Featured Essay: The Progressive Path: From Long Island Record Stores to Canterbury Dreams

by Ronald Gross

Growing up in Long Island, New York placed me perfectly between Manhattan’s legendary record shops and the suburban sprawl of Nassau County’s own musical oases. It started with my older brother’s worn copy of Genesis’ Selling England by the Pound, purchased at the long-gone Record World on Sunrise Highway. The gatefold opened to reveal a world of Victorian whimsy and musical complexity that my teenage mind wasn’t quite ready for, but I knew I needed more.

The real treasure trove was Slipped Disc Records in Valley Stream, where the prog rock section was meticulously curated. The owner’s encyclopedic knowledge guided my early explorations. When I timidly brought Yes’s Close to the Edge to the counter, he insisted I also needed Gentle Giant’s Octopus. “If you’re going down this road, kid,” he said, “you might as well go all the way.” He was right, the intricate vocal arrangements and medieval-tinged instrumentals of Gentle Giant opened up entirely new possibilities of what rock music could be.

Living a quick LIRR ride from Manhattan meant regular pilgrimages to shops like Bleecker Bob’s and Venus Records. It was at Venus where I found my first copy of Procol Harum’s A Salty Dog, stashed between well-worn copies of ELP’s Brain Salad Surgery and Nektar’s Remember the Future. Each trip meant taking the train into Penn Station with an empty backpack and returning with it full of vinyl treasures, carefully wrapped in brown paper bags to protect against the elements.

The 1975 progressive rock version of Peter and the Wolf became my holy grail after hearing it at a friend’s house. This wasn’t just another prog rock album, it was an all-star summit of British rock royalty. Jack Lancaster and Robin Lumley’s adaptation featured an absolutely staggering lineup: Gary Brooker, Phil Collins, Brian Eno, Stephane Grappelli, Gary Moore, Cozy Powell, and Manfred Mann, among others. The album perfectly bridged the gap between Prokofiev’s classical masterpiece and the progressive rock that had captured my imagination. What made it even more intriguing was its connection to Brand X. Several musicians who played on this album would go on to form that influential jazz-fusion group the following year with Phil Collins on the drums.

Finding a copy meant regular checks of every record store between Long Beach and Greenwich Village. When I finally discovered it at a small shop in New Brunswick, NJ, the owner wanted an astronomical sum, but five years of searching made any price seem reasonable. The way this album reimagined Prokofiev’s themes through a progressive lens, with Julie Tippett’s ethereal vocals and Viv Stanshall’s narration, was worth every penny.

U.K.’s self-titled debut became another obsession after hearing a crappy copy of it. Even in such a low-quality recording of it, the combination of Bill Bruford’s drumming (fresh from his stint with Yes), John Wetton’s (King Crimson, Asia) bass, and Soft Machine’s Allan Holdsworth’s guitar work was unlike anything I’d heard before. The next day, I rode the LIRR to every record store I could think of until I found a copy at King Karol in Manhattan. The owner recognized my desperation and charged me accordingly, but holding that gatefold made the premium worth it.

Living near New York meant access to imports that rarely made it to middle America. A Japanese pressing of Camel’s Mirage from Record World, complete with obi strip and insert, became one of my prized possessions. The sound quality was revelatory, Latimer’s guitar soaring with a clarity I’d never heard on domestic pressings.

Even now, decades later, I still check every record store I pass for Canterbury scene albums I might have missed. Last month, at a small shop in Long Beach that replaced my beloved Record World, I found a pristine copy of Caravan’s In the Land of Grey and Pink. As I placed it on my turntable at home, those warm analog tones transported me back to those early days of discovery, to those LIRR rides with a backpack full of records, to countless hours spent poring over liner notes and gatefold artwork.

The proximity to New York City might have given me access to these records, but it was Long Island’s own thriving prog rock community that helped me understand them. From late-night listening sessions in friends’ basements to heated debates about the best Genesis lineup at the WRHU radio station at Hofstra, every spin of these records reminds me not just of the music, but of the community that helped me discover it.

I still have that copy of Peter and the Wolf. It sits in a special place in my collection, between ELP’s Works Volume 1 and that Japanese Camel import, a reminder that sometimes the best finds come after the longest searches, and that prog rock’s greatest treasures often lie in its most ambitious collaborations.

Ronald Gross is a seasoned music industry professional with over three decades of experience spanning radio, event programming, and music journalism. His career began in the late 1980s when he served on the Nassau Community College Concert Committee, followed by an internship at WPLJ radio. He went on to host a jazz show at WPIR, showcasing his deep appreciation for the genre.

In the mid-2000s, Gross contributed his expertise to major branded music initiatives, writing about Heineken’s Red Star Soul and AmsterJam programs. Since 2007, he has established himself as a respected independent music reviewer, contributing to multiple platforms including BNN (Blogger News Network), Stereo Subversion, Eburban, Soundcheck, and Every DejaVu Records.

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