Van der Graaf Generator: The Best-Kept Secret of Progressive Rock

When talking about progressive rock, it's inevitable to mention King Crimson, Pink Floyd, Yes, ELP, Rush, and Genesis. I enjoy all of them immensely. However, I must confess that my heart has always belonged to Van der Graaf Generator. The legendary English band, led by Peter Hammill, remains my favorite when it comes to exploring the darkest and most distant corners of the universe.

Right from the start, their name is a challenge to remember for many, but for me, it's unforgettable. Though over time it was shortened to simply Van der Graaf, their essence never faded. Like each of the aforementioned bands, VdGG has an inimitable sound—an anomaly within the progressive genre. And Peter Hammill's voice is their most defining feature: defiant, majestic, explosive. Few vocalists have reached such a level of expressiveness, and it's no coincidence that artists like Robert Plant, David Bowie, Klaus Dinger, John Lydon, Ronnie James Dio, Bruce Dickinson, and Joe Strummer hold him in the highest regard.

But Hammill wasn’t alone. Guy Evans, without a bassist to anchor him, filled the mix with a thunderous drum presence—few in the genre could match his power. Then there was David Jackson, a master of chaos who, with his incendiary saxophone, channeled the fury of free jazz, competing with Hammill for the spotlight. And finally, Hugh Banton, a keyboard colossus whose virtuosity laid the foundation for the band’s epic sonic battles.

In 1971, Van der Graaf Generator released their undisputed masterpiece: Pawn Hearts. A colossal album. If someone tells me that Pawn Hearts isn’t a pillar of progressive rock, they need to get themselves checked by a doctor. From the very first note, Hammill and Banton’s genius unfolds without rival. Lemmings, the opening track, is not just a song—it’s a nihilistic journey about the collective suicide of humanity. Yes, VdGG drags us into the darkest reaches of space. Banton slowly but relentlessly guides us before hurling us into freefall inside Hammill and Jackson’s madness. Few progressive rock bands have achieved such intensity, and their influence extends even into punk and post-punk, with bands like The Stranglers, Public Image Ltd, and Magazine absorbing their transgressive spirit.

Then there’s Man-Erg, another masterpiece. Evans on piano, Hammill omnipresent with his voice. Evans’ elegance sets the pace, accelerating and halting, until Jackson plunges us into a whirlwind of sound reminiscent of the wildest King Crimson or the baroque grandeur of Procol Harum. Here, VdGG’s legendary intensity bursts at the seams. It’s a sonic hurricane, part Deep Purple, part Roxy Music, part The Velvet Underground at their most untamed. And as if that weren’t enough, Robert Fripp, a close friend of the band, makes a special appearance.

But the crown jewel is A Plague of Lighthouse Keepers. A cosmic horror tale, with echoes of H.P. Lovecraft, about a lighthouse keeper trapped in his own despair, unable to save shipwrecked souls, and seeing himself as the next to be swallowed by the abyss. Evans’ magic transports us to the darkest passages of The Doors, while Hammill, in an almost theatrical performance, breathes life into every facet of this haunting story. Alongside Man-Erg, it stands as one of VdGG’s greatest achievements.

Despite never reaching the commercial success of Dark Side of the Moon or The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, Pawn Hearts is one of progressive rock’s essential albums. It’s dark—yes. It’s abrasive—absolutely. And it proves that the genre reaches its true heights when it cranks up the volume and unleashes raw intensity. VdGG left an indelible mark, influencing the more experimental side of progressive rock’s future, with bands like The Mars Volta and Coheed & Cambria carrying the torch forward.