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If the 1970s was prog’s heyday, then the 80s was when it reinvented itself. At the start of the decade, the genre’s big hitters may have been a little bruised by the upheavals of the previous few years – but for the most part they were still standing.

Pink Floyd, Yes and Jethro Tull all released albums, while Genesis became bigger than ever – albeit by streamlining their sound to fit prevailing pop trends. At the other end of the scale, the neo-prog movement produced a new generation of bands, most notably Marillion, Pallas, I.Q., Pendragon and, a few years later, It Bites.

That’s not to say the 80s was an easy time for prog bands or their fans – 25 minute epics were considered passé. In truth prog’s peak had passed – at least for the time being. But in 2016 we listed the most essential albums that kept the flame alive.

Rush – Moving Pictures (1981)

The final of the four albums in Rush’s second cycle, this is one of the Canadian trio’s three strongest albums – irrespective of the decade. The menacing introduction to the Mark Twain-inspired Tom Sawyer is merely a prelude to the equally wonderful Red Barchetta and the stunning instrumental YYZ.

Moving Pictures sees the trio pulling off the tricky balance between virtuoso musicianship and superb musical material and thought-provoking lyrics. Limelight’s take on fame remains ever-pertinent more than 30 years later.

Subsequent Rush albums in the 80s would get bogged down in synths, but Moving Pictures is the sound of the band at its peak.

Asia – Asia (1982)

A marketing man’s dream, Asia were a premier league prog supergroup: Yes guitarist Steve Howe and keyboardist Geoff Downes, ELP drummer Carl Palmer and King Crimson/UK/Uriah Heep bassist/vocalist John Wetton.

This, the quartet’s debut, spent nine weeks at the top of the US album chart. Hugely commercial, but with strong prog undertones and impeccable musicianship – plus the prog stamp of approval of a Roger Dean logo and cover – the likes of Heat Of The Moment and Only Time Will Tell earned Asia a huge audience.

Yes – 90125 (1983)

The eleventh-hour involvement of vocalist Jon Anderson meant that this extraordinary album appeared under the Yes name. With bassist Chris Squire and drummer Alan White on board, plus the return of keyboardist Tony Kaye, the band may have looked like Yes, but 90125 represented an astonishing sonic transformation.

The mastermind behind its compelling songs and unique sound was South African guitarist Trevor Rabin, abetted by some-time Yes vocalist Trevor Horn. The almost metallic riff of lead track Owner Of A Lonely Heart may have shocked old fans, but it also ensured Yes’ survival.

Supertramp – Brother Where You Bound (1985)

With Roger Hodgson departed for a solo career, keyboardist/vocalist Rick Davies assumed control of Supertramp’s musical direction. And with Brother Where You Bound that meant for a unique creation.

Cannonball and Still In Love have Davies’ piano to the fore, with plenty of horns thrown in for good measure, while No In Between is darkly atmospheric.

And just edging Better Days, the highlight is the thunderous 16-minute title track, featuring Thin Lizzy’s Scott Gorham and Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour on guitars. An atypical Supertramp album, but also one of their strongest.

Marillion – Misplaced Childhood (1985)

Standard-bearers for the so-called neo-prog movement, Marillion had already enjoyed some success before the release of this, their third album. But with the timeless Kayleigh and epic ballad Lavender making serious inroads into the singles charts, Fish and co suddenly became household names.

Prog just wasn’t expected to be this catchy, but Kayleigh was instantly memorable, and Steve Rothery’s signature guitar sound throughout satisfied the purists. A bona fide concept album, Misplaced Childhood is one continuous piece of music. And at 41 minutes it doesn’t outstay its welcome either.

Emerson Lake & Powell – Emerson Lake & Powell (1986)

The cynics may have carped that, in Carl Palmer’s absence, Keith Emerson and Greg Lake brought in Cozy Powell only to maintain the ‘ELP’ continuity. But it’s the former Whitesnake drummer’s power that propels this superb album.

The Score and The Miracle are marvellous mini-epics. Elsewhere there are shorter tracks such as the jazzy Step Aside, the ballad Lay Down Your Arms and the memorable Touch And Go, plus Mars, The Bringer Of War, from Holst’s The Planets. This stands proudly alongside the best of the Palmer ELP albums

Pink Floyd – A Momentary Lapse Of Reason (1987)

Defying Roger Waters – who’d tried to shut the band down in the wake of 1983’s acrimonious The Final Cut – Messrs Gilmour, Mason and Wright reunited in 1987 for A Momentary Lapse Of Reason.

Derided at the time by Waters, it’s effectively a Gilmour solo album. And while it’s not a patch on the Floyd masterworks of the 70s, it merits inclusion here.

The ironically titled Signs Of Life is an instrumental prelude for Learning To Fly which showcases Gilmour’s guitar, while the pulsating The Dogs Of War is considerably darker, and the uplifting On The Turning Away simply sublime.

It Bites – Once Around The World (1988)

A prog rock band with strong pop sensibilities to boot, It Bites were an unlikely looking and sounding proposition.

This second album manages to mix hugely commercial tracks like Midnight and Kiss Like Judas with epics like Old Man And The Angel and the astonishing 15-minute title track without seeming contrived.

While Francis Dunnery’s voice is an acquired taste, his guitar playing and musical vision held enormous promise which as yet remains unfulfilled following the band’s implosion a couple of years later.

Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe – Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe (1989)

Yes in all but name for legal reasons. After that band’s Big Generator failed to match the success of 90125, vocalist Jon Anderson regrouped with former colleagues Steve Howe, Bill Bruford and Rick Wakeman for this one-off project.

More quintessentially prog than 80s Yes, ABWH stretch out with several mini epics – Themes, Brother Of Mine, the borderline twee Quartet and potent Order Of The Universe among them.

Elsewhere The Meeting and Let’s Pretend are reminiscent of Anderson’s work with Vangelis.

World Trade – World Trade (1989)

Formed by Lodgic bassist – and future Yes man – Billy Sherwood, World Trade’s debut is one of prog’s great lost albums.

Clearly influenced by early-80s Yes, World Trade fashioned a sound that was a hybrid of AOR and prog. A throwaway opening instrumental aside, this record is 10 near-flawless tracks.

Highlights include Life-Time, driven by Sherwood’s bass riff, the uplifting Revolution Song and caustic Fight To Win. Sherwood’s current membership of Yes aside, World Trade are a footnote in the prog annals – but this is essential listening.

Free began as a serious-minded bunch, each member steeped in the spirit of the British Blues Explosion. Most of their 1969 debut Tons Of Sobs and the eponymous follow-up consisted of meaningful blues tracts, and their concerts ticked along to a medium tempo. The story goes that after a particularly lacklustre college gig in Durham, Free headed for the dressing room to the audible indifference of the crowd.

“The applause had died before I had even left the drum riser,” recalled drummer Simon Kirke. “It was obvious that we needed a rocker to close our shows.” A tune that always got the room shaking was their take on The Hunter, a raunchy, upbeat blues recorded by Albert King.

“We couldn’t drop it because it was too popular,” remembered Paul Rodgers. “We knew we had to write a song with all those same qualities and a singalong chorus.”

That night in Durham, Fraser consoled his bandmates, reassuring them things would be okay by riffing on a consolatory line, ‘All right now, it’s all right now’. It stuck, and their biggest song was pieced together from there. Fraser wrote the timeless riff on piano, with Paul Kossoff then arranging it for guitar. If there were similarities with the Rolling Stones’ Honky Tonk Women, Fraser claimed he was actually trying to channel the era’s chord-meister, Pete Townshend.

If All Right Now showed Free’s more frivolous side, it was driven home by their unparalleled musical pedigree. Kirke’s cowbell-studded beat is rock solid, Fraser adds flamboyant, high-up-the-neck fills to his low-end bass groove, and Kossoff – besides that crunching riff – plays his heart out through the song’s soaring guitar solo, cut short for the single edit by Island’s Chris Blackwell, who could smell a hit.

Meanwhile, Rodgers takes the of-its-time ‘boy-pulls-girl’ lyric and pours soul all over it. The lyric, the frontman revealed to Free biographer Steven Rosen, was inspired by an unplanned encounter with actress Marsha Hunt (then in a relationship with Mick Jagger) on a London street.

“I used to live near Oxford Street and Hair was playing right there on the corner,” said Rodgers. “And I remember seeing this girl and she may have triggered the idea for that, because there she stood in the street, and she seemed to be smiling from her head to her feet. She obviously had a presence, do you know what I mean? Because there were a lot of people around and she just stood there and I thought, ‘Wow – look at her’.”

First charting in June 1970, All Right Now peaked at No.2 on the UK singles chart and at No.4 in the US. Its parent album Fire And Water also landed at No.2 in the UK, its momentum maintained by Free’s turn at the Isle Of Wight Festival that year, where Free headlined for a crowd estimated to be between 600,000 and 700,000.

In reaching that commercial high-water mark, one of the all-time great British rock bands gave us an enduring anthem. With 380 million Spotify hits and counting, it’s still played on radio daily worldwide, still lovingly murdered by countless pub bands every weekend, still imitated by the legions of groups Free inspired.

“I never bought a yacht on the Riviera off it, but it’s been very handy,” Rodgers told Classic Rock. “A couple of TV ads butchered it like the Wrigley’s Spearmint gum thing, where they just used my voice. Island Records did better than we did. The song broke us in America, but we couldn’t capitalise because we broke up and became an enigma there.”

Indeed, the success of All Right Now was a factor in that breakup, robbing Free of the musical freedom their name implied. “All Right Now really was an albatross,” Kirke told Classic Rock. “What’s that old Chinese saying: be careful what you wish for? And we got it. Suddenly, instead of playing a different town every night, we were playing a different country.”

“The pressure was on to come up with a follow-up to All Right Now, and we just couldn’t,” he continued. “That’s when Andy and Paul thought, well, we’ve reached the end of our musical journey together, let’s split up. I’ll never forget Koss’s reaction. He slumped like he’d been hit in the stomach.”

George Thorogood appears on the Zoom screen in a blank, neutral space, the background giving nothing away. The lighting is clean, the image sharp. Wearing a jacket and a big pair of shades, and with a thick head of light-brown hair, he looks every inch the high-functioning rock’n’roll lifer he has always been. He could very well be in Tysons, Virginia where he and his band the Destroyers are playing a show tomorrow night. But it’s a detail he won’t confirm.

“I like to keep one foot in the shadows,” he says, conspiratorially. Thorogood is here to talk up The Baddest Show On Earth, a live greatest hits collection that distills the best moments of a 50-plus-year touring career into a single set.

Back when you started out in those early bar gigs in Delaware, what did a great night feel like?

A great night was when nobody got hurt. That was our motive when we got into playing those barroom places. People drink a lot, they get excited, sometimes they take it too far. There’s a jealous husband or boyfriend. It could get rough. It’s better now. I like it better now.

Was there a moment early on when you realised you had something that could last?

The first time we played together. As soon as we played, the reaction was so immediate and high-energy and positive, we knew we had something right away. I said to myself: “This is who I am. This is what I am.” Before I even really got into music I was completely consumed by it. That’s all I wanted to do then, and that’s all I want now.

What for you is the hardest part of the touring life that people don’t see?

There are so many things. I could give you a migraine just listing them. Let’s put it this way: show business is not for sissies. Getting on stage and actually playing is the easiest part. It’s still difficult, but less difficult than everything else. Putting a tour together, getting a crew together, all the logistics. Just getting everybody out of the house.

Rock’n’roll is different now. People have families. They have to convince their wives or their children they have to go on the road. That’s not easy. In the 1970s we didn’t have those issues. Nobody was married, nobody had kids. People just went out and played and got high. That’s the way it was back then. Well, the world has changed. It’s become a more sophisticated thing, because, like Cyndi Lauper says, money changes everything. When the big bucks rolled in, it got more complex.

You’ve stayed remarkably consistent in what you do. How did you manage that?

I was lucky. I had a particular idea of what I wanted to do, and I also knew that’s all I can do. The riffs of John Lee Hooker, Bo Diddley, Howlin’ Wolf, they came natural to me. That was my favourite kind of music anyway, so I got a break there.

What was it like when you started meeting the very people who inspired you?

I was in shock. I still am. People like Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Robert Lockwood Jr… they just took us under their wing. They naturally warmed up to us. That was the biggest surprise of all. I had no expectations about it, but they went overboard to help us any way they could. Guys in Howlin’ Wolf’s band, Hound Dog Taylor’s band, they were really for us. That meant everything.

When you were promoting your 1983 single Rock And Roll Christmas, in the video you had John Lee Hooker dressed as Santa Claus. How did you persuade him to do that?

John Lee was a friend of ours. We were doing this video for MTV. And when John Lee saw some of the women in the video he said: “Okay, I’ll do it.” He became the “boogie-woogie Santa Claus” as he put it. Everything we did with John Lee was a pleasure.

Rock And Roll Christmas was your own song. So was your biggest hit, Bad To The Bone (1982). Were you under pressure to write more originals?

In the 1970s people kept telling me: “You’ve got to write your own material.” And I was going: “What if the material’s not any good? How about that?” I wasn’t going to drop One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer [by John Lee Hooker] or Move It On Over [Hank Williams] just because I didn’t write them. That would be crazy.

Eventually someone else would do those songs. Linda Ronstadt would do Move It On Over, and I’d be left at the dock. So I kind of had to represent the band myself, to sell those songs to a record company. I found out later that record companies make more money off originals than they do off a non-original. I didn’t know that. I just figured, look, if a song is great, it’s going to be a hit whether I do it or not.

What difference does it make who wrote it as long as people dig it? The Allman Brothers, Elvin Bishop, somebody’s going to do it. So that was a big mental struggle for me in those days.

Looking back on your career, what are you most proud of?

The fact that I was able to make a living doing this. And that the songs we selected were right. I’m proud we exposed those songs. Once we made the first record [George Thorogood And The Destroyers, 1977] and it hit, then everything turned around. The record company came back and said: “Hey man, you got any more of those tunes?” So we proved ourselves in that department, and I am proud of that.

What would you have done differently?

About a thousand things. I would have tried to get a manager earlier, someone to beat the bushes and get us a record deal. That’s what managers do when an act is unknown. I had to represent the band myself, and that was a struggle. Sure, ultimately, I would have liked to get to a level like Steve Miller or Bob Seger. That didn’t happen. But I’m pleased with the level we made it to. Let’s put it this way: I clawed my way to the middle.

The 50/50 tour George Thorogood And The Destroyers did in 1981 – 50 states in 50 days – has become part of rock’n’roll folklore. What do you remember about it now?

It was an effort in lunacy. We had that tour planned, and then we got offered more shows with the Rolling Stones. [US promoter] Bill Graham wanted us to open for all the remaining dates of the Stones [Tattoo You] tour, but we couldn’t do it because we had already made that obligation. So the whole time on that 50/50 tour I was kind of kicking myself, knowing what I had passed up.

When you did get to tour with the Stones, did you spend much time with them off stage?

Mick Jagger took us out one night in Holland. We had a few beers and talked for a couple of hours – music, clothes, everything. He was a wonderful host. Very funny guy. He’s got a natural way of making you laugh. Very smart guy. I mean, he wrote Jumpin’ Jack Flash. That’s one of the greatest rock’n’roll songs ever. We send a birthday greeting to Keith every year. Sometimes we get a response, sometimes we don’t, but that’s the association, man. That’s good enough for me.

Did Ronnie Wood offer to paint your picture?

I don’t think that’s gonna happen. I don’t think I could sit still that long.

Brian Jones was an important influence on you as well, wasn’t he?

I’ll ask you a question: what do Keith Richards, Mick Jagger and George Thorogood all have in common? We all heard a slide guitar for the first time being played by Brian Jones. He played great rhythm and slide guitar. And that’s what I do. Brian Jones turned me on to that.

I once cornered Bo Diddley, and I said: “Bo, is there anybody you know that can capture your sound?” He said: “Nobody can be like me. I’m the one and only.” I said: “I know that, but if you had to pick somebody…” And he said: “The guy that got Bo Diddley down the best was Brian Jones.”

You’ve also spent time on the road with ZZ Top. What did you take from that band?

Every year we turn around, and at some point it’s always ZZ Top and Thorogood. Promoters like that bill. We just did New Zealand and Australia with them and we’re gonna do some Stateside dates with them later in the year.

I once asked Billy Gibbons if he could give me any advice. He said: [imitates Gibbons’ deep, slow, Texan rumble] “George… I’m still looking for that lost chord.” He was talking about that one chord that takes a blues song and turns it into a rock’n’roll song. He found a way to take that basic blues thing and make it something bigger.

You played at Live Aid in Philadelphia. What do you remember about that day?

Well, it was very hot, and we’d had no sleep at all. We were in San Francisco the day before when we got the word they wanted us to do this, so we had to jump on a red-eye plane. I won’t say it was hectic, but you had to keep moving. Mr. [Bill] Graham [promoter] didn’t want anybody hanging around backstage, because there was so many acts to deal with.

We got George Siegel, who I love, to introduce us. And I got to meet Jack Nicholson. He had a sort of bowling shirt on, looked like he just walked out of a bowling alley. And he walks up to me and he says: “Georgie… [imitates Nicholson: long, long pause, big wolfish grin]… Jack.” I said: “You know who I am?” He goes: “Sure… I always follow the rough boys!” We had Albert Collins and Bo Diddley both join us on stage. I asked Bo what kind of strings he was using. He said: “I don’t know, but they’re heavy duty.”

You’ve kept a band together for decades. What’s the secret?

Loyalty is based on finance. That doesn’t hurt. If you’re playing music, getting paid for it, and having fun, that’s rare. A lot of bands stay together because they’re successful, not because they like each other. If you can get along as well, that’s a bonus.

Come on! It’s got to be more than just the money. You and Jeff Simon (Destroyers’ drummer) have known each other since you were at school. You’ve been central to his entire working life.

Well, you might have got something there. Jeff was a few years younger than me. I went to school with his older brother. So I think he kind of looked up to me in the neighborhood. So when I said: “I want to form a band with you,” well, I think that gave him a rush.

And he had a great knowledge of music. For a young guy from about thirteen or so, he knew all about the Mothers Of Invention. He knew about the blues. He went to see Johnny Winter. He knew what was going on. So when he heard me play, he knew immediately where I was going, and he wanted to get involved with that.

What about the rest of the band? They’ve all been with you a very long time, haven’t they?

Yeah, a few years. Once you get in a groove with somebody… We’re fortunate. There’s a lot of acts that work together, and they stay together, but they really couldn’t stand each other, but they were successful. Legend has it that Lou Costello didn’t like Bud Abbott too much. Or Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee didn’t get along. But they stick it out because they’re successful.

You weren’t tempted to hire some bigger names or change the dynamic in some way?

Sure. I wanted to get Jeff Beck in. But he wasn’t available. Then I wanted to get Keith Moon, but he passed on. I went for the big time, but those cats were a little busy.

Dave Edmunds produced some of your songs. Maybe he would have made the cut?

I love Dave Edmunds. I’ve jammed with him. He got me up on stage to play with the Ringo Starr All-Stars. That was a gas. I just wish I had his chops. I mean, he’s the only guitar player in the world I knew who did that Russian song Sabre Dance [with Love Sculpture]. Now, that’s something quite extraordinary.

When Mick Taylor left the Stones, I thought Dave Edmunds could have been the man for the job. British, good knowledge of rock’n’roll, especially Chuck Berry. I was rooting for him. But I guess Ronnie Wood was the natural selection.

Your new album features live recordings from 1978 to 2024. How did you choose what songs to include?

There were certain songs we wanted to capture live that had never been on a record before. And then the record company wants to put some of our biggest songs on it to sell records. So it was kind of a fifty-fifty operation. We’re here to play what people want to hear. If they respond to Bad To The Bone, we play it. If they respond to One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer, then we play it. If we play a song and they don’t respond, then we don’t play it. How’s that?

Do you have any other message for your fans?

Most of what you’ve just read is true… But never let the facts interfere with a good story.

The Baddest Show On Earth: Greatest Hits Live is out now via Craft Recordings. George Thorogood and the Destroyers are currently on tour in the US – for dates and tickets, check the George Thorogood website.