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Salient. Victoria University Students' Newspaper. Volume Number 39, Issue 6. April 5 [1976]

Fish Rising - Steve Hillage

Fish Rising - Steve Hillage

RECORDS

Steve Hillage is a weird hobbit who crawled out of the firmament of Gong, a bunch of good-natured English looners with a penchant for, and more than passing proficiency in, avant garde jazz; with a head full of mystical concerns embracing Alchemy, Stonehenge. Atlantis dervishes and astral travelling. Sounds like just the thing for Philip Hay to get his rocks off on.

Lyrical deficiencies aside, and there are more than a smattering of those - 'Laughing at the cosmic joking yoking Yoga union into / sun behind the sun the one / you found the pun' - 'Fish Rising' appeals as a worthwhile extension of the electric guitar song-book. Hillage is a good 'un, and he plays a mean Gibson. Considering the veritable deluge of vinyl poured into solo guitar efforts lately - from notables as far separated as Jeff Beck and his kid brother in Yes - that could prove extremely tricky to justify, so why not open your ears and let the guitar do the convincing.

Hillage is slightly subtler than Beck, while his grasp of technique outdistances that of Howe. Swirling runs paint a mysterious setting for Solar Musick (as in white) Suite, which ascends through the relatively tranquil Sunsong into Hiram Afterglid's meeting with the dervishes, depicted here in an urgent flurry, the guitar locking in unison with an equally fevered brass and synthesiser backing. Somebody pulling the plug out of the lake follows and starts Fish behind an evocative bubble counterpoint.

The section merges into a brass riff topped by the guitar: Meditation of the Snake closes the side at an appropriately frenetic pace.

The Salmon Song, which opens side two, is a different kettle of fish (ouch) all together. The guitar states the basic theme, slurring the not-so-healthy vocals in a manner reminiscent of a bizarre cross between the 'greatest rock 'n roll band' and Britain's other foremost explorers of internal landscapes. The guitar picks up and restates the basic riff, above catchy bell work as the salmon progresses up the river.

Afterglid, as with most of the other compositions on the album, is broken into component segments. The Big Wave and the Boat of Hermes acts as an opportunity for a beautiful acoustic passage. Here, distorted vocals blend into the Lafta Yoga Song, neatly balanced by an incendiary guitar-synthesiser duet, sustaining interest until the end.

'Fish Rising' is an import and, as such, may entail extra effort in digging it out of the bins. However, it should prove infinitely more enjoyable than 'Wish You Were Here' or some equally gaudy psychedelic spangle. Happy Hunting.

Patrick O'Dea