Ignored Obscured Restored
In a recent issue of MOJO, I came across an album in their Buried Treasures feature called Flash Fearless vs. the Zorg Women, Pts. 5 & 6 (1975). It immediately reminded me of another long-forgotten curiosity from the same decade, Intergalactic Touring Band (1977). Both albums leaned heavily into sci-fi imagery and both were performed by improbably large casts of superstar rock musicians. Seeing one jogged my memory of the other — and that, in turn, gave me the idea to put them side by side for another installment in my ongoing “contrast” series.
On paper, these records look like close cousins. In reality, they reveal two very different ideas about what progressive rock could still be in the mid-’70s, when ambition was abundant but focus was starting to drift.
By the middle of the decade, prog had already scaled most of the obvious peaks. Fantasy, mythology, and classical grandeur had all been absorbed into the genre’s DNA. Science fiction offered one last wide-open canvas: vast, symbolic, and flexible enough to accommodate both sincerity and satire. Flash Fearless and Intergalactic Touring Band both took that invitation, but they traveled in opposite directions.
Flash Fearless vs. the Zorg Women is gloriously upfront about its absurdity. Styled as a rock opera inspired by Flash Gordon serials — and helpfully presenting itself as Parts 5 and 6 of a story we never heard — it came bundled with a comic book version in the album’s gatefold and a knowing wink. The cast list alone suggests chaos: Alice Cooper, John Entwistle, Bill Bruford, Justin Hayward, Maddy Prior, Carmine Appice, Nicky Hopkins and more, all passing through a deliberately overcooked narrative.
Yet for all the camp, the album’s most memorable moment arrives when it unexpectedly gets serious.
“Trapped” is sung by Elkie Brooks, and her presence changes the temperature of the room. By 1975, Brooks had already lived several musical lives: early R&B singer, founding member of Dada (later Vinegar Joe), and a powerful solo vocalist known for blending blues grit with emotional directness. She wasn’t a prog figure, and that’s precisely why she works here.
Her vocal on “Trapped” sounds lived-in and unforced, full of resolve and quiet desperation. This isn’t sci-fi pantomime; it’s a song about confinement that feels personal, even physical. The arrangement wisely stays out of her way, favoring drive over decoration. For a few minutes, Flash Fearless stops being a novelty project and becomes something recognizably human.
It’s no small thing that the album’s emotional center comes from Brooks rather than one of its headline stars. Flash Fearless succeeds when it remembers that even the silliest concept still needs a beating heart.
Intergalactic Touring Band takes a more earnest route. Framed as a “live” album by a fictional band touring the galaxy, it assembles an impressive roster: Dave Cousins (Strawbs), Annie Haslam (Renaissance), Anthony Phillips (Genesis), Larry Fast, Percy Jones, Rod Argent, Ben E. King, and even E-Streeter Clarence Clemons. The pedigree is undeniable.
And yet, the album often feels oddly distant.
“Heartbreaker,” sung by Cousins, is the clearest example of what the record does well — and why it sometimes doesn’t quite land. Cousins brings his familiar folk-rock introspection; his voice tinged with regret and weariness. It’s a strong song, thoughtfully delivered, and emotionally convincing.
But it doesn’t feel intergalactic in any meaningful way. In fact, its strength comes from ignoring the album’s premise entirely. Where “Trapped” deepens its narrative through performance, “Heartbreaker” quietly sidesteps the story, pulling us back to Earth. As a result, it stands out — and also exposes how fragile the album’s concept really is.
Too often, Intergalactic Touring Band feels like a collection of good musicians behaving themselves. The performances are polished, the ideas agreeable, but the friction that gives rock its bite is mostly missing.
What’s striking is how much overlap exists between the worlds these albums inhabit. Both draw from the same mid-’70s ecosystem of prog, folk, and classic rock musicians — artists used to strong identities and clear musical purposes. Flash Fearless lets those identities clash and collide. Intergalactic Touring Band smooths them into the background.
One trusts personality. The other trusts presentation.
Both albums come from a moment when rock still believed it could build entire universes. Flash Fearless survives as a cult favorite because it remembers to populate that universe with characters who feel alive, ridiculous though they may be. Intergalactic Touring Band remains an intriguing artifact — ambitious, beautifully played, and oddly untethered.
In the end, it’s fitting that the songs that linger – “Trapped” and “Heartbreaker” — are the ones that abandon the stars and deal in human emotions instead. Even in outer space, that’s still where rock does its best work.
Enjoy… until next week.