THE RUTLES - ALL YOU NEED IS CASH @ 45

 

It was 45 years ago today, on March 22nd, 1978, when NBC aired one of the earliest true “mockumentary” films, All You Need Is Cash, the fake history of the rise and fall of the not-so-fab four, The Rutles. Before Spinal Tap ever cranked it up to 11, The Rutles were re-writing the rules about what a fake band could be.

The Rutles were fundamentally a parody of The Beatles, created some years before as part of a UK sketch comedy series produced by Neil Innes and Eric Idle (of Monty Python fame). Rutland Weekend Television (1975–76) foreshadowed the creation of the band in episode 3 where Neil Innes performed the song which later became Good Times Roll on the eventual Rutles eponymous debut album. The full group first appeared in a sketch later in 1975 in a mini documentary which would end up being something of a test flight for the concept. It was after George Harrison’s guest appearance on the series that Innes & Idle were encouraged to pursue the idea further. The Beatles were already fans of Neil’s Bonzo Dog Band, having had them do a guest spot on The Magical Mystery Tour TV special, and Harrison thought the parody concept had potential.

Things started to snowball towards producing the film when Eric Idle appeared on Saturday Night Live in 1976 and brought along a clip of The Rutles from the Rutland series. Lorne Michaels took an interest in the concept and offered to back a one hour TV movie about the group. Gary Weis was hired to direct and George Harrison became involved directly, both performing on screen as an interviewer and offering access to an as-yet unreleased Beatles documentary to Innes to use as reference material. Shot mostly in NYC, the special made use of many SNL cast members and also featured appearances by members of The Rolling Stones, Paul Simon & fellow Python, Michael Palin, among many others.

Musically, Neil’s mastery of The Beatles aesthetic is without peer. He so adeptly captures the nuances of their styles, from each of their eras, that he did, in fact, have to work to avoid being too “on the nose”, risking copyright infringement, something that could have happened even with the explicit support of the Beatles themselves. What Innes and Idle created overall stands the test of time remarkably well. I’ve watched it quite recently and was amazed at how timeless it is and how the humor it captures is so perfectly transcendent, even today. While there were a few examples of “mock documentaries” before this, All You Need Is Cash truly functions as a critical tent-pole in the development of the genre. Years later, projects like This Is Spinal Tap and The Comic Strip Presents fake band, Bad News, would rely heavily on the same kinds of techniques and methods which were fully implemented for The Rutles.

In terms of public reception, the NBC broadcast was notable for being a ratings disaster. It landed with a thud on the very bottom of the Nielsen rankings for its time-slot, though the few who did watch it were overwhelmingly supportive of it. It did much better in the UK when it aired on March 27th. Since its debut, however, it’s gone on to become a cult classic and Innes went on to revive the band in later years for touring and recording new albums. Neil Innes kept their spirit alive until his death in 2019. Since its release, the mockumentary genre has gone on to become a popular staple on both big and small screens. Countless films and TV series have been made which owe a debt to the visionary comedic genius of Neil Innes and Eric Idle.

THE BEATLES - PLEASE PLEASE ME @ 60

 

Celebrating its diamond jubilee today, at a whopping 60 years old, is the debut LP from The Beatles, Please Please Me, which was originally released in the UK on March 22nd, 1963. It was an LP which launched the era of the so-called “self contained” band, artists who were both songwriters and performers, and revived the spirit of rock ’n’ roll, which had waned since Elvis was drafted into the army.

The Beatles had been working together in various iterations since they began as a Liverpool skiffle band in the late 1950s. After several years of paying their dues in clubs in the UK and Germany, they finally caught the attention of EMI, who consigned them to their Parlophone imprint, a division run by producer George Martin. Initially, the band had focused mostly on cover songs, but Lennon & McCartney had gradually been building up a cache of original compositions, though Martin originally felt that they were lacking as songwriters. At the time the group signed their deal, Pete Best was still on the drums, but after an initial trial recording session, which failed to produce any usable results (even with a session drummer subbed in), the group gave Pete his marching papers and brought in Ringo Star to finalize their lineup.

After their misfired initial studio session, Martin’s first idea for the band was to make their debut LP a live album. He went down to the Cavern Club to check them out, but binned the live album concept after hearing the sound quality in the club and deeming it unsuitable for recording. Switching to the idea of a regular studio album, he got the band back in to record and they captured their first single, Please Please Me. Though Martin was still doubtful of their songwriting abilities, he agreed to release the song and was surprised by the success they achieved, with it hitting #17 on the charts. After that point, he put his doubts aside and embraced the duo as competent pop music composers, allowing them to contribute half of the material for the album.

At the time The Beatles were emerging in the studio, the idea of a band writing their own songs was not the norm. Song writers and performers were two separate entities and did not generally cross paths. The Beatles also did not use session musicians for this LP, which was another exception to the usual process for bands. Throughout the 1950s & 1960s, session musicians were behind the vast majority of music created for the pop charts. However, with Ringo now on drums, they had the capacity to nail performances in the studio without the necessity of bringing in more adept musicians. They’d been hammering out their music in the clubs for years, so delivering flawless performances in the studio was well within their wheelhouse.

When it came time to record the album, Martin asked the band what they could whip through quickly and they said their stage act was the easiest for them to get down without much hassle. The group were recorded primarily live in the studio with limited overdubs. Back then, studios didn’t have the luxury of massive amounts of tracks. Two tracks was generally the standard of the day, so layering was extremely limited. In this case, most of the instruments were on one track with the vocals on another. The sessions took place over the course of a mere few days with the band doing a quick run-through of each song to get a level and then banging out the finished version, often in a single take. Given the legacy and importance of what came out of those sessions, it might just be the most efficient 585 minutes of studio time ever booked.

During the sessions, John Lennon was suffering from a bad head cold and spent the whole time downing throat lozenges to battle the congestion. This caused Martin to have to be strategic when recording John’s vocals, leaving the most demanding song, Twist and Shout, to the very end of the sessions. Martin remarked: "I don't know how they do it. We've been recording all day but the longer we go on the better they get.” Lennon said of his one-take performance: “The last song nearly killed me. My voice wasn't the same for a long time after; every time I swallowed, it was like sandpaper."

The 14 song version of Please Please Me was released in the UK only in mono initially, which was standard practice for the times. The stereo mix was issued on April 26th. Outside the UK, The Beatles debuted with variations of the UK version, re-titled and with different cover art and altered track listings. This was also a common occurrence, particularly within the first half of the decade. This created a rather confusing catalogue for fans to collect for many years as variations of their albums could be found in different markets. It wasn’t until decades later when the albums were remastered for CD that their catalogue was standardized to the UK editions, internationally.

Please Please Me hit the top of the UK album charts by May and stayed there for a stunning 30 weeks. It was the beginning of Beatlemania in earnest. Only their sophomore LP, With The Beatles, pushed it out of the top spot. This chart success was another revolutionary aspect to The Beatles’ career as the album charts were typically dominated by soundtracks and easy listening pop vocal releases. The Beatles blasted open the charts to be dominated by rock ’n’ roll artists, with acts like The Rolling Stones, The Who and The Kinks soon to take up residence in this new commercial terrain.

Cracking the US market would prove to be somewhat more difficult. Initial single releases in the US didn’t strike up a lot of interest at first and Capitol Records passed on releasing their debut. Ultimately Vee-Jay Records took up the album and trimmed off a couple of tracks to fit the US track count standard, re-titling the album to “Introducing the Beatles”. This version was not issued until January of 1964. By that time, the group had managed to score a US hit single with I Want to Hold Your Hand in December of 1963. This success lead Capital Records to finally be convinced of the commercial viability of the band, buying back the rights to their catalogue and releasing Meet the Beatles, a further modified version of their debut, shortly after the Vee-Jay album’s release. Following the February 9th, 1964, debut US TV appearance on The Ed Sullivan Show, the spark was ignited for the group to take over the US market and kick off what would become known as “the British Invasion” period of rock music.

Since its release, Please Please Me has become codified as a cornerstone for a new approach to pop music where the artist became responsible for nearly all of what became documented on their albums. It reinvigorated the rock ’n’ roll genre as a commercially dominant musical form and set millions of teenagers around the globe on the path of starting their own bands. You can’t talk to any pop music artist who came from the 1960s and find one who wasn’t inspired by seeing The Beatles on TV for the first time. They caused a cultural epiphany which triggered a paradigm shift in the way music was perceived and created. The very concept of a rock band still resides in the shadow of The Beatles and what they put to vinyl on that first album.

DAVID SYLVIAN & HOLGER CZUKAY - PLIGHT & PREMONITION @ 35

 

 

Marking its 35th anniversary today is the debut collaborative work between former CAN member, Holger Czukay, and former Japan front-man, David Sylvian, with Plight & Premonition being released on March 21st, 1988. At a time when ambient music was still finding its audience, the album became a critical foundation stone for the genre as it would develop throughout the coming decade.

The genesis of this album came about quite by chance. David had originally traveled to Germany to record a vocal part for a solo album Holger was working on at the time. However, that plan became sidelined and never actually materialized as the duo found themselves distracted by other indulgences which manifested without any real intent. The first night David was in town, after going out for dinner, they returned to Inner Space studio and Sylvian began to wander about the studio, improvising absentmindedly on various instruments. Holger, ever the musical opportunist, had a habit of recording everything that happened in there. David wasn’t even aware that he was being recorded most of the time and Holger would have him move on to something else whenever it seemed like he was beginning to become self-conscious of his performing process. Over the course of the next couple of nights, they compiled enough raw material for Holger to then cobble together two side long instrumental compositions. By the time they were finished recording, it was time for David to head home and there was no time left to record the originally intended vocal track.

The recording sessions were held late in 1986 and the duo completed final mixing by February of 1987, but the album wasn’t released until March of 1988. Virgin Records ended up issuing it on their low-budget subsidiary, Venture Records. A companion album, Flux + Mutability, was released in 1989, though the artists were less enthusiastic over the results on that album than for the first. The spontaneous manifestation which made the initial project so magical simply wasn’t present for the second album and they found themselves struggling to recreate the lack of self-consciousness that gave the first album its organic charm. The two albums were eventually re-issued as a combined set with a slightly different mix by Sylvian for Plight & Premonition. I’ve always ranked it as one of my all-time favorite ambient albums. I think it sets a standard for the genre which would give it a timeless quality. There’s nothing about it that betrays any sense of the passage of time or placement within any era.

ELVIS COSTELLO - THIS YEAR’S MODEL @ 45

Marking its 45th anniversary today is Elvis Costello’s sophomore LP, This Year’s Model, which was released in the UK on March 17th, 1978. Building on the success of his debut, My Aim Is True, and thanks to the arrival of his new backing band, The Attractions, Costello would perfect the tight, tough modern sound he had struggled to find the first time around.

For Elvis Costello’s first outing, he was working with a Californian country rock band, Clover, a pairing that struggled to align to Elvis’ vision, given the band’s west coast hippie disposition. Costello was eager to deliver a sound that put him in line with the punk & new wave edginess that was taking the UK & US music scenes by storm. After completing work on his first album, he immediately set about putting together his own band, hand picked to deliver the kind of music he wanted to play. His efforts produced The Attractions, with keyboardist Steve Nieve, bassist Bruce Thomas and drummer Pete Thomas (no relation). Together, they would help him craft a sound that was contemporary, yet slightly nostalgic, bringing in a ‘60s pop quirkiness that fused with the raw edges of punk to become an entirely updated sound.

With a busy touring schedule, Costello and band were able to spend a lot of time perfecting their new songs on stage before bringing them into the studio. This Year’s Model was actually recorded very economically, with the band generally working live in the studio and nailing takes with few difficulties or internal conflicts. The mood in the studio was generally upbeat and productive. They all knew the songs so well that it was akin to the Motown methodology of bashing them out with precision and energy. Nick Lowe was back in the producers chair again and he worked perfectly with Costello and band to keep them hyped up and able to knock the songs out without any difficulty. The results are readily apparent in the album’s songs as they pump and snap through each piece, displaying a crackling sizzle of determination and intent.

Its release was met with immediate critical praise and, commercially, it ramped up sales. It’s hard to argue with either response given the remarkable consistency and perfection of what got captured on that record. On it’s cover, Costello glares out at the world from behind a camera, highlighting his role as cultural observer and social commentator, documenting the foibles and follies of humanity. Costello’s song writing was firing on all cylinders with the singer amassing a large stash of material to cherry-pick for the album, ensuring the best of the best made the cut. It remains my favorite of his records and is regularly cited as his best in critic’s poles and “best of” lists.

NEW ORDER - BLUE MONDAY 12” @ 40

 

Marking its 40th anniversary today is the landmark 12” single from New Order, Blue Monday, which was released on March 7th, 1983. It would become the song which would rehabilitate the disco beat of the 1970s and open the floodgates for dance music’s reinvention in the 1980s. It would also go on to be one of the biggest selling 12” records of all time.

After the loss of Ian Curtis and Joy Divisions subsequent demise, the remaining members regrouped along with Gillian Gilbert to be reborn as New Order in 1981. Their debut album and initial singles all found themselves heavily shrouded by the legacy of Joy Division and the group’s attempts to reconcile their loss. Those records were certainly of high merit, but they were mired in the past and the sense of searching for a way forward. You could hear it in the hesitancy of the vocals in the songs, with the band even unsure of who should handle the job. The release of Blue Monday, on the other hand, was their first to come out of the gates completely freed from any sense of that tragic history, displaying a band who had worked through their trauma and indecision and were now fully committed to the future and looking ahead.

The genesis of the song actually kicked off as a bit of a prank planned for their live audiences. The group had often received criticism for not playing encores when they preformed live, so they thought it would be a bit of a laugh to create a song completely reliant on drum machines and sequencers, such that, when it came time or their encore, they’d merely push a button and let the electronics take care of the job. However, as they began to dig into the track’s composition, the group found they were really getting into the piece and it took on a life of its own. The irony is that the song actually did become a staple of their encores in later years, albeit without the ease of merely pushing a button and splitting to the after-party.

The song’s style is derived from a few key inspirations. The electronic groove hearkens back to Donna Summer and her work with Giorgio Moroder as well as being influenced by NYC club music, particularly by the likes of Arthur Baker, with whom the band would work on their followup single, Confusion. Then there’s Peter Hook’s bass line, which is a direct reference to the spaghetti western guitar twang of Ennio Morricone. These elements created a magical dynamic between the futuristic groove of the electronics and the romantic retro-nostalgia of the bass. The signature rhythmic underpinning of the song comes from the Linn drum machine’s kick stutter intro, a riff which is so immediately identifiable that you instantly know what’s on deck within a couple of seconds of the song hitting a turntable. The overall arrangement completely sidesteps standard verse/chorus song structure, which makes it a surprising contender for a hit single, but nonetheless, that attribute didn’t seem to hinder its success as the strength of its rhythmic hooks more than made up for any deviation from pop formulas.

While the initial conception of the song was that it be “set it and forget it”, the actual implementation of it proved somewhat problematic when it came to the realities of live performance. Getting and keeping the drum machine and sequencers all in sync could be a touchy proposition, especially given the primitive, still evolving state of synchronization then available for electronic instruments. MIDI was still in its infancy and the older protocols could be unreliable. Their performance of the song on Top of The Pops, where they insisted on performing live rather than miming, was fraught with technical problems. I got a chance to see them live in Vancouver in 1983 and I distinctly recall the excitement when the song’s signature intro kicked in, only to have the whole thing derail right after the first “bap-bap... bap-bap” break. Suddenly the hall went silent as the audience were caught breathlessly anticipated the groove coming back after that pause, but then… NOTHING! GASP!!! The band were troupers, however, and bravely reset their gear, started the song again and managed to keep it on the rails for the rest of the performance, much to the satisfaction of the crowd.

The packaging of the single, created by Factory designer Peter Saville and Brett Wickens, was also an example of extreme innovation, although it would cost the group and Factory records dearly to execute it. The complexity of the design, with its die-cut cutouts, meant that they actually LOST money on each copy sold! The design was meant to emulate a 5 1⁄4 inch floppy disc, with no text on the front or back and the release title and catalogue number encoded in the color blocks on the edges of the sleeve. The decoding key of that information was included on the sleeve of their LP, Power Corruption & Lies, released shortly after the single. Subsequent editions of the single dropped the die-cut elements in order to reduce production costs.

The single became an immediate hit upon its release, making itself at home on the indie dance chart and staying there for a historic length of time. The single was a hit three times, including its reissues and remixes in 1988 and 1995. It came along at a time when “disco” music had been severely demonized after its unprecedented success in the late 1970s, but Blue Monday’s success was a major factor in reviving that classic 4x4 beat for a new generation, creating a critical cornerstone upon which House music would be able to build later in the decade.

For me, being that I was just discovering the whole alternative club scene in my new home of Vancouver, songs like this and Perfect by The The, were siren calls to the dance floor. I wasn’t a dance enthusiast before hearing this music and was too self-conscious to let loose in public, but these records battered down my defenses and obliterated my reservations. The shudder of that kick drum cracking the atmosphere was irresistible and immediately got me grooving. Tentatively at first, but then with abandon soon after, especially after a bit of “inspiration” kicked in with whatever was on the menu in terms of stimulants at the disco that night. Hearing that song always gives my heart a jump-start, tripping off an immediate adrenaline surge like a Pavlovian dog. When I look back on that time, it amazes me how many classic club hits emerged during that little window in 1983. There was a definite sense of a renaissance for dance music happening and Blue Monday was right at the forefront of it all.

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA @ 55

 

Marking it’s 55th anniversary today is the “one and done” eponymous album by ‘60s psychedelic rebels, The United States of America, which was released on March 6th, 1968. Though the group only released this single LP, it has become one of the most revered cult records to come from the psychedelic era.

In 1963, aspiring avant-garde composer and musician, Joseph Byrd, was in New York, studying music and participating in the Fluxus experimental music movement along with contemporaries such as John Cage, Morton Feldman, LaMonte Young, David Tudor & Yoko Ono. While there, he met vocalist and fellow music student, Dorothy Moskowitz. The two began a personal and professional partnership which would see them relocate to LA later that year.

After a time, Byrd, who was rather politically motivated and had joined the Communist party, decided that popular music, specifically the more psychedelic rock of the late 1960s, would be a suitable vehicle for him to express his musical visions while also communicating his radical political views. To this end, he recruited 3 additional band members to augment his various electronic keyboards and Dorothy’s vocals. The band coalesced with the addition of Gordon Marron (electric violin, ring modulator), Rand Forbes (electric bass) and Craig Woodson (electric drums, percussion).

Byrd chose the name of the band for deliberately provocative purposes, reasoning that it was similar to hanging the flag upside-down, as a symbol of distress and to draw attention to the problems facing the country. The band’s structure was unusual for the time not only for the emphasis on the then emerging new electronic instruments (synths, percussion and ring modulators, etc), but also for its lack of guitars. With no real experience creating “rock” music, Byrd went into composing and arranging the album with the sensibilities of a contemporary, experimental classical composer, something he later regretted due to his naivety. However, the resulting recordings were striking in their strangeness and unique approach to the genre.

At the time of its release, the album gained little traction and the group quickly disintegrated in a frazzle of personality clashes and musical differences as they each pulled in different directions. This even went as far as petty instances of “volume wars” between musicians on stage and fisticuffs after shows. The group duly disbanded and it’s members pretty much all went on to more rewarding careers. Byrd initially regrouped as Joe Byrd and the Field Hippies, releasing the LP, The American Metaphysical Circus (1969). The album revamped a number of songs and themes from the USA album, even taking those ideas further in some cases, but he then went on to do film and TV scores and teaching. Moskowitz also took up teaching and making children’s music while the remaining members went on to have moderately successful session musician careers.

It would be years later that the album would be recognized for its truly pioneering approach and incorporation of cutting edge electronic instrumentation, along with groups like Silver Apples. Personally, I discovered a vintage copy of the LP in 1983, shortly after moving to Vancouver. I was sharing a rental house with some band mates and the manager of the property had a small garage in the backyard which was filled with his massive record collection. It was wall to wall, floor to ceiling, packed with shelves full of thousands of albums. He took a liking to us being musicians and gave us free access to search through and borrow records. The United States of America stood out for me immediately when I looked at the cover and saw pictures of the electronics. I was not disappointed by what I heard. I recorded a few songs from it on reel to reel, but it wasn’t until 2004 that I finally got a CD copy and had a chance to enjoy the album in all its remastered glory. That reissue also featured numerous alternate takes, outtakes and demos. I wouldn’t discover Byrd’s 1969 Metaphysical Circus album until 2019, however.

Today, it persists as a distinct product of a strange time. For it to continue to stand out against the backdrop of so many other musical achievements of that era is truly remarkable.

TODD RUNDGREN - A WIZARD, A TRUE STAR @ 50

 

Released 50 years ago today, it’s the fourth solo album from Todd Rundgren, A Wizard - A True Star, which hit the record shops on March 2nd, 1973. After the pop chart success of Todd’s previous record, this album saw him veer off into some far more challenging and experimental avenues than where he’d gone before. It was an album inspired by Rundgren’s indulgences in psychedelic drugs and his desire to bring the music he was hearing in his head out into the world.

With limited exceptions, the entire album was created from the ground up by Rundgren, who wrote, performed and produced most of it save for a few bits and pieces here and there. It’s the kind of approach which would be of direct inspiration to young talents like Prince, who often cited Rundgren as a key touchstone. Todd envisioned the album to function as a kind of “flight plan” for a psychedelic trip, carefully crafting it so that each track progressed from one to the next in a seamless manner. No singles were released from the album as Rundgren wanted the LP to be considered as a whole.

After the success of his previous record, Something/Anything, Rundgren began to feel uncomfortable with the praise he was receiving and the comparisons being made to past classics. When he returned to NYC in 1972, he began experimenting with psychedelic drugs for the first time in his life. To his recollection, this included DMT, mescaline, psilocybin, and possibly – but not certainly – LSD. These inner journeys caused him to question his prior work, coming to the conclusion that the simple pop songs he’d made his name on were lacking in effort and true creativity, often feeling formulaic and perfunctory. This realization made him determined that his next record would be far more eclectic and experimental. He explained, "It wasn't like I suddenly threw away everything that I was doing before and decided that I was going to play the music of my mind", rather, the experiences allowed him "to actively put some of my songwriting habits away and to absorb new ideas and to also hear the final product in a different way." However, he "wasn't really aware, at that time, that I'd make such a radical shift".

To record the album, Rundgren and keyboardist Moogy Klingman established a professional recording studio, Secret Sound, to accommodate the Wizard sessions. Located at Manhattan's 24th Street, the studio was designed to Rundgren's specifications and was created so that he could freely indulge in sound experimentation without having to worry about hourly studio costs. During these sessions, Rundgren came to certain revelations, like the idea that the general approach to synthesizers, which was to try to make them sound like traditional instruments, was completely misguided. He realized the instrument had the potential to sound like ANYTHING and that limiting it to pale imitations of horns or strings was a waste of its potential. Rundgren assembled o plethora of instruments in the studio, including vibraphones, organs, keyboards, Fairchild equalizers, and his Stephens 16-track machine. As much as he was able, he’d work by himself, but in some instances, particular songs required others to be available. In these cases, he’d recruit Moogy & the Rhythm Kingz, a band that included drummer John Siomos, keyboardist Ralph Schuckett, and bassist John Siegler. Rundgren encouraged the musicians to contribute any ideas they felt would benefit the music. According to Siegler, "when Todd needed guys to play on his record, we were already there. It was like a club. Secret Sound was our clubhouse, and suddenly Todd was the leader of the club.”

Stylistically, the album runs the gamut from prog & psychedelic rock to Broadway show tunes, bubblegum pop, Philadelphia soul, jazz and funk. The album’s flow is somewhat of an expression of musical ADD, with Rungren unconcerned about the apparent completeness of his ideas, flitting about from one to the next with sometimes abrupt transitions. Regardless, the album is intended to have a specific flow to it, beginning in a kind of chaos and then evolving through a sense of “utopian” idealism, culminating in a medley of Todd’s favorite Philly soul tunes. Music writer Bob Stanley commented that, with Wizard, Rundgren combined all his musical loves, such as "bits of Gershwin, Weimar cabaret and a fight between electronic dogs", into "a red-blooded synth stew".

With the runtime of the album pushing the hour mark, making it one of the longest single disc LPs ever engineered, mastering the vinyl became something of a technical challenge. Most records tend to stay below the 20 minute mark per side, maybe pushing a few minutes beyond that in a pinch. The longer the runtime, the less spacing you can have between the grooves. To accommodate this, the volume level of the mastering had to be dropped, which compromised the sound quality. The liner notes on the album actually address this and advise listeners to increase playback volume to compensate.

Upon its release, the album was met with critical praise, but its eccentric nature knocked it out of contention for much commercial viability, causing it to sell poorly compared to his previous records. Yet commercial success was never the point of the album for Rundgren. After this, he’d spend much of the decade further pursuing his progressive passions with his super-group, Utopia, releasing several albums with them and touring with an elaborate stage show. Todd’s success as a record producer would earn him more than enough commercial success to enable his indulgences on more adventurous projects as a performer.