One of My Favorite Albums Turns 50 This Year

Sometimes I am still startled by the rocket blast.  I've listened to this album hundreds of times.  I know it's coming.  And yet I still sometimes jump at the sudden white-noise cacophony.  An organ cries briefly through the roar, then a wall-of-sound vocal chant emerges, reaching a crescendo before the guitars and bass fade in to take over.  It's so delightfully late '60s.

So begins "To Our Children's Children's Children" by the Moody Blues, one of my favorite albums.  From time to time, I will put it on, turn out all the lights, put aside any potential distractions (except maybe a glass of wine), and just let it wash over me.  I sing a number of tracks from the album to my toddler as lullabies.

December of this year marks the 50th anniversary of "Children's Children"; the Moody Blues produced two albums in 1969 and this one is the second.*  Two albums in one year is a tall order, but the band and their producer, inspired by the moon landing, headed back into the studio.

I love this album for a number of reasons.  A unified thread ties each of its songs together.  Children's Children is a concept album, but it isn't like a rock opera or a musical.  With the moon landing as its launching point (sorry), it explores broad themes of astral travel; human possibility; the passage of time; joy and innocence; and loneliness.  Except for a break where you'd flip the record to side B, the album's 13 tracks all run together.  Children's Children has a distinct aura to it, a sort of otherworldly sonic glow.  It is, in turns, beautiful, profound, touching, haunting, and ridiculous.  In other words, it's perfect.

I'll elaborate with some short examples.  The opening electric-guitar driven firestorm, "Higher and Higher," kicks off the album as an ode to the moon landing and the possibilities for humanity's future that it represents.  Its first spoken-word line is delightfully weird: "Blasting, billowing, bursting forth with the power of ten billion butterfly sneezes..."  As the storm fades out, soft chimes and harp strokes lead into the gentle, atmospheric "Eyes of a Child (Part I)."  "Eyes" takes us into the unknown with the wonder of a child, where everything is new.  "Floating" is a silly, joyful, lullaby-like song about, well, floating.  It's outer space, you know.  "Out and In" is about the inner journey, while "Eternity Road" contemplates the ultimate journey (apologies for the clichés, but they're descriptive). The album's final track, "Watching and Waiting," captures the loneliness of waiting for companionship.

An interesting note: "Watching and Waiting" was supposed to be the next "Nights in White Satin," but its commercial success never materialized in the same way.  It may be heretical to say this as a Moody Blues fan, but I actually find "Watching and Waiting" more touching than "Nights."  Don't get me wrong; "Nights in White Satin" is a wonderful song, but for me, "Watching and Waiting" evokes the most sad and tender moments in Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince.

Children's Children is also enjoyable from the production side.  It's truly a collaborative effort between all five members of the Moody Blues at that time, with Justin Hayward (guitars, vocals), John Lodge (bass, vocals), Ray Thomas (flute, vocals), Mike Pinder (keyboards, vocals), and Graeme Edge (drums) all penning at least two songs.  The album is also a monument to the aural power of multi-tracking, with its lush, layered arrangements.  Perhaps to excess, but I don't care.  It works for me.  Mike Pinder's Mellotron (pre-synth keyboard), combined with the tasteful use of reverb, sets the perfect atmosphere for the other instruments and vocals.

To Our Children's Children Children is a glorious, psychedelic, quintessential late '60s period piece.  I can't recommend it highly enough if you're into that kind of thing, or if you feel like something new-old.  If you're not and you don't, then I'm surprised you've read this far.  But I'm grateful.




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*The first of the Moody Blues' 1969 albums, "On the Threshold of a Dream," is also a masterpiece (in my not-so-humble opinion), but that is a subject for another essay.