From Ramases website
As we mark 2025 and the 50th anniversary of one of progressive rock’s most enigmatic and overlooked albums, it’s time to revisit the extraordinary story of Ramases and his haunting swan song, “Glass Top Coffin“. Released in 1975 on the legendary Vertigo label, this album stands as a testament to artistic vision, orchestral ambition, and the tragic beauty of a dreamer who literally believed he had been chosen by ancient Egyptian gods to deliver universal truths to humanity.
My own journey with Ramases began at age 14 in the South African mining town of Boksburg, where I first discovered his amazing music through a friend’s older brother who owned “Space Hymns“. As a science fiction fan with a Christian upbringing, I fell in love with these otherworldly songs that spoke to me on multiple levels. I managed to get “Space Hymns” on a pre-recorded cassette, and when “Glass Top Coffin” appeared as an import at the Cat Ballou music store in Boksburg in 1975, I knew I had to have it despite the hefty price tag—complete with its original cut-out cover.
During the ’70s, I painstakingly transcribed the lyrics for both albums by hand into a hardcover book, and when I discovered the Internet in 1997, I decided to share them with fellow fans. That’s how the Ramases fan website was born—a labour of love for an artist whose vision deserved to be preserved and celebrated.
From Sheffield Salesman to Egyptian Pharaoh
The story begins not in the temples of ancient Egypt, but in the decidedly more mundane setting of a car in Scotland, where Barrington Frost—a former army PT instructor turned central heating salesman from Sheffield—claimed to have received a vision from the Egyptian pharaoh Ramases himself. This transformative moment in the late 1960s led Frost to adopt the name of his divine visitor, rename his wife Dorothy as Selket (after the Egyptian goddess of cures), and embark on one of rock music’s most eccentric spiritual journeys.
What could have been dismissed as mere delusion was validated by the sheer quality and conviction of the music that followed. After releasing several singles in the late 1960s (including the wonderfully mistitled “Crazy One,” originally intended as “Quasar One”), Ramases found his true calling when he signed with Vertigo in 1970.
The Evolution from Space Hymns to Space Opera
Ramases’ 1971 debut “Space Hymns,” recorded at Strawberry Studios with the future members of 10cc and featuring Roger Dean‘s iconic cover art, established him as a unique voice in the progressive landscape. Where his Vertigo labelmates pursued complex time signatures and jazz fusion, Ramases offered something more mystical—a folksy, psychedelic meditation on space and spirituality that felt both ancient and futuristic.
After a four-year hiatus in Felixstowe, Ramases emerged in 1975 with something far more ambitious and sophisticated. “Glass Top Coffin” represented a quantum leap in artistic maturity, trading the chanting and quasi-religious overtones of his debut for a more structured, orchestral approach that transformed his space hymns into genuine space opera.
A Masterpiece of Orchestral Progressive Rock
Co-produced with keyboardist Barry Kirsch, “Glass Top Coffin” featured arrangements by members of both the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and the London Symphony Orchestra. The result was Ramases’ most cohesive and emotionally resonant work—a concept album that managed to balance accessible melodies with genuinely otherworldly atmospherics.
The album opens and closes with “Golden Landing,” an extraordinarily ethereal piece that feels like a transmission from deep space. Between these celestial bookends, Ramases and Sel craft a journey through songs like “Now Mona Lisa” (a seductive duet that showcases both their voices at their most beguiling) and the melancholic “Only The Loneliest Feeling,” which takes on added poignancy knowing it was recorded just a year or so before Ramases took his own life in December 1976.
The Tragedy of Artistic Vision
The album’s cover became a source of deep frustration for Ramases, whose acute aesthetic sensibility was wounded when the record company failed to execute his vision of a cut-out figure falling into the Horsehead Nebula. His disappointment with this seemingly minor detail was symptomatic of a larger disconnect between his grand ambitions and the earthly realities of the music industry. Poor sales led to his retreat from recording, and plans for a follow-up album titled “Sky Lark” ended with his death, the tapes later being destroyed.
Legacy of the Lost Pharaoh
In an era when progressive rock often prioritized technical virtuosity over emotional depth, “Glass Top Coffin” stands out for its genuine sense of wonder and melancholy. Tracks like “Children Of The Green Earth” and “Stepping Stones” may sound dated to modern ears—with their earnest ecological messages and New Age spirituality—but they’re delivered with such conviction that skepticism dissolves into admiration.
The album’s influence extends far beyond its modest sales figures. Notable fans include actor Peter Stormare, who produced a 6CD Complete Discography, including a tribute album, and countless progressive rock enthusiasts who’ve discovered these recordings decades after their release.
Rediscovering a Stellar Classic
For those approaching “Glass Top Coffin” for the first time, it helps to surrender preconceptions about what progressive rock should sound like. This isn’t the complex polyrhythms of King Crimson or the epic suites of Yes—it’s something more intimate and spiritual, a meditation on consciousness, space, and the search for meaning that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant.
The 2010 CD reissue finally made this masterpiece accessible to a new generation, though purists still seek out the original Vertigo pressing with its gatefold cover and the scratched lithograph that Ramases modified in his futile attempt to realize his artistic vision.
A Pharaoh’s Golden Anniversary
As we celebrate the 50th anniversary of “Glass Top Coffin,” it’s worth reflecting on what this album represents: the triumph of vision over commerce, of spiritual seeking over material success, of otherworldly wonder over earthly concerns. In our current age of AI-generated music and algorithmic playlists, there’s something profoundly moving about an album created by someone who genuinely believed he had been chosen by ancient gods to deliver messages about the universe.
Half a century later, Ramases may have departed for the spirit world, but his Glass Top Coffin remains unsealed, its ethereal contents still potent enough to transport listeners to realms where Egyptian pharaohs communicate with humble salesmen from Sheffield, and where the dust of stars really can cover you with infinite possibility.
Listen to “Glass Top Coffin” with an open mind and discover why some musical journeys are worth taking, no matter how strange the destination might seem.