...but I would certainly have been there myself, had I been above primary school age at the time. I did, though, take Mrs H to see John McLaughlin (& his Heart Of Things band) a few years ago, when he played for the first time ever in Belfast [I'd previously travelled to see him in other contexts in London and Cork]. Mrs H is a Bee Gees/Abba/Pet Shop Boys sort of person.

She couldn't stand it. Regarded him as self-satisfied, annoying and indulgent. To be fair, on that occasion she was right - it was a rotten band, just a muso mutual back slapping scene with too many players and too little music.

On the other hand, she has accompanied me to several Jan Akkerman shows and quite enjoys his brand of fusion.

In October we join Carol & Sheryl From Luton at The Stables in Wavenden to see Caravan. Mrs H has had to be persuaded that just bringing a book and making herself comfy in the foyer while the show's on wouldn't be the done thing. No, she'll bring the book into the auditorium instead.

Right, here's some evidence for perusal - Mahavishnu Orchestra in France, summer 1972, with quite long shots of the audience at the start. I've spotted one girl so far...

with wanking Goblin codas (copyright Vorgongod), I had to be persuaded by my then fiancee to go to a Supertramp gig on their Crime Of The Century tour, as at the time I considered them rather prog-lite (sorry Patrick). I was also skint.

I forgave her everything however (even the cost of two tickets) when the support act turned out to be Joan Armatrading on her debut tour of the UK.

She subsequently asked me for a copy of The Original Soundtrack for her birthday that year, and for Christmas her choice was Donovan's Cosmic Wheels.

You'd have thought we were made for each other. Reader, I left her for a Black Sabbath fan.

... to see Lee Scratch Perry at the Glasgow Barrowlands for her birthday. She had never heard a note by him in her life and was not known for her love of reggae. The sight of a raggedy old guy, yelling random nonsense over a pulsating riddim, to an almostly exclusively male audience of wannabe skanking Scotsmen, oddly enough, did not serve to change her mind. In fact the powerful whiff of ganja in the air actually made her feel sick. By the end of the night she was bored, ill and annoyed.

Reader, she married me.

... if the Ladies of the Lake are anything to go by. Their website is 10 years old and still going strong, even if Mr Lake himself (like so many of us) is no longer the svelte young thing of yore. http://ladiesofthelake.com/index.html

ELP's Facebook page, and Keith Emerson's page, too, both have a fair amount of interest from our female brethren.

And if KE's autobiography is to be believed, the band was never short of female company on the road.

After a very emotional farewell gig, the audience shuffled out the auditorium, uplifted but teary eyed. As I stood in the foyer, I overheard a young woman remark to her partner, "They weren't bad but they should get rid of that disabled bloke. He couldn't sing at all."

And he agreed!

Utter Berkshire Hunts.

are totally prog

But certainly ticks the mis-match box.

A very early outing for Mrs Specs_Beard and I was a solo Billy Bragg date at Shepherd's Bush. I did not know at the time that (a) she didn't like Billy Bragg and (b) she had a migraine.

She chose not to mention either of these two points until afterwards. Post-gig bit of the evening wasn't too successful.

All ok now, fortunately. Phew.

Being taken to see Barclay James Harvest three times did not dissuade my then fiancée from becoming Mrs Disorderly.

back in the 70's. She seen them all as they passed through the Glasgow Appollo's manky portals in the 1970's and early 80's, and did not need the accommpaniament or approval of no man to do so.

Think the girl/prog and girl/heavy metal naturally repellant theory is somewhat of a generalisation. Most of the girls I dallied with in my 70's/80's salad days I met in long hair/patchuli oiled bars. Plenty of women to choose from as well.

Age 16, in 1979, in an attempt to impress my new girlfriend Teresa, I bought her a copy of Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures. It didn't work. Not only did she chuck me, but I never got to hear the album, which she kept.

... to a gig. And it wasn't for the lack of trying, believe me.

herself endured some noisy evenings at my behest. Ministry, Helmet, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, Rage Against The Machine, Disposable Heroes..all of Phoenix 1993 (including the riot) were shared with varying degrees of engagement by her good self. All of the above did feature ladies to some extent.

However, a Peter Hammill solo at the Lowry in Salford populated solely by "Smelly Men"(her words) proved to be the gig too far and I accepted that I must find a "Gig Boyfriend" to chaperone me to some of the more sausage-centric gigs I favour.

(In my defence, we also went to see some nice stuff and I've endured The Fray, so it all balances out)

Again, not quite prog and I've already related this sad tale on the Dates From Hell thread, but it fits in here rather well, I think.

November 1975, the first date with a really stunning girl.

I thought I'd impress her by taking her to a Captain Beefheart concert at the New Victoria Theatre in London (now the Victoria Apollo). C'mon, it's Beefheart, what could possibly go wrong?

Naturally, I'd fantasised how it would pan out over and over in my mind for weeks beforehand. All heads would turn as I arrived at the concert with this vision of loveliness hanging off my arm. We'd sweep through the foyer in a blaze of chiffon, velvet and patchouli to take our seats close to the stage.

Inevitably, she’d be captivated by The Captain (despite never having heard a note of his music before) and the whole experience would transform her world. In fact, she'd be so filled with admiration for my urbanity and impeccable taste that she’d quiz me for hours afterwards, hanging on my every word (“So, we're agreed that Safe As Milk is one of the strongest debut albums of the 60s. Now, do tell me about Trout Mask Replica again. This time I want to know EVERYTHING about whatshisname? Zappa’s, involvement in intricate detail, leave nothing out”). Then, finally, unable to contain her desires, she’d rip off my velvet loon pants we’d make love until dawn amid the LP covers strewn about the room.

Except it didn’t turn out that way at all. We were late arriving and took our seats just as the lights dimmed for the first number. She sat stony-faced throughout the concert and afterwards in the taxi confessed to not understanding a single second of what she'd witnessed. Otherwise, hardly a word was exchanged.

I dropped her off at home and she went inside without a backward glance.

Funnily enough she stopped returning my calls and I never saw her again after that night.

that both Anderson and Todd write a beautiful wet song when they put their mind to it.

If I had to do a 'Desert Island Yes' selection, two tracks that would be definitely in there are Soon and Turn Of The Century. Todd's 'A Dream Goes On Forever' always gets me going as well.

Yes/Soon

Todd/A Dream Goes On Forever

Oh and (puts pedant hat on) the plural of magnum opus is magnum opera - true dat.