Song

In the early summer of 1967, in the same week that "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" surged to the top of the British album charts, Procol Harum's debut record became the best selling single. It was titled, "A Whiter Shade of Pale". Enigmatic and rather haunting, the song remains in the nation's consciousness when so many other hit singles have been buried in the past and largely forgotten.

What was "the light fandago" and why all those vestal virgins leaving for the coast?  The music was certainly influenced by Bach as the chief composer Gary Brooker later admitted and the lyrics created by Keith Reid have a dreamy, metaphorical quality - suggestive rather than clearcut.

Keith Reid once said that he had been at a party when he heard someone tell a stoned partygoer that she had lost her colour and turned "a whiter shade of pale". That odd phrase stuck in his head, only to emerge later when he was crafting the lyrics for Brooker's music.

"A Whiter Shade of Pale" might easily have been the theme tune for that so-called "Summer of Love" - 1967. It's getting on for sixty years since the song was first played by British disc jockeys. Now it is part of our modern cultural heritage. It has its place and in my humble opinion,  it remains kind of magical.

By the way, the band's odd name, Procol Harum was an error. For some odd reason they wanted to name themselves after a breed of pedigree Burmese cat with the official Latin moniker - procul harun. Apparently, a friend had one.

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kind of seasick
But the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder
As the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drink
The waiter brought a tray

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale

She said, "There is no reason
And the truth is plain to see"
But I wandered through my playing cards
And would not let her be
One of sixteen vestal virgins
Who were leaving for the coast
And although my eyes were open
They might just as well have been closed

And so it was that later
As the miller told his tale
That her face, at first just ghostly
Turned a whiter shade of pale