WHITEOUT

Progressive rock is often a perfect platform to musically expand on a multitude of subject matter, from esoteric musings and science fiction laced tales, to social and political commentary, as well as analysis of the human condition. This eclectic American band pulls no punches when addressing the current global malaise, offering sharp rebukes to the increasingly alarming extremes that permeate society. While their message is one of humanity, we all do live in a world infatuated with personal opinion, and as such, everything can become a well of endless debate, often for the sake of challenge or revolution. Each listener will heed or reject the message delivered as befits a pluralistic open democracy. I am here for the music, which is by any set of parameters, outstanding!

The title track sets off the voice effects with a sensational electric guitar musing that literally cries out with urgency and pain. Tim McCaskey and guest Aaron Geller stretch their strings to the breaking point, as bass man Luis Nasser begins the gentle cage rattling and co-conspirator Andy Tillotson banging his kit in defiance only at the very end. The stormy debate is unleashed on "Amnesia Junkies Part 4", a cosmic rant fully sprinkled with "locker room talk", mostly some of the classless comments from Mr Trump, who epitomizes the modern confrontational politician, now available on all sides and all continents seemingly insulting and being insulted is the new version of political exchange (which is why I personally lost faith in politicians decades ago). The arrangement is quite close to vintage Gong, blending the sound of space and the absurdity of human coexistence.

This classic sound is even more pronounced on the flute and synth volleys on the epic "Aurumboros", rekindling images of Malherbe vs Blake, while Nasser does his Howlett bit and guest Mattias Olsson shows off his Pierre Moerlen impersonation. The chaotic nature is fully enacted by the legendary words of Gordon Alan Gecko in the movie Wall Street, expressed in controlled intensity by Michael Douglas. I remember being in a cinema when that premiered and all the young dudes in the audience looked at the perfect anti-hero (the hell with Batman, Superman and Spiderman) and yelled "I wanna be like him!". Low and behold, a few years later, they appeared: Kozlowski, Madoff, Enron, Xerox, WorldCom, Lehman Brothers, Adelphia, Parmalat, Elizabeth Holmes, etc? And to say, we are not influenced by media! LOL.

This segues nicely with the terrific bass onslaught on "Veterans of the Incel Pixel War" with floating pot-head pixie images galore, synthesized turmoil oozing from very pore, a wickedly evil Pete Laramee axe blurt and some raunchily rancid organ courtesy of Alan Hearton, showing off his Brian Auger studies. Tremendous progressive rock, to say the least. The voice effects continue pounding the message that hints at INGSOC period Orwell.

The proverbial change of mood arrives with "Imperfect Ally", almost a well-needed lullaby in comparison, with ornate piano decorations suggesting a more serene interval from all the madness and confusion. The massive 16 minute + "Incognegro" reignites the bass guitar lead, Nasser egging the others into a maelstrom of groove, laden with pain, agony and drama, dual guitars raging as they criss cross the angry streets of the arrangement and a MLK slice of emancipation and justice (yes children, there was a time when leaders were gifted with the art of oration!). Nasser then decides to do my favourite thing in prog: a serpentine bass solo that chugs along like a mourning funeral train. He is truly a master of his instrument and fully on top of his game. Brilliance incarnate. The mellotron makes a careening appearance, secured with some thrifty guitar riffing, tingling synths calm the atmosphere with appropriate majesty. Piano, words and sombre reflection terminate the arrangement.

After such utter poignancy, the need to venture into a different light is needed, "Into the Maelstrom "surprises with its floating qualities, the bass still calling the shots in the undercurrent, as the steaking electronics scatter the horizon's wispy clouds. The level is raised but not in a forceful way, perhaps a bit more manic and expressive than noisy, and that is just perfect like that.

With its buzzing guitar stings, "Insects Part 4 Vita Pascitur in Vita" reverts to a muscular tone, verging on metallic rock, as it increases the swagger and builds into a volcanic keyboard foray (Brian Harris). The drums now are flailing, guitars back to biting off large chunks and shifting the spotlight to a poem of spoken word finale, with a piano as company.

'The Garden of Eden is no more' are the bleak words that introduce the "Anthropocene Blues", a time long ago, when the planet's humanity changed to become both empirical and bellicose, stretching and analyzing the extremes of mankind's propensity for good and evil. Magnificent creations and unspeakable horrors intertwined between inner and outer influences. The music is suitable restrained, absorbed and ponderous, and since I love history as much as music, I can easily find the markers discussed by the frail voice of the philosopher, finding myself in comfortable territory for thought and understanding.

This veers to the finale "Epilogue or Requiem", the human condition in all its complexity, absurdity and incredible ability to forget the good and concentrate on the bad. I remember vividly as a child looking up at the Apollo moon missions. Armstrong setting foot on the soil while I was behind the Iron Curtain for a visit in a summer youth camp and seeing the lack of political divisiveness at that precious moment, when all of humanity was truly ONE. Just for a moment. Essential......if we are to survive.

4.5 existential snowstorms