discovering that nine-and-a-half minutes of well-constructed self-indulgence may not be nearly enough.
The Glundian tests are passed on all counts.
The Blade of Judgment remains sheathed.
Let’s go grab a visky.
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