Nevertheless, "Eternal Love" is a key track, in that it's a composition penned by Powell and Sulton (who sings lead) that challenges the assessment Utopia was "really" Rundgren's indulgence. The big stage numbers occupies an aesthetic spot somewhere between Jethro Tull's A Passion Play and Alan Parson Project's (subsequent) Pyramid make of that what you will. The story starts with Utopia, "version two," tentatively morphing out of the first, flamboyantly prog, incarnation with the transitional album Ra, a pompous touring vehicle with significant hints of things to change. This is a saga of importunate fortune in eight acts. As their misdirected commerciality became increasingly pathological, their unaccountable inability to seal the deal became their main motif, their core identity. And that rather makes them, at this historical remove, more interesting than their more-successful contemporaries and rivals. At the heart of the matter: Utopia never trusted their audience and their (intended) audience(s) never trusted them. They had everything going for them except the big hit and - it was so palpable - (finding) it was their everything. But Utopia was a study in existential unease that no level of professionalism could assuage. I saw Utopia open for Cheap Trick in 1983 and the headliners were extinguished.
Beautiful harmonies, flawless chops, confident projection, and utterly versatile adroit prog, solid pop. Consider Back To The Bars: every solo Rundgren number performed by Utopia (Kasim Sulton, bass & vocals Roger Powell, keyboards & vocals Willie Wilcox, drums & vocals) got their thermostats adjusted up. Utopia was a talented outfit, and fit Rundgren well. That would only be the first industry trend to confound his muse. Nobody could mike a piano like Rundgren, but piano lost out to the Rhodes and the mini-Moog by '74.
No doubt working with Badfinger frustrated him - talented guys, sure, but, still. Maybe the facility in which he produced big scores for America's "worst rock band" Grand Funk jaded him somewhat. Then, there's a certain impatience with his audience which became increasingly impertinent as hits became less frequent. Utopia features more of the latter from him, to his (and their) detriment. He's always at his best at piano but the man seems happier playing his weaker (compositional) instrument, and loudly. then there's guitar Todd, flailing Townsendian riffs around with a solipsistic smirk. There's Todd, the sensitive balladeer, following his piano hero Laura Nyro, merging ingenious chord progressions with coy sentimentality. What was his problem? Fundamentally, it's disequlibriate duality. Such as Todd Rundgren, the quintessential early Seventies star, another jesus of cool, who travelled, ambivalently, through the Eighties with his innovative, yet underachieving, prog/pop band Utopia. For every wrong guy that finds himself (momentarily) in the right spot (say, Christopher Cross), there's a right guy who will find himself (eventually) in the wrong time. Look no further than the music industry, which often plays like a casino.
Utopia (L-R: Willie Wilcox, Roger Powell, Kasim Sulton & Todd Rundgren), 1982. Perfect Sound Forever: Todd Rundgren and Utopia UTOPIA
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