Caravan

Caravan (1968)

1. Place of My Own - 4:01
2. Ride - 3:42
3. Policeman - 2:44
4. Love Song with Flute - 4:10
5. Cecil Rons - 4:07
6. Magic Man - 4:03
7. Grandma's Lawn - 3:25
8. Where but for Caravan would I? - 9:01

Caravan is a band that wanted desperately to be cutting edge, far out, countercultural, and generally mind-blowing, and that intention is trumpeted in the vapid liner notes (granted, penned by someone not in the band): “Who knows what you will find, this is a journey at the end of the 20th century, lift the yashmaks & see: Loplop, the Superior of the Birds, little bubbles of sound breaking through dry sound. CARAVAN making huge music constructions right out there in the open where everyone can see.” Gag.

The truth of the matter is, Caravan was a rock band with above average instrumental talent and average songwriting abilities. In some cases, the playing rescues the tune; in others, a certain warmth lifts the song out of the crowded pool of British psychedia. This being the first album, they did have a few stumbles.

First, the highlights: bandleader Pye Hastings' brother Jimmy drops by for an improvised flute solo on the aptly titled “Love Song with Flute.” Supposedly captured in a single take, it's a soaring, fluid solo over a full verse and chorus. The rest of the band provides enthusiastic backing, and the song itself is a simple, pretty tune. Bass player Richard Sinclair provides some lighter, humorous diversions with “Policeman” and “Grandma's Lawn.” However, the true hit is the closing epic “Where but for Caravan would I?”. It starts as a lilting breeze in 11/8, floating on lightly strummed guitar and mellow organ as Pye sings a groovy philosophical rumination:

Don't try to find stars in my eyes
We've been there before - and seen...
Just take what you need to find the sun
For you and I, we have the dream to come

Okay, so it's kind of cheesy lyrically. But a few minutes in, this hippy anthem morphs through a dramatic series of chord changes into an aggressive jam, still in 11/8. Dave Sinclair's organ leads the way, with cousin Richard's bass growling away underneath. After some excellent soloing, the jam restates the verse/chorus that preceded it and transitions into the second part of the song, a more up-tempo celebration in a more friendly time signature. Caravan's epics would achieve greater heights, but this first fruit is tasty in its own right.

Now for the bad news: all the other songs are kind of mediocre and forgettable. While pleasant enough as vintage late 60s rock music, they are in no way distinguishable, except for “Cecil Rons,” which gets negative points for ruining a promising baroque organ theme with cacophonic yelling and screaming. The sound of a band trying too hard...

Arbitrary rating: 3.5 out of 5 groovy philosophical ruminations

The Voyage of the "Dawn Treader" - C. S. Lewis

The Voyage of the “Dawn Treader” (C. S. Lewis, 1952)

This was one of my favorite books as a kid, and it remains so upon rereading. Lewis has said in several essays that when he writes, he “sees pictures,” and no other book bears testament to that better. Held together by a quest for seven lost lords, The Voyage is a series of unrelated pictures, many poetic and allegorical, but always adventurous and entertaining.

Lucy, Edmund, and their bossy cousin Eustace are looking at a picture of a ship on the sea, when the picture comes to life and they are transported into it. In the company of Prince Caspian and the Narnian crew, they explore new islands in search of seven lost lords and the eastern end of the world, rumored to be the country of Aslan the Lion. Throughout the voyage, they face slave traders, dangerous territory, wizards, invisible assailants, living darkness, a sea monster, and the prospect of sailing over the edge of the world. They also encounter the souls of stars, undersea civilizations, lily-covered seas, and fulfilled prophecies.

Probably the strongest story is the adventure of Eustace. It employs simple yet effective storytelling, plus some humor, in relating Eustace's transformation into a dragon. When he first awakes as a dragon, he isn't quite aware what has happened to him:

He began extending his right arm. The dragon's foreleg and claw on his right went through exactly the same motion. Then he thought he would try his left. The dragon limb on that side moved, too. Two dragons, one on each side, mimicking whatever he did! His nerve broke and he simply made a run for it.

His time stuck in a dragon's body does him a body of good, as he is forced to depend on the friendship of others and to realize that his own efforts can't change him back. His change at the hands of Aslan is one of the most poetic and visceral scenes. Aslan leads him to a pool in a garden on top of a mountain and bids him bathe in the pool after shedding his dragon's skin. Eustace scratches off his skin several times, but there's always another skin beneath it. Only when he lets the lion dig deep does the skin come off completely, and, raw and tender, Eustace bathes his shorn dragon body, which transforms back to the body of a boy. He also changes as a person, but it's a realistic change, as explained by the narrator:

It would be nice, and fairly nearly true, to say that “from that time forth Eustace was a different boy.” To be strictly accurate, he began to be a different boy. He had relapses. There were still many days when he could be very tiresome. But most of those I shall not notice. The cure had begun.

I think the strength of Lewis's writing, especially in the Narnia series, lies in presenting truths about life in creative yet simple ways. You can read it for the story alone, you can read it for the shards of poetry, you can read it for the ideas. In The Voyage, I think the overall theme of the book is discovery, whether it's the discovery of new wonders or of the things inside us that separate us from love.

Arbitrary rating: 5 out of 5 inner dragons