In a 2017 poll, Focus’ 1971 “Hocus Pocus” was voted the best song of all time. By exactly three people. Two are natives of Liechtenstein and probably fibbing, seeing as how they hail from a country whose very name begins with a lie. The third is an ardent alpine yodeler, who followed Focus everywhere until the Dutch progressive band filed a restraining order. This did not stop the ledenhoser from yodeling at them from a great distance.
But if “Hocus Pocus” isn’t the greatest song ever, I never hear it without an admixture of mirth, awe and admiration. Within the framework of a kick-ass rock song you’ll find a killer hook, a pair of whizz-bang guitars solos, “yodeling gnomes” (thanks for the phraseology go out to my Dutch pal, Martijn de Vries), non-lexicable vocals, whistling, tasty jazz flute, and to quote Martijn again, “a drummer who makes me want to head butt the Eiffel Tower.” No one in English and America, and I’m including Frank Zappa, could have created a song so utterly off the wall. From my description you may get the impression that the song is all over the place. In reality it’s as tightly wound as a Swiss clock, and far more cuckoo.
Unfortunately, the remaining four remaining songs on side one are letdowns. The too winsome by far instrumental “Le Clochard (Bread)” is moldy guitar strum; on follow-up instrumental “Janis” the flute does the heavy lifting. “Moving Waves” is a Keith Emerson doppelganger right down to its pseudo-classical piano and portentous vocals by resident genius Thijs van Leer. The side’s closing track is “Focus II,” an exact replica in miniature of “Hocus Pocus,” Focus’ theory being (I can only assume) that there’s no sin in flogging a dead horse so long as the horse in question won the Kentucky Derby while alive. That or “Focus II” is a radio edit and no one got around to telling me.
Side two consists in its whole of “Eruption,” a 23-minute, 15-part progressive rock horror that demonstrates either 1) Focus were members of an impoverished commune whose entire record collection consisted of Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s Tarkus, or 2) both Focus and ELP hit upon the same abominable classical rock formula at the same time. The latter theory is demonstrably false, which makes me wish the folks in their commune had traded Tarkus for a copy of The Crazy World of Arthur Brown.
As is always the case with multi-part prog masterpieces, “Eruption” is less song than rummage sale. The grim specter of Keith Emerson hangs over the proceedings, but you also get, amongst other things, Pink Floyd atmospherics, an unconscionably long drum solo, lush easy listening choral hokum, one extended (and very cool) guitar solo that would have sounded right at home on an early Steely Dan LP, some Gregorian chanting, an amazing jam, and a section Elton John may or may not have lifted for “Funeral for a Friend/Loves Lie Bleeding.” Had Focus chosen to surgically excise the good parts from this work of musical ADD and used them as the basis for individual songs, they would have had a great album on their hands. As for the remaining dross, they might have sold it to whoever it is that buys dross.
It is the fate of a select few bands to conquer the world with one song of brilliant Hieronymus Bosch weirdness, then go on to become yet another cult band. My pal Martijn informs me that “If “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands” didn’t exist, “Hocus Pocus” would be the greatest song ever.” Me, I’d go with Dylan’s “Please Mrs. Henry.” But what’s that I hear from off in the distance? Could it be yodeling? Christ, am I going to have to get a restraining order as well?
GRADED ON A CURVE:
C
