Those Who Are About To Dive with Dr. Glund

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

EPISODE SUMMARYWelcome back to Those Who Are About To Dive: Chronicling Colosseum, Track by Bloody Track, where the track list occasionally takes a polite step aside so history can walk straight into the room and pour itself a drink.THIS EPISODE:Dr.’s Digressions — Mark Clarke: Mach IIMark Clarke returns to the Den, and what begins as a simple question — “What was your first recorded track with Colosseum?” — detonates into a two-hour guided tour through five decades of rock mythology.We confirm the answer: “Downhill and Shadows” from Daughter of Time — Mark’s first committed Colosseum studio performance. Nervous. Half an hour to cut it. Jon Hiseman says, “That’s great.” History moves on.From there?Strap in.Mark walks us through:The Tony Reeves fallout and the awkward politics of taking the Colosseum bass chairZeppelin at the Hyatt House (yes, that Hyatt House)Motorcycles in hallways and six-packs glued to elevator wallsFelix Pappalardi, Mountain, and the tragedy that followedEddie Van Halen at 15 asking for an autograph at the WhiskyThe truth about the mysterious guy on the Colosseum Live coverMick Ronson, Ian Hunter, Larry Coryell, Jack Bruce, Levon Helm, Mick Taylor, Hamish Stewart, Ringo’s orbit, and the quiet gravity of LiverpoolAnd through it all, the recurring theme: Colosseum may have been a “well-known secret” among musicians — but the musicians were absolutely listening.We also get deep into “Tonight” from Restoration — the song that brought Clem Clempson to tears in the studio.There are brandy stories.There are backstage politics.There is honesty about egos, genius, and the difference between myth and memory.Most importantly, there is this: After all the tours, the supergroups, the near-misses and the legends…Mark still wants to get on the plane.Still wants to jam at soundcheck.Still hugs Clem after a great show.That’s not nostalgia.That’s DNA.No verdicts rendered this week.Just lived history from a man who was there when it was all new.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences — Mark Clarke Edition(Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.)Essential ListeningColosseum — “Downhill and Shadows” (Daughter of Time)The first step into the fire.Colosseum — “Tonight” (Restoration)The tear-trigger. Listen closely.Colosseum — “Hesitation” (Restoration)Modern Colosseum with undiminished passion.Colosseum Live (1971)Drop the needle. Meet the mystery man.Colosseum LiveS – The Reunion ConcertsEnergy restored. No nostalgia tax.Extended Digression HomeworkIan Hunter — All of the Good Ones Are TakenMountain — particularly the Pappalardi eraMick Ronson solo workLarry Coryell live materialJack Bruce — Songs for a Tailor onwardAverage White Band (Hamish Stewart era)Sydney Christmas (as instructed by Mark himself)Recommended ConditionsBest consumed after darkVolume slightly higher than socially acceptableConsider a modest whiskey (avoid brandy)Do not Google the Live cover guy — embrace the mysteryAllow time for emotional whiplashPossible Side EffectsSudden desire to jam at soundcheckRenewed respect for bass playersMild resentment that Colosseum didn’t fully crack AmericaIncreased tolerance for long solosA creeping suspicion that rock history is far stranger than advertisedNext episode: we return to the tracks.But for now —The Doctor is in.

EPISODE SUMMARYWelcome back to Those Who Are About To Dive: Chronicling Colosseum, Track by Bloody Track, where the rules are flexible, the digressions are mandatory, and occasionally the universe hands you a guest who rewrites the evening entirely.THIS EPISODE:Episode 7 — Dr.’s Digressions: Mark Clarke, Mach IFor this special digression episode, Chaz Charles and Dr. Glund are joined by Mark Clarke — bassist, vocalist, and one of the great connective figures in British rock. What follows is not an interview, not a résumé run-through, and certainly not a polite Q&A. It’s a long, winding, first-person account of arrival — how a kid from Liverpool ends up inside Colosseum, and how one door quietly leads to many others.Mark reflects on walking into Colosseum at a pivotal moment, what it meant to serve a band built on listening as much as playing, and how those early lessons carried forward. From there, the conversation opens naturally into the wider map: Tempest, Uriah Heep, Rainbow, Mountain, Billy Squier, and the strange but very real skill of adapting without losing yourself.Along the way, Mark talks about personalities, pressure, learning curves, and the differences between bands that demand attention and bands that demand volume. There are stories of late nights, long tours, shifting scenes, and the practical realities of surviving decades in music without turning into a caricature of yourself.The Doctor largely lets this happen.This episode is about connections rather than conclusions, about experience rather than mythology, and about what it feels like to move through multiple eras of rock without ever stopping to announce it. No tracks are dissected, no verdicts rendered — just one musician telling his story the way he remembers it, with the room listening. Oh, and we do pause for some important musical milestones along the way. No prescription this episode, the Dr. is handing out mandatory meds.This is Dr.’s Digressions at full stretch: unplanned, unhurried, and exactly where the show needed to go.You are strongly encouraged to learn more about the philanthropic efforts and concerts by the Benevolent Artists National Charity - visit thebanc.ca

EPISODE SUMMARYWelcome back to Those Who Are About To Dive: Chronicling Colosseum, Track by Bloody Track, where Chaz Charles and Dr. Glund continue their unhurried excavation of Colosseum’s debut album. If you’re looking for tidy conclusions, brisk pacing, or polite opinions, you’re still in the wrong ocean.THIS EPISODE:“Beware the Ides of March” — Track 5 from Those Who Are About to Die Salute You (1969)Chaz and the Doctor dig into one of Colosseum’s most ominous early originals, written by Dave Greenslade and Jon Hiseman. Organ-led, processional, and unapologetically severe, “Beware the Ides of March” pushes the band further from blues convention and deeper into jazz-rock territory. Comparisons inevitably arise — including nods to A Whiter Shade of Pale — before landing on what truly separates this track: intent, tension, and a band moving with one collective will.Mid-episode, the conversation turns electric when the hosts stumble into a 1969 Montreux Jazz Festival performance of the song. What follows is a real-time reckoning with Colosseum at full power — ferocious, disciplined, and startlingly ahead of their time. The live version reframes the studio cut entirely, underscoring just how dangerous this band could be when the reins came off.From there, the show takes a single, focused digression into Bloodline and their 1994 track The Storm. Used as a modern comparison point, the discussion centers on patience, atmosphere, lineage versus conviction, and music that only reveals itself if the listener is willing to stay put. A firsthand story about seeing a teenage Joe Bonamassa hidden behind an amp adds texture without rewriting history.The Glundian tests are applied.No sellout detected.Mind expanded.The warning stands.This episode is part music history, part live discovery, and part reminder that some tracks demand your full attention — and repay it.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary(Listener Discretion Encouraged)Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.Dosage may be increased at will.Recommended ConditionsBest consumed after dark, preferably when nothing important remains undoneVolume set slightly higher than advisableYou are quite prepared to rock out; Spock display optionalHeadphones encouraged; lights optionalPairs well with a visky, a comfortable chair, and the firm decision not to check one’s phoneMay be taken alone or in the company of someone who understands when not to speakPrescribed ListeningBloodline — Cell Block 7 (1994)A driving blues-rock cut powered by groove and forward motion. Chosen here not to match the mood of “Beware the Ides of March,” but to match its commitment — a band digging in, locking tight, and letting momentum do the work.

EPISODE SUMMARYWelcome back to Those Who Are About To Dive: Chronicling Colosseum Track by Bloody Track with Dr. Glund, where Chaz Charles and the good Doctor once again ignore the clock, misplace the agenda, and wander willingly into the long, strange corridors of rock history. If you’re expecting structure, restraint, or anything resembling public radio discipline, you are — once again — in the wrong ocean.This episode opens with Chaz and Dr. Glund catching up on life, podcast feedback, and the ongoing disbelief that Dr. Glund is a real person and not an AI construct. The Joshua Light Show gets a nod, and before long, the duo launches into their signature blend of music nerdery and digression, setting their sights on the fourth track of Colosseum’s debut album, “Debut.” They marvel at the oddity of its placement and length, speculate on the logic behind the running order, and debate whether it was ever intended as a single.THIS EPISODE:Debut — Track 4 from Those Who Are About To Die Salute You (1969)Chaz and the Dr. listen to both the studio and a rare live version, dissecting everything from the modulated effects (is that a Leslie?) to the martial drum patterns and the “Eddie Van Halen of the horn.” The conversation drifts through the musicianship, the live energy, and the quirks of the mix. The pair agree that every track on the album holds its own, but does it ultimately passe the three crucial conversations that comprise the Glundian Tests? Getting through the gauntlet of volumptuary inquiry isn't just “Walking in the Park” after all!The episode then digresses into a tribute to Arlen Roth, “master of the Telecaster,” with anecdotes about Danny Gatton, guitar clinics, and the Hot Licks series. Chaz and Dr. Glund swap stories about guitar heroes, fretboard wear, and the joys of discovering new music as an old phart.Pour something strong.Turn it up.And remember: it’s track by bloody track.Here’s lookin’ at ya, Clay Cole.Let’s have a visky.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONRecommended Indulgences to Satisfy the VoluptuaryAdministered not for correction, but for pleasure.Dosage may be increased at will.Recommended ConditionsBest consumed after dark, preferably when nothing important remains undoneVolume set slightly higher than advisableHeadphones encouraged; lights optionalPairs well with a visky, a water pipe, a comfortable chair, and the firm decision not to check one’s phoneMay be taken alone or in the company of someone who understands when not to speakPrescribed Listening:Arlen RothThe master of the Telecaster and Hot Licks legend.Danny GattonA Telecaster hero, gone too soon.Possible Side Effects:Loss of interest in tidy genre boundariesA sudden urge to defend horn players in unrelated conversationsTemporary belief that track order is a cosmic mystery