Category: Steven Wilson

September 7, 2017 2017, Porcupine Tree, Steven Wilson Post a Comment

Steven Wilson’s To The Bone: The Delayed Review

Strange things are afoot in the music world right now, because as of this writing, Steven Wilson’s much anticipated new album To The Bone is sitting at the number one spot in the UK Official Albums Mid-Week chart (its since debuted at #3, the release of this review was delayed by Hurricane Harvey stressing me out). It was seen as a deserved triumph when his 2015 masterpiece Hand. Cannot. Erase. seemed to finally bang loudly on the mainstream’s doors by debuting at #13 in the UK, a high water mark for his career (solo, Porcupine Tree, otherwise). But even the most optimistic among us had to suspect that it would be as good as it gets, and his next releases would hover just slightly below that mark. But no, To The Bone and its prog-fan enraging single “Permanating” seem to be readying to —- as former Houston Oiler’s coach Bum Phillips once said —- “kick that sumbitch in” entirely. His closest competition is the Game of Thrones appearing goofball Ed Sheeran, the pop equivalent to a glass of warm milk before bedtime, and audible proof enough that Wilson’s right about the unambitious, flaccid state of modern pop music. And yes, this is very much the most overtly pop album Wilson’s recorded since 2004’s Blackfield debut, or more accurately due to similarity in tones, since 1999’s Lightbulb Sun by Porcupine Tree. Wilson’s fans come in a spectrum, from those who relish his most far out prog adventures to those who are more attuned to his ability to demonstrate masterful song craft and the odd musical or vocal hook. To The Bone functions if anything as a ready barometer to see where you fall on that spectrum.

 

If you remember my previous Steven Wilson solo album reviews for The Raven That Refused to Sing and the aforementioned Hand. Cannot. Erase. (#2 on 2015’s Best Albums list!), you’ll know that I fall into the latter part of the spectrum. I got into Wilson the way most metal fans did, because he produced Opeth’s Blackwater Park, and I eventually went out and bought the most widely available Porcupine Tree album I could find, 2002’s In Absentia. That album was chock full of catchy, tight songwriting built around glorious hooks (think “Blackest Eyes” and “Trains”), as well as being an introduction to the man’s ability to squeeze emotion out of the most simple melodies (I think immediately of the haunted sparse piano and vocal of “Collapse the Light Into Earth”, to this date still one of my favorite songs). The next album I scored was Lightbulb Sun, and through those two albums, I began to view Wilson at a pop savant dressed up in prog-clothing. Oh I completely acknowledged that he was a prog-rock artist, but when I found myself having difficulty getting into the very early Porcupine Tree work that owed more to Pink Floyd than The Beatles, I realized that I didn’t love his music for the same reasons most of his other fans did. My relationship to Wilson’s overall musical catalog is a bit touch and go —- I’ll enjoy a few songs off the earlier albums, love a few other albums completely, and find difficulty in getting into the works that most other fans fawn over.

 

Case in point, when it came to Porcupine Tree, I couldn’t get into most of Deadwing, but that album contains two of Wilson’s most shimmering moments in “Lazarus” and the re-recorded “Shesmovedon”. I loved specific moments on the sprawling The Incident such as “Time Flies”, “Kneel and Disconnect”, and “I Drive The Hearse”, but largely found the album meandering, overly lengthy and unfocused. You might be thinking at this point that I’m just anti-prog rock but wait! I loved every bleak-hearted second of the band’s 2007 masterpiece Fear of A Blank Planet, prog-rock song lengths and all, it was a magnificent album with a resonant theme. With Wilson’s solo catalog, I found his debut Insurgentes charming for songs like “Harmony Korine” and the piano ballad title track, but absolutely could not get into the jazz experimentation of Grace For Drowning, save for the single “Postcard”. Everyone raved about The Raven That Refused To Sing, but I haven’t had the urge to go back and listen to that album since its release. In my review for that album I wondered if Wilson was moving away from the kind of things I loved hearing from him the most. Fortunately for me, it wasn’t a permanent shift, and in Hand. Cannot. Erase., Wilson delivered a perfect mix of pop-songwriting smarts, disciplined prog-rock structures, and a concept that was emotionally gripping and shattering. I know you didn’t ask for my personal bio here, but I figure its best to lay everything out in the open regarding my preconceptions when reviewing an album this controversial among his die-hard fanbase.

 

First, the majority of the controversy surrounds one of the album’s advance singles, a bright, bubbly piano jaunt named “Permanating” (love that word creation!) that owes more to The Carpenters and ABBA than to Genesis and Yes. It is indeed the most positive, uplifting song Wilson has ever penned, the close second being “The Rest Will Flow” from Lightbulb Sun, and its notable for that reason alone. Nevermind that its got a hook and easy appeal that could see it fit alongside ol’ Ed, Coldplay, and Mumford & Sons on BBC2 Radio. This isn’t Wilson’s first brush with the idea of radio success either, as many of you will remember that “Shallow” from Deadwing actually landed on the Mainstream Rock chart here in the States back in ’05. And for all the hoopla around “Permanating”, it hasn’t actually landed on any UK singles charts yet, so maybe all the noise surrounding it will be all for naught. Now I know what you’re thinking, that the most poppy Wilson penned pop number would logically be my favorite, and while I do enjoy “Permanating” overall, its actually not my pick for the best pop tune he’s written, nor is it my favorite tune on this album. His best pop tune? Debatable —- but right now my mind went to a battle between “Hand Cannot Erase” (the title track for that album) and a classic gem like “Trains”. The best song on To The Bone? Well… let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, we still need to talk about the album as a whole.

 

What’s struck me hardest about To The Bone after listening to it well over a dozen times now is just how much it reminds me of classic era Porcupine Tree albums like Lightbulb Sun and In Absentia. I don’t know what I expected when first seeing the pre-release interview quotes from Wilson about his 80s pop touchstones of specific works by Peter Gabriel, Tears For Fears, and Kate Bush as driving influences for the album. I got the gist of what he was referring to, smart pop music written with an air of sophistication and artistry, but I didn’t have an idea of what that would sound like in my head. Listening to the album, I hear those specific touchstones spring to life on a bracing, vivid song such as “Song of I”, where Wilson duets with Swiss jazz-pop vocalist Sophie Hunger over slow, heartbeat rhythm bass pulses, sharp hand-clap like percussive effects, and dreamy synths. It recalls the strange lanes that the aforementioned Peter Gabriel would find himself on in the mid-80s, and even recalls the eerie atmosphere of fellow Genesis alum Phil Collins’ “In The Air Tonight”. Going down a similar path is the strange cut “Detonation”, with its sparse instrumentation set over a bed of hushed keyboard atmospherics, though call me crazy —- anyone reminded of something off Fear of a Blank Planet? What I’m picking up on here is that Wilson has a sonic palette that we’re all familiar with, and for all these new experiments that To The Bone has conjured, there’s just as much, if not more in the way of familiar Wilson-isms throughout the album.

 

Take for example the loud, rushing, primal rock of “People Who Eat Darkness”, which is a nice change of pace during the album, albeit not a song I’d willingly seek out on its own. Wilson’s intro vocals certainly remind me of “Four Chords That Made A Million” from Lightbulb Sun, and while that’s not an offense worthy of condemnation, its not exactly a new and fresh idea. Much more appealing is “Nowhere Now”, which sounds utterly like a lost cut from Lightbulb Sun, built on gentle, dreamy piano intro that pairs nicely with casually strummed chiming guitar as Wilson softly sings about floating above the clouds (literally!). Its a nice song, especially its more up-tempo midsection that provides a nice detour, but its still vintage Wilson. That’s not a bad thing really, and I wonder at most folks who lament the disbanding of Porcupine Tree in comment threads still… are they listening to this album? Half of it is easily the most Porcupine Tree-ish thing he’s done since the band went on hiatus, probably because its pop-oriented and avoids all the eclectic music that he started doing on his first couple solo albums. Yet another song in this vein is “The Same Asylum As Before”, as its my pick for the best cut of the album, built on an explosive escalating guitar riff that slices through a gorgeous, carefree melody. I love that song, and its one I’m returning to over and over. I love that on this cut and some others, Wilson is catapulting his voice to places it hasn’t been in awhile. He’s a better vocalist than he gives himself credit for.

 

There’s a couple things to think about in conclusion here, but the most obvious of these isn’t even a question —- yes this album is worth your time in checking it out. I won’t go out of my way to say its a must purchase because unlike Hand. Cannot. Erase., this doesn’t grip me with the same kind of emotional intensity that fueled that album’s backstory, conceptual narrative, and heartbreaking songwriting. No, To The Bone is a more loose, relaxed, casual affair that while succeeding in being the art-pop album like those its inspired by somehow doesn’t hit the overall Steven Wilson pop sweet-spot that I hoped it would. One of the more critically lauded tracks, “Pariah”, a dreamy duet with Ninet Tayeb is a lovely, inventive song that I have genuinely enjoyed hearing, but I’ve found myself growing tired of it. That’s even after giving the entire album a good long break —- and that represents my overall split feelings on this album: I can recognize that it has some wonderful moments, but for reasons I can’t decipher, its lacking the staying power. We’ll see how I feel at the end of the year, but I can feel myself losing interest with each play through, and that’s a bizarre notion to apply to any Wilson penned album.

March 14, 2015 2015, Porcupine Tree, Steven Wilson 13 Comments

The Uncomfortable Reflections of Steven Wilson’s Hand. Cannot. Erase.

I think I’ve come to a dawning realization about my relationship as a fan and listener towards Steven Wilson’s work: Very succinctly told, I greatly prefer either his pure pop and/or metal-influenced styles, the and/or added in because often times they’re one and the same (or they’re pushed right up against each other). Its in Wilson’s more “prog” sounding moments where I tend to lose focus as a listener, or perhaps more accurately, patience. Its why I felt left out of the loop with his past two solo releases, 2013’s The Raven That Refused to Sing and even more so on its 2011 predecessor Grace For Drowning. The former was a sweepingly dark, 70s progressive rock inspired album that in homage to its influencing era, had a myriad of wandering instrumental explorations that sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t (cue “The Holy Drinker”). I generally thought of it as a good album, a slight rebound from the jazz odyssey that was most of Grace For Drowning, an album lauded by many, but one that only caused me to miss the relative linearity of Porcupine Tree.

Even within the lengthy discography of that storied and now defunct band, I preferred the songs with either good riffs or great melodies —- I could stand to lose most of the wandering progressive stuff, not out of any particular disdain, but just because there was a lot of it and sometimes a song didn’t need to be over seven minutes long. I was introduced to Porcupine Tree by listening to “Blackest Eyes” on a Classic Rock sampler disc, and found it a perfect blend of heavy, metallic riffing with a gorgeous, shimmering melody that fed a pop-informed chorus. I enjoyed the album it came from, 2001’s In Absentia, but loved the album that came before, one Lightbulb Sun, which lacked the heavy riffs but made up for it in being the record where Wilson honed in on his spectacular gift for writing pop songs. It wouldn’t be until 2007’s Fear of  a Blank Planet when I thought he had finally delivered a complete record that catered to me; one that was dark, unsettling, heavy, and splashed with just the right mix of progressive elements and pop ear candy. But with the end of Porcupine Tree, Wilson’s lessening involvement with the pop-oriented Blackfield project, and the onset of a solo career that I viewed as a mixed bag, I began to wonder if Steven Wilson was progressing right out of my limits of being a fan.

 

So Hand. Cannot. Erase. is a reminder to me of that old adage about expectations. Actually I don’t really know a particular phrase or saying that could apply here, but its enough to say that I didn’t expect to love this album as much as I do. In the few weeks that I’ve known it, its become one of my favorite Steven Wilson related albums of all time, second perhaps only to Fear of a Blank Planet. Its worth me taking a moment here to briefly comment on its thematic/conceptual subject matter, because it makes the album resonate that much more. Wilson had at some point viewed a 2011 documentary called Dreams of a Life, which was the story of the life of one Joyce Carol Vincent; an attractive, intelligent, outgoing young woman who died in her London flat, and her body went undiscovered for three years. She had friends, she had family, yet for reasons unknown even to them, no one missed her or bothered to check up on her. I actually went out of my way to view the documentary a few days ago and its one of the most surreal films I’ve ever seen, the sort of thing that lingers in your mind.

Wilson’s storyline on Hand. Cannot. Erase. is a fictionalized, loosely inspired by version of Vincent’s story, about a young woman named H. who follows a similar road towards isolation and loneliness. There’s a deluxe hard back book based edition of the album thats filled with photographs, diary entries, actual newspaper clippings, and letters telling the more detailed story of H.’s life (its a seriously impressive package). I myself went with the single disc Blu-Ray edition, which sets the album to a slideshow backdrop of many of those same book bound photographs… it was great to be able to sit on my couch for the better part of an hour and get immersed in an audio/visual experience like that, but its not necessary to enjoy the album alone. In an interview with Faceculture, Wilson touched on the fundamental thematic core of the album, how a tragedy like Vincent’s could only have happened in the middle of a vast metropolis like London as a opposed to a smaller community. In his MetalSickness interview, Wilson expanded on that, “If you really want to disappear, go and live in the heart of the biggest city, surround yourself with millions of other people. Go right to the place where the most people live and you will disappear.”

 

I live on the southwestern border of Houston and its outlying suburbs, right in the midst of highways, urban expansion, too many parking lots and gas stations, the lot of it. I hardly know my neighbors, and almost never speak to any of them besides the occasional hello when passing by. In some slight way, I feel that I can relate to Wilson’s own autobiographical views that he instilled into his character. Its what makes a song like “Happy Returns” echo so resolutely within me, despite its rather detailed lyrical perspective being solely H.’s own words. It could be one of Wilson’s greatest singular accomplishments, a song as delicately beautiful and shatteringly epic as In Absentia’s “Collapse the Light into Earth”. And despite all its obvious melancholia, its essentially a pop song, built on simple chord patterns and a McCartney-esque “doo-doo-doo-do” refrain. Its emotional gut punch comes in the lyric “The years just pass like trains / I wave but they don’t slow down”, as vivid a portrait of helplessness against the transience of life as I’ve ever heard.

Its equal in greatness partner is the non-instrumental album opener “3 Years Older”, an acoustic/electric hybrid epic of English prog that is reminiscent of The Incident’s “Time Flies”. Here Wilson staggers folky, strummed chords with plaintive vocals next to passages with surprisingly funky, wild guitar work courtesy of guitar virtuoso Guthrie Govan. Its full of those particular kinds of Wilson moments that have defined his entire career —- it could be the sudden layering in of a harmony vocal to give a lyric some added richness, or simply his mastery of how to craft melodies that are evocative, or dreamlike. Sitting next to it on the tracklisting is the title track, which is quite possibly Wilson’s poppiest song since “Blackest Eyes”. Instead of being built on heavy, metallic riffing, “Hand Cannot Erase” is almost electro-pop in its palette, with guitars that sound like they’ve been lifted from U2 circa 1997, or from a Florence and the Machine backing track. Wilson’s vocal here is delivered at his earnest, wide-eyed best, with lyrics that you could imagine selling well on radio or some CW television show about over-dramatized teens. That’s not me detracting from it, quite the contrary, I’m puzzled as to why this wasn’t the first single.

 

That honor went to the very ambient, drone-like “Perfect Life”, which I love for the simple reason that its female spoken word guided first half reminded me of the British pop band Saint Etienne. They have a discography full of assorted moments with neutral voiced Sarah Cracknell waxing poetic about all manner of things. Its an important moment in the song because its our first introduction to H.’s words herself, as she describes the memory of the six months she spent with her adoptive foster-sister. As Wilson explained in the aforementioned Faceculture interview, the imagery of some of H.’s memories comes directly from Wilson’s own childhood, such as “Sometimes we would head down to Blackbirds moor / to watch the barges on Grand Union in the twilight”. Its one of those universal truths I’ve read from great fiction writers, that to make something feel universal, or relatable to everyone, the author is best served by simply focusing on making his character more specific, with more intimate details, possibly even autobiographical details from the author’s own life. It sounds contrary in theory, but it works. By the way, the video for this song is stunningly good (psst, its linked at the bottom).

This is the rare album in Wilson’s discography where even his progged out moments are interesting and complex in only good ways. Take the epic, nine-minute “Routine”, where Wilson is joined by Israeli vocalist Ninet Tayeb in a duet built across subsequent passages, Wilson taking leads in some, Tayeb in others, only joining together at the very end to softly sing “Don’t ever let go / Try to let go”. Its a cleverly written song about some kind of loss suffered by the narrator and her psychological process to acknowledge it. So she states, “Keep cleaning keep ironing /Cooking their meals on the stainless steel hob /Keep washing keep scrubbing /Long until the dark comes to bruise the sky”. There was even enough diversity in the thirteen plus minute “Ancestral” to prevent me from getting too antsy, but it comes out being the weakest cut on the album simply because its at times more of an extended jam session rather than a song. Its okay though, the rest of the album is nothing but songcraft of the highest order.

I’m simultaneously relived and thrilled about Hand. Cannot. Erase. and what it means for me personally. Its audible proof that my relationship as a listener with Wilson’s new work isn’t dimming, that he’s still capable of delivering music that enthralls me, and that I’m still receptive enough to realize that. Its also one of the more haunting, and thought-provoking albums I’ve come across in recent memory (and if you really want a taste of how deep it gets, check out H.’s blog entries on handcannoterase.com). It has a conceptual story that is frightening in its mirroring of reality, and its addressing of what it could potentially mean to live in an age of social networking, with no need to go outside of our homes, and how tempting it might be to simply withdraw from the real world. When I listen to this album and think about the thoughts and motives of its narrator and her real life inspiration, I can’t help but think about myself and how with a few decisions here and there, it could be me spiraling down into isolation. It could be any of us.

 

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gOU_zWdhAoE&w=560&h=315]

 

September 16, 2014 2014, Accept, Anathema, Hammerfall, Kai Hansen, Michael Kiske, Power Metal, Steven Wilson, Unisonic 2 Comments

More Catching Up With 2014: Opeth, Accept, Hammerfall and More!

I so enjoyed the format of the first Catching Up With 2014 reviews roundup that I decided to tackle a slew of new releases with the same quick strike/takeaway format. Yes I just dropped a full length solo review for the new Dragonforce album a few days ago, but I’m thinking that issuing single release reviews one by one could get tiring for both you and I (and its worth mentioning here that I have some non-reviews based updates in the works). Certainly one can argue that the arrival of a new Opeth album should warrant its own individual, in-depth review at the very least, and I was planning on it until earlier today when during another listen through I decided that my opinion might be more clear if I forced myself to keep my thoughts concise and focused (as in 400-500ish words —  I totally break this rule right away too). So the aforementioned new Opeth, alongside “new” (relatively speaking) releases by Accept, Vintersorg, Unisonic, Anathema, and the mighty Hammerfall are on the docket this time. Its a sequel, like Ghostbusters 2 (only without that gross looking pink slime, walking Stay Pufts, and that creepy painting of Vigo the Carpathian —- yamahama!). Lets get to it:

 

 

 

Opeth – Pale Communion: The Opeth we knew is long gone, and I’m actually thinking that it might be okay. Hear me out on this for a second —- I was NOT a fan of Heritage, and I was also perhaps willfully ignorant of what that album was signaling. On paper it was a good idea, a prog-rock album with seventies influences by a prog-death metal band that had always exhibited that specific influence in their catalog, even produced a few masterpieces in doing so. After my initial few spins through it I remember tempering my reaction by reasoning with myself that it was going to be a one-off experiment in the Opeth canon, and so not to overreact. It was a muddied, ambling mess that lacked crisp songwriting and coherent melodicism; it was the sound of Mikael Akerfeldt over extending (or over thinking) his abilities. But it was alarming then to realize that on Heritage’s supporting tour, the band was largely shying away from past material that emphasized their death metal sound, and Akerfeldt’s public comments towards extreme metal in the media were raising the ire of some, and disheartening others. I sympathized with many of the disaffected and honestly internalized the band’s disinterest in metal as something akin to losing touch with a friend. I summed up my feelings on the whole thing in a little more detail earlier this year when discussing “The Cusp of Eternity” single.

As with most of these situations, our reactions are often too extreme and emotionally premature. The logical fallacy of Heritage that many like myself failed to grasp was, “Would you like this album if the songwriting was great?”, the unspoken next question being “Or did you just like Opeth because of the growling vocals?”. No, of course not you banana brain, you loved Opeth because of Akerfeldt’s unorthodox but intelligent approach to songwriting, his very distinct melancholic melodicism, and the way it was all put together by an always incredibly talented supporting cast (that’s me calling myself a banana brain by the way, but feel free to join me!). The artistic success of their new follow-up album, Pale Communion, is that it hits the mark on all of those positive qualities I listed above, as well as helping to contextualize the role of Heritage and Watershed in the Opeth narrative —- being that Watershed was the bridging record that shed the majority of harsh vocals, and Heritage shed the presence of metallic riffs. When I listen to Pale Communion, I hear moments of transcendence similar to others that Opeth have provided throughout their career, such as in the musical motif of “Faith In Others” (the album’s best song), where a simple, lonely, repeating piano/guitar figure at the 3:11 mark sends chills throughout. I hear them in “Eternal Rains Will Come” where Akerfeldt delivers a sweeping vocal performance that anchors the song as progressive rock elements dance around it, or in the glorious refrain to “Cusp of Eternity”, where a wordless vocal harmony says more than any lyric could. And again in the clean toned soloing over gentle plucked acoustic rumblings in “Moon Above, Sun Below”, a song that seems like it could’ve been recorded during the Still Life sessions.

Its not all great however, as there are a couple trips to Heritage territory with the utterly skipable Spinal Tap’s Jazz Odyssey that is “Goblin” —- I get that its a tribute to the 70’s prog band of the same name, but its the kind of meandering, unfocused, pointless exercise in excess that people get mad at Dream Theater for. The same stylistic choice pops up in the middle of “River”, an otherwise lovely (if perhaps too light and breezy) song that is marred by a couple minute long 70s styled prog ramble. I understand that this is what Akerfeldt is into, and hey, fair enough. But I’ll call it like I hear it, and wow is it boring! Whatever happened to simply writing a good guitar solo to fill a mid-song bridge? Don’t look at me like that, he used to write those all the time! One other thing, and maybe this is just based on preferences because I suppose it could be argued that most of Opeth’s music is best listened to when you’re really in the mood for it, but there were times listening to this album when it sounded very alive and vital —- and other times when it was leaning towards falling flat and washing over me. This is a delicate observation to express so bear with me: Its a good album (for the most part), but I suspect that Opeth loses something when their music lacks a varying range of sonic dynamics. In other words, when they stay in this light-toned, semi-ballad/semi-rock auditory space, their music (even the good songs) suffer from listener degradation in terms of interest level. Whenever I play “Dirge For November” from Blackwater Park, my ears perk up and I’m captivated merely by the range of dynamics alone; I’m not certain I can say the same thing about songs from Pale Communion.

Takeaway: If you’re able to accept Opeth’s transition from prog-death metal to simply prog-rock, then you’ll find that Pale Communion accomplishes what Heritage could not, namely providing something compelling to listen to. Take a listen to it, its the least you can do for a band that delivered masterpiece after masterpiece for a quite a few years there. Oh one more thing, I normally love Travis Smith’s work but man does that cover art leave a lot to be desired. And yeah I know this review was well over 800 words, but I make the rules and I can break them!

 

 

Accept – Blind Rage: Four years ago, Germany’s storied metal veterans Accept released a knockout of an album from seemingly out of nowhere; Blood of Nations was as unexpected as it was awesome. I still listen to that record whenever I need an Accept fix (and the fact that I reach for it over Balls to the Walls or Russian Roulette is surprising even to myself). Keep in mind that it was their first album in fourteen years; they were coming off a long period of relative inactivity consisting of two aborted reunions with original vocalist Udo Dirkschneider, and they were enlisting a rather unknown American replacement vocalist in Mark Tornillo. It all seemed like a recipe for mediocrity on paper, but somehow, Wolf Hoffman and company rediscovered their musical mojo. I saw them live on that tour here in Houston, and they were satisfying perfect that night even when down a guitarist (Herman Frank was injured during a fall on stage in San Antonio the night before). But I’ll admit, I thought they stumbled a bit on the 2012 follow-up Stalingrad —- granted there were a couple really strong songs, but the record felt rushed with ideas undeveloped and lacking cohesion (the band admitted as much in interviews later on).

Band’s frequently make mistakes like that, believing that the best way to keep momentum going after a particularly successful project is to dash back into the studio rather than risk the possibility of stagnation from an extended period of time off. Here’s the thing: sometimes that plan works, but only if the creation of the art is the primary focus at hand. When you make the U2-ian mistake of scheduling tours and promotional activities before completing the writing/recording of the album, you run the risk of forcing yourself to pull it out of the oven before its fully cooked. That works for baking deliciously soft chocolate chip cookies, not for delivering great metal records. Thankfully, the band have purposefully taken their time with Blind Rage, as this is an album that matches the intensity of Blood of the Nations and at times even surpasses it on a songwriting level. Speaking towards the latter, listen to the multifaceted nature of “Dark Side of My Heart”, as a song that plays with traditional mid-tempo Accept elements in an unexpectedly straightforward pop approach, down to the eighties glam-rock nature of the chorus (which is excellent). The result is a song that is moody, dark, and laced with tension yet pocketing one of the album’s most gleefully memorable hooks. As far as demonstrations of sheer aggression and intensity, we’re treated to the album opener and first single “Stampede”, whose suddenly accelerating chorus is devastatingly heavy in itself. I also love the Queensryche-ian “The Curse”, where Tornillo takes center stage in his best vocal performance to date in a truly epic song.

Takeaway: The most satisfying aspect of this album is the lack of anything remotely resembling a “dud” —- sure there are songs you’ll like more than others, but nothing that should make you hit skip. And hey congrats to Accept for notching their first number one album on the German Media Control charts with this one, it was a long time coming. See, the takeaways don’t always have to be snarky or silly —- oh I’ve ruined it haven”t I?

 

 

 

Vintersorg – Naturbål: While writing this review, Firefox tanked out on me, gobbling up what I wrote. Serves me right for running both Spotify and iTunes at the same time, I know… I need a new laptop. But I’m thinking that the crash actually did both you and I a favor, because I was really going on a bit with some unnecessary background info and essentially doing a whole lotta rambling. So I’ll spare you that nonsense and break it down like this: Vintersorg is a project that is really hard to love (or like even). You’ve gotta be committed, and you’ve gotta put in the time and the work, and I really mean work by the way —- this is complex, often obtuse avant garde folk/progressive black metal that is often maddeningly messy. A good Vintersorg song will reveal itself to you after many, many repeat listens after which your brain might begin to be able to process what you’re actually listening to (the not so good songs will just continue to exist as a spaghetti bowl of sound). I myself became a fan with his most accessible album, Comic Genesis, way back upon its release in 2000 when a friend of mine played it for me proclaiming it to be the next best thing to Blind Guardian. I was sold, and proceeded to buy up the existing Vintersorg catalog, as well as that of his pure folk-metal side project Otyg (oh, Vintersorg is a guy, real name Andreas Hedlund, I probably should’ve mentioned that at the top). But Vintersorg moved away from the accessibility of Cosmic Genesis’ to wildly avant garde songwriting approaches through his next few albums, and I toughed it out and found things to enjoy on them, but they certainly weren’t what I originally signed up for.

Since the release of 2007’s Solens Rotter, Vintersorg has moved back into a more folk-metal driven style, yet it still carries much of the avant-garde strangeness that is by now a Vintersorg trademark. His past few releases have all been part of a quadrilogy of albums all individually focusing on a particular elemental —- this new one, Naturbål (translated as “nature’s bonfire”) is the third in this series, and perhaps the most instantly enjoyable. When I say instant, temper your expectations a touch because the very concept is relative in regards to Vintersorg (as in its relatively accessible compared to some of his other crazy stuff). The big factor in this is a greater collection of expansive, melodic choruses with some unusual female vocal accompaniment —- a nice surprise and a change of pace. On the album opener “Ur aska och sot”, a furious black metal boil gives way to a rather poppy chorus with harmonized vocals. I treasure moments like this, because Vintersorg has so rarely as of late let his voice soar in this particular fashion that so recalls the Cosmic Genesis era. He lets it go again on my favorite song here, “Rymdens brinnande öar”, where a very talented female vocalist by the name of Frida Eurenius accompanies Vintersorg on the beautiful refrain where the music slows down, vocals are given space and together their voices weave magic. I’m saying it right now, this will make my best songs of the year list, its that excellent. Good stuff happens on the non-duet tracks as well, as on “Överallt och ingenstans”, a song that slightly harkens back to his Otyg folk metal purist roots.

Takeaway: I’ll be honest, I’m still working on this record for the most part —- I’ve estimated about ten full length playthrough’s at the very least, usually done on headphones for maximum effect. I wasn’t kidding about the work part, Vintersorg albums are meant to be unraveled. I honestly can’t say whether its worth your time or not. How about this, go YouTube “The Enigmatic Spirit” and “Cosmic Genesis” songs and see if you like them. If you do, it might be time to roll up your sleeves.

 

 

 

Unisonic – Light of Dawn: Unisonic is one of those projects where expectations may need to be tempered and aligned to reality. Understandably there is the shadow of Keeper-era Helloween bearing down upon both Michael Kiske and Kai Hansen, but if you walked into the band’s 2012 debut expecting a mirror of those gloried albums then you had no one to blame but yourself for not paying attention. There’s a couple things to point out there in relation to the confused reception that debut received: Firstly, both Kiske and even Hansen had embraced aspects of AOR rock in their post-Helloween careers, Kiske more so of course, but Hansen himself was involved a great deal of power metal records with Iron Savior and Gamma Ray that were far, far more poppy than anything he did with Helloween. That the pair’s reunion was brought about while on tour for Avantasia (the king of AOR drenched metal thesedays) should speak volumes to that effect. Secondly, I think a lot of people were infatuated with idea of Hansen/Kiske being some magical songwriting pairing, when in reality Michael Weikath had a fair amount of input on that front back in the Helloween days. So the first Unisonic album was often a laid, back, drivin’ in the sun pop-rock record more than anything, and it when judged on its own merits it was a rather good, albeit spotty affair. Power metal, however, it was not.

So here’s the M. Night Shyamalan twist! The band’s new album Light of Dawn is actually an uptempo, aggressive, ultra melodic slice of modern power metal with some light AOR sprinklings for flavor. The other shocker is that Hansen is nowhere to be found on the songwriting credits, with the bulk of the album save a couple songs being written by bassist Dennis Ward (of Pink Cream 69 fame, he also contributed a great deal to the debut, although my favorites off that album were indeed penned by Hansen). The absence of Hansen in the songwriting is a puzzler on a basic level, but Ward’s material is so strong and capable of harnessing Kiske’s melodic strengths that I don’t mind at all. Great songs abound, where to start? How about “Your Time Has Come”, “Night of the Long Knives”, and “Not Gonna Take Anymore” with their perfect balance of heavy riffs and extreme melodicism? The former is the most traditional power metal song here and its a gem that I honestly feel could’ve fit in perfectly on one of the Keeper albums. My personal highlight is the semi-ballad “When the Deed Is Done”, which features a wonderful guitar motif that kicks off the song and chimes back in as a coda. Kiske’s vocals are soaringly ethereal here, and indeed all over this album he delivers some truly spectacular performances. All across the board, this is a exceptional effort, and surprisingly its starting to feel like one of the stronger albums of the year.

Takeaway: If you disliked their first album, give this a shot —- it leans heavier and faster, and the lead off track is a time traveler of a song straight from 1988. As far as AOR-leaning hard rock/power metal hybrids go, I’m hard pressed to find an album released this year that matches the quality of Light of Dawn. Calm down fellow Edguy fans.

 

 

 

Anathema – Distant Satellites: Metal writers/reviewers/bloggers cover Anathema these days in part because of the band’s past metal heritage as part of the Peaceville three of English doom metal, but I believe the greater reason is that this band has been on a tear since 2010 in terms of releasing amazing new music that’s really worth talking about. If you haven’t gotten to enjoy their past two efforts you’re doing yourself a disservice (“Untouchable” Pts 1 & 2 together from 2012’s Weather Systems topped my list of that year’s best songs). Their newest is a continuation of the bright, progressive rock they’ve been exploring on those recent albums and it may be the most cohesive and consistent album they’ve put together yet. Yes this stuff is about as far as you can get from metal in terms of actual sound within rock music, there are no riffs to be found here for the most part, but the complexity and layering found within the songwriting speaks to something that metal fans of all stripes could possibly appreciate.

I will say right off that Distant Satellites lacks an absolutely undeniable anthem like the aforementioned “Untouchable”, but it does have a handful of gems that lean more towards subtler, hushed, moody rumination. I’m speaking specifically of the album highlight “Ariel”, a slow burning ballad build on a simple repeating piano figure that crescendos upwards when accompanied by echoing guitars and shimmering orchestration. Female vocalist Lee Douglas is the star here, with Vincent Cavanagh supplying emotive backup vocals —- these two work as beautifully as any dual vocalist tandem out there right now. Cavanagh’s voice has gotten richer during this latter era of Anathema’s career, and Douglas sounds like an earthier version of Belle and Sebastian’s Sarah Martin. The “Lost Song” three song trilogy is another exceptional body of work built upon beautiful melodies and fluid movements (more than ever, the band is experimenting with alternative song structures). Organic instrument purists might find the back half of the album slightly off-putting with its increased emphasis on electronic music elements, but I find that it works because Anathema utilize them the same way they do their guitars, with restraint and purpose. Steven Wilson pops in to mix a couple songs (he’s mixed/produced their last two albums) and its fitting to note that Porcupine Tree might be the most apt comparison for Anathema these days.

Takeaway: Another quality album from a band that seems to ooze it lately. Its far less uptempo and way more minor key than their previous two releases, and as a result it takes longer to get into, but the chilled out, spacey vibe is fitting for late summer nights. Hey I’m a mood music person okay!

 

 

Hammerfall – (r)Evolution: First off, just for my own sanity’s sake, I’m going to refer to Hammerfall’s new album as Revolution, I don’t care if its incorrect, I hate purposeful grammatical cuteness like the kind being employed here. And I’ll just cut to the chase here, because you likely know who Hammerfall is and what they’re all about —- this is neither the best Hammerfall album, nor the worst, and that ultimately might be its achilles. There are going to be a lot of fans who will highly rate Revolution solely because it comes as the long awaited follow-up to 2011’s Infected, as experimental an album as a band like Hammerfall can make. That album’s release predated The Metal Pigeon blog, so I never wrote about it, but while I didn’t find it nearly as annoying as some did, it was admittedly not what I wanted to hear from them either. The band seemed to sense that from the majority of their fanbase as well and so after their brief hiatus decided to make a concerted effort to harken back to the Glory to the Brave/Legacy of Kings classic era, replete with the return of Andreas Marschall handling the cover art, which also sees the return of their mascot Hector the Knight.

I’m not the biggest Hammerfall fan, but I appreciate a good many of their songs and albums and really respect what they did for power metal as a whole in the late 90s/early 00s. Those two aforementioned classic albums are of course untouchable, and since Hammerfall themselves are directly drawing parallels to them I suppose its okay to say that Revolution isn’t in their league. Part of that may be the lack of former songwriting partner Jesper Strömblad’s technicality and melo-death guitar patterns within the songwriting that so flourished within those releases (yes that Strömblad), but the bigger reason is that these new songs lack the continuous kinetic energy of those classics of yore. Don’t get me wrong, Revolution has some rather good to nearly great songs such as “Hector’s Hymn” (that majesty in that chorus!), “Wildfire”, and “Live Life Loud” —- the latter two with their indelible chanted choir vocals as only Hammerfall can deliver. There’s a truly great solo in the middle of “Origins” as well, reminding us that guitarist Oscar Dronjak is capable of some really incredible moments. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of “meh” moments on here, like “Evil Incarnate” or “Winter Is Coming”… not bad songs mind you, but lacking anything resembling fully formed hooks or other melodic ear candy. And those two things are pretty much what we come to Hammerfall’s table for, and while its not the end of the world if they can’t deliver a full meal of that, I’m definitely feeling hungry here.

Takeaway: Right after my umpteenth play through of this album as I wrote this review I immediately put on Glory to the Brave, and perhaps that’s not fair to throw out there, but it did make me realize that I was dead-on about the lack of raw, kinetic energy within Revolution. They were trying to harken back to that era but these new songs are too slow, too breathable, too reliant on mid-tempo gallops. Perhaps they should’ve fully committed and thrown out a timely phone call to Jesper…

July 20, 2013 2013, Orphaned Land, Steven Wilson 6 Comments

Shalom Orphaned Land! The All Is One Discussion

I loved Mabool. Orphaned Land’s 2004 comeback album was a seminal moment in my journey not just as a metal aficionado, but as a music lover in general. I was even fortunate enough to catch the album just shortly after its initial release, instead of years after the fact as would become a prevailing trend for me later on. It was to say the least, an incredibly timely release: An Israeli metal band delivering a conceptual album about the reunification of the three Abrahamic faiths smack dab in the middle of the Second Intifada, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and a mere year away from Ariel Sharon’s earth shattering declaration to pull out of Gaza. You could either call that incredibly ballsy, or brazenly foolish.

 

But something truly dramatic happened: This Israeli metal band had struck a powerful chord throughout various Arab countries where their music was being pirated. The internet in its increasingly flourishing ability to outreach, unite, and amass people from all over the globe was the first piece of evidence that something truly profound was happening. I was on the band’s message boards during that time period, and you’d see users posting not only from Israel, but from Turkey, Egypt, Syria (seriously), and almost any other Middle Eastern/Islamic land you could point out on a map. The album was a success yes, but for so many more reasons than just commercially speaking. Orphaned Land were transcendent in ways that their region’s political leaders were unable to be.

 

The album’s impact on me personally was a revelation. I had equated the very concept of folk metal with artists like Vintersorg and Ensiferum, as well as in the numerous Celtic-isms of a wide variety of metal bands. An exclusively Celtic/Scandinavian art form then…? It was, to say the least, a limited perspective. It had never occurred to me that yes, there could be folk metal that drew upon the musical heritage of other cultures. Mabool was the album that smacked me in the face and said, “Of course it can”. Songs like “Birth of the Three”, “Ocean Land”, “The Kiss of Babylon”, and the masterful “Norra El Norra” were laced and imbued with rich Middle Eastern/Judaic instrumentation and melodies. It wasn’t just the metal that was satisfying, I found the soundscapes of the ethnic musical backdrops extremely alluring. It all captured my imagination and swept me away to someplace else — it was an epiphany! And it soon occurred to me that this was a kind of metal that I had been longing for without even realizing it.

 

 

In time, after many hundreds of repeat spins, Mabool also left me with a void in my music collection: I had discovered a new found hunger and soon to be great appreciation for cultural music of the Middle East. I asked the band for recommendations through their forums, and was supplied a short list by Yossi Saharon, the Orphaned Land guitarist. I found that this newly acquired musical interest would only increase in momentum — I began seeking out, sampling, and buying international/cultural music regardless of where on the globe it was sourced from. My job in the music department of a Borders Books only aided my drive to find more and more. The store would be sent promo CDs from various record companies for in store play, and when the promo shelf had to be emptied at the end of the month (by employees getting to select stuff they wanted to take home… a definite perk), the dregs that no one else wanted were always a vast array of modern and traditional international music: French pop, Brazilian jazz, Gregorian Chant, Greek/Mediterranean folk, fifty different subgenres of music from Africa, in short, everything you could possibly imagine. I found a treasure trove of great stuff that I loved, and eventually this experimentation and growth lead to me appreciating stuff like the hip hop of Jurassic 5, or even the alt-country of Uncle Tupelo, Wilco, and Neko Case. It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d explored non rock/metal music, but Mabool tapped open a geyser of interest and curiosity in exploring new sounds that thankfully hasn’t stopped.

 

Now Orphaned Land has a tendency to work slowly. Well that’s actually unfair and inaccurate, but it could justifiably be the casual perception. There was an eight year gap between the band’s pair of mid-nineties releases and Mabool (explained vaguely as personal problems), and the success of that album demanded a touring schedule of three to four years — presumably to make up for lost time. Work on the follow up record took another couple years due to having to wait for their producer’s schedule to synch up (Porcupine Tree founder Steven Wilson), and so it was finally in 2010, six years later, when the band released The Never Ending Way of the ORwarriOR. I was as eager for the album as I was for that year’s new Blind Guardian and Iron Maiden records, and the heights of that anticipation would conversely be the depths to which I found myself disappointed.

 

 

I thought the album had a pair of good tracks, but the rest had failed to move me in any way. I know it sounds a little dramatic now, but I felt disheartened that after the impact of Mabool and the (I hate to use this word) “journey” it took me on, the band who delivered that eternal classic was somehow unable to impact me any further. When I looked at reviews all over, the general reception was overwhelmingly positive and glowing… so how was I left out in the cold this time around? I had burned myself out on Mabool through excessive overplaying, yet I couldn’t find enthusiasm for their new stuff. When the band played close to me on a subsequent North American tour supporting Katatonia, I missed the date and didn’t feel bad about it. Wow I’d think, my opinion had really soured on these guys. It really was a little depressing… and so I chalked it all up to an unfortunate loss, and moved on.

 

It was with a great deal of surprise that I began to hear rumors of a potential new Orphaned Land album slated for release in 2013. Of course, I had heard that kind of optimistic thinking before with this band, but hell, there I was this past Spring looking at the new cover artwork for All Is One. What — no half a decade plus wait? As stunning as it was that these guys managed to break old habits and actually deliver a new record within a reasonable time frame, I was a bit bummed out to realize that I had a mere speckle of interest when it came to checking it out, and certainly with a great degree of skepticism at that. My doubt was suddenly called into question when I heard the title track previewed on Dr. Metal’s The Metal Meltdown radio show. It was good, damn good — freaking beautiful actually. Right after I heard it, I found out that a friend of mine who does a rather excellent podcast (@ MSRcast) had interviewed Orphaned Land’s vocalist and founding member Kobi Farhi some weeks ago, and listening to their conversation was intriguing enough to make me plunk down for the album come release day.

 

My faith in Orphaned Land has been restored: All Is One is a fine album that while marking a noticeable stylistic shift in their trademark sound, beautifully weaves together disparate musical genres together into one epic, majestic, worldly fusion. It must be noted however, that for the most part gone are the frequent death metal vocals of yore, only popping up once on this album (to great effect at that). Is this the start of a post-metal Orphaned Land ala Opeth? Eh… no, not exactly. This is more Orphaned Land meets hard rock guitars as well as an progressive-power metal songwriting approach ala Blind Guardian. Think that sounds like an absurd comparison? Take a listen to the glorious, life affirming title track where scores of Guardian-esque choral voices join in on the most beautifully penned refrain in the band’s discography. Orchestras swoop in and usher melodic refrains throughout over a bed of crunchy guitars, hand claps spice up the percussion throughout, all surrounding an epic guitar solo that resides at the heart of this gem of a song (I also love the surreal, trippy, psychedelic music video they’ve done for the track). Additionally, on the rather charmingly rhythmic “The Simple Man”, guitars riff and play lead melodies in an intertwining that recalls Andre Olbrich and Marcus Siepen at their complicated best — all whilst Kobi Farhi’s lead vocals are embellished and sustained by intricately patterned supporting choral vocal harmonies. The newest addition to the band, guitarist Chen Balbus, seems to have a far greater natural chemistry with Yossi Saharon then his predecessor. The interplay between the two is fun, surprising, and rich.

 

 

Of course, the album is laden with all the traditional Arabic/Israeli (oh hell lets just call it “Oriental”, Edward Said enthusiasts be damned) that we’ve come to expect from Orphaned Land. There’s oud, saz, bouzouki, chumbush, apparently even a xylophone at some point, and of course the aforementioned tremendous strings and choirs. The band splashed out for this record, amassing a talent pool of over forty musicians “including 25 choir singers and eight classical violin, viola and cello players from Turkey”. Its a smart play, one that lines the sound of this album with an open fullness, a sense of spatial relationships between instruments that their older records, yes even Mabool, were unable to attain through having to rely solely on keyboards. As for the scarcity of death metal vocals I mentioned above, I don’t find myself missing them, or believing that these songs would be better served with them. Farhi has always had a fine, well accented clean delivery as a pure singer, and when he does decide to lay the death vocal wood, on “Fail”, its a powerfully shuddering standout moment. I’d be remiss if I didn’t remark upon his fantastic clean vocals on that particular song, as well as on the haunting, emotional “Brother” — which contains perhaps the band’s finest lyric.

 

I find it interesting that one of the most vocal admirers of the band’s previous album, ORwarriOR, the one and only Angry Metal Guy, has given their newest work a right panning. His primary criticism is that the majority of this album remains at a similar tempo throughout and lacks the varietal structure of albums past. I guess something like that doesn’t bother me, because as long as the music itself is of interest in the moment, I don’t consider its relationship to the songs surrounding it. But taking a step back I suppose I can concede to this being a weakness of the album, and surmise that that perhaps the band’s inclinations away from their metallic tendencies has homogenized their overall songwriting approach. I don’t however, agree with AMG’s take that a shorter gestation period for this band will undoubtedly lead to inferior results. First of all, I’m enjoying this record, but more importantly, these guys are too talented to let precious years go by in the name of delays or worse — absolute perfection. I don’t need perfection. Not even Mabool was perfect (it dipped in the second half a bit), but it had moments of perfection. Same goes right now… I’ll eagerly anticipate a record every two to three years if it means I get gems like the ones found on All Is One.

 

 

 

 

While I disagree with AMG’s take (and am only singling out his review in this instance because I so rarely do), I do have to give him credit for making me go back to give ORwarriOR another shot. Of course the fantastic new album is also encouraging me in that regard, my Orphaned Land fandom once again flourishing, but his adamant stance that I’m missing out on something close to perfection is reason enough for me. And here’s the thing… I’m finding that ORwarriOR is steadily growing on me. There are still some moments throughout that aren’t striking the right chord but I’m beginning to enjoy songs that I previously thought were clunkers. There’s a lot to digest there, so I’ll keep working on it — the best thing being that I want to give it repeated spins to see if anything else sticks. It feels good to have a second chance at something like that, and of course, if you’ve been a regular reader of The Metal Pigeon, you’ll be realize that its becoming my M.O. for the most part.

 

So All Is One may ultimately not have the perspective altering impact that Mabool had for me. But that’s okay, albums like that are rare, and often not recurring from the same artist. It will have the personal distinction of being the album that gave me one of my favorite bands back, almost like reconnecting with an old friend. A metal band that avoids topical cliches and genre tropes, seeks diversity both musically and topically, Orphaned Land are a uniquely rare breed. I can’t help but feel a little inspired by this unexpected turn of events, and as odd as it may be to say, I feel like it may be speaking to something deeper within me on a personal level. This is a music first oriented blog, so I’ll just leave it at that, but its comforting to know that I’m not yet jaded to a point where music is reduced to only being surface entertainment. I hope it never does.

 

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bds3FALcR7M&w=560&h=315]

 

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsPb1-uPIic&w=560&h=315]

 

March 2, 2013 2013, Porcupine Tree, Steven Wilson 5 Comments

Steven Wilson’s The Raven That Refused To Sing: A Confessional Perspective

I’ve come to a downer of a realization in that I am experiencing an ever increasing disinterest in the new music being released by one of my favorite artists ever, the prolific and amazing Steven Wilson. He’s worthy of those two adjectives still, the first because its true (Porcupine Tree/ Solo Albums/ Blackfield/ Bass Communion/ No Man/ Storm Corrosion/ various production work), and the second because to me and many others, he’s responsible for some of the most inspired, interesting, and emotive music that I’ve ever heard, regardless of genre, period.

 

But I suppose its fair to say that most of that music comes within the context of Porcupine Tree and Blackfield, and the former is on hiatus and Wilson’s songwriting involvement in the latter has waned incredibly with their third release. It seems his priority for the past few years has been his solo work, and I actually enjoyed a good bit of Wilson’s first solo album, Insurgentes. Soon after came his second solo set, Grace For Drowning, and I was surprised to find myself loving only a couple of tracks from that album (the sparse ballads “Postcard”, “Deform to Form a Star”, and “Like Dust I Have Cleared From My Eye”). And well… its the internet dammit — so you see loads of people on social media everywhere proclaiming the sheer genius, the great artistry of the album and think to yourself, “Huh, it must be me then”. Yes, a selfish, naive, and maybe melodramatic perspective, but an honest one still. I’d read interviews with Wilson where he’d be discussing the more jazz centric role he was investigating with his new band on that album and silently yearn for something else from him that was… well, not that.

 

So while I wondered like many others if Wilson had sown his solo oats and would be dutifully reuniting with his Porcupine Tree brethren, it was announced that his third solo album was finished and would be released relatively soon. Well, things are what they are, and if this is what Wilson is doing these days, so be it. He’s one of those artists in my musical world from which I’ll easily buy an album without hearing a note beforehand, he’s come through for me so many times (and one thing about buying Steven Wilson albums is that he delivers the goods on the packaging). So, The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) arrives with a flurry of mainstream attention and critical praise from all corners that is unlike anything a Steven Wilson project has ever seen, even with Porcupine Tree. And to get right to the point, there are some really spectacular moments on here that I quite enjoy, but they’re often sandwiched between what I’ll just politely call A.D.D. moments where my mind wanders and I’m distracted by Reddit yet again. So I’m probably going to be the one to spoil the party a little bit, and say about the album: I don’t love it.

 

 

 

 

Maybe you’ll be along with me in the minority, and find yourself agreeing when I say that the sublime moments here seem isolated, remote, and often fleeting. I’m referring to moments such as the beautiful, sparsely strummed mid-section of the opener “Luminol”, the classic Wilson-esque balladry of “Drive Home”, or the best moments of “The Pin Drop” and “The Watchmaker”. The album closer title track is certainly haunting in its lyric, yet I find the music somehow lacking… atmospheric yes but emotive all its own? I’m not so sure. And I fail to understand the excitement and hype about the album centerpiece, “The Holy Drinker”, a ten minute plus barrage of wild instrumentation with no coherent order among any of it. Do people really get off on free form saxophone? I’m not trying to be pedantic, I’m really curious… I find the instrument irritating most of the time. My overall feeling about the album is hard to put into perspective because on the whole I think that I may be finding more to enjoy here than on the chaotic, free-for-all that was Grace For Drowning, as its a much more song driven affair (no real jazz odysseys to be found here… thank god). Yet at the same time, I feel that I really love those few aforementioned Grace For Drowning cuts whereas I merely like the albeit, greater amount of good material here.

 

And I guess whats alarming as a fan of the guy is that the deeper he goes into his solo prog explorations, the further away he’s getting from what drew me to him in the first place. I’ll admit, I found Wilson’s music through Porcupine Tree’s heavier, more metal-inflected albums starting with In Absentia and Deadwing, but I went backwards in the catalog and loved everything from the Pink Floyd-ian The Sky Moves Sideways to the pure pop of Lightbulb Sun. The conduit through all of those albums was I suppose, relatively linear song structures, where even the intensely prog-rock moments and ambient soundscapes were held in check by a commitment to either a rock/metal backbone, or a pop songwriting driven focus. He loses me musically with the jazz perspective, and while I wish I could say I’m able to clue into that world, I simply can’t. The aggravating head-scratcher about The Raven That Refused To Sing is that it actually is a careful step back towards relative linearity… so where does that leave me?

 

P.S.: I want Porcupine Tree back.

 

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n8sLcvWG1M4?rel=0&w=560&h=315]

 

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