CURVED AIR - Air Conditioning (1970-2015) SHM-CD / FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

In its initial vinyl form, Curved Air's debut album is one of the prog rock movement's most prized artifacts -- not for the music (for that, it goes without saying, is flawless), but for the picture-disc format which had never previously graced a 12" rock record. A glimmering of that sought-after magnificence lives on, of course, in the artwork which has graced every subsequent release, this Collectors' Choice reissue included. Sadly, however, no other attempt is made to replicate the original jewel; indeed, beyond a straightforward dub of the album, Air Conditioning's American CD debut is something of a disappointment. No bonus tracks, no liner notes, no remastering -- nothing, in fact, beyond one of the finest classical rock fusions of the age. Curved Air were an unwieldy beast at the best of times, an uneasy liaison between Sonja Kristina's rampant rock sensibilities and her bandmates' undisguised virtuosity. Keyboard player Francis Monkman, in particular, led the group into some genuinely uncharted territory -- it was he who named the group after a Terry Riley composition; he who consumed side two of each album for a series of wild experiments, most of which incorporate acoustic folk, free form jazz, and a hefty dose of Vivaldi. Not that this was a bad thing. Indeed, Air Conditioning rates among the great debut albums of 1970s rock, a hybrid whose breathless audacity stands in starkly good-natured contrast to the po-faced noodlings of the genre's other leading progenitors. Even in full, fanciful flight (the instrumental "Rob One" or the sawing discordant "Vivaldi"), you can hear the band enjoying themselves, as Darryl Way's violin soars to pitches unknown to rocking man, the immortally named Florian Pilkington-Miksa conjures brand new rhythms from his percussive arsenal and Monkman. Well, Monkman is as Monkman does, but even when you know what's going to happen next, a frill or a flourish still leaps out to surprise you. Kristina, meanwhile, possesses one of the most distinctive voices of the age, a virtue which is apparent from the moment she enters on the opening "It Happens Today." Hints of Grace Slick enter her delivery during the Airplane-like "Stretch," but it's a fleeting comparison. By the time you hit "Propositions," all echoed riffs and space age synth, Curved Air don't sound like anything else on earth. You do, however, notice how many subsequent bands sound a lot like them. by Dave Thompson  

CURVED AIR - Second Album (1971-2015) SHM-CD / FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

Time has not treated Curved Air's second album kindly. Of course it was always dominated by "Back Street Luv," which isn't simply one of the band's own finest moments, it's also one of the crucial singles of the early 1970s. But across this straightforward reissue of the accompanying album, the savage innovation which was the hallmark of their Air Conditioning debut, and the brilliant eclecticism which would characterize their next set, is nowhere in sight. Which is weird, because it always used to sound quite good. In its place, a crop of relatively straightforward but sonically flat rock songs are distinguished by Sonja Christina's most conventional, cool vocals yet -- only "Back Street Luv" truly draws any true emotion out of her, while the band's much vaunted classical/rock fusion only shakes its fist during the closing "Piece of Mind," although it must be admitted that when it shakes, it really shakes. A building, foreboding 13-minute epic, crowned by a genuinely spine-tingling recitation from TS Eliot's "The Wasteland," "Piece of Mind" is the kind of performance which you just know was played endlessly in college dorm rooms of the age. The segues from mounting rock to pondering piano seem hopelessly old-fashioned now, the building tension of violin and percussion seems obvious and hackneyed. In 1971, though, Curved Air were pioneers in every sense of the word and it is neither their fault, nor this album's, that we're not so easily impressed any longer. But maybe it isn't time which has treated this album so poorly, but the slipshod manner in which this album has been converted to CD. It sounds lifeless, sludgy, even (in places) a little slow. It has certainly not been remastered; it may not even have used the best quality tapes. Albums this ambitious need loving care and patient attention to cut the aural ice today. This one got neither. by Dave Thompson  

CURVED AIR - Phantasmagoria (1972-2015) SHM-CD / FLAC (image+.cue), lossless

The sonic caveats which accompany Collector's Choice's other Curved Air reissues remain in force; the historical truth that what sounded timelessly groovy in 1971 is not necessarily so finger-snapping three decades later remains unimpeachable. But still, Phantasmagoria is a fabulous album, the culmination of all that Curved Air promised over the course of its predecessors; the yardstick by which all rock/classical hybrids should be measured. The opening "Marie Antoinette" sets the scene with lovely melody, impassioned vocal and a terrifically understated band performance which complements every syllable uttered by vocalist Sonja Kristina. The bridge into revolution ("the rabble have gone insane") is breathtaking -- history lessons should all sound this good, and the amazing thing is that the album has only just got started. The gentle "Melinda More or Less" is swirling, sweet folky psychedelia, while "Not Quite the Same," a somewhat self-conscious ode to masturbation, disguises its proggy inclinations with a barrelhouse 6/8 rhythm and a genuinely catchy hook. "Ultra-Vivaldi" updates the first album's "Vivaldi" by, apparently, letting the Chipmunks have a go at playing it. And the four-part, side-long title track switches moods, effects, and even genres (jazz, mariachi, and the avant-garde all get a look in) to create an dazzling soundscape which allows every members a moment to shine -- without once stepping into the treacherous swamps of solos and virtuosity. This was the original Curved Air's final album -- by the time the accompanying tour was over, only Kristina and bassist Mike Wedgwood (himself a spanking new arrival) remained to carry on the good work. As farewells go, then, it is magnificent, the band's grandest hour by far. And listening to it all these decades later, one cannot help but wonder how much grander they might have become? by Dave Thompson