Having narrowly avoided becoming permanent members of a 4/20 council (attendance optional, memory unreliable), your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sonic Discernment, Dr. Glund, return to the sacred excavation site…

Colosseum

Track by bloody track. No safety net. No edit machine mercy.

This week’s descent lands us squarely in the curious, blues-soaked corner of Valentyne Suite…

A track that may or may not be about a sandwich.

(It is not about a sandwich.)

TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:

“Butty’s Blues” — Colosseum

A laid-back blues? Yes.

A simple blues? Not a chance.

This is Colosseum doing what they do best—taking something structurally familiar and quietly mutating it until it starts breathing on its own.

What begins as a seemingly straight 12-bar framework (dismissed by the uncultured as “tarted up”) quickly reveals:

• Horn arrangements that arrive like uninvited aristocrats
• A rhythm section that refuses to sit still
• Guitar lines that smolder rather than scream
• And a sax presence that may, in fact, be narrating events from another dimension

Dr. Glund identifies the key paradox:

No middle ground is found.

SONIC AUTOPSY:

• Jon Hiseman: Not merely keeping time—installing infrastructure
• Dave Greenslade: Laying down organ textures like a suspiciously groovy fog
• Tony Reeves: Bass lines clocked, measured, and spiritually approved
• Dick Heckstall-Smith: Delivering a solo that may have been smuggled in from a jazz club after hours
• James Litherland: Tone so relaxed it nearly escapes the studio mix entirely

Verdict:

This is not a showcase track.

This is a controlled drift into blues abstraction—a band choosing restraint… and still sounding like they might combust.

LIVE FILES UNCOVERED:

From the archives:

• Played five times total
• Debuted at Montreux Jazz Festival, June 22, 1969
• Final known outing: January 24, 1970

The live version?

Longer. Meaner. No horns.

And somehow… more dangerous.

TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (PROCEED WITH CAUTION):

Because discipline is for other podcasts:

• A full archaeological excavation of a Montreux performance rabbit hole
• The shocking revelation that “Butty” is, in fact, a person (not bacon-based)
• Speculative casting:
• “What if Robert Plant fronted Colosseum?”
• Followed immediately by:
• “What if literally any British blues singer did?”
• A brief but sincere defense of Litherland’s vocal abilities
• The phrase: “They just know shapes.”

• A missed 4/20 party explained via “method acting”
• The consumption of something called “The Gentle Journey” (results mixed)
• Academic discussion of whether improvisation = genius or confusion
• The ongoing theory that Colosseum is:
• Either a masterclass in composition
• Or five men confidently guessing at the same time

Administer “Butty’s Blues” under the following conditions:

• Lighting: low, suspicious
• Volume: conversationally irresponsible
• Beverage: optional, but historically encouraged
• Attention span: uninterrupted

Repeat until:

• You begin noticing the spaces between notes
• You start defending horn arrangements in casual conversation
• Or you find yourself explaining why this song was only played five times

Colosseum does not hand you the blues.

They reinterpret it in real time, then walk away before you can ask questions.

The blade of judgement… remains hovering.

Here’s to ya Clay Cole—mind the butty.

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THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…

Still reeling from whatever unholy concoction was coursing through the water pipe, your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, lock onto a true centerpiece of the Valentyne Suite era and refuse—physically, spiritually, and rhythmically—to let go.

This week’s mission:

“Elegy” — Colosseum

A track that doesn’t ask for your attention…

It demands your full neurological participation.

“Elegy” — Colosseum

Identified immediately as a signature Colosseum statement, this is where the band’s hybrid DNA—blues, jazz, and sheer bloody-minded force—fully ignites.

What follows is a multi-version deep dive:

• Studio version — tight, relentless, deceptively compact
• U.S. mix — cleaner, drums forward, even more punishing
• BBC 1969 session — faster, rawer, brushes in motion
• 1994 reunion performance — expanded, heavier, swagger engaged

Under examination:

• Jon Hiseman delivering a performance that borders on percussive overachievement (in the best way)
• James Litherland writing a “guitar piece” that largely abandons guitar
• Dick Heckstall-Smith weaving lines that refuse to sit still
• A band functioning as a single, many-limbed organism

Verdict:

This is not a composition.

This is a system under load… holding together beautifully.

Because no episode is complete without veering into adjacent greatness:

Free — The Paul Kossoff Study

• The Hunter
• → Blues minimalism with teeth; every note lands with intent
• The Mover
• → Forward motion, groove-led, Kossoff riding the pocket
• Just for the Box
• → Texture and restraint; space used as an instrument
• Molten Gold
• → Slow-burn immersion; tone as atmosphere

All roads lead to:

Paul Kossoff —

a masterclass in feel, phrasing, and knowing exactly when not to play.

• A full breakdown of why “too much drumming” is not a real problem
• The realization that “Elegy” works at multiple tempos and still dominates
• Comparative philosophy:
• Kossoff → say less, mean more
• Colosseum → say everything, make it swing
• Arms physically tiring from air-drumming along with Hiseman
• The band unanimously declared incapable of producing a weak moment

Take one dose of “Elegy” in all available forms:

• Studio
• BBC
• Reunion

Supplement with controlled exposure to Free for balance.

Repeat until:

• You develop opinions about drum mix levels
• You begin explaining vibrato technique to civilians
• Or you accept that feel and complexity are not opposites—they are weapons

Avoid operating heavy machinery unless it is a Hammond organ.

Here’s to Kossoff, here’s to Hiseman…

…and here’s to a track that refuses to sit still.

Here's lookin' at ya Clay Cole...let's go have a 'viskey.

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THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…

After a brief and medically questionable hiatus, your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound, Dr. Glund, return—slightly battered, mildly reflective, but fully operational—to resume their sacred excavation of Colosseum.

The Doctor has seen things. Felt things. Lost a friend. Gained perspective. Worn the hat.

And yet… the pipe is lit, the commandments remain intact, and the mission continues.

This week’s descent takes us into the second album—Valentyne Suite—and straight into a track that has baffled, delighted, and ultimately revealed itself to be about something far more serious than anyone realized…

Tea.

Or rather… the catastrophic absence of it.

TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:

“The Kettle” — Colosseum

At first glance: cryptic lyrics, swirling instrumentation, and a vocal performance that critics once dared to question.

But under the Glundian lens?

This becomes a full-blown existential crisis centered on one immutable truth:

The kettle is dry.

What unfolds is equal parts musical appreciation and lyrical detective work:

• Jon Hiseman’s drumming: precise, explosive, and fully in command
• Guitar tone dripping with late-60s authority (wah-wah certified)
• A leaner, horn-less arrangement that flirts dangerously with power trio territory
• Vocals vindicated in real time against the crimes of past criticism

And finally, the breakthrough:

This is not abstract poetry.

This is not surrealism.

This is a man…

who cannot get a proper cup of tea.

Verdict:

A groove-heavy, deceptively complex track that passes the Glundian tests—and reveals that British cultural stakes are far higher than previously documented.

DIGRESSION ZONE (STEAM RELEASE VALVE):

Because no kettle boils in isolation:

Ginger Baker – “TUSA” (with Masters of Reality)

→ Proof that tea is, in fact, a recurring thematic obsession

→ Spoken-word madness meets thunderous groove

→ Possibly the Rosetta Stone of beverage-based rock philosophy

Michael Bloomfield – “Going Down Slow”

→ A soulful detour into blues territory

→ Telecaster weeping, bending, testifying

→ A meditation on decline, legacy, and the weight of musical genius left slightly unrealized

PRESCRIPTION:

Administer “The Kettle” at a volume sufficient to:

• Hear every cymbal articulation
• Feel the guitar in your molars
• Contemplate your own access to tea

Repeat until:

• The lyrics make sense
• Or they don’t—but you no longer care

Avoid:

• Empty kettles
• Weak tea
• Critics who don’t understand the assignment

Here’s to Robbie.

Here’s to Kenny.

Here’s to the kettle—may it never run dry.

Time for a 'visky.

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