Back in the early seventies, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, my record collection was heavily populated with albums by Genesis, Yes, King Crimson, Emerson Lake & Palmer and the Moody Blues. Prog-rock in all its glory was a many-splendoured thing – multi-part suites, symphonic bombast, complex shifts of tone and tempo, unconventional time signatures, virtuoso keyboard solos, abstract lyrics and abstruse concept albums with fantastical cover art.
Essentially a British phenomenon, the musicians behind it believed that popular music was progressing towards what Jon Anderson of Yes rather grandiosely called: “a higher art form”. Then punk came along and prog was trashed. Punk was concise, catchy, working-class and favoured the visceral over virtuosity. Prog was longwinded, complex and middle-class and its adherents were declared to be the enemy. “Oh, I…