Those Who Are About To Dive with Dr. Glund

THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…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.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPERope Ladder to the Moon — ColosseumOne 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:Clem Clempson proves he can sound remarkably Farlowe-ish when required.Dick Heckstall-Smith plays two saxophones because apparently one is for amateurs.Dave Greenslade moves effortlessly between piano, Hammond and vibes.Mark Clarke reminds everyone that bass can be a lead instrument.Chris Farlowe attacks the live version with absolutely no regard for human safety.Jon Hiseman repeatedly makes you think the song is ending before starting the whole damned machine again.The Doctor’s diagnosis?“Well-constructed self-indulgence.”The highest possible compliment.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONEJack 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.HIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAYDick Heckstall-Smith demonstrating that two saxophones are better than one.The possible bondage implications of “Indian Rope Man.”Chaz discovering an entirely new Julie Driscoll rabbit hole.The realization that these shows really do make themselves.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONAdminister one “Rope Ladder to the Moon.”For maximum effectiveness, compare:Jack Bruce’s original.Colosseum’s studio version.The 1971 live monster.The 1994 reunion version.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.

This week, Chaz Charles and Doctor Glund return to one of Colosseum's greatest live landmarks…"Lost Angeles."What begins as a standout track on The Grass Is Greener quickly grows into one of the band's defining concert pieces—a musical playground that evolved through BBC sessions, radio broadcasts, and the legendary Colosseum Live album into something that seemed to reinvent itself every time it was performed.Before the music begins, however, the show pauses to acknowledge the passing of founding keyboard maestro Dave Greenslade.The Hammond powerhouse. The master of texture. The unexpected vibraphonist. One of the architects of the unmistakable Colosseum sound.Chaz and the Doctor reflect on Greenslade's enormous contribution to the band, his unmistakable keyboard style, and the countless moments where his playing transformed great songs into unforgettable ones. A proper celebration of his remarkable career is promised in a future episode.Then...The Hammond starts growling.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE"Lost Angeles" — ColosseumOne song.Four recordings.Infinite possibilities.From the original studio version through multiple BBC performances and finally the explosive Colosseum Liveinterpretation, Chaz and the Doctor follow the evolution of one of Colosseum's greatest musical statements.Along the way they discover:Dave Greenslade driving the entire band with his unmistakable Hammond sound.The vibraphone quietly adding colours that somehow become essential.Clem Clempson delivering guitar tones that continue to satisfy the First Commandment without appeal.Jon Hiseman once again earning the Octopus Citation for Limb Independence.Mark Clarke's bass becoming a melodic force rather than simply keeping time.Chris Farlowe proving exactly why he became such an important part of Colosseum's live identity.The verdict?This isn't just a song.It's the band's laboratory.Every performance becomes another experiment.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (EXPRESS SERVICE TO CHICAGO)Because every Colosseum conversation eventually finds another branch of the family tree...Colosseum – "Lost Angeles"→ Original album version→ BBC recordings→ Top Gear→ Colosseum Live→ One composition becoming an ever-expanding live masterpiece.Then...The discussion crosses the Atlantic.Chicago Transit Authority→ Terry Kath receives the admiration he has always deserved.→ One of rock's truly great—and too often overlooked—guitarists.→ Jazz-rock with horns reaches the American mainstream.→ The fascinating question emerges:Did Colosseum help blaze the trail that Chicago would go on to make commercially enormous?Gear Corner→ Hammond B-3s.→ Leslie cabinets.→ Laney amplifiers.→ Les Paul Goldtops.→ Cry Baby wah pedals.→ The heroic—and entirely unreasonable—task of moving all that equipment from gig to gig.HIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAYA heartfelt tribute to Dave Greenslade.The search for the definitive version of "Lost Angeles."Vigorous appreciation of Hammond organs and why nothing else quite sounds like one.The mystery of the airborne gentleman on the Colosseum Live album cover.The phrase "Chugga chugga" once again accepted as perfectly valid musical terminology.Terry Kath receiving a standing ovation from two lifelong guitar fanatics.Yet more evidence that Colosseum should have conquered a far larger audience than history allowed.YOUR PRESCRIPTIONAdminister one extended performance of "Lost Angeles."Preferably the live version.Volume should be set to "questionable."Recommended accompaniment:A respectable whiskey.A proper hi-fi.Thirty uninterrupted minutes.An appreciation for musicians who somehow know exactly what the other five are about to do before they do it.Possible side effects include:An uncontrollable desire to buy a Hammond organ.A renewed appreciation for Terry Kath.And the firm conviction that Colosseum created one of the greatest live performance vehicles in progressive jazz-rock history.Here's to ya, Dave.Let's go grab a visky.

Fresh from untangling one of the strangest release strategies in progressive rock history, Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, turn their attention to The Grass Is Greener—the mysterious U.S.-only Colosseum album that looked suspiciously like Valentyne Suite... because, well... half of it was.What begins as an investigation into a confusing record release quickly transforms into a celebration of one of Colosseum's greatest lineup changes, as Dave "Clem" Clempson, Chris Farlowe, and Mark Clarke announce themselves with all the subtlety of a freight train.And somewhere along the way...Dr. Glund accidentally discovers he's been wrong about who was singing one of his favorite Colosseum tracks for decades.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:Jumping Off the Sun — ColosseumOne song.Four different recordings.Multiple vocalists.Several decades of Colosseum history.One increasingly bewildered Doctor.The investigation begins with The Grass Is Greener, where Chaz and Dr. Glund piece together exactly how this transitional album came to exist—and why generations of fans (including Dr. Glund himself) have been confused by it.Along the way they uncover:Clem Clempson's explosive debut with the bandThe revelation that Clem—not Litherland, not Farlowe—sings the original studio recordingChris Farlowe's later Daughter of Time interpretationBBC live performances that showcase both evolving lineupsMark Clarke's arrival and the chemistry that transformed Colosseum's rhythm sectionJon Hiseman somehow playing even more drums than should be physically possibleThe verdict?This wasn't simply a personnel change.It was a controlled evolutionary leap.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (ABANDON HOPE):Because no investigation remains confined to a single album...The Grass Is Greener→ Why identical album covers confused collectors for fifty years→ Dr. Glund confesses to giving away his original copy because he thought it was a duplicateDaughter of Time→ Comparing Chris Farlowe's vocal treatment of Jumping Off the Sun→ The surprising differences in production and arrangementTransmissions: Live at the BBC→ Rare BBC recordings documenting the band's rapid evolution→ Live evidence that Clem's guitar work was every bit as devastating onstageHumble Pie→ An extended appreciation of Clem Clempson's post-Colosseum career→ Steve Marriott, wah pedals, Les Pauls, raw British hard rock, and enough Marshall amplification to rearrange nearby weather systemsHIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAY:The phrase "I smell digression."Multiple declarations that Jon Hiseman deserves far more recognition among great rock drummersA groundskeeper arriving mid-recording to fertilize the lawn—proving that yes, the grass really is greener"Barrel-chested" becoming the official unit of measurement for Chris Farlowe's vocal powerA spontaneous Humble Pie appreciation society breaking out before anyone could stop itThe realization that every version of Jumping Off the Sun has something uniquely brilliant to offerPRESCRIPTION:Administer Jumping Off the Sun in all available forms:The original Grass Is Greener versionThe Daughter of Time remakeBBC live recordingsAny performance featuring Clem with a Les Paul plugged directly into excessive British amplificationRecommended conditions:Stereo speakersHealthy skepticism toward old album creditsA willingness to fall down several delightful rabbit holesPossible side effects include:Buying back records you foolishly gave away decades agoSpending the afternoon comparing Colosseum lineups like baseball statisticsUnexpected Humble Pie binge-listeningDeclaring Jon Hiseman criminally underrated to complete strangersAvoid operating heavy machinery unless it is a Hammond organ.The Blade of Judgment remains firmly in its scabbard.Glory. Across every version.Here's to ya, Clay Cole. Let's go grab a 'visky. 🍻

Having survived another descent into the Colosseum archives—and possibly a heatwave-induced hallucination—your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, arrive at the towering centerpiece of Valentyne Suite: a 16-minute, 52-second monument to ambition, improvisation, and the complete abandonment of commercial restraint.This week’s mission:VALENTYNE SUITEThe title track.The payoff.The reason the album exists.The moment Colosseum stop being merely a band and become a weather system.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:Valentyne Suite — ColosseumWhat follows is less a song review and more an archaeological excavation of one of progressive jazz-rock’s foundational texts.Dr. Glund and Chaz trace the suite through its many movements, marveling at:Dave Greenslade simultaneously conquering Hammond organ and vibraphone dutiesJon Hiseman attacking the drums with enough force to power a small municipalityTony Reeves quietly proving yet again that he may be one of the most criminally overlooked bassists of the eraDick Heckstall-Smith and company navigating abrupt musical turns that somehow never derail the locomotiveA composition that changes shape so often it feels like several albums occurring at onceThe Doctor repeatedly notes that six minutes into the track, they are somehow only getting started.Verdict:This is not progressive rock.This is the blueprint that escaped the laboratory.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (ABANDON HOPE):Because no Colosseum discussion can remain on the rails indefinitely:The Grass Is Greener→ A discussion of the American release and its altered track listing→ Includes a confession involving a long-ago record giveaway and immediate collector's remorseColosseum Live '94→ Evidence that the suite remained a monster decades later→ Features the arrival of Clem Clempson and Chris Farlowe in full flightBBC and television performances from 1969→ Investigated like recently unearthed Dead Sea Scrolls→ Prompting further research missionsHIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAY:The phrase “Air Keys” becoming a legitimate performance techniqueA lengthy investigation into disappearing guitars in Spotify mixesSwiss engineering being blamed for audio anomaliesThe realization that Colosseum concerts in 1969 likely required enough equipment to invade a small country“Be the energy you want in the world” somehow becoming official podcast philosophyPRESCRIPTION:Administer Valentyne Suite at maximum practical volume.Recommended conditions:A functioning stereoAn uninterrupted 17-minute windowA willingness to surrender all sense of conventional song structureOptional Hammond organMandatory curiosityPossible side effects include:Air-keyboard performanceSudden appreciation for Tony ReevesQuestioning every modern radio edit you've ever heardSpending the rest of the week searching for live versions from 1969Discontinue use only if:Your speakers begin smokingYou start pricing vintage Leslie cabinetsOr Jon Hiseman appears in a dream demanding a tighter rhythm sectionThe blade of judgment remains sheathed.For now.Here's to ya, Clay Cole. Let's go grab a 'visky. 🍻

THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…Having once again survived the relentless demands of modern life without acquiring a pension, your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, return to the labyrinthine depths of Colosseum's Valentyne Suite.This week's sacrificial offering:THE MACHINE DEMANDS A SACRIFICEA title that sounds less like a song and more like a warning label.What begins as a brief, mysterious piece on the album becomes something far stranger when followed through Colosseum's live history—a shape-shifting musical organism that refuses to stay in one form for very long.TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPEThe Machine Demands a Sacrifice – ColosseumThe Doctor and Chaz investigate:Why every late-'60s musician seemed deeply suspicious of "The Machine"Whether Pete Brown was writing social commentary, science fiction, or bothHow a compact album track evolved into a live improvisational weaponWhy every subsequent version seems determined to outgrow the lastAlong the way, the pair compare:The original James Litherland versionEarly BBC performancesThe Chris Farlowe-era live arrangementsThe reunion-era interpretation that may finally reveal what the song wanted to be all alongVerdict:Not every Colosseum track arrives fully assembled.Some require decades of field testing.TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (SYSTEM ERROR: CONVERSATION OFF COURSE)Dirty Honey→ Modern rock delivered with maximum swagger and minimum compromise→ Proof that guitar bands have not yet gone extinctScreaming Cheetah Wheelies→ Southern-fried groove rock with riffs thick enough to require excavation equipment→ Further evidence that the '90s produced more than flannel and existential dreadBedford – "Suburban Blue"→ A welcome reminder that younger musicians are still capable of making glorious noise→ Restores a small but measurable amount of faith in humanityHIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAYThe mysterious disappearance of pensionsRoger Waters catching friendly fire for building an entire career out of childhood traumaAn investigation into suspicious cowbell deploymentInvisible saxophone theoriesThe realization that Colosseum rarely played the same song the same way twiceDr. Glund determining that some songs simply need twenty-five years to finish cookingPRESCRIPTIONTake one dose of The Machine Demands a Sacrifice followed immediately by at least one live version.Repeat until:The arrangement finally reveals itselfThe cowbell mystery is solvedOr you find yourself arguing that every song should be seventeen minutes longAvoid operating heavy machinery.The machine has already made its demands.Here's to ya Clay Cole, let's go grab a visky.

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.