Jim Pembroke of the Finnish prog band Wigwam is “lost,” but thankfully, not “without a trace.” He leaves behind wonderful songs that are etched into (sometimes) Virgin vinyl and with much recorded Love — for as long as (to make a literary reference) that guy on Keats’s Grecian Urn gets to chase that maiden in such “mad pursuit.”
A bit of a biography: Apparently Pembroke did pursue a woman, as he followed her from his native England all the way to Finland. There, he tapped his songwriting and vocal talent and formed the band Blues Section. But then he formed Wigwam with Jukka Gustavson, Ronnie Osterberg, Nikke Nikamo (soon to leave!), and Mats Hulden — who would later be replaced by Pekka Pohjola. Pembroke also recorded several solo records.
In later years, he reformed Wigwam and, then finally made one last solo album while living in Kansas City, where he recently passed into, what he once called, “a great big party upstairs.” Indeed, to quote Jim Pembroke once more, “it was all over too soon.”
But let’s celebrate the music. The first two Wigwam albums, 1969’s Hard n’ Horny (odd title, that, but it includes Pembroke’s side-long concept piece, “Henry’s”) and 1970’s Tombstone Valentine, are eccentric and just plain lovable listens for those of us who seek out the undiscovered rough gem or two. But then, 1971’s Fairyport dropped an anchor into the Wigwam sound that juxtaposed Jukka Gustavson’s rather complex organ compositions and his love of Steve Winwood’s voice against Jim Pembroke’s much more concise and emotional songs. The above reference to “lost without a trace” is taken from a song on Fairyport. Of course, bass guy Pekka Pohjola offered up his nascent tunes, which would find full flower in his solo recordings.
Then, (and oh my!) Wigwam’s fourth album, 1974’s Being, circled every square into a masterpiece of progressive rock music. It really doesn’t repeat the sound of any other band. It’s political, humorous, intense, ironic, and it ends with the sublime Pembroke song, “Marvelry Skimmer.” And, the cover is (like the before-mentioned Fairyport) a work of art in its own right. Prog people: Try to hear this album.
Their concert recording, Live Music from the Twilight Zone, is a weird concoction od Wigwam favorites and a 17-minute plus cover of the Band’s “The Moon Struck One” and an almost eight-minute trip through the Beatles’ “Let It Be.”
There were three more albums for Virgin Records, sans Jukka Gustavson and Pekka Pohjola, but Pekka Rechardt joined on guitar. Nuclear Nightclub (1975), Lucky Golden Stripes and Starpose (1976) and Dark Album (1977) are quirky and sometimes intense prog music, all confined within shorter song durations. In more recent years, Wigwam Mark III reformed and recorded three excellent prog-rock albums, Light Ages (1993), Titans Wheel (2002), and Some Several Moons (2005).
Pembroke’s first solo album – 1972’s Wicked Ivory, credited to his alter-ego Hot Thumbs O’ Riley – is an absurdly clever and endlessly melodic album. He takes the role of the master of ceremonies and presides over various performers who are, of course, Jim Pembroke himself with his countless voices. There’s British music hall, a blues bit, an odd vocal performance called “Cosmic Rot.” And amid all the weird stuff, the ending of the album just throws a dart into a very British heart (of darkness) with the brilliant double punch of “Grass for Blades” and “The Decline of the House of Lords.”
That’s the thing with Jim Pembroke: He could be absurdly clever — and then touch the human soul with a near sacred melody and equally sacred lyric.
His other solo records are just as clever, although they do play out as regular rock music without that concept of some weird talent show. Pigworm, from 1974, is a Wigwam album in disguise. Yeah, despite the carefully diagramed Arthur Murray dance steps on the back cover, I’m still at a loss to, as his song says, “Do the Pigworm.” It’s a nice collection of songs. As is 1977’s wonderfully titled Corporal Cauliflowers Mental Function: It’s a lovely record that culminates with an (almost) homage to the Band with the final song, “Goddammadog (The Horse).” He also issued the very excellent Flat Broke album in 1980 with his Jim Pembroke Band.
Pembroke’s 1981 solo record Party Upstairs is an emotional prayer that tries to “throw those windows open” after the deaths of long-time friend and drummer Ronnie Osterberg, and everyone’s rock ‘n’ roll hero John Lennon. The song “Minstrelmental” is tough and true — just like any gravestone confession, or perhaps, any Tombstone Valentine. Then, out of the blue, after way too many years, came a very fine final solo album, 2014’s If the Rain Comes, which was relief in a very odd and very “Twilight World.”
And (almost) finally, please pause for a moment to ponder Jim’s passionate words in his song, “Maestro Mercy”:
Goodbye, dear Mother Earth
It’s been nice knowing you
Goodbye, fear Mother Earth.
It’s been nice, I promise you
Of course, the final thought must be given to the one and only Hot Thumbs O’ Riley, with words that aptly describe all the wonderful music given to the world by James Francis Pembroke, when he simply sang, with dramatic and ironic wisdom, “ain’t that something.”
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