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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THIS WEEK ON THE PROGRAM…

Having returned from rubbing elbows with actual rock royalty (and surviving), your hosts Chaz Charles and the Voluptuary of Sound Doctor Glund descend once more into the sacred text of Colosseum—armed with nothing but sharp ears, questionable memory recall, and a bag of contraband jelly beans.

This week’s mission: the thunderous, mind-expanding, utterly undeniable closing statement of the debut album…

THOSE ABOUT TO DIE And yes… it absolutely earns the title.

TRACK UNDER THE MICROSCOPE:

Those About To Die – Colosseum The Doctor declares it without hesitation: “If you don’t know Colosseum… THIS is where you start.”

What follows is a full-blown sonic autopsy:

• Drums that don’t just keep time—they command it
• Organ work that lays down a thick, chugging carpet of groove
• Guitar and sax interplay so tight it may in fact be a single sentient organism
• A band functioning less like individuals and more like a musical octopus with a PhD

Verdict:

This is not a song.

This is a controlled detonation of talent.

TRACKS LISTENED TO / DIGRESSION ZONE (ABANDON HOPE):

Because no episode is complete without veering wildly off course:

Eddie Hinton – Something Heavy

→ Soul, grit, and a man absolutely refusing to let go of a groove

R.L. Burnside – The Criminal Inside Me

→ Mississippi blues storytelling featuring:

• 40 nickels
• A bag of potato chips
• And several imminent threats of bodily harm

Kim Fowley – Animal Man / Chinese Water Torture

→ A deeply unsettling descent into late-60s experimental madness

→ May or may not summon something into your home

HIGHLIGHTS YOU DID NOT ASK FOR BUT ARE GETTING ANYWAY:

• A wedding dance set to Colosseum (because romance is subjective)
• A helicopter wedding over Niagara Falls (because gravity is optional)
• Extensive discussion of “ass pockets” (science pending)
• The phrase “bases drunk” permanently entering the lexicon
• The realization that rock stars… might be lunatics

PRESCRIPTION:

Take one dose of Those About To Die at maximum volume.

Repeat as needed until:

• Your face melts
• Your neighbors complain
• Or you begin explaining time signatures to strangers

Avoid operating heavy machinery unless it is a Hammond organ.

Here's to ya Clay Cole, let's go grab a 'visky.

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Chaz Charles and Dr. Glund welcome a new voice into the Den of Audio Iniquities — Colosseum keyboardist Nick Steed, a musician who stepped into the Hammond chair and somehow managed the rare feat of honoring the legacy without attempting to impersonate it.

Nick joins the program to talk about joining Colosseum, growing up in a house filled with instruments, and the early musical influences that shaped his approach to the keyboard — everything from ELP and Focus to Jimmy Smith and the deep well of jazz organ tradition.

Along the way the discussion wanders — as it must — into the strange physics of Hammond organ, the joy of improvisation inside long-form Colosseum pieces like Valentyne Suite, and the realities of performing with musicians who helped invent the genre you are now playing in.

RECORD RELEASE DAY!

Nick also talks about his own compositional work, including A BONELESS PODCASTING EXCLUSIVE FIRST LISTEN to the his solo project Secrets of the King’s Court: Themes and Variations, a richly arranged recording featuring harpsichord, Moog, Colosseum bandmates, and even a violin recorded on a 17th-century instrument, because subtlety has never been the point.

Meanwhile, the episode’s musical centerpiece becomes “First in Line,” Nick’s songwriting contribution to Colosseum’s album Restoration. The track becomes the launching point for a discussion of collaboration with Clem Clempson, the lyrical pen of Pete Brown, and how new material finds its place inside a band with a very long memory. And how Mark Clarke came to replace Tony Reeves not once, but twice, in Colosseum-related projects!

Throughout the proceedings the sacred commandments remain firmly in place:

The guitar must rock.

The music must expand the mind.

And it must never — ever — sell out.

The Doctor listens carefully.

The blade of judgement remains within reach.

YOUR PRESCRIPTION

Recommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary

(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)

Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.

Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.

Recommended Conditions

Best consumed in a room where the lights are low and the hi-fi is honest

Volume set slightly higher than the neighbors might appreciate

Headphones encouraged; casual conversation discouraged

Pairs well with a proper whisky and the willingness to let musicians finish their sentences

May be taken alone or in the company of someone who knows the difference between Hammond and piano

Further Listening — Nick Steed Edition

Nick Steed - Influential Guidance

Nick Steed - Thr33

Nick Steed — Secrets of the King’s Court (RECORD RELEASE)

Clem Clempson - www.clemclempson.com

Ray Detone - www.raydetone.com

Stephen Cordiner - www.stephencordinermusic.com

Big Red Studios - www.bigredstudios.co.uk

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THIS EPISODE:

“Backwater Blues” — Track 7 from Colosseum’s 1969 debut Those Who Are About to Die Salute You.

Chaz and Dr. Glund return to the altar of Volume and place upon it a seven-and-a-half-minute slab of unapologetic British blues. “Backwater Blues” is not here to charm you with pop efficiency or tidy radio edits. It settles in. It stretches out. It reminds the listener that in 1968 London, the blues was not an affectation, it was oxygen. Yeah bay bee.

This is identified, without hesitation, as perhaps the bluesiest track on the record — the sort of cut that, on a “traditional” album, might have been placed second to hook the unsuspecting. Instead, Colosseum tuck it into Track 7 like a confident afterthought. The band does not posture. They simply play — and every instrument is in it to win it. No wallflowers. No passengers. Just feel.

Dr. Glund applies Glundian Logic: blues as foundation, jazz as expansion chamber. The result is cross-discipline combustion. Jon Hiseman receives the Octopus Citation for Limb Independence, Tony Reeves’ bass lines are clocked and admired, and James Litherland’s guitar tone passes the First Commandment without requiring appeal.

Naturally, the proceedings detour.

A live BBC performance (January 1969) is unearthed and examined like an archaeological artifact that still sweats. Shorter. Tighter. No less lethal. The recently released Transmissions: Live at the BBC (1969–1971) box set enters the chat, and suddenly we are comparing studio sequencing to live set logic — including the revelation that “The Road She Walked Before” once opened a BBC broadcast while “Backwater Blues” followed immediately behind.

From there: the Doctor’s Digression spirals outward into authorship disputes (“Theme from an Imaginary Western” properly attributed at last), a brief symposium on bands covering one another in the late ’60s, and the ceremonial invocation of “Doctor, Doctor” as a potential recurring segment.

Meanwhile, “Backwater Blues” remains planted at the center of the room — steady, confident, indulgent — reminding everyone that Colosseum could swing hard without sacrificing intellect, and expand the form without ever selling out.

The blade of judgement stays sheathed.

YOUR PRESCRIPTION

Recommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary

(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)

Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.

Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.

Recommended Conditions

Best consumed in a dim room where the air feels slightly heavier than usual

Volume set to “irresponsible but defensible”

Headphones encouraged; distractions discouraged

Pairs well with a respectable whiskey, a functioning hi-fi, and the willingness to let seven minutes unfold without interference

May be taken alone, or in the company of someone who understands that the blues is not background music

Further Listening — As Administered in This Episode

“The Road She Walked Before” — Colosseum (BBC Session)

“Theme from an Imaginary Western” — Colosseum

“Doctor Doctor” — UFO

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Welcome back to Those Who Are About To Dive: Chronicling Colosseum, Track by Bloody Track, where the track list occasionally takes a polite step aside so history can walk straight into the room and pour itself a drink.

THIS EPISODE:

Dr.’s Digressions — Mark Clarke: Mach II

Mark Clarke returns to the Den, and what begins as a simple question — “What was your first recorded track with Colosseum?” — detonates into a two-hour guided tour through five decades of rock mythology.

We confirm the answer: “Downhill and Shadows” from Daughter of Time — Mark’s first committed Colosseum studio performance. Nervous. Half an hour to cut it. Jon Hiseman says, “That’s great.” History moves on.

From there?

Strap in.

Mark walks us through:

• The Tony Reeves fallout and the awkward politics of taking the Colosseum bass chair
• Zeppelin at the Hyatt House (yes, that Hyatt House)
• Motorcycles in hallways and six-packs glued to elevator walls
• Felix Pappalardi, Mountain, and the tragedy that followed
• Eddie Van Halen at 15 asking for an autograph at the Whisky
• The truth about the mysterious guy on the Colosseum Live cover
• Mick Ronson, Ian Hunter, Larry Coryell, Jack Bruce, Levon Helm, Mick Taylor, Hamish Stewart, Ringo’s orbit, and the quiet gravity of Liverpool

And through it all, the recurring theme: Colosseum may have been a “well-known secret” among musicians — but the musicians were absolutely listening.

We also get deep into “Tonight” from Restoration — the song that brought Clem Clempson to tears in the studio.

There are brandy stories.

There are backstage politics.

There is honesty about egos, genius, and the difference between myth and memory.

Most importantly, there is this: After all the tours, the supergroups, the near-misses and the legends…Mark still wants to get on the plane.

Still wants to jam at soundcheck.

Still hugs Clem after a great show.

That’s not nostalgia.

That’s DNA.

No verdicts rendered this week.

Just lived history from a man who was there when it was all new.

Recommended Indulgences — Mark Clarke Edition

(Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.)

• Colosseum — “Downhill and Shadows” (Daughter of Time)
• The first step into the fire.
• Colosseum — “Tonight” (Restoration)
• The tear-trigger. Listen closely.
• Colosseum — “Hesitation” (Restoration)
• Modern Colosseum with undiminished passion.
• Colosseum Live (1971)
• Drop the needle. Meet the mystery man.
• Colosseum LiveS – The Reunion Concerts
• Energy restored. No nostalgia tax.

• Ian Hunter — All of the Good Ones Are Taken
• Mountain — particularly the Pappalardi era
• Mick Ronson solo work
• Larry Coryell live material
• Jack Bruce — Songs for a Tailor onward
• Average White Band (Hamish Stewart era)
• Sydney Christmas (as instructed by Mark himself)

• Best consumed after dark
• Volume slightly higher than socially acceptable
• Consider a modest whiskey (avoid brandy)
• Do not Google the Live cover guy — embrace the mystery
• Allow time for emotional whiplash

• Sudden desire to jam at soundcheck
• Renewed respect for bass players
• Mild resentment that Colosseum didn’t fully crack America
• Increased tolerance for long solos
• A creeping suspicion that rock history is far stranger than advertised

Next episode: we return to the tracks.

But for now —

The Doctor is in.

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