Having already established in Part 1 that Nick Steed did not join Colosseum to become a museum-quality replica of Dave Greenslade, Part 2 turns to the mechanics of how a living band stays alive. What emerges is both reassuring and faintly absurd: a group of veteran musicians, scattered geographically but united spiritually, convening in Sussex to “top and tail” songs they already know by heart, refusing on principle to rehearse Stormy Monday Blues, and more or less trusting that fifty years of accumulated instinct will do the rest.

Nick explains that when Colosseum prepares for the road, there is very little ceremonial fuss. The old epics are not anxiously overhandled. The newer material gets the attention. The older material, having long since entered the bloodstream, is allowed to remain there. This is, apparently, what happens when a band has moved beyond rehearsal and into telepathy.

From there the discussion moves into writing: how songs are built, how unused ideas survive from one album to the next, and why Colosseum does not road-test unfinished material in public. The reasoning is sound. If you play something half-formed live and later improve it in the studio, some enterprising listener will insist the earlier version was superior, and then civilization begins to wobble.

Nick also gives a glimpse into the current internal chemistry of the band: Clem brings the blues, Mark brings the rock, Nick brings the proggy jazz-fusion sprawl, and somewhere in the middle Colosseum remains gloriously, stubbornly itself. The result is a band that still sounds like Colosseum, while continuing to make new work that does not merely repeat the old tricks in slightly different trousers.

We also learn that Nick writes late at night, often after bad films and in the company of his beloved 1964 Hammond A100, that lyrics remain a troublesome business unless attached to an actual story, and that The Hunters emerged from exactly such a process: folklore, collaboration, and the old-fashioned miracle of a song becoming itself before anyone can stop it.

There is also talk of solo work, of Secrets of the King’s Court, of church performances with choir, of future recordings, of young fans discovering the band, and of the quietly comic dignity of still being the FNG — the fucking new guy — even after helping carry the music forward.

Meanwhile, the central revelation of the hour may be this: Colosseum is not operating as a legacy act embalmed in reverence. It is still a working band, still writing, still touring, still surprising itself, and still producing music with enough life in it to blow up a Hammond or two.

Which, in this parish, counts as a very healthy sign indeed.

YOUR PRESCRIPTION

Recommended Indulgences to Satisfy the Voluptuary

(Listener Discretion Encouraged, Authority Not Recognized)

Administered not for correction, but for pleasure.

Dosage may be increased arbitrarily.

Recommended Conditions

Best consumed late at night, preferably after one has watched a bad film and decided to improve the evening personally

Volume set high enough to hear the organ breathe

Headphones encouraged; overrehearsal discouraged

Pairs well with a viski, a notebook full of unfinished song ideas, and the confidence to leave Stormy Monday Blues alone

May be taken alone or in the company of someone who understands that some bands rehearse songs, and some bands simply remember them

Further Listening — Nick Steed Edition

Nick Steed - Influential Guidance

Nick Steed - Thr33

Nick Steed — Secrets of the King’s Court (RECORD RELEASE)

Clem Clempson - www.clemclempson.com

Ray Detone - www.raydetone.com

Stephen Cordiner - www.stephencordinermusic.com

Big Red Studios - www.bigredstudios.co.uk

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