Procol Harum, "Shine On Brightly" (A&M, 1968)

The casual music fan knows of Procol Harum primarily because of its debut single, "A White Shade of Pale," which still can be heard daily on "oldies" radio nearly 40 years later. Because the band never had another song that logged anything comparable on the sales charts - a dramatic live performance of "Conquistador" in 1972 came the closest - some tend to think of Procol Harum as somewhat of a one-hit wonder.

Of course, there's far more to the story, which continues to this day with a lineup featuring two original members, pianist/lead vocalist Gary Brooker and organist Matthew Fisher. That early version of the group also included guitarist Robin Trower, who made quite a name for himself as a solo artist in the '70s, and the late drummer Barrie J. Wilson, a name spoken as reverently in certain circles as the Moons and the Bonhams.

The band that took to the studio for its second album had a lot more time to work on it than for the debut, which was cut in just a few days as a rush job to capitalize on the hit single. That being said, it's recognized as one of the best first-time efforts in rock history. "Shine On Brightly," though, shows how polished Procol Harum had become in the space of a year and how the songwriting team of Brooker and lyricist Keith Reid (still composing together, by the way) had risen to the ranks of the best of the era.

This was 1968, when plenty of artists were embracing the "psychedelic" aspect of song structure, tossing in a kitchen sink's worth of bizarre lyrics and sound effects, just to see what would work. While Procol Harum incorporates some of those elements on "Shine On Brightly," they are subtle rather than overt, and as a result the album sounds nowhere near as dated as most of its contemporaries.

To be sure, the stream-of-consciousness narrative of the appropriately titled "Rambling On" and the multi-section, 17-minute "In Held 'Twas In I" certainly were more at home in the late '60s than the 21st century. But those songs still make for fun listening, and you could tell Procol wasn't taking itself incredibly seriously: Reid even mentions the possibility that the "pretentiousness" might make him "cringe with embarassment." Don't think so.

The highlights on the album are numerous, but really standing out is "Skip Softly (My Moonbeams)," which incorporates three distinct sections into its relatively modest length: a highly syncopated opening featuring Brooker's piano chords and Fisher's Leslie-effects organ; a tension-filled middle part with Trower smoking away on fuzz-toned guitar; and a rollicking close with everyone pickup up steam until the fadeout.