Released in December 1970, 's third studio album, , is often viewed as an outlier in the pioneering British prog outfit's nearly half-century discography. It's not easily grouped with 1969's stunning debut and 1970 follow-up , and along with 1971's it's considered a transitional release on the band's path toward the relative stability of the (1973), (1974), and (1974) trilogy. Plus, the sessions were difficult and the core group lineup acrimoniously collapsed immediately afterward, as bandleader/guitarist , with lyricist , continued brave efforts to save from disintegrating as the group's lengthy history was just getting underway. Even himself wasn't a big fan until he reportedly "heard the Music in the music" when listening to 's 2009 40th anniversary remix. Yet there are plenty of followers who place at the very apex of the group's recorded legacy -- and with good reason. Seamlessly blending rock, jazz, and classical in a way that few albums have successfully achieved, is epic, intimate, cacophonic, and subtle by turn -- and infused with the dark moods first heard when "21st Century Schizoid Man" and "Epitaph" reached listeners' ears the previous year. Opener "Cirkus" is a cavalcade of menace, with vocalist intoning or declaiming 's phantasmagorical words over a kaleidoscopic musical backdrop, the song's ripping buzzsaw refrain alternating with warped funhouse jazz prominently featuring keyboardist and saxophonist . "Indoor Games" is comparatively whimsical, with ' blurty sax almost comically up-front in the mix and crisp ensemble interplay in the middle section, while the singsongy "Happy Family" finds 's lyrics obliquely addressing ' breakup and "Lady of the Dancing Water" revisits the gentle terrain of "I Talk to the Wind" and "Cadence and Cascade." But the side-long multi-part title suite astounds the most. Guest 's choirboy vocals open "Lizard" with a feint toward the light and airy, but 's brassy chorus suggests ritualistic precursors to dark goings-on. The suite then enters its "Bolero" movement, marked by 's beautiful oboe and 's swelling Mellotron, with a jazz interlude showcasing , cornetist , trombonist , and a jagged and explosive , collectively free and even ebullient in their interplay but never fully breaking away from drummer 's background rat-a-tat snare that foreshadows the howling maelstrom of "The Battle of Glass Tears." After the smoke clears, 's sustained guitar notes cut through the funereal aftermath, dissolving into silence before the swirling "Big Top" coda brings the album full circle, suggesting 's dark journey on an endless loop accelerating into the future. In 2016, lineup changes made it possible to include selections from this album in 's career-spanning live concerts, and with all the spectacular music on display, more than one audience member could be heard saying, "I came for ." ~ Dave Lynch