“Going by any reasonable judgement system, I’d have to admit to being mad. I spot the unusual and head towards it. I never know if I’ll be enlightened or burnt – that’s part of the fun”: The crazy world of Arthur Brown is truly crazy
The relentless innovator explains why he can never stay in a creative space for long, claims credit for the Paris student riots of the 60s, and recalls giving up music entirely rather than going commercial

From setting fire to the charts and himself and inciting student riots to watching Vivian Stanshall chase Robert Calvert with a shotgun, Arthur Brown’s is a life most colourful. In 2010 Prog tried to encapsulate the spirit that’s driven one of music’s ultimate mercurial pioneers.
Within minutes of being born on 24 June, 1942, Arthur Brown was at the centre of a major drama – setting the tone for almost all that’s happened since. “My mother heard a siren and thought there was an air raid. So she threw herself, with me, under the hospital bed. It was a false alarm – but thank goodness she did it because it dislodged the placenta, which had become jammed, and saved both our lives!”
A few short months later, he was thought to have died, along with the rest of his family at a hotel in his birthplace of Whitby. Owned by his mother’s family, the Wiltons, the hotel was hit in a bombing raid. Reports declared the whole family to have lost their lives. “But we were only stuck in the cellar,” says Brown. “All of us eventually emerged – as if resurrected!”
Brown has not only become an iconic musician and performer, but also been a pop star, painter and decorator, and even a priest. Music nearly lost the innovator and visionary to the legal profession; he’d started a law degree at King’s College in London before fate intervened.
“I made a connection with the jazz hipster movement, and one night I went to see a trad jazz gig. When they went into an extended jam I had an out of body experience – and I decided, ‘This is what I wanted to do.’ I’d sung with my brother when we were much younger; we were so good that the local church asked us to join the choir. That wasn’t for us, though.”
Brown really found himself when he went to France in mid-60s, and within 10 days he’d taken Paris by storm with his wild, excessive and charismatic act, mixing cabaret, theatre and music in a wildly compulsive concoction. “It was at the start of the French psychedelic scene, and I was in the right place at the right time,” he says. “Everyone came to see my performance – Jane Fonda, Roger Vadim; even the President of France, Georges Pompidou!
“I was never prepared to be just part of the flock. I had to stand out. I wanted to make an impact by just being myself. If I felt I needed to be naked onstage, that’s what I did. I came up with the idea of wearing a crown of candles during the song Fire, and progressed from there.”
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But after a year of unbridled success and sybaritic activity – “you can barely imagine what we got up to; if it was offered, we’d try it!” – He fled for home. “A club where I was playing burnt down. It was owned by the Mafia, so I had to get out fast!”
Back in London, he teamed up with keyboard player Vincent Crane and drummer Drachen Theaker to form The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown, taking the name from an idea he had for a club. “I wanted to start a multimedia experience called The World Of Arthur Brown, but I never had the finance to do it. Instead we used the name for the band, and added the ‘Crazy’ bit because... well, we were mad!
“I was writing the sort of lyrics that nobody could get a handle on. In order to illustrate the lyrics I began to wear costumes, bringing it all to life. In every respect we were not a normal band. As is usual with me, I almost became anti-commercial. Having a Number One hit with Fire didn’t make me think I should settle down and conform – it drove me to go even further over the edge.”
It helped in a way that the trio was so dysfunctional. While Crane dealt with increasingly problematic mental health issues, Theaker was getting ever wilder, to the point where he was finally sacked. The band collapsed after a return to France for a tour foolishly sponsored by the nation’s Communist Party. In a gesture of solidarity with the rioting Parisian student movement, Brown took to removing his clothes on every stage – which cost the Communists seats at the next election.
“People often say that I sparked off those riots anyway,” he reflects. “I’m not sure how true that is, but I’ll take the credit. How many other musicians can claim to have inspired a political revolution?”
As he’s consistently proved over the passing decades, Brown stands apart because he loves uncertainty, which has led him to come up with remarkable, perverse ideas – but he abandons them all quickly, leaving others to flesh and formulate them, By which time he’s already immersed in another off-the-wall extravagance.
“I have one abiding philosophy, and that is to do something only if it interests me,” he states. “I can never stand and allow myself to take root. I have to keep on travelling. I am incapable emotionally, spiritually and physically of staying committed to one artistic path. That would be purgatory.”
I had this idea of hooking up the Pope or the Prime Minister and seeing how their subconscious delivered up melodies
Among Brown’s most fascinating excursions is perhaps into the world of electronic music in the early 70s through Kingdom Come. “I’d wanted to use synths in The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown, but Vincent refused. I’d gotten heavily into it by listening to Stockhausen and Wendy Carlos. When the VCS3 synthesiser arrived we embraced it.”
He also used the Bentley Rhythm Ace, one of the first drum machines, as Kingdom Come explored the boundaries of technology. Inevitably, he deliverd truly outlandish and challenging visions; for instance, on the tour in 1971 in support of the album Galactic Zoo Dossier, he wanted to connect the audience to an electroencephalograph, and use their brainwaves to drive the light show.
“I had this idea of hooking up the Pope or the Prime Minister, playing them some chords and seeing how their subconscious delivered up melodies, which we’d hear through the VCS3,” Brown says. “Unfortunately, the technology wasn’t advanced enough.”
Two years later, he was being trying to using a car to replace the Rhythm Ace. “I wanted to have the pedals, gears and steering wheel control the sounds. But again, the technology didn’t exist. Now it’s very possible – perhaps I’ll finally get it built. I’ll invite members of the audience who can drive to come up and join us. I might even ask Top Gear to test drive it!”
He continues: “The birth of electronic instruments during the 70s mirrored what happened in the 60s. Both eras offered periods of musical exploration. All of us were creating on the spot. It was quite a radical time. For me, it was truly progressive music in that it led me into areas nobody had ever thought existed. The atmosphere gave rise to a feeling of, ‘Let’s see what we can do.’ It had integrity. We stayed true to the original vision of exploration.”
We were supposed to talk about a project. But Vivian chased Robert out the house with a shotgun
Brown has never been afraid of the consequences of his actions. After he’d moved to Burundi in 1977 to teach history and music, he introduced Peter Gabriel to African music, setting into motion the latter’s interest in world music. Typically, Brown had already moved beyond that world, and went on to give up music completely in the late 70s.
Relocated his family to Austin, Texas, he became a painter and decorator, forming a company called The Gentlemen Of Color. “I know there are a lot of artists who’d refuse to do something like that,” he says. “But I had a family to support and no means of doing it through music. I suppose I could have tried to go commercial – but it would have killed me.”
Brown’s determinedly elliptic orbit has brought him into contact with a galaxy of other talents, including Robert Calvert and Vivian Stanshall. “I did spend one interesting evening with those two gentlemen, at Vivian’s house in London,” he recalls. “I believe we were supposed to talk about a project. But it ended with Vivian chasing Robert out the house with a shotgun! The project never happened…”
Too many others compromise to a point where they’re not sure what they’re compromising
Brown remains more than comfortable with being out of sync with the rest of society. “I’m an individual, blessed with a driving commitment to my own belief system. Too many others are seduced by the trappings of luxury; they compromise to a point where they’re not even sure what they’re actually compromising! Maybe I’m afraid to take the first small step down that path – I know I couldn’t help myself becoming one of them. So I stay completely untainted.”
His childlike sense of wonder has never left him; he’s constantly amazed at the new possibilities that remain in life, and this precious trait makes him one of the most idealistic and untarnished giants in progressive music. “I have no preconceptions of where I’ll go next,” he confirms. “I’m not that premeditated; it’s not in my nature.
“I suppose, going by any reasonable judgement system, I’d have to admit to being mad. But madness is a definition of someone outside the norm. I’m lucky in that I have a gift for spotting the unusual and heading towards it. I never know whether I will be enlightened or burnt by it – but that’s part of the fun.”
While he’s happy to visit the past, Arthur Brown resides in the future. He feels his finest years may well lie ahead. “They say that if you stand still long enough, you come back into fashion. But that’s never been for me. Maybe I just don’t have an attention span – which probably makes me perfect for the social media generation!
“There are constant breakthroughs being made in science and technology, and I want see how they can be adapted for artistic purposes. If I don’t do it, who will?”
Malcolm Dome had an illustrious and celebrated career which stretched back to working for Record Mirror magazine in the late 70s and Metal Fury in the early 80s before joining Kerrang! at its launch in 1981. His first book, Encyclopedia Metallica, published in 1981, may have been the inspiration for the name of a certain band formed that same year. Dome is also credited with inventing the term "thrash metal" while writing about the Anthrax song Metal Thrashing Mad in 1984. With the launch of Classic Rock magazine in 1998 he became involved with that title, sister magazine Metal Hammer, and was a contributor to Prog magazine since its inception in 2009. He died in 2021.
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