Welcome to another edition of From My Collection. The other day, Max Webster keyboardist Terry Watkinson passed away at the age of 86. Watkinson was an integral member of the band, contributing keyboards, vocals, songwriting, and artistic direction until their 1981 split. He would subsequently take part in the band’s sporadic reunions throughout the ’90s and ’00s, before spending the rest of his days as a nationally renowned painter, with his landscapes being displayed in prominent Canadian galleries. It makes sense that Watkinson boasted such a multi-faceted artistic background, as Max Webster themselves are perhaps the original “art metal” band, if there was such a thing. To honor Watkinson, and these legendary Canadians, today we revisit the band’s monster of a live album, Live Magnetic Air. Breathe it in!
Like many Americans, my introduction to Max Webster was thanks to Rush. I was about 11 or 12 years old when I stumbled upon “Battle Scar” off their 1980 swansong, Universal Juveniles. Before Geddy Lee’s vocals entered upon the second verse, I was already hooked. The riffs were huge and heavy, the lyrics were confrontational, and the sound as a whole was massive. Then again, that’s what happens when you’ve got two guitarists, two bassists, and two drummers bashing away on their respective instruments simultaneously.
As the years went by, and junior high gave way to high school, I went further down the Max Webster rabbit hole, eager to learn more about Rush’s unsung mates. After all, while they achieved a healthy amount of success in their native Canada, here in America, the name “Max Webster” only evoked confused looks and responses of, “I’ve never heard of him.” Trying to explain that it was “them”, and not “him”, only caused further bewilderment. None of this, however, can compare to Max Webster’s bewildering catalog itself, which followed zero set rules or guidelines.
Rush might be “weird” to people whose musical diet consists of Journey and Foreigner. Max Webster? These cats made Rush sound commercial by comparison. As I explored their catalog, I was dumbfounded to hear a band that boasted the same art rock sensibilities as say 10cc or Sparks, but with a ’70s metal edge thanks to frontman Kim Mitchell’s brash guitarwork. No two songs sounded the same, and there was always an underlying tongue-in-cheek humor to their lyrics. It was like Zappa gone metal, so it was no surprise at all to learn that the first song the band ever played live was none other than a cover of Zappa’s “Peaches En Regalia”.
While Max Webster’s studio outings range from solid to excellent, and are all worthwhile explorations for fans of early metal, progressive rock, and freeform music altogether, like many bands of their era, their peak arrived in the form of a live album: 1979’s Live Magnetic Air. On this album, Mitchell and Watkinson, alongside bassist Dave Myles and drummer Gary McCracken, unleash their signature brand of art metal upon a wildly enthusiastic Canadian crowd, packed to the gills and eager for a barrage of pummeling riffs, flashy showmanship, and sonic schizophrenia.
The album opens with one of MW’s most straightforward traditional metal cuts, “America’s Veins”. It’s a kickass opener, boasting rip-roaring headbanger riffs, a rumbling rhythm section, and keyboards being used in a Purple/Rainbow manner: Hard and abrasive, as apposed to providing delicate soundscapes. Mitchell’s roaring vocal is the cherry on top. Put it all together, and one could easily confuse this for a lost Schenker era UFO rager. It’s the perfect powder keg of an opening statement, especially for what’s to follow.
“Paradise Skies”, one of MW’s biggest hits, comes next, fusing more of this swaggering UFO vibe with flashes of Canadian AOR, the latter particularly during the chorus passages. It’s this balance of light and darkness that quickly made the aforementioned Journey and Foreigner household names of late ’70s rock, before boarding the train to power ballad city come the early ’80s. I can’t help but think “Paradise Skies” is MW offering their own quirky take on this approach, as “Paradise Skies” certainly boasts more single potential than most of their canon.
After two straightforward songs, MW hones in on their signature art metal vibe with “In Context of the Moon”. With its unpredictable arrangement, bizarre atmosphere, and proto-skronk metal guitars, this has all the hallmarks of Zappa, but with the heft of Sabbath and Purple. Of course, Mitchell was far more than a cheap Zappa clone. He crafted his own unique approach to the guitar, showcasing his knack for both bone-crushing riffs and tasty solos on this hallmark. The breezy, pseudo-funk boogie of “Night Flights”, another cut off the AOR leaning A Million Vacations (1979), countered the intensity of “Moon”, and really lays down the MW formula for this album. Headbanger, palette cleanse, repeat.
Speaking of funk, can you dig “Lip Service”? If you can’t, surely you suffer from lack of soul. One day, I’ll have to compile a Spotify playlist of Mk. III Purple worship. This MW deep cut is bound to make top of the list. Although Mitchell’s vocals aren’t nearly as sexy as Coverdale or explosive as Hughes, he sure lays it down against a hard-shuffling backdrop of Stormbringer era riffage and equally flavorful organs. And just to cover all bases, how about we close out side A with a quick reggae interlude (“Sarniatown Reggae”)? I told you: This band does it all.
As we flip over to side B, Max Webster takes us back to ’76 with “Here Among the Cats” off their eponymous debut. If you were to ask me which song besides “Battle Scar” embodies the Max Webster, I’d point to “Cats”. Equal parts heavy and bizarre, “Cats” struts along with its swaggering beat, gut-churning riffs, stoned Robert Fripp-ian solos, and Jon Lord-esque organs. Seriously, if the Max Webster thing hadn’t worked for Watkinson, he could’ve easily found his way into Rainbow. The way he not just compliments the band, but rounds out their sonic attack, is otherworldly.
“Gravity” off High Class serves as one of MW’s earlier AOR exploits, starting with an almost doomy riff assault, before easing up on the ears with its twinkly verses, prog maneuvers, and harmonious vocal choirs. If this were any other band, such sporadic changeovers would probably piss me off, but remember: Max Webster aren’t “any other band”. Look no further than “Waterline”, which sees the band funking it up again, only this time it’s more BTO album cut than Mk. III Purple. Mitchell growls into the mic like fellow Canuck legend C.F. Turner on this brainless, barroom blooze exploration. Someone pour a cold one, eh!
Watkinson takes the mic for “Charmonium”, which he penned for A Million Vacations. With all due respect to Mitchell, Watkinson’s light, airy vocals were much more AOR friendly, almost sounding reminiscent of Kansas’ Steve Walsh. Would MW have had a better chance at success south of the border had Watkinson sung on more than the odd cut here or there? Probably not, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy his vocals a ton, especially on this flashy pomp rocker. And just as the album opened on a pure metal note, it closes on one as well. The aptly titled “Hangover” is a go-for-the-throat headbanger, tearing through your stereo in a manner that can only be described as “Todd Rundgren tries Judas Priest”. It’s heavy as hell for the ’70s, but with those undeniable artsy undertones that made MW who they were in the first place.
Although Live Magnetic Air did virtually nothing here in the States, it did go gold in MW’s native Canada, adding to their growing list of achievements. It also remains a cult classic to this day, beloved by both old school metalheads and prog aficionados alike, similar to Rush’s All the World’s a Stage…only much, much weirder. If you like your metal on the avant-garde and unpredictable side, pick up a copy of Live Magnetic Air (preferably on vinyl, it should only cost a few bucks) and prepare for a heavy, head-exploding history lesson. Rest in power Terry Watkinson!
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