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**National Health - "National Health" ★★★★☆**

By the time National Health called it quits in 1982, they had already cemented their place as one of Canterbury scene's most sophisticated exports, leaving behind a legacy that would influence progressive rock for decades to come. Their self-titled debut from 1977 stands as a testament to what happens when jazz-rock fusion meets British eccentricity in the most delightfully cerebral way possible.

The album emerged from the fertile creative soil of Canterbury, that peculiar English musical movement that gave us Soft Machine, Caravan, and a host of other bands who seemed to think that rock music wasn't nearly complicated enough. National Health took this philosophy and ran with it, creating instrumental compositions that feel like mathematical equations solved through saxophone solos and keyboard wizardry.

What makes "National Health" so compelling isn't just its technical prowess—though there's plenty of that to go around—but its ability to balance complexity with genuine emotional resonance. This isn't show-off music for the sake of showing off; it's sophisticated composition that happens to require virtuoso musicianship to pull off. The band's lineup reads like a who's who of Canterbury royalty: Dave Stewart (not the Eurythmics one) on keyboards, Phil Miller on guitar, Pip Pyle on drums, and Mont Campbell on bass, with guest appearances from saxophonist Barbara Thompson and others.

The opening track, "Tenemos Roads," immediately establishes the band's credentials with its intricate interplay between Stewart's synthesizers and Miller's angular guitar lines. It's the kind of piece that reveals new layers with each listen, built on rhythmic patterns that seem to shift and breathe organically. Pyle's drumming is particularly noteworthy here, providing a foundation that's both rock-solid and surprisingly fluid.

"Brujo" stands as perhaps the album's finest moment, a sprawling composition that showcases the band's ability to create genuine drama through instrumental means. The piece builds from delicate keyboard textures into a full-blown musical narrative, complete with tension, release, and moments of genuine beauty. Barbara Thompson's saxophone work adds a crucial human element to the proceedings, her lines weaving through the complex arrangements with both precision and soul.

The album's centerpiece, "The Collapso," demonstrates National Health's more playful side, built around a deceptively simple melody that gets twisted and transformed through various instrumental configurations. It's here that the band's Canterbury DNA is most apparent—there's a distinctly British sense of humor lurking beneath the surface complexity, a willingness to subvert expectations just when you think you've figured out where the music is heading.

"Squarer for Maud" closes the album on a contemplative note, featuring some of Stewart's most atmospheric keyboard work. The piece feels like a musical painting, all subtle colors and shifting textures. It's the kind of composition that rewards close listening, revealing intricate details that might be missed on casual acquaintance.

The band's origins trace back to the dissolution of Hatfield and the North, another Canterbury outfit that had pushed the boundaries of progressive rock in the mid-seventies. When that group folded, several members reconvened as National Health, determined to explore even more adventurous musical territory. They were part of a loose collective of musicians who moved freely between different projects, creating a kind of musical community that prioritized artistic exploration over commercial concerns.

Stylistically, "National Health" occupies a unique space between jazz fusion, progressive rock, and experimental music. The compositions are too structured and melodic to be purely avant-garde, yet too adventurous and complex to fit comfortably into conventional rock categories. It's music for listeners who appreciate both technical skill and compositional sophistication, created by musicians who clearly relished the challenge of pushing their instruments—and themselves—to new limits.

While National Health never achieved mainstream success, their influence on subsequent generations of progressive musicians has been profound. The album remains a touchstone for anyone interested in the more adventurous corners of seventies rock, a reminder of what's possible when talented musicians are given free rein to explore their creative impulses. In an era of increasingly formulaic music, "National Health" stands as a monument to artistic ambition and the enduring power of instrumental music to move and inspire. It's challenging music, certainly, but the rewards for attentive listeners are considerable.