Procol Harum: "A Whiter Shade of Pale"

August 12, 1967 (1 week)

My associate Aidan Curran has a most fascinating theory involving "A Whiter Shade of Pale": he considers it to be the "Too Shy" of its age. (Yes, the same "Too Shy" that gave Kajagoogoo a worldwide hit) The way he sees it, they both have impenetrable lyrics, icy organs and soulfully pleading vocals from Gary Brooker and Limahl respectively. But there's even more to it: Procol Harum and Kajagoogoo were both progressive rock bands giving in to commercial pressure to widespread success and acclaim (at least in the case of the former). Also, the two groups paid an enormous price for their Faustian hits. The only thing really separating the two is how they are perceived: one is considered to be a classic of the sixties while the other is dismissed as a disposable slice of pop fluff from an era filled with supposedly disposable pop fluff.

(It goes without saying that the two have nothing in common musically. Weirdly, the song that reminds me most of "A Whiter Shade of Pale" is "Colorado", a lovely country lament on The Flying Burrito Brothers' self-titled third album. You may not be aware of it and that's probably down to it having nothing to do with Gram Parsons, the free spirited and self-destructive one time leader of the country-rock pioneers. He had been kicked out of the band by that point but it is well worth checking out. Rick Roberts is a name that deserves to be better known)

"A Whiter Shade of Pale" is a curious beast. My appreciation for it seems to increase the longer I go without listening to it. It is an accepted all-timer, so who am I to question it. But then when I give it a play, my immediate reaction is invariably, "that's it?!?" Where are the clever key changes and/or deft sonic touches that the prog rockers should have been all over? John Lennon had been a fan of the track during its prolonged six-week stay atop the British charts that summer and it is said that he used it as inspiration for the similarly lyrically dense "I Am the Walrus". The difference is — beyond, of course, the Beatle's playful and dark wordiness — that the Fab Four utilized cellos, violins, clips from a radio play of King Lear and all kinds of studio wizardry to create this unconventional piece. Procol Harum's celebrated effort is, by comparison, a hammond organ, some steady drumming and those very silly lyrics.

Like all massively popular and enduring singles, "A Whiter Shade of Pale" has gone through a backlash over the years. "I identified it as the enemy," confesses Tom Ewing in his review. Much of this is down to the words being meaningless. "Poxiest bleedin' lyrics ever written", observes Jimmy Rabbitte in The Commitments, though this didn't stop him from singing along. And this is where I feel the Harum's one major hit requires some defending: I think we all know deep down that the words are a load of nonsense. The same goes for Oasis. Meat Loaf could put all kinds of passion into his recordings which on paper seemed about as soulful as a TV jingle for fabric softener. Us armchair critics might scoff at such stuff but we're also liable to become suckers for some of it too. Put another way, if I'm thinking about it too much, then I am aware that it's a load of crap; on the other hand, if I happen to be daydreaming or staring out the window, there aren't many songs I'd rather have on as accompaniment.

Procol Harum would play a small part in Canada's musical heritage when they released their live set In Concert with the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra in 1972. (Probably the most notable live album to have been recorded in my homeland other than Charlie Parker's celebrated The Quintet: Jazz at Massey Hall from 1953) It is a wonderfully highfalutin record, the sort of thing that could only have come out at the height of prog. While it reached the Top 10 in many countries and would go on to be their best selling album, I wonder if fans who were in attendance at Edmonton's Jubilee Auditorium were disappointed by the non-inclusion of "A Whiter Shade of Pale". It was the group's only major hit (or the only one anyone cared to remember at any rate) and it was just four years old by the time they played Alberta's capital. I realize that they weren't close to being a heritage act at this stage but they could've done worse by dusting off their signature number. It might even have endeared them to ESO conductor Lawrence Leonard, who must've had gritted teeth as he raised his baton that evening. He had no use for rock music — to the extent that he insisted that his name be kept off the live album's credits — but it's possible he would've changed his mind had he found out that their number one hit had been borrowed from Bach. He may even have grown to love it in spite of himself, just as many of us have. Trying to get the crusty old classical purist into "Too Shy" would've been more of a challenge though.

Score: 8