Various – So High I’ve Been: A European Rock Anthology 1967–1973 3CD Set – Cherry Red
For decades, the story of rock music has been told as if it were a transatlantic conversation between Britain and America. The mythology is familiar: London and Liverpool, San Francisco and Los Angeles, New York and Detroit. Yet while the English‑speaking world was busy reinventing itself in paisley, fuzz and feedback, something equally vibrant was happening across the rest of Europe. In clubs, communes, conservatoires and makeshift studios from Amsterdam to Milan, from Copenhagen to Munich, musicians were absorbing the shockwaves of psychedelia and progressive rock and reshaping them into something that belonged entirely to their own landscapes. Much of this music was overlooked at the time, partly because the industry was not built to export it, and partly because the cultural gatekeepers of the era rarely looked beyond their own borders. But the work itself was extraordinary, and its influence has only grown with time.
This anthology, ‘So High I’ve Been’, gathers together a panoramic view of that world. Across three discs and 48 tracks, it offers a journey through the late 60s and early 70s as experienced by the European underground. It is a reminder that the psychedelic revolution did not stop at the Channel or the Rhine. If anything, the further it travelled from the Anglo‑American mainstream, the stranger and more adventurous it became. The set opens with Q65’s ‘So High I’ve Been, So Down I Must Fall’, a Dutch track that feels like a manifesto for the entire collection. Raw and restless, it captures the moment when European bands were beginning to push beyond imitation and into something more personal. It doesn’t rush through to hide the rough edges; it throws itching powder down your back and offers you free scratches. From there, the first disc moves through a kaleidoscope of regional scenes. The Ones offer the dreamy ‘Lady Greengrass’, while Italy’s Le Stelle di Mario Schifano contribute ‘Susan Song’, a piece of avant‑pop that could only have emerged from a country where art movements and pop culture were constantly colliding. Groep 1850’s ‘Mother No‑Head’ remains one of the era’s great oddities, a Dutch freakbeat classic with Biblical threat and portent mixed with pitter-patter raindrop childish glee. Finland’s Blues Section bring philosophical cool to ‘Answer to Life’, and Switzerland’s Dragonfly deliver ‘Celestial Empire’, a track that offers a glimpse at the Summer of Love in the Land of Tax Evasion.
One of the pleasures of this anthology is the way it balances obscurities with the occasional familiar name. Shocking Blue’s ‘Love Buzz’ appears here in its original form, long before Nirvana reintroduced it to the world. The Rattles’ ‘The Witch’ stuns with hysterical shrieking and ballyhoo, as thrilling as The Sonics‘ track yet only linked in name. Ekseption’s ‘Sabre Dance’ shows how deeply classical training ran through many European bands, long before progressive rock became a recognised genre. There’s every indication that all the instruments are being played by the musicians’ feet. By the time the first disc closes with Ame Son’s ‘Je Veux Juste Dire’, the listener has travelled from garage rock to cosmic improvisation, and the anthology has already made its case that Europe was not simply following trends but reinventing them.
The second disc moves deeper into the countercultural heart of the era. Supersister’s ‘She Was Naked’ opens with a playful, jazz‑inflected charm that hints at the Dutch scene’s eccentricity, yet just about stops itself laughing in your face. “Reveals philosophies like instant pudding“, indeed! Oriental Sunshine’s ‘Across Your Life’ blends Norwegian folk sensibilities with Indian instrumentation in a way that feels startlingly ahead of its time. The sloping, humpbacked drums almost hint at Trip-Hop. Guru Guru’s ‘Next Time See You at the Dalai Lama’ captures the anarchic humour and experimental spirit that defined much of the German underground. Pacific Sound’s ‘The Drug Just Told Me’ is the kind of track that crate‑diggers whisper about, a zinging Swiss psych gem that feels both paranoid, plodding, frantic and irresistible. Italy’s Circus 2000 contribute ‘I Am the Witch’, Jefferson Airplane drowning in oxtail soup. Equally alarming is Wigwam‘s ‘Tombstone Valentine’, somehow achingly romantic in a Glen Campbell kind of way and horrifying in a ‘based on a true story’ TV movie fashion. Denmark’s Culpeper’s Orchard offer the expansive ‘Mountain Music Part One’, a reminder that Scandinavia was quietly producing some of the most ambitious rock of the period.
The anthology also highlights how European musicians absorbed and reinterpreted Anglo‑American influences without losing their own identity. Evolution’s take on ’21st Century Schizoid Man’ is a fascinating cultural echo, refracting King Crimson’s intensity through a Mediterranean lens and punishing midday sun. Brainticket’s ‘Watchin’ You’ hints at the hallucinatory extremes that would soon define the Swiss‑German krautrock underground. The disc closes with Blast Furnace’s ‘Long Distance’, a Danish track that feels like a bridge between pastoral folk and the emerging progressive movement. A fitting end to a disc that captures Europe’s growing confidence and its willingness to explore new territory.
The third disc charts the early 70s as European rock enters its most ambitious phase. The Inter‑Groupie Psychotherapeutic Elastic Band’s ‘Floating’ is a wonderfully strange opener, part satire and part psychedelic theatre. Banco del Mutuo Soccorso’s ‘R.I.P.’ showcases the operatic intensity and technical precision that made Italian progressive rock one of the most distinctive movements of the era. Focus appear with ‘Sylvia’, a rare example of a European instrumental becoming a global hit, while Aunt Mary’s ‘Rosalind’ highlights Norway’s underrated hard‑rock pedigree. Necronomicon’s ‘In Memoriam’ is one of the anthology’s darkest inclusions (which is saying something), a German acid‑rock lament that feels like it was recorded in the panic when the corpse starts crawling back through the earth. Il Balletto di Bronzo’s ‘Primo Incontro’ and PFM’s ‘Celebration’ represent the extraordinary creativity of Italy’s early 70s scene, where classical training, theatricality and rock energy collided in thrilling ways. It makes a great phone ringtone.
Popol Vuh’s ‘Abschied’ offers a moment of spiritual calm (we’ve not even mentioned that Tangerine Dream appear), a reminder that European rock was not only becoming louder and more complex but also more contemplative. Then comes Magma, whose ‘Kobaïa Iss De Hündïn’ remains one of the most singular pieces of music recorded in the era. Operatic, rhythmic and entirely its own creation, it stands as a testament to how far European musicians were willing to push beyond the boundaries of conventional rock. The anthology closes with Golden Earring’s ‘Radar Love’, a track that needs no introduction and serves as a reminder that Europe was not only producing underground classics but also international hits that still resonate today. It’s one of the few tracks that sound like they’re aping what’s going on in America.
This is a portrait of a continent in cultural flux, where political unrest, artistic experimentation and youthful idealism collided in unpredictable ways. Many of these bands operated on the fringes, ignored by mainstream press and overshadowed by their English‑speaking contemporaries. It’s a world where bands are called After Shave, Burnin Red Ivanhoe and Alan Jack Civilisation. Yet their innovations in electronics, improvisation, classical fusion and sheer sonic audacity would ripple outward for decades.
Presented in a clamshell box with a 48‑page booklet chronicling the bands, ‘So High I’ve Been’ is both an introduction and an invitation. For newcomers, it is a revelatory crash course in a scene that has too often been footnoted. For collectors, it is a beautifully curated journey through familiar landmarks and long‑lost treasures. And for anyone who has ever suspected that the story of rock music is bigger, stranger and more international than the textbooks suggest, it is a confirmation. Europe was not a supporting act. It was a creative force in its own right, restless, experimental and unrestrained.
Daz Lawrence
