Those Who Are About To Dive with Dr. Glund

THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…Still reeling from whatever unholy concoction was coursing through the water pipe, your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, lock onto a true centerpiece of the Valentyne Suite era and refuse—physically, spiritually, and rhythmically—to let go.This week’s mission:“Elegy” — ColosseumA track that doesn’t ask for your attention…It demands your full neurological participation.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:“Elegy” — ColosseumIdentified immediately as a signature Colosseum statement, this is where the band’s hybrid DNA—blues, jazz, and sheer bloody-minded force—fully ignites.What follows is a multi-version deep dive:Studio version — tight, relentless, deceptively compactU.S. mix — cleaner, drums forward, even more punishingBBC 1969 session — faster, rawer, brushes in motion1994 reunion performance — expanded, heavier, swagger engagedUnder examination:Jon Hiseman delivering a performance that borders on percussive overachievement (in the best way)James Litherland writing a “guitar piece” that largely abandons guitarDick Heckstall-Smith weaving lines that refuse to sit stillA band functioning as a single, many-limbed organismVerdict:This is not a composition.This is a system under load… holding together beautifully.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (ABANDON HOPE):Because no episode is complete without veering into adjacent greatness:Free — The Paul Kossoff StudyThe Hunter→ Blues minimalism with teeth; every note lands with intentThe Mover→ Forward motion, groove-led, Kossoff riding the pocketJust for the Box→ Texture and restraint; space used as an instrumentMolten Gold→ Slow-burn immersion; tone as atmosphereAll roads lead to:Paul Kossoff —a masterclass in feel, phrasing, and knowing exactly when not to play.HIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAY:A full breakdown of why “too much drumming” is not a real problemThe realization that “Elegy” works at multiple tempos and still dominatesComparative philosophy:Kossoff → say less, mean moreColosseum → say everything, make it swingArms physically tiring from air-drumming along with HisemanThe band unanimously declared incapable of producing a weak momentPRESCRIPTION:Take one dose of “Elegy” in all available forms:StudioBBCReunionSupplement with controlled exposure to Free for balance.Repeat until:You develop opinions about drum mix levelsYou begin explaining vibrato technique to civiliansOr you accept that feel and complexity are not opposites—they are weaponsAvoid operating heavy machinery unless it is a Hammond organ.Here’s to Kossoff, here’s to Hiseman……and here’s to a track that refuses to sit still.Here's lookin' at ya Clay Cole...let's go have a 'viskey.

THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…After a brief and medically questionable hiatus, your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, return—slightly battered, mildly reflective, but fully operational—to resume their sacred excavation of Colosseum.The Doctor has seen things. Felt things. Lost a friend. Gained perspective. Worn the hat.And yet… the pipe is lit, the commandments remain intact, and the mission continues.This week’s descent takes us into the second album—Valentyne Suite—and straight into a track that has baffled, delighted, and ultimately revealed itself to be about something far more serious than anyone realized…Tea.Or rather… the catastrophic absence of it.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:“The Kettle” — ColosseumAt first glance: cryptic lyrics, swirling instrumentation, and a vocal performance that critics once dared to question.But under the Glundian lens?This becomes a full-blown existential crisis centered on one immutable truth:The kettle is dry.What unfolds is equal parts musical appreciation and lyrical detective work:Jon Hiseman’s drumming: precise, explosive, and fully in commandGuitar tone dripping with late-60s authority (wah-wah certified)A leaner, horn-less arrangement that flirts dangerously with power trio territoryVocals vindicated in real time against the crimes of past criticismAnd finally, the breakthrough:This is not abstract poetry.This is not surrealism.This is a man…who cannot get a proper cup of tea.Verdict:A groove-heavy, deceptively complex track that passes the Glundian tests—and reveals that British cultural stakes are far higher than previously documented.DIGRESSION ZONE (STEAM RELEASE VALVE):Because no kettle boils in isolation:Ginger Baker – “TUSA” (with Masters of Reality)→ Proof that tea is, in fact, a recurring thematic obsession→ Spoken-word madness meets thunderous groove→ Possibly the Rosetta Stone of beverage-based rock philosophyMichael Bloomfield – “Going Down Slow”→ A soulful detour into blues territory→ Telecaster weeping, bending, testifying→ A meditation on decline, legacy, and the weight of musical genius left slightly unrealizedPRESCRIPTION:Administer “The Kettle” at a volume sufficient to:Hear every cymbal articulationFeel the guitar in your molarsContemplate your own access to teaRepeat until:The lyrics make senseOr they don’t—but you no longer careAvoid:Empty kettlesWeak teaCritics who don’t understand the assignmentHere’s to Robbie.Here’s to Kenny.Here’s to the kettle—may it never run dry.Time for a 'visky.

THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…Having returned from rubbing elbows with actual rock royalty (and surviving), your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound Doctor Glund descend once more into the sacred text of Colosseum—armed with nothing but sharp ears, questionable memory recall, and a bag of contraband jelly beans.This week’s mission: the thunderous, mind-expanding, utterly undeniable closing statement of the debut album…THOSE ABOUT TO DIE And yes… it absolutely earns the title.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:Those About To Die – Colosseum The Doctor declares it without hesitation: “If you don’t know Colosseum… THIS is where you start.”What follows is a full-blown sonic autopsy:Drums that don’t just keep time—they command itOrgan work that lays down a thick, chugging carpet of grooveGuitar and sax interplay so tight it may in fact be a single sentient organismA band functioning less like individuals and more like a musical octopus with a PhDVerdict:This is not a song.This is a controlled detonation of talent.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (ABANDON HOPE):Because no episode is complete without veering wildly off course:Eddie Hinton – Something Heavy→ Soul, grit, and a man absolutely refusing to let go of a grooveR.L. Burnside – The Criminal Inside Me→ Mississippi blues storytelling featuring:40 nickelsA bag of potato chipsAnd several imminent threats of bodily harmKim Fowley – Animal Man / Chinese Water Torture→ A deeply unsettling descent into late-60s experimental madness→ May or may not summon something into your homeHIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAY:A wedding dance set to Colosseum (because romance is subjective)A helicopter wedding over Niagara Falls (because gravity is optional)Extensive discussion of “ass pockets” (science pending)The phrase “bases drunk” permanently entering the lexiconThe realization that rock stars… might be lunaticsPRESCRIPTION:Take one dose of Those About To Die at maximum volume.Repeat as needed until:Your face meltsYour neighbors complainOr you begin explaining time signatures to strangersAvoid operating heavy machinery unless it is a Hammond organ.Here's to ya Clay Cole, let's go grab a 'visky.

Having already established in Part 1 that Nick Steed did not join Colosseum to become a museum-quality replica of Dave Greenslade, Part 2 turns to the mechanics of how a living band stays alive. What emerges is both reassuring and faintly absurd: a group of veteran musicians, scattered geographically but united spiritually, convening in Sussex to “top and tail” songs they already know by heart, refusing on principle to rehearse Stormy Monday Blues, and more or less trusting that fifty years of accumulated instinct will do the rest.Nick explains that when Colosseum prepares for the road, there is very little ceremonial fuss. The old epics are not anxiously overhandled. The newer material gets the attention. The older material, having long since entered the bloodstream, is allowed to remain there. This is, apparently, what happens when a band has moved beyond rehearsal and into telepathy.From there the discussion moves into writing: how songs are built, how unused ideas survive from one album to the next, and why Colosseum does not road-test unfinished material in public. The reasoning is sound. If you play something half-formed live and later improve it in the studio, some enterprising listener will insist the earlier version was superior, and then civilization begins to wobble.Nick also gives a glimpse into the current internal chemistry of the band: Clem brings the blues, Mark brings the rock, Nick brings the proggy jazz-fusion sprawl, and somewhere in the middle Colosseum remains gloriously, stubbornly itself. The result is a band that still sounds like Colosseum, while continuing to make new work that does not merely repeat the old tricks in slightly different trousers.We also learn that Nick writes late at night, often after bad films and in the company of his beloved 1964 Hammond A100, that lyrics remain a troublesome business unless attached to an actual story, and that The Hunters emerged from exactly such a process: folklore, collaboration, and the old-fashioned miracle of a song becoming itself before anyone can stop it.There is also talk of solo work, of Secrets of the King’s Court, of church performances with choir, of future recordings, of young fans discovering the band, and of the quietly comic dignity of still being the FNG — the fucking new guy — even after helping carry the music forward.Meanwhile, the central revelation of the hour may be this: Colosseum is not operating as a legacy act embalmed in reverence. It is still a working band, still writing, still touring, still surprising itself, and still producing music with enough life in it to blow up a Hammond or two.Which, in this parish, counts as a very healthy sign indeed.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.Recommended ConditionsBest consumed late at night, preferably after one has watched a bad film and decided to improve the evening personallyVolume set high enough to hear the organ breatheHeadphones encouraged; overrehearsal discouragedPairs well with a viski, a notebook full of unfinished song ideas, and the confidence to leave Stormy Monday Blues aloneMay be taken alone or in the company of someone who understands that some bands rehearse songs, and some bands simply remember themFurther Listening — Nick Steed EditionNick Steed - Influential GuidanceNick Steed - Thr33Nick Steed — Secrets of the King’s Court (RECORD RELEASE)Clem Clempson - www.clemclempson.comRay Detone - www.raydetone.comStephen Cordiner - www.stephencordinermusic.comBig Red Studios - www.bigredstudios.co.uk

Chaz Charles and Dr. Glund welcome a new voice into the Den of Audio Iniquities — Colosseum keyboardist Nick Steed, a musician who stepped into the Hammond chair and somehow managed the rare feat of honoring the legacy without attempting to impersonate it.Nick joins the program to talk about joining Colosseum, growing up in a house filled with instruments, and the early musical influences that shaped his approach to the keyboard — everything from ELP and Focus to Jimmy Smith and the deep well of jazz organ tradition.Along the way the discussion wanders — as it must — into the strange physics of Hammond organ, the joy of improvisation inside long-form Colosseum pieces like Valentyne Suite, and the realities of performing with musicians who helped invent the genre you are now playing in.RECORD RELEASE DAY!Nick also talks about his own compositional work, including A BONELESS PODCASTING EXCLUSIVE FIRST LISTEN to the his solo project Secrets of the King’s Court: Themes and Variations, a richly arranged recording featuring harpsichord, Moog, Colosseum bandmates, and even a violin recorded on a 17th-century instrument, because subtlety has never been the point.Meanwhile, the episode’s musical centerpiece becomes “First in Line,” Nick’s songwriting contribution to Colosseum’s album Restoration. The track becomes the launching point for a discussion of collaboration with Clem Clempson, the lyrical pen of Pete Brown, and how new material finds its place inside a band with a very long memory. And how Mark Clarke came to replace Tony Reeves not once, but twice, in Colosseum-related projects!Throughout the proceedings the sacred commandments remain firmly in place:The guitar must rock.The music must expand the mind.And it must never — ever — sell out.The Doctor listens carefully.The blade of judgement remains within reach.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.Recommended ConditionsBest consumed in a room where the lights are low and the hi-fi is honestVolume set slightly higher than the neighbors might appreciateHeadphones encouraged; casual conversation discouragedPairs well with a proper whisky and the willingness to let musicians finish their sentencesMay be taken alone or in the company of someone who knows the difference between Hammond and pianoFurther Listening — Nick Steed EditionNick Steed - Influential GuidanceNick Steed - Thr33Nick Steed — Secrets of the King’s Court (RECORD RELEASE)Clem Clempson - www.clemclempson.comRay Detone - www.raydetone.comStephen Cordiner - www.stephencordinermusic.comBig Red Studios - www.bigredstudios.co.uk

THIS EPISODE:“Backwater Blues” — Track 7 from Colosseum’s 1969 debut Those Who Are About to Die Salute You.Chaz and Dr. Glund return to the altar of Volume and place upon it a seven-and-a-half-minute slab of unapologetic British blues. “Backwater Blues” is not here to charm you with pop efficiency or tidy radio edits. It settles in. It stretches out. It reminds the listener that in 1968 London, the blues was not an affectation, it was oxygen. Yeah bay bee.This is identified, without hesitation, as perhaps the bluesiest track on the record — the sort of cut that, on a “traditional” album, might have been placed second to hook the unsuspecting. Instead, Colosseum tuck it into Track 7 like a confident afterthought. The band does not posture. They simply play — and every instrument is in it to win it. No wallflowers. No passengers. Just feel.Dr. Glund applies Glundian Logic: blues as foundation, jazz as expansion chamber. The result is cross-discipline combustion. Jon Hiseman receives the Octopus Citation for Limb Independence, Tony Reeves’ bass lines are clocked and admired, and James Litherland’s guitar tone passes the First Commandment without requiring appeal.Naturally, the proceedings detour.A live BBC performance (January 1969) is unearthed and examined like an archaeological artifact that still sweats. Shorter. Tighter. No less lethal. The recently released Transmissions: Live at the BBC (1969–1971) box set enters the chat, and suddenly we are comparing studio sequencing to live set logic — including the revelation that “The Road She Walked Before” once opened a BBC broadcast while “Backwater Blues” followed immediately behind.From there: the Doctor’s Digression spirals outward into authorship disputes (“Theme from an Imaginary Western” properly attributed at last), a brief symposium on bands covering one another in the late ’60s, and the ceremonial invocation of “Doctor, Doctor” as a potential recurring segment.Meanwhile, “Backwater Blues” remains planted at the center of the room — steady, confident, indulgent — reminding everyone that Colosseum could swing hard without sacrificing intellect, and expand the form without ever selling out.The blade of judgement stays sheathed.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.Recommended ConditionsBest consumed in a dim room where the air feels slightly heavier than usualVolume set to “irresponsible but defensible”Headphones encouraged; distractions discouragedPairs well with a respectable whiskey, a functioning hi-fi, and the willingness to let seven minutes unfold without interferenceMay be taken alone, or in the company of someone who understands that the blues is not background musicFurther Listening — As Administered in This Episode“The Road She Walked Before” — Colosseum (BBC Session)“Theme from an Imaginary Western” — Colosseum“Doctor Doctor” — UFO