Carrot Flower King
Janitor of Lunacy
Sorry, Paul, but Epistemic Humility had a brief flirtation with fame in around 1974 (exact dates are unclear as everyone involved with the band were either permanently stoned or well deep in the "Om") when they tried to release a quadruple concept album based around the life and times of an old Celtic mystic whose exact name no-one could agree on and whose beliefs were so arcane that whole university philosophy departments would flee rather than contemplate them.
One lecturer at Sheffield, when I was there in the late '70s, would, if you purchased him several pints of Wards' bitter in the Red House, reveal a few eldritch details, but he stopped after a most peculiar incident involving the pater noster lift in the Arts Tower late one night.
The band themselves were long embroiled in arguments about instrumentaion, with several members insisting that if they accurately followed the philosophical strictures of the unnamed mystic then the instruments would play themselves, while others were convinced that they should hold the instruments facing west and chant the correct name of the mystic, completely ignoring the inconvenience of no-one agreeing on that name.
Richard Branson tried to sign them to Virgin, but he was rejected as he didn't speak any Goedelic variation of a Celtic language.
Half of the band were last seen rowing a couple of coracles west of Cape Clear Island, rumoured to be heading for Hy Breasil; the rest were rumoured to have turned into stone somewhere in the vicinity of Calanais in Eilean Leodhas.
So we will never know how this epic might have come to fruition...
One lecturer at Sheffield, when I was there in the late '70s, would, if you purchased him several pints of Wards' bitter in the Red House, reveal a few eldritch details, but he stopped after a most peculiar incident involving the pater noster lift in the Arts Tower late one night.
The band themselves were long embroiled in arguments about instrumentaion, with several members insisting that if they accurately followed the philosophical strictures of the unnamed mystic then the instruments would play themselves, while others were convinced that they should hold the instruments facing west and chant the correct name of the mystic, completely ignoring the inconvenience of no-one agreeing on that name.
Richard Branson tried to sign them to Virgin, but he was rejected as he didn't speak any Goedelic variation of a Celtic language.
Half of the band were last seen rowing a couple of coracles west of Cape Clear Island, rumoured to be heading for Hy Breasil; the rest were rumoured to have turned into stone somewhere in the vicinity of Calanais in Eilean Leodhas.
So we will never know how this epic might have come to fruition...
