Prague Rock

310 released the Prague Rock EP in 1999 for The Leaf Label as a limited edition ‘bootleg’ 12″ of plunderphonic wonder (1,000 copies).

Prague Rock does exactly what it says on the tin – feeding the overbearing progressive rock behemoths of the 70s into a blender and squeezing out five tracks of remarkable dexterity and scope.

It’s a loving tribute, though the tracks do take a pop at the self-important pomposity of prog rock, not least through the use of interview recordings to introduce each track. Each cut takes around half-a-dozen snatches of songs by the chosen artist and fuses an homage of Shadow-esque proportions, retaining a respectful degree of heaviosity…

There’s a seductive irony in US kids paying respect at the altar of the over-bred English public schoolboys of a quarter of a century ago. Where a British group might pilfer old funk or electro for samples, 310 have simply taken the music they grew up with, a refreshingly American take on sampladelia.

This 12-inch promo emerged soon after Leaf signed the U.S. duo of Tim Donovan and Joseph Dierker. They both share a love of English progressive rock and set about dismantling and reconstructing (music by) Yes, Pink Floyd, King Crimson, Genesis and Jethro Tull, with tracks made exclusively from samples of each band. In true prog rock style, tricky time signatures abound, and each composition is offset with interview snippets from the respective artists that poke fun at the music’s serious image. Dark, deep, and masterfully produced – Donovan has engineered for everyone from A Tribe Called Quest and Wu-Tang Clan to Angie Stone and Britney Spears – this really was out on its own at the time.

Riding the Scree

In an iconic recognition, perhaps, of this song’s lop-sided funkiness, the American duo 310, consisting of Joseph Dierker and Tim Donovan, sampled the groove for “The Voice of Britain,” a track from their 1999 “plunderphonic” remix EP Prague Rock. The unlikely groove is layered with other Genesis samples, including one of Gabriel’s concert introductions to “Dancing with the Moonlit Knight” (“I am the voice of Britain..”) and a Mellotron chord from “Watcher of the Skies”.

Leaf’s first US signing are 310, or Joseph Dierker and Tim Donovan, whose studio work with A Tribe Called Quest and Wu Tang Clan amongst others has equipped the duo for some seriously skillful editing. Yet this job is audacious in the extreme. For 310’s first release on the label is a collage-based reworking of the five great prog rock leviathans of the early 70s: Genesis, Pink Floyd, Yes, King Crimson, and Jethro Tull.

Those of us who know this lot inside out will shudder with memories of far too much time spent listening to their self-indulgent, pompous grandiosity, yet secretly smile and warm once again to their heartfelt pretensions and occasional, if often accidental, brilliance. 310’s scalpels have generously made elements of Genesis, Yes, and Jethro Tull more listenable than they’ve been for years, yet not quite doing Pink Floyd and King Crimson the same level of service (good as it is, the Crimson piece in particular doesn’t begin to approach the snarling malevolence of that band).

There’s something pleasingly ironic about the fact that British bands ransack US funk and electro rekkids for inspiration, whilst these American producers are deconstructing the largely dismissed works of over-indulged English public schoolboys. Again, the notion of exotica, of a distancing effect on an indigenous culture where meaning floats free of its origins, has produced something rather wonderful. When Peter Gabriel rattles on about the Daily Express or asks whether you can “tell me where my country lies”, it’s difficult to discern quite how these are interpreted in Noo Yoik.

This barely matters as wisely perhaps, the unlovely, peculiarly strangled yelps of I. and J. Anderson, Waters, Wetton and Gabriel are essentially ignored, or looped up to provide spot effects. We’re left with a cleverly arranged series of crisply produced, lush, downtempo pieces, sometimes Shadowesque grooves, sometimes more abstract drifting samplescapes. Standout tracks are ‘Trustus’, built around the near-funk workout from Pink Floyd’s ‘Echoes’, and ‘Sharp/Distance’, employing Chris Squire’s bass riff from Yes’ ‘Heart of the Sunrise’ (also used to great effect recently by Vincent Gallo in “Buffalo 66”). All in all, although effectively unreleasable, Prague Rock presents seriously dated music in a fresh new light. Wish they’d go back and work more on the King Crimson, but then maybe I’m too culturally-close to judge 😉