I love making music recommendations.
How does one make music recommendations in 2025? Spotify playlists? Ha! I haven’t used Spotify to date, and don’t really plan on it. It’s not that the technology is beyond me (I’m a millennial, for crying out loud!). It’s just that I’d rather enjoy the music that I have already paid for and takes up a good share of my living space. If I want a recommendation, there are other ways around it. I can take to social media and specify the sort of thing I’m looking for, go on a YouTube journey and see where that algorithm takes me (it has improved slightly after it got significantly worse), or ask some friends or those in the local music community whose opinions I respect.
Having an unending hunger for nostalgia, I often think back to ways that many around my age got turned on to music back in the day. Music TV channels are out, both due to their current programming choices and since I cut out cable some years ago in favour of streaming. Radio was fine and dandy, but I’m fairly certain that even back in the ‘90s that playlists were rather limited in terms of scope. Not everyone had the cash to take chances at music stores on albums they were uncertain of, and not everyone felt like exploiting Colombia House to see how much music they could order and get away with not paying for.
That’s where the mix-tape came in handy.
Sure, the reality of money didn’t mean you could go out and necessarily buy the album/EP/single that every song on a mix-tape came from, but it did provide you with a good sample size of somebody else’s collection. Know somebody with a sizable collection of British Invasion-era rock albums? They can copy a selection of these artists onto a tape for your listening pleasure. It can get as specific as you want it to be since there’s not always a compilation album readily available for any type of music, be it Swedish death metal or Japanese hardcore punk. Mix-tapes were also beneficial because some may have been reluctant to lend out albums to you, instead offering you something you can keep or even record over to return the favour.
You’re probably wondering why I’d make a tape particularly for children and particularly of progressive rock. Basically, it can be a pretty challenging form of music to get into. While I’m no progressive rock historian by any means, I have a fair enough familiarity with what’s out there. I don’t think kids would get much exposure to this sort of music outside of guidance from someone that’s been on this planet a little longer. As for why I chose a cassette tape, it was the first media format I was ever familiar with. Simple as that.
I called this a mix-tape so what is my running-time limitation here? 60 minutes or so on a cassette? Certain tapes could go 90 minutes, but I’d assume there would be compromises regarding audio quality. 60 makes for some harder cuts, so I’ll go with that. It may be more difficult to do with progressive rock compared to other music styles, but I guess I’ll leave off some of the epics out of interest of attention span.
Some honourable mentions for artists that I didn’t include:
Rush
It’s sacrilege to some that I didn’t include them, so much so that the omission might cost me my Canadian citizenship. The exclusion boils down to the fact that I believe a kid would get enough exposure to Rush, especially given the Canadian Content rules up here. That goes for many eras of the band. Tune in to Q107FM in Toronto, and you may hear anything from “In the Mood” or “La Villa Strangiato” to “Time Stand Still” or “Far Cry”.
Mike Oldfield
“Tubular Bells” would be the most obvious place to start, but many of his most beloved pieces take up at least one side of a record (or two). I don’t have a deep familiarity with more of his shorter works, so I left him off the tape as I don’t want to use an abridged cut of one of his epics.
Dream Theater / Fates Warning / Queensrÿche
These three are occasionally referred to as the Big 3 of progressive metal. Maybe another tape for progressive metal should be in the making as this would also lead to many interesting choices as well as difficult choices for the cutting room floor.
Van der Graaf Generator
I love this band as an adult, rating them as a fairly overlooked “prog” act in North America, but I think much of their material would have been a harder listen as a child. Peter Hammill’s voice has great character to it, not terribly unlike Peter Gabriel’s, but I would say some of the more extremities of his vocal style are a bit more of an acquired taste. However, listening to “Refugees” as I type this is making me want to take it all back.
Tangerine Dream
Similar reasoning as Mike Oldfield in that I chose a few other instrumental tracks. They also tend to be called electronic or even krautrock as opposed to progressive rock, but there are easily stylistic commonalities in much of their material that could easily justify their inclusion. My introduction to them was with my purchase of Force Majeure, and it sure sounded proggy enough to me.
I now present to you, or to the kids in your life, my Prog for the Children mix-tape.
Side One:
- Genesis – “The Musical Box” (10:29)
- King Crimson – “Indiscipline” (4:33)
- Yes – “Wondrous Stories” (3:47)
- Gentle Giant – “Proclamation” (6:47)
- Spirit – “Space Child” (3:25)
Running Time: 29:01
Side Two:
- Camel – “Spirit of the Water” (2:07)
- Marillion – “Easter” (5:58)
- Jethro Tull – “Locomotive Breath” (4:23)
- Pink Floyd – “The Gnome” (2:13)
- Emerson Lake & Palmer – “Toccata” (7:23)
- Soft Machine – “Why Am I So Short?” (1:39)
- Magma – “Kreühn Köhrmahn Ïss Dëh Hündin” (3:13)
Running Time: 26:56
Total Running Time: 55:57
Click here for the full playlist on YouTube.
Would you play that to your kids, switch up the songs, or do you simply think I’m crazy for trying to force-feed children this kind of music?
Anyway, now to justify my choices.
Genesis – “The Musical Box”
“A Trick of the Tail” was very much under consideration because that chorus is an ear-worm that doesn’t leave you. However, I knew there had to be at least a few lengthier numbers on this puppy. Kids have to get use to the epic tracks that the genre is known for, and I’m starting this tape off with the longest song to get it out of the way.
“The Musical Box” makes a fabulous intro, doesn’t it? It’s a song so identifiable with the early years of the band that the most-renowned Genesis tribute band shares their name with it. Peter Gabriel’s gentle voice and the whimsical acoustic guitars gently pull the listener in, and while it does get rather frenetic and heavy towards the middle, there are plenty of calming returns in this piece to settle young listeners. The trading off of solos between lead guitarist Steve Hackett and keyboardist Tony Banks should intrigue their growing melodic sensibilities.
Lyrically, it is seemingly right up a kid’s alley, with the liberal use of the classic nursery rhyme “Old King Cole”. That’s merely on the surface, mind you. It’s apparently a rather dark and twisted story of some sort involving murder and lust, so it’s likely one of those tracks where you may have to tell your kids that you’ll explain it to them when they are older if they don’t figure it out earlier with the violent shouting demands of “why don’t you touch me”, which happens to be a fine showcasing of Gabriel’s emotive range. There’s enough mainstream music and media out there to which parental guidance is suggestible, so why not at least have some interesting music to drape the subject matter in?
Still, much of the Nursery Cryme album does seem to be rather child-friendly with entertaining roller-coaster arrangements throughout. If you wish for another song from it with more suitable subject matter, throw it in place of this one and you’d have a bit more room for an additional track.
King Crimson – “Indiscipline”
Not a song from their iconic In the Court of the Crimson King album? Not even one from my favourite era of the band when John Wetton was their vocalist? I’m afraid not. This compilation is full to the rafters of ‘60s and ‘70s songs, so a curve-ball early in the count doesn’t feel inappropriate at all.
The 1980s saw two Americans enter the King Crimson fold, a band to which guitarist Robert Fripp had put to rest in 1974 before re-envisioning in the following decade. Tony Levin brought with him a form of groove unlike any the band had ever employed, usually either applying it on bass guitar or Chapman stick. Many such grooves provided songs with their stability to the point where some were deemed to have minor hit potential (see “Sleepless”). Adrian Belew, fresh off stints with David Bowie and Talking Heads, took what he learned from both acts and brought with him the knack of writing quirky but accessible songs (see “Heartbeat”) to go along with his soon-to-be influential guitar soloing.
Accessible I’d say “Indiscipline” is fairly far from, but quirky it has got. Levin’s bass line on the Chapman stick works well to back Belew’s brand of poetry. At the moment his vocals break, all instrumentalists are afforded a chance to stretch out and spread their wings, which perhaps may be better demonstrated if I included a live cut of this song in its place. Nonetheless, what we have here is a fine example of what this lineup of Crimson had that others often lacked: a sense of fun. This is just one of many ‘80s Crimson songs that each member couldn’t help but crack smiles or burst into laughter while performing.
The lyrics, too, are inclusive of that playfulness, easily relatable to kids of a certain age. The description of this object he’s apparently acquired and “playing little games” with it is very much something a child might do. It could be stumbling upon an interesting-looking rock while at a park, getting a neat little toy out of a vending machine, or something of their own creation. The “I repeat myself when under stress” repetition seems like a humorous phrase a kid would pick up on too.
The Fripp/Belew/Levin/Bruford quartet went on to greatly inspire some of the more progressive-minded artists into the 1990s and beyond, such as Primus, Tool (whose drummer Danny Carey teamed up with Belew, Levin, and Steve Vai to perform ‘80s Crimson classics in Beat), and Between the Buried and Me (who did a nice cover of “Three of a Perfect Pair”).
Yes – “Wondrous Stories”
I considered something like “Turn of the Century” from the same album (Going for the One) as it also had a bit of that lighter feel I wanted to capture, but I wanted to keep overall running times somewhat in mind so I can maximize the tape capacity.
Despite that temptation to throw something longer on here, “Wonderous Stories” still encapsulates what Yes do well. The forefront of the focus on Yes tends to be their musical complexity, but what is sometimes an afterthought to more casual listeners is their vocal arrangements. Vocal harmonies layered by lead vocalist Jon Anderson, (who was usually backed by bassist Chris Squire and guitarist Steve Howe in a live setting) are as captivating as normal, also heard to great effect on tracks as beloved as “I’ve Seen All Good People” and “South Side of the Sky”. A diversification in musical instrumentation is something they’re always known to incorporate. On this song, Howe plays a Portuguese 12-string guitar, and keyboardist Rick Wakeman plays a Polymoog synthesizer. A largely acoustic number, Wakeman’s tasteful melodies work excellently to build this Anderson-penned song.
The lyrics leave plenty of room to interpret as the listener sees fit, suitable for a child that can imagine a story being told to them by an elder about the olden days or even a child relaying a story back to their parent about an enjoyable day at school or out with a friend.
Gentle Giant – “Proclamation”
Kids need something for their adventurous side, and it’s hard to name a band that can tap into that more than Gentle Giant could. A band with a friendly-looking mascot may also be appealing to tots.
I’d call “Proclamation” the most potentially overwhelming song on the tape, but you can hear a rhythm & blues influence in their sound that grounds it into something more palatable than you may expect from a prog band. The track begins with a funky sort of keyboard passage by Kerry Minnear that you’d maybe expect to hear from Stevie Wonder in a more soothing context, but this is prog, baby! This song has twists and turns aplenty, but fear not. Lock your ears onto John Weathers’ drum patterns, and it’s actually quite a dance-able number in many parts. There’s a simple beat that kicks in at the 2:12 mark of the track that provides something to clap along to quite easily, and what child doesn’t like to clap? When I was introduced to this song through Gentle Giant’s 1974 German TV performance off their Giant on the Box DVD, I couldn’t resist clanging my hands together either.
Sequencing wise, it also makes up for the lack of drums on the previous track.
Spirit – “Space Child”
Time to bring the energy back down after Gentle Giant has your kid bouncing off the walls.
What category do Spirit fall under? When I ripped Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus to Windows Media Player (yes, I still do that for convenience and portability), it classified the album as Metal & Hard Rock. The folks at Microsoft aren’t an authority on music, so I’ll include this as a prog track. I’ve also got to include some instrumental pieces on here, I feel. Spirit serves to give the tape an American presence, possibly a factor in making this a controversial choice to those that view prog as largely British and European.
“Space Child”, as a name, is yet another thing that can tickle a kid’s imagination. My siblings used to push one another on our backyard swing-set and sing “Zoom! Zoom! Zoom! We’re going to the moon!” as we went higher and higher. Had we known about this track, we wouldn’t have needed to make up such Mensa-level lyrics, instead granting us focus on what the core of pretend space travel should be. Making spacesuits out of tin foil, applying pipe-cleaners behind our ears to serve as Andorian-like antennas, spinning each other around in circles to acquire a G-force tolerance, that sort of thing.
The song appropriately feature very alien-sounding noises, produced by a combination of keyboards and guitars, with what I can describe as a more Earth-bound rhythm section of piano, bass, and drums. You could consider it two races from different planets trying to communicate with one another, coming across as sounds and melodies from the conversation rather than concrete words.
Camel – “Spirit of the Water”
In the interest of including more songs off the beaten path, Camel felt like a good balance of obscurity and notoriety in prog circles to warrant inclusion. I considered “Aristillus” as a potential opener for the second side of the tape, and I was also considering “Lunar Sea” as that’s the track that got me interested in Camel. That discovery happened as a twenty-something year-old rather than as a child, so I had to put my child-sized thinking cap on. After doing that, as well as cleaning up my Tinkertoys and finishing all the juice out of my sippy cup, the answer became obvious.
In the interest of full disclosure, I currently own just two Camel albums (The Snow Goose and Moonmadness), so it’s very much possible that there’s a track I’d prefer to this one that I’ve yet to hear. Nonetheless, why “Spirit of the Water”? I’ll be honest, much of it is the melody that dominates the song. When I spend time away from giving Camel, the flute melody occasionally plays in my mind, and it often irritates me when I can’t identify the song or even the band. It’s like something that would be part of a soundtrack in a dream of mine.
A much more reflective piece that I would have anticipated including, both in feel and in lyrics. As distorted as it can get, water is one of the best-known reflective objects there is. Those distortions even show through in the effect on keyboardist Peter Bardens’ vocals, almost as if water itself is acting as a barrier between the singer and the audience. Lyrically, it’s pretty much an ode to the eternal force of nature that water is. Just another way to get a child acquainted with water, perfect to go along with swimming lessons or stressing the importance of staying hydrated.
Jethro Tull – “Locomotive Breath”
I wanted some Tull on here, but not necessarily something with the oddest time signatures or tempo changes. I also could have also went with one of their more folk-based tracks, but I think I’ve got a few other songs on the list that tread that territory.
I opted for a more mainstream choice here that garners decent radio airplay on classic rock stations, at least in terms of songs that are dubbed on occasion as progressive rock. I’m aware that I disqualified Rush for similar grounds, but Jethro Tull are not the household name that Rush are. It takes more diligence to stumble across their music outside of a record shop, and if kids are like me, they’d get a bit bored shopping anywhere that doesn’t have a toy aisle. Front-man and primary song-writer Ian Anderson still has the band going to this day, and the material for their upcoming album Curious Remnant sounds very promising, so maybe a YouTube algorithm would be kind enough to recommend it if they catch the prog bug from their parents. But I’m still dealing with an old-school medium, so bare with me.
I feel “Locomotive Breath” is another one of those songs that is most emblematic of a band’s classic sound. Very bluesy, plenty of flute, and plenty heavy. Yes, heavy! As much as the band doesn’t consider themselves to have been worthy of the Best Hard Rock/ Metal Performance Grammy award in 1989 (they were told not to show up as Metallica was likely to win), people do often forget how heavy for their time Jethro Tull truly were. In the case of this track in particular, it’s that forcefulness in the rhythm brought forth by a combination of the drum pattern and guitar. The delicate piano intro, cut from the single release, provides the unexpected twist to emphasize the weight of this song.
As I do not have any progressive metal on this list, this is one of the closest things I’ve included to it in terms of the genre’s evolution. The band inspired the likes of Iron Maiden, who have progressive qualities in many of their songs and albums, as well as one of the bigger prog-metal bands of the present in Opeth. Speaking of Opeth, check out select tracks from their latest album The Last Will and Testament for Ian Anderson guest appearances!
Marillion – “Easter”
The temptation to pick a Fish-era song is strong, but I’m going to go with one from the Steve Hogarth-fronted edition of the band. The prog heads that gravitate heavily towards prog rock from the ‘70s aren’t often as keen to listen to the post-Fish Marillion, but it is more representative of the band’s sound given the eventual longevity of this (at the time) new lineup. There are still lots of musical roots to their previous sound here, natural considering that some of the other songs that would go on to appear on Season’s End were demoed with their previous singer (see “Beaujolais Day” as a precursor to the album’s title-track). In the case of “Easter”, this is most evident in the latter portion of the song, particularly in Mark Kelly’s and Pete Trewavas’ respective keyboard and bass parts.
I kind of thought this was about a minute or so longer than it is, but it just goes to shows you can build a grandiose track without it extending the length too terribly. Hogarth (or simply “h”, as he often goes by) has a certain frailness and vulnerability in his voice, yet it’s as soothing as a lullaby and still commanding your attention when he turns up the intensity in the back end of the song. Steve Rothery, an underrated guitarist in the grand scheme of things, shows off more of the folk end of his influences that weren’t quite as evident as the Genesis or Pink Floyd aspects in their earlier direction. The band would ultimately feature more and more acoustic guitar on future albums, and this song certainly set a high benchmark for subsequent material to live up to.
A deceptive song like “The Musical Box”, but this one you should be able to explain to your kids sooner rather than later. A child may mistake the title for this being a ballad dedicated to a certain hopping critter that distributes eggs made of chocolate, but they’d of course be mistaken. For a bit of history lesson for them, and perhaps you, the song was based on The Troubles conflict in Northern Ireland, which was also the subject matter for “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2.
Pink Floyd – “ The Gnome”
Yes, I realize that there is some debate regarding whether or not Pink Floyd is prog, particularly the Syd Barrett-era of the group that is usually classified as psychedelic rock. It’s my mix-tape, so I’m running with the idea that this is prog, or proto-prog or whatever you want to call it. The Barrett-era songs don’t get nearly enough radio play compared to their Gilmour stuff, so this inclusion pays tribute to that, and “The Gnome” could make for a fine introduction to Syd.
While songs like “Interstallar Overdrive” and “Astronomy Domine” caught my attention more on my first-ever listen of The Piper at the Gates of Dawn, I slept on this little ditty for so long, and I don’t think I’m alone in that failing. The early days of Pink Floyd had the band largely led by Barrett rather than Roger Waters, the man that would lead them to their eventual superstardom. Contrasting many of Barrett’s songs to Waters’ best-known ones, Syd’s writing style is much easier to grasp for younger people, keeping a very light-hearted feel on many of his songs.
A very folksy song driven by Syd on his acoustic guitar, but keyboardist Richard Wright shines brightly too. It’s one of the musically simpler pieces chosen for this mix-tape, though it was actually the first song I thought of as a possibility. I can’t listen to this without my mind escaping into cartoonish imagery or illustrations like you’d see for Oz or Lord of the Rings tales. Lyrically, it’s direct and instantly relatable. “Bike” was a consideration for similar reasons, though the ending takes a strange turn that a kid might find too disturbing if they are too young. As far as I can tell, despite what some might think of Barrett, no drug references or other questionable lyric content on this one despite a reference to grass. Much like the confusion around the meaning of “Puff the Magic Dragon”, you’d probably be looking for metaphors where there aren’t necessarily any.
“Scarecrow” would be a perfectly acceptable substitute on the playlist considering it is practically the same run time.
Emerson, Lake & Palmer – “Toccata”
I definitely wanted to put something that incorporates some classical music into the mix, and Emerson, Lake & Palmer were the first prog band that came to mind that satisfied the requirement. I grew up with a Fisher Price cassette player that included a tape that I feel was a gateway into appreciating instrumental music. If that digestible blend of pop and rock music with classical was great for an appetizer, then progressive rock would make for an excellent main course.
While never a guitar-heavy band, “Toccata” is nonetheless heavy as hell! A song that goes so hard, yet there are surprisingly only three band members here. Keyboardist Keith Emerson could seemingly do the job of three much of the time, often making him the focus of attention in ELP, but don’t discount what Greg Lake and Carl Palmer provide. Lake, who handles vocals and acoustic guitar on other tracks, locks in excellently to Emerson on bass in the time he does appear on this piece. Palmer brings absolute thunder throughout, featuring special credit on this track for his percussion movement.
Technically this is not an ELP original given that it’s an adaptation of a concerto by Argentinian composer Alberto Ginastera. I’m not going to hold that against it. This song’s placement can teach kids that cover songs are a valid form of art, giving respect to an existing piece of music by reinterpreting it with your own vision. Featuring one track with an absence of vocals on each side of the cassette provides a nice balance as well.
Drummer Carl Palmer is the only living member of Emerson Lake & Palmer, and I think taking your child to see him carry on the ELP legacy live might be a great first concert experience. I’m glad to have seen him with his talented trio over a decade ago, and yes, he often includes “Toccata” as part of the set.
Soft Machine – “Why Am I So Short?”
This is sort of like the Pink Floyd track as you could call this psychedelic rock, but it also serves as the lone representative of the Canterbury scene. This was a loose affiliation of bands from the same region of England that dabbled in similarly progressive and jazz-inspired forms of rock, which also included the likes of Caravan, National Health, and Gong.
Appropriately, this is the shortest track on the tape. If your child asks you “Why am I so short?” you can answer them in both a scientific sense and a musical sense. Obviously, genetics control height, so that accounts for the science. From a music perspective, you could tell them that the average song on the radio is barely over three minutes long, and it doesn’t stop them from reaching a wide audience. Much like it never stopped Danny DeVito from becoming The Trash Man, a lack of height never stopped Soft Machine vocalist/drummer Robert Wyatt from a successful career in music.
“Why Am I So Short?” happens to be even shorter than the typical pop song, though one particular passage within doesn’t bode well for shortness:
I’m nearly 5’7 tall
I like to smoke and drink and ball
Will a kid take this to mean smoking and drinking (and ball) are activities that stunt your growth? You can tell them that if you want to, but as another “nearly 5’7 tall” man, abstaining never did me any favours. The bottom line is that this is about short pride, and those just so happen to be his hobbies. Short songs (like people) are perfectly acceptable alongside tall ones. Show them some longer tracks from Soft Machine to demonstrate what you mean, with the band aging and developing to give you pieces like “Slightly All the Time” and “Virtually”. It’s okay to like them in any form.
Days before finishing this article, I learned that Soft Machine’s keyboardist Mike Ratledge passed away. If there is any positive spin one could put on this, I hope others get exposed to his musical output that have thus far missed out.
Magma – “Kreühn Köhrmahn Ïss Dëh Hündin”
The temptation existed to use “Coltrane Sundia” as a backdoor intro to jazz music and it would have been a cool closing number for the mix-tape, but I wanted to showcase Magma’s vocal approach first and foremost with their inclusion.
This is a childhood experience that is likely not unique to me, but I once helped to invent a language. You might think that I did so with my twin brother, but it was actually with another friend during recesses at school. Did we use this language for long? I don’t think so. Did I ever teach it to my brother, or anyone else? I can’t recall, but it very much has relevance with Magma’s selection.
In addition to wanting to not simply include bands from the UK on the list, with Magma being from France, we’ve got a group that even sing in a non-English language. No, that wouldn’t be French. They write songs in a phonetic language that they call Kobaïan. I like the band, but haven’t ventured to make head or tail of their language. However, I do believe that kids could find some joy in hearing singing in a language that is foreign to their own.
Why not go with the closing song from Magma’s Mekanïk Destruktïẁ Kommandöh album? It may seem rather arbitrary as one of theirs song to select, but the epic creshendo reached by their other-wordly choir, followed by a haunting rhythmic dirge the feels like a funeral march for Nosferatu, would certainly leave a mark on a young listener. It also comes with the added audible bonus.
You know those tone test sounds that often begin and end cassette tapes? This song, in its own way, serves a similar usefulness. Coming in at approximately the 2:54 mark of the track is a beep to let you know when it’s time to flip the tape over because you just know the kids are gonna want to start this prog party up again!
Armchair Maestro 