Happy the Man

Contrary to common opinion, I am not a Luddite. I am only concerned when technology is sought out as a substitute for thinking, instead of merely as an aid to thinking. 

As a case in point, I was pleased to stumble across all the usage data on my music app, which showed me that what I was actually listening to, from day to day, was not necessarily what I thought I was listening to, or what I had been telling other people I preferred the most. How enlightening, and how frustrating, to have the facts get in the way of the assumptions! The technology had done its job. 

For example, is Marillion really my "favorite" band, as I usually advertise? Apparently not, if I bother to consult my habits over the last few years. Much to my surprise, two albums by Happy the Man are at the top of my playlists, and that's also by quite a large margin. 

In hindsight, I suppose it is fitting, because the real credit should belong to the art that soothes the soul during the daily grind, not necessarily to the grand productions that serve me well at moments of extreme elation or dejection, but do little for me while I am making my tea, or going for a country drive, or scribbling down my unexceptional musings. 

Happy the Man were a quirky expression of the late 1970's, broadly falling into the "progressive" rock category, though I always come back to simply describing them as eclectic. They produced two albums for Arista Records, at a time when their peculiar style was already markedly out of fashion, and they would now probably be entirely forgotten, if not for a small but dedicated group of followers. 

Their music is not for everyone, but for me it strikes a perfect balance of intellect and passion, complexity and simplicity, simultaneously a comfort and a challenge. I can either pay very close attention, or just have it on in the background, and I oddly feel much the same as when I am listening to Bach or Coltrane. 

Fans will speak of their similarity to early Yes, Genesis, or Gentle Giant, and while I do see the connections, I also get a jazzy, Canterbury vibe here, much like the wonderful mood that strikes me with Hatfield and the North, Caravan, or Soft Machine. It is also no accident that Kit Watkins later went on to play with Camel. 

I still remember the craze for the lists of Desert Island Discs in the late 1980's and early 1990's, and I am just now realizing how both of these collections have crept up on me to become my faithful companions. 

Happy the Man, s/t (1977) 

Happy the Man, Crafty Hands (1978)