Happy the Man - Happy the Man (1977)

Dan:

My first exposure to the music of Happy the Man came from Steve, who had acquired their 1989 compilation album, titled Retrospective. Not prone to hyperbole, my son rarely raved about the music he loaned to me like - "Wow Dad, you're gonna love this one!!!" So I began my HTM experience with no prior expectations for a band I had never heard of compiled from three albums I had never heard. I thought the band name was weird, but why not give the CD a listen, if only to respect Steve's kind gesture.

On first spin, Retrospective seemed like "a sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something," which is Merriam-Webster's definition of an epiphany. I had never heard anything like Happy the Man before, but it was the most intriguing and pleasurable 80 minutes I had heard in a long while, made all the more wonderful because I was not expecting it. It's hard to describe the band's approach to their original compositions (I think they only recorded original material), or what was composed and what was improvised. It all flows so naturally and sounds completely realized in performance, at least on the compilation album.

After spending time with Retrospective, I sought out the three albums. The first self-titled album is our selection for the blog, but the other two, Crafty Hands (1978) and Third, Better Late... (1983) could have been easily included. They're all built on the same concept and include the same bandmembers.

For the most part, Happy the Man consists of instrumental tracks; the self-titled first album also has at least one vocal track, the mysterious "Upon the Rainbow (Befrost)". My interest has always been with the instrumental tracks. Some are choppy, like "Knee Bitten Nymphs in Limbo," but most are soaring and melodic. Each one has a similar signature, regardless of who takes the lead or who wrote the piece.

Happy the Man rewarded their dedicated followers by releasing Beginnings, a warehouse recording from their early days in Harrisonburg, VA; a live album in 1994; Death's Crown (1999); and The Muse Awakens (2004). Only Muse succeeds in equaling the magic of the first three albums, despite the presence of two new members. 

Of the original five members, only Kit Watkins recorded to a significant extent as a solo artist and as keyboardist during a stint with Camel. 

Regarding availability, I found only The Muse Awakens on Spotify premium. Qobuz offers five albums, but only Crafty Hands is from the first three. So there are a few ways to stream or download a portion of their small discography. The first three albums were also pressed on vinyl, so they may be obtainable in used record stores or online. 

Any serious, or even frivolous, prog head should know about Happy the Man. 

Steve:

Happy the Man certainly are special. When I was first discovering prog bands outside the usual suspects (Floyd, Yes, Genesis, Crimson, etc.), Happy the Man were always mentioned in reverent tones, with many people crowning them as the finest prog band the United States had yet produced. High praise - and on my first listen I was slightly surprised at how melodious and uncomplicated the music was. No crazy pyrotechnics here, just beautiful music. It was a bit of a shift for me as a guy who had spent years following bands performing supersonic feats of technical fireworks and elongated sci-fi epics. But on second or third listen, it became crystal clear that this stuff was just as compositionally dense; it just didn't beat you over the head with it all the time.

Granted, I had been somewhat prepared for this because Kit Watkins, one of the keyboard players, had appeared on Camel's I Can See Your House From Here (1979) and had even contributed one of that album's best tracks. His composition "Eye of the Storm" had been an unused Happy the Man track (later to appear on their belated third album in a different performance), and it was a very good proxy for what Happy the Man does best on this, their debut album from 1977.

Although Happy the Man were distributed through a major label (Arista), their recorded career occurred a few years after progressive rock's commercial peak. Thus, they unfortunately fell into a vacuum of indifference that relegated them to near obscurity. I still think it strange that even though I was well aware of the likes of Alan Parsons Project (also on Arista) and Camel in the late 70s, the name of Happy the Man never came up once. We can right those wrongs today by giving them the due they deserve.