Under-the-radar German symphonic prog — Genesis by way of the Rhine. Clowns & Clouds is a quietly rewarding gem from Germany’s less-celebrated symphonic prog scene. Hölderlin’s third album, recorded at Conny Plank’s studio in early 1976, is a two-sided affair: the Clown side wears its love of Genesis openly, while the Cloud side drifts into more laid-back, cosmic and beautiful territory that is the record’s real signature. Melodic and richly arranged, it is a lovely, overlooked entry in seventies German symphonic rock.

The short version

Hölderlin’s third studio album, recorded in January 1976 at Conny Plank’s studio and released that year on Spiegelei; five long tracks, split across a themed Clown side and Cloud side. The band, from Wuppertal, is a five-piece here: the brothers Christian von Grumbkow on lead guitar and Joachim von Grumbkow on keyboards, cello and vocals, alongside Christoph Noppeney on viola and vocals, Michael Bruchmann on drums, and new bassist Hans Bäär, with guest Jörg-Peter Siebert on saxophones and flutes. Sung in English, it is melodic, richly textured symphonic progressive rock, and one of the underrated pleasures of the German scene.

A symphonic gem from Wuppertal

Named after the great German poet, Hölderlin began as a folk-leaning group and, by this third album, had grown into an accomplished symphonic prog band. Between records their bassist departed and Hans Bäär stepped in, after which the band played more than seventy live dates across Germany, the Low Countries and Scandinavia and appeared regularly on television. Riding that momentum, they returned in early 1976 to Conny Plank’s studio, with Karl-Heinz Borchert producing, to make Clowns & Clouds. The album is built on a neat two-sided idea, splitting its themes between a Clown side and a Cloud side, and is wrapped in Christian Grumbkow’s own cover painting of a violin-playing clown in a flower-filled valley. It captures a band with rare chemistry at the height of their powers, if just below the radar of the wider prog world.

The sound

Melodic German symphonic progressive rock, a little less folky and more symphonic than the band’s earlier work, and unusually rich in instrumentation. The Clown side wears a clear Genesis influence: Joachim Grumbkow’s vocals recall Peter Gabriel and Christian Grumbkow’s guitar echoes Steve Hackett, but viola, cello, flute and saxophone give the music a colour entirely its own. The Cloud side is where the album becomes truly special, opening out into laid-back, cosmic rock in which violin, flute, sax, Rhodes, synthesizers and interlocking guitars weave a serene, beautiful soundscape over a steady rhythm section. Across both sides the band blends the fire and complexity of the German scene with the delicacy of British symphonic rock, held together by melody, craftsmanship and a once-in-a-lifetime group chemistry.

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The songs

The Clown side opens with Madhouse, a Genesis-flavoured piece lifted into something distinctive by squealing sax and viola, and Your Eyes follows with a smoother, almost art-rock feel over more adventurous instrumental passages. It closes with the ten-minute suite Circus, in three parts, the band’s most ambitious statement on the record. The Cloud side is the heart of the album: Streaming, contributed by new bassist Hans Bäär, and the twelve-minute Phasing, its long closer, both trade the theatrics of side one for drifting, cosmic beauty, letting the violin, flute and keyboards breathe. It is here, in these two extended pieces, that Hölderlin sound most fully themselves.

Reception and legacy

Clowns & Clouds is a well-regarded if under-the-radar entry in German symphonic prog, valued by those who know it for its melody, its rich arrangements and its lovely second half. Reviewers note the strong Genesis influence on the Clown side while reserving their warmest praise for the more original, cosmic Cloud side, often calling it the album’s finest music. It has never been a famous record, even by the standards of the German scene, but it has quietly earned a place among the country’s hidden symphonic-prog treasures, recommended to fans of Genesis, Eloy and Novalis alike. For listeners willing to look past the better-known names, it is a genuinely rewarding discovery.

The verdict

A rewarding, overlooked album for lovers of melodic seventies symphonic prog — richly arranged, Genesis-influenced on one side and serenely cosmic on the other. Come to it for the beautiful Cloud side, the lush viola-flute-sax textures and the band’s rare chemistry, rather than for famous names or raw Krautrock. Play Streaming and Phasing. Then Dawn-era Eloy and Novalis for kindred German symphonic spirits, Genesis for the clear influence, and Conny Plank’s wider catalogue for the scene around them. A hidden gem — and one of German symphonic prog’s quiet delights.

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