Emerson, Lake & Palmer Push Creative Boundaries on Tarkus: 1971 Prog Staple Features Theatrical Title Track, Diverse Arrangements, and Iconic Armadillo-Themed Cover Art

Mastered at MoFi’s California Studio and Pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing: Mobile Fidelity’s Numbered-Edition 180g 33RPM LP Plays with Rich, Detailed Sound and Exceptional Definition 

1/4" / 15 IPS analog copy to DSD 256 to analog console to lathe

Tarkus likely remains the only album in existence that links jazz luminary Dave Brubeck, Russian composer Sergei Prokofiev, country legend Eddie Kramer, Argentine composer Alberto Ginastera, American genius Frank Zappa, and German multi-hyphenate Johann Sebastian Bach. At once diverse, ambitious, and complex, Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s sophomore statement proved fantastically successful and accessible. It reached No. 1 on the UK Albums Chart and, in the U.S., climbed into the Top 10. The 1971 effort also propelled the British group to the forefront of the concert scene and became instantly identifiable via its now-iconic cover art.

Mastered at MoFi’s California studio, housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 33RPM LP of Tarkus presents the gold-certified effort in audiophile sound. Clear, dynamic, and balanced, the collectible edition honors the fastidious approaches that informed the playing and recording of the record. With black backgrounds, dead-quiet surfaces, and exceptional definition, this reissue brings to light the tonal depth and virtuosic musicianship on display. 

Traits — textures, nuances, effects, melodies, tempo changes — that go hand-in-hand with the trio’s compositions and interplay are rendered amid broad soundstages and delivered with finite detail. You’ll relish the separation, imaging, and timing that help make every song come across with involving presence and realism. These sonic signposts extend to the snorkel-tube-inspired Moog synthesizer on “Aquatarkus,” the St. Mark’s Church pipe organ on “The Only Way (Hymn),” and the improvisational jamming and hollering on the lighthearted rave-up “Are You Ready Eddy?”

Anchored by the theatrical title track — a nearly 21-minute-long epic that charts the life of the armadillo creature from birth to the aftermath of his defeat in a battle with a manticore — Tarkus briefly created a rift in the supergroup’s then-thriving chemistry. The reason: The architecture and direction keyboardist Keith Emerson pursued with “Tarkus.” 

Based on 10/8 and 5/4 time signatures, the dexterous suite initially frustrated guitarist-singer Greg Lake, who soon came around to both playing on it and writing its anti-war narrative. A seven-part journey in which peacefulness and violence, calm and clamor, and flourishes and marches unfold within the sonically metaphorical framework, “Tarkus” looms as one of the finest prog compositions ever performed. 

The album’s second half prominently displays Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s expansive range with concise songs and, in two spots, its sense of humor. Made and sequenced on Tarkus to give listeners a breather after the demanding opener, “Jeremy Bender” unfolds with honky-tonk pianos and percussive hand claps. An homage to Brubeck’s “Count Down,” the tumbling “Bitches Crystal” doubles as a showcase for Emerson’s impeccable piano skills. The keyboardist also takes center stage on “The Only Way (Hymn),” which folds bold religious contemplation with a segue into the jazz-fueled instrumental “Infinite Space.” 

Free of drum solos, acoustic ballads, and cerebral interludes, Tarkus differs from its equally esteemed predecessor but finds Emerson, Lake & Palmer again hitting on all cylinders as a band seemingly capable of playing any style at any pace. Reflecting on the album more than 40 years later, Emerson rightly stated: “It offers a lot for the advancement of musicians. If anyone wants to get into progressive rock music…it provides the elements. You’ve got a lot going on with Tarkus.”

That extends to William Neal’s vibrant cover art. Born out of a somewhat innocuous doodle, the final design — which memorably omits the band’s name, contains the skeletal remains of an eaten lizard, and famously features a red-eyed armadillo transformed into a hybrid tank replete with guns and treads — reflects the title track’s storyline and dovetails with Neal’s other narrative-associated drawings in the sleeve. From the first to the last note, from the cover to the final illustration, Tarkus is the complete package.