Another Roadside Attraction - 1979 - Another Roadside Attraction

Another Roadside Attraction

1979

Another Roadside Attraction

01. Serenade for the Sun

02. Farewell

03. Wild Women

04. The Maze

05. A Change of Heart

06. The Wilderness Anthem

David Dobko / keyboards

Paul Saunders / vocals

Armin Leonardo / keyboards

Michael Grace / drums, percussion

Another Roadside Attraction's 1979 self-titled album stands as a quirky, under-the-radar gem from the tail end of the progressive rock era, the kind of private-press curiosity that makes crate-diggers feel like they've unearthed a forgotten roadside carnival booth where the attractions are all keyboard pyrotechnics and earnest Canadian vibes.

Hailing from Toronto, the band Another Roadside Attraction emerged in the late 1970s as one of those plucky Canadian outfits that blended the grandiose ambitions of British prog with a more accessible, song-oriented Midwest-adjacent warmth. Their story is the classic tale of dedicated musicians chasing a dream in a scene increasingly shifting toward punk, new wave, and disco. With little mainstream fanfare, they self-released this sole album in 1979 on a "Not On Label" private pressing (catalog ARA-001), recorded at the modest Sky Blue Recording Studio in Toronto with engineering by Gord Paton. It was very much a DIY affair, complete with inserts like a black-and-white poster of the band in clown makeup (talk about embracing the circus of it all), a yellow libretto with biographies, and even a quirky letter from keyboardist David Dobko to a local energy conservation center—because nothing says "prog rock excess" like eco-conscious outreach in your liner notes.

Biographically, the band didn't leave behind a sprawling legend; they were more like that enthusiastic local act playing community halls and small clubs, pouring their hearts into intricate arrangements while the world moved on. Influences are palpably drawn from the ELP playbook—hyperactive acoustic piano, sweeping synth solos, and theatrical flourishes—but filtered through a melodic, FM-radio-friendly lens that nods to softer Canadian prog contemporaries and even a touch of the accessible side of American Midwest rock. Think less "Tarkus" bombast and more approachable, nostalgic warmth with progressive muscle underneath. The unusual lineup eschewed the standard guitar-bass-drums setup for two keyboardists (David Dobko and Armin Leonardo), a vocalist (Paul/David Saunders), and drummer/percussionist Michael Grace. This keyboard-heavy configuration gave them a distinctive symphonic texture, almost like a chamber ensemble crashing a rock gig, allowing for rich layers without the guitar heroics that dominated so much of the era.

Technically, the album is a delight for anyone who appreciates the craftsmanship of late-'70s prog. The production, constrained by the budget of a private press, has that intimate, slightly raw charm—clear enough to showcase the musicianship but with a homespun warmth that modern remasters sometimes strip away. Dobko and Leonardo's keyboards drive everything: frenetic acoustic piano runs propel the compositions forward like caffeinated horses, while synthesizers take center stage for soaring, expressive solos that evoke both classical grandeur and sci-fi wonder. Grace's percussion provides solid, dynamic backbone without overpowering, locking in grooves that range from rollicking to atmospheric. Saunders' vocals sit comfortably in the mix, delivering earnest, melodic lines with a touch of theatrical flair that suits the material perfectly—never overly operatic, but capable of carrying the emotional weight.

Diving into the music track by track reveals a well-sequenced journey. Opener "Serenade For The Sun" (7:19) sets the tone with expansive, sun-drenched keyboards and building energy, like waking up in a meadow only to realize it's actually a spaceship. "Farewell" brings a more introspective ballad quality, showcasing vocal warmth and delicate piano work that tugs at the heartstrings with a hint of melancholy. "Wild Women" injects some playful swagger, while side two's "The Maze" navigates complex instrumental twists and turns that justify the prog label without losing listenability. "A Change Of Heart" feels like a emotional pivot, and closer "The Wilderness Anthem" wraps things up on a rousing, anthemic note that perfectly encapsulates the album's blend of wilderness romance and musical ambition. Overall, it's not the most revolutionary record—arriving a bit late to the party—but its tight songcraft, instrumental fireworks, and refusal to take itself too seriously make it endlessly replayable. If ELP decided to go camping in Ontario and invited some folk-prog buddies, this might be the campfire jam session that resulted.

The artwork and packaging lean into the band's name with whimsical, low-budget flair. The cover art has that quintessential private-press aesthetic—evocative, perhaps a bit mysterious or illustrative of roadside oddities, with a tactile, homemade feel that screams authenticity rather than corporate polish. Accompanied by the clown-makeup poster, it adds a layer of playful absurdity and theatricality, as if the band is winking at the absurdity of the music industry while inviting you into their eccentric world. It's not high-concept Roger Dean fantasy, but it fits the music's earnest quirkiness like a well-worn touring van.

In terms of reception, the album flew mostly under the radar upon release, as private presses often do—selling modestly through local channels and word-of-mouth in the Toronto scene without cracking major charts or earning widespread radio play. Critics and collectors in the prog community, however, have come to appreciate it as a charming footnote in Canadian rock history, praising its melodic accessibility and keyboard-driven energy in forums and reissue discussions. It's the sort of record that earns cult status among enthusiasts who delight in unearthing "lost" gems from the era. Its legacy endures in the digital age through YouTube uploads and prog archives, where it inspires crate-diggers and reminds us that great music didn't always need major-label backing or guitar solos to leave a mark. In a world of overhyped blockbusters, Another Roadside Attraction remains that delightful detour: unpretentious, heartfelt, and still capable of surprising newcomers with its sunny disposition and keyboard wizardry. If you're cruising the backroads of prog history, pull over here—you won't regret it.