Clouds - Watercolour Days Album

It turned out to be the last of CLOUDS’ albums, and at the date of its release (1971), it did not make any great waves. Yet, with the passing of time, this album is seen more clearly in all its shaky magnificence. The band needed more studio work and space to produce what surely would have been milestone recordings – the stunning invention and creativity bursts through even the most poorly-executed pieces. One can only begin to imagine what might have been possible.
Watercolour Days, the title song, opens the album, and you know straight away that you are dealing with something very serious, not just in the music itself, but in the intent of the composer. This isn’t lightweight, or even topical, this is on-the-line poetics. A wonderful opening cadence begins in a whisper and ends in cacophony, leading us to a plaintive lament ‘I watch colours that fade and it breaks my mind, waiting as darkness falls so my eyes can be blind’. What a pity the vocal lacks some character and image strength, or this would have been more clearly acknowledged as the hidden classic it surely is.
Cold Sweat, while not being the greatest of songs (written by Ellis this time, and not Ritchie, though the latter is responsible for the bridge section), shows something of the power of the live band, as mentioned by those who heard it. A towering organ dominates the soundscape, ably supported (and threatened) by powerful drums and a solid base. Ellis’ vocal, always more credible than Ritchie’s, fits this bluesy outing with its icy clarity. Some production failures here though, the minuet section is buried too far back in the mix, and what there is ends up drowned by excessive echo. Still a stand-out track, awesome in its power.
Lighthouse is another Ellis song, with somewhat trite lyrics and theme, but made credible by an outstanding arrangement and sound poetry nothing less than glorious. The piano and organ sing of the sea, a passing vessel and the surrounding fog, and the bass is a forlorn ship’s horn breaking through the distance. Don’t listen to the words, soak up the sound.
Long Time is one of the unnoticed gems on this album. A cunning song within a seemingly-simple blues format, the words weave cleverly through a syncopated organ and a thudding hypnotic beat, once again underlining the serious intent of the writer. I think though, it was a mistake to break up the beat in the verses, a four-beat in the bar bass and drums would have held the line much better. And though the organ solo in the middle has, as always with Ritchie, dynamic punch, it lacks lyrical coherence. The song idea however, shows the subtle brilliance of the writer.
Mind of a Child seems a somewhat surprising attempt to cash in on the hapless anti-war rhetoric of the time, unusual for Clouds to pander to any bandwagons. But the song itself is strong in its structure and arrangement, the phased organ giving strength to the pleasant counter-melody. This song has recently been covered by a new young band, Rob Clarke and the Wooltones, obviously striking a resonance with today’s music.
It’s songs (sic) like I Know better than You that don’t help the cause of the album or the group. Despite being something of a tour-de-force performance, with riveting harmony vocals and flashy riffs, it can’t be disguised that this is something of a non-song, a mere vehicle for improvisation rather than a coherent piece of writing. No complaints with the structure of the music, it’s the words and theme of the song that cause major concern, and which relegates this offering to the second division. To be fair though, it is yet another outstanding example of power and musicianship. Given though, that there were many unused songs in the Clouds songbook, surely there was no need to go for the riff route?
Leaving is actually a very pretty song, with admirable purpose and excellent orchestration once again by David Palmer. The trouble is, the execution isn’t all it should be, and the vocal by Billy Ritchie is yet again unconvincing. A fault common to many of Clouds’ recordings is the lack of quality in the vocals, not so much from the technical point of view (though that is also glaringly lacking in places too), but in the character and sound of the voices themselves. The downside (and a very big one at that) is the songs don’t then have a fair hearing, and the band is more easily dismissed or not taken seriously. If the spokesman lacks gravitas, will anyone hear the message?
Get off my Farm is not their finest hour either. Perhaps it was a moment where they tried to emulate Deep Purple or one of the heavier Rock bands. Commendable that they should try all forms, but for me, this doesn’t really work, the band don’t sound convinced themselves, and in places seem incoherent and disinterested.
Redemption for the main thrust of the album comes in the final song, I am the Melody, with a return to that seriousness we recognise in the earlier writing in this album as well as the ones preceding it. As if to emphasise how the music is viewed by the musicians, the harpsichord sets a connection to the music of the past, echoes of classicism mix with driving Rock-jazz rhythms and fluctuating time-signatures to deliver a flowing melody and lyric stream that hits dead centre, even when, as occasionally, the band almost seem to hesitate in mid-stream, looking down at the ground in the midst of flight.
Watercolour Days is imperfect, but its moments of brilliance, are, like all CLOUDS works, worth waiting for, and highlight the tragedy of all that could have been possible in the future.

A significant advance from their debut album, Watercolour Days shows Clouds plunging straight into virtuoso-style progressive rock, shedding any of their lingering psychedelic playfulness in favor of a much more brooding, serious sound. Billy Ritchie's keyboards are the dominant instrument, even with some overdubbed orchestral accompaniment, and their more aggressive sound suits Ritchie's and lead singer/bassist Ian Ellis's vocal capabilities. The album's overall sound is a mix of organ-centered art-rock with some of the heavy hard-rock sound one expected from Deep Purple, and it holds together amazingly well on numbers such as "Cold Sweat" and the title track. The guitar sound -- which was evident in small doses on their first album -- is missed sometimes, as it was in concert as well, but Ellis's bass work and Ritchie's powerful keyboard playing more than fills the gap. Indeed, hearing this album anew nearly 40 years on, it's even more difficult to understand how this trio didn't find more success than they did, especially given their reviews of the period.