Another voice from my childhood gone, i saw King Crimson and ELP a few times in my jagged youth, and i played their albums relentlessly trying to understand what was going on. Greg Lakes voice enchanted me and bathed me in a warm teenage dream that one day i too would be King, but not the King of King Crimson. He almost took a back seat as others around him soaked up the limelight, these were heady days. Greg was rooted to his bass, which was the other end of the active from his crystal clear voice. There were rumours about him floating around that he would only play if he had a certain type of rug beneath his feet. If it were true then hats off to him. We all like our creature comforts. But a rug! He was one of the voices of my early years, along with Bowie and Donavan who spun me into a small web perched up on my single bed as the turntable spun around on the table. Another voice has gone, just recently of coarse Leonard Cohen too, voices of another world really, there are few today who could equal the voices of the 60’s and 70’s. My ear is reaching out to hear them but nothing is coming back to me. Greg Lake lived a full and distant life, i never got to meet him, but i felt i knew him from the front row of the lyceum when i saw Crimson play wth my chum Eric Stuckey. It was all going off, the solos the lights and the sound, it was chaos at times, and then it would drop down to this sweet and heavenly voice, oh what a lucky man he was. The trucks and big stages, massive PA and lights, private planes, dressing room towels with Greg Lake printed in gold. Chics. Drugs. It was those days, the ELP were nothing but fantastic, they knew how to fill a stadium and they pawed in the early days with smaller town halls around the coast of old England. Greg seemed so at home in the bigness of it all, furry boots and big Afghan coats. The sweet and passionate voice that carried me into the night as i drifted into myself and into wanting to be in a band, but i knew it would not be Crimson of P. I was not that clever or talented like they, nor did i have the voice, but i had some words and they were inspired at first by King Crimson and the wonderful imagery of Pete Sinfeild. That voice has left its mark on me and many a prog fans along the way. What a sad day, but what do these people know that we don’t, why are they all going now? why the rush. If i listen hard enough i might find a clue.

Said the straight man to the late man
Where have you been
I’ve been here and I’ve been there
And I’ve been in between.

I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear.

I’m on the outside looking inside
What do I see
Much confusion, disillusion
All around me.

You don’t possess me
Don’t impress me
Just upset my mind
Can’t instruct me or conduct me
Just use up my time

I talk to the wind
My words are all carried away
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear.