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Strawbs co-founder Dave Cousins enjoyed a musical career spanning more than six decades. The singer, songwriter and guitarist and has been named by many musicians as a key influence and inspiration. Following his death at 85 on July 13, 2025, Prog reflect on his rich legacy.

Dave Cousins’ death marked the end of a long and fruitful career in music that began with the formation of the bluegrass-picking band The Strawberry Hill Boys in 1964 – but he found his original voice once the outfit morphed into Strawbs in 1967.

With his roots deep in folk music, like many of his contemporaries, he was galvanised by seeing Bob Dylan and Donovan, but equally open to the giddy pop of The Beatles. Amassing a songbook that had already accumulated over 50 entries by the mid-1960s, Cousins eagerly embraced the stylistic freedoms of the times, seizing the opportunity to write about the issues of the moment – war, peace, sectarianism and sexuality, all of which were often freighted with a cynical eye and a poetic turn of phrase.

In that last respect, he never really changed. To the last, he maintained his prolific songwriting, scribbling ideas, poems and lyrics down on scraps of paper which later would be retrieved from pockets, bags and flight cases to be crafted into memorable songs.

Cousins’ work often carried a confessional aspect. His best writing had an intensity that frequently connected the landscape, or the implacable effects of the seasons, to the psyche, creating a vivid sense of place and marshalling tiny details to paint the bigger picture.

Keyboardist Blue Weaver, who joined Strawbs on 1972’s Grave New World, says: “If you take any of his lyrics, even if there isn’t any music, it’s poetry. I think everything came from the lyrics with Dave, but he was also an amazing musician. He didn’t always play a guitar in standard tuning. A lot of the tunings were unique to him, and that created the sound of those tracks, things like Benedictus – which he wrote on the dulcimer.”

Reflecting on his decades-long career as a session musician and producer, including his work with the Bee Gees, Weaver says he owes some of that success to his time in Strawbs. “Dave gave me the privilege of being recognised as a musician in a way that I’d never have dreamt of. I’ll always be grateful to him for that.”

Strawbs were the first UK band to be signed to A&M; their nine studio albums with the label between 1969 and 1975 bear witness to Cousins’ rapid acceleration as a writer. Each record established a bold new repertoire that refused to coast or rest on its laurels.

With his ear and artistic ambitions attenuated to the cultural frequencies of the times, his creations constantly repositioned the group, moving from the psych-tinged pop of their self-titled debut, through to folk rock of 1970’s Dragonfly, the mostly live Just A Collection Of Antiques And Curios and 1971’s beguiling From The Witchwood; and from there – following the departure of Rick Wakeman – the high-concept work of Grave New World. Cousins regarded the 1972 release as one of the group’s very best, ushering in what might be regarded as their imperial progressive rock phase.

Bursting At The Seams (1973) ushered in what many regard as the definitive Strawbs line-up. With guitarist Dave Lambert’s striking melodic soloing and John Hawken’s atmospheric keyboards, the group were held together by the deft articulacy of bassist Chas Cronk and drummer Rod Coombes. Albums such as 1974’s Hero And Heroine and 1975’s Ghosts saw the group establish a strong foothold in North America through relentless touring.

At this point Cousins was at his charismatic, declamatory best. Part showman, part prophet, he roared and enunciated the words to Round And Round and The Life Auction with an elemental ferocity. Such a persona was in stark contrast to the often genteel and polite man to be found away from the stage.

Long-term fan Chris Taberham first encountered Strawbs when they supported The Spinners in Newcastle in 1970. “It was when Rick Wakeman was with the group. I remember more than a few Spinners fans sticking their fingers in their ears in complaint when Rick got a bit too loud!” Having written a letter to Cousins, Taberham received an invitation to come backstage – something he’d do often in later years.

“I read that he’d written a song about a lighthouse keeper’s daughter, Grace Darling, a Northumberland heroine of mine. When I asked him about it, he took me to one side and played me the entire song Grace Darling – well before it was released on Ghosts.”

He cherishes the letters and Christmas cards Cousins sent him over the years, including a pre-release copy of Old School Songs, an album Cousins made with Strawbs stalwart Brian Willoughby in 1979. “I had no idea the LP had even been made, so its arrival came as a complete surprise. He didn’t have to do that – but the fact that he did tells you a lot about the man.”

Indeed, in the hours following Cousins’ death, social media exploded with accounts about how generous he’d been with his time. He’d always described Strawbs as akin to a large family. As Weaver – who returned to the band in the 80s, 90s, and in more recent times – observes: “Once a Strawb, always a Strawb.”

As in any family, things weren’t always harmonious. Paying tribute to Cousins via his Facebook page, guitarist and singer Brian Willoughby noted, “He and I had our ‘ups and downs,’ but I am satisfied that our friendship lasted, borne out by the fact that he welcomed me back to the fold for his final performances. I remain proud to have worked with and learnt from a special talent… I shall miss even the ‘downs’ but mostly remember the ‘ups’!”

Those comments diplomatically touch upon another aspect of working with the driven and sometimes capricious Cousins. As with any long-running band, disagreements are never far from the surface, particularly where money and success are involved.

Cousins recalled how the success of Part Of The Union led to a serious falling-out (he alway appreciated the irony that the song, written by John Ford and Richard Hudson, was their best-selling single and also their least representative song). The management told him that his colleagues had decided he should leave for a solo career, and they’d carry on as Strawbs. “Needless to say it didn’t work out like that,” said Cousins. “There was a bloodbath in Hollywood, where we were at the time, and John Ford and Richard Hudson went their separate ways.”

Speaking the day after Cousins’ death was announced, Ford reflects that the tensions of the past had long since been forgotten. “All bands have problems, you know? It’s a democracy and you all chip in; then when someone doesn’t like something, things happen – sparks fly.

“When we did the final Strawbs show at the Cropredy Festival in 2023, Dave wasn’t that well, but he struggled through. He’s always been a trouper. Afterwards, he and I got to hang out together for a couple of days; he was driving me around sightseeing before I flew back to the States. He was great.

“It’s so sad he’s gone. Everyone expected him to pull out of his illness, but unfortunately it got the better of him. It seems ironic that even though I left so long ago – 1973 – was one of the last of the older band members to hang out with him. That was a privilege for me.”

Rick Wakeman, who first appeared with Strawbs on Dragonfly, wrote his own affectionate tribute via social media. “Dave had a wonderful gift of writing great melodies which fitted his lyrics perfectly and were a joy to play. I remember listening to A Glimpse Of Heaven for the first time on acoustic guitar as we sat in his cottage in Devon, and he related how he’d written it on the cliffs at Sidmouth. It’s such a beautiful song.

“After I left the Strawbs, Dave and I stayed in touch, and we shared many musicians including Chas Cronk and Tony Fernandez. And of course two of my sons, Oliver and Adam, both had spells with the Strawbs.”

During Wakeman’s show at Trading Boundaries in February 2024, Cousins joined him to play A Glimpse Of Heaven – his last-ever public performance. Unrehearsed, it was, Wakeman wrote, “A very moving and poignant moment for me, and I’m pleased it was filmed. It’s here for all to listen to and reflect on a man who had a very great influence on my life.”

In April 2025, Cousins got in touch with this writer to discuss possible ideas for the recently-released Blu-ray Magic From The Moon. Undaunted that his illness was catching up with him, he was planning a series of posthumous releases, including a remastered reissue of 1994’s The Bridge – made with Brian Willoughby and featuring Mary Hopkin – and a Blu-ray release of the 2023 Cropredy show. Most significantly, he’d written and partly recorded new songs for the final Strawbs studio album.

Having fought numerous health challenges on multiple fronts over many years, he endured such hardships with a wry stoicism and a smile, saying, “Well, you just have to get on with these things.”

It all started with one riff. In a recent interview, former Edge Of Sanity mainman Dan Swanö said that the sessions for his band’s fifth album, Crimson, began with him wanting to get more out of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it guitar part he’d used in his goth rock project Nightingale. From those humble origins came a masterpiece: a 40-minute, one-song labyrinth that remains a benchmark for progressive death metal – even if it never quite found the mass adulation it deserved.

For those who don’t know, Edge Of Sanity were formed in 1989 by singer, guitarist and future multi-instrumentalist Swanö, plus co-guitarist Andreas Axelsson. The two would remain the outfit’s key tandem for much of the time between their founding and their 2003 disbanding, but that stability belies the musical experimenting they did. After kicking off as a straight-ahead death metal act, they pulled influence from the developing prog metal, black metal and melodeath movements: sounds Swanö engaged with by producing Katatonia, Dark Funeral and more in the early-to-mid 90s.

When it first came out in April 1996, Crimson marked the apex of Edge Of Sanity’s ambition. Swanö had the year prior produced Orchid, the debut album from Swedish prog-death icons Opeth, and was wowed by their canon of Rime Of The Ancient Mariner-scale epics.

“I was so blown away that I barely knew my own name,” he later remembered, “and I wanted to do something that was quite similar.”

Writing for Crimson also consisted of improvised jams with all five Edge Of Sanity members present – a stark change from their usual modus operandi of Swanö composing in isolation. As a result, from the one riff Swanö had in his back-pocket, Crimson naturally grew and grew. The band leader at one point toyed with going down a full, unfettered and “vibey” prog metal direction, before Axelsson pulled him back to reason. “When are we going to stop with this Pink Floyd stuff and start playing some death metal?” he asked.

That push-and-pull is audible throughout Crimson. The winding odyssey’s opening minutes establish the extremes, darting from bullheaded oomph, spearheaded by Swanö’s screams, to ominous, proggy arpeggios. From there, the album is the sound of a band unchained.

As Swanö says: “We were all so thankful that we didn’t have to write 10 choruses, 10 cool intros and 10 cool verses and find 10 cool titles. We just had that one piece, and anything goes! You could go from a blast beat part with black metal vocals and straight into a doom part with the deepest vocals ever and just be extremely adventurous.”

Yet, Edge Of Sanity also had the restraint to include melodies and motifs that stopped them from veering off the deep end. Amid Crimson’s gallop of genre-splicing pieces, they revisited pivotal riffs, while Swanö’s spotless production and the band’s already ambitious back-catalogue made even the boldest tangents still feel somewhat logical. The sense of grandeur was hoisted even higher by Opeth singer/screamer Mikael Åkerfeldt, who leant every shade of his voice to the album, as well as some lead guitar licks.

Upon release, Crimson was hailed by many fans as Edge Of Sanity’s defining achievement, but its status as a one-song opus offered little in the way of broader appeal. Also, the band imploded within months of it coming out: Swanö left Edge Of Sanity in 1997, then they broke up, then they came back to make Crimson II before once more disappearing just as quickly. As a result, where the similarly avant-garde likes of Opeth won their audiences through decades of craft, these forward-thinkers sadly fell by the wayside, despite how intensely they’ve been clung to by their cult audience.

In a just world, Crimson would be one of the first things that comes to mind when your average metalhead thinks “death metal masterpiece” – up there with the likes of Blackwater Park, Altars Of Madness and Heartwork. But we do not live in a just world. Until we do, those who know get to treasure a defining, essential statement that makes 40 minutes feel like less than half the time.

A remix of Crimson came out on June 6 via Century Media.