THE WAY

I really have to force myself not to indulge in my other great passion HISTORY and intro a review from a Cuban prog band without mentioning my thoughts on matters non- progressive. The silly and counterproductive US embargo only serves to solidify a harsh regime that stood the test of time. Lessons hopefully learned, but I doubt it. Well, so has prog withstood near extinction seemingly all over the world, even in countries that used to frown on 'Western musical excesses' to quote Pravda, the USSR's revolutionary but untruthful mouth piece! Poland and Hungary have been stalwart prog banner wavers for decades, so maybe that is how this Cuban band developed its taste for the symphonics they distill with Rum-like gusto. Nothing remotely Latin-tinged here, in fact, these 'compañeros' can easily pass as westerners (oops!) with mind-music compositions that divulge waves of slippery synthesizers, cascading mellotron , liquid axe leads and passionate vocals in non-embargoed English . The Yes, ELP, Genesis and Camel influences abound with a tinge of RPI romanticism to boot. The result is just jaw-dropping, so go have a cigar and enjoy these 4 humongous tracks!

The resounding "Time to Understand" was the piece that caught both my progressive attention and my capitalist wallet. Guirarista Roberto Diaz' string stretching is overpowering to witness, full of glimmering aptitude, glistening pearls of notes straight from the 'corazon', both his ornate acoustic and soaring electric work are first-rate stuff. As well, the ivory prowess in the deft hands and fingers of Virginia Peraza stands out as an emphatic disposition towards texture and substance. She has the Emersonian ivory poetry down pat, with erupting synths, riveting piano and churning organ! Vocalist Carlos Sosa does the whooping arrangement total justice, his expressive voice fluidly enveloping the sonic scenery. Drummer José Manuel Govin is no slouch, bashing his plethora of drums and percussion with gusto which is no surprise as Latinos in general have the strongest sense of 'ritmo' ever. Finally bassist Yaroski Corredera resonantly booms about, keeping things firmly anchored, the crucial bridge between melody and rhythm. What an opener, phew!

The band wastes little time with dilly-dallying, as they submit the colossal 26 minute + 5 act suite "Spring Knocks on the Door of Men". A sultry bassoon weaves forth, the playful organ waltzes, mingling with seismic bass and then shrilling synths that recall the Flower Kings, Glass Hammer or that other Brit prog relic (Yes) join the fray. Then Diaz rips it up a la Steve Howe (Gates of Delerium) or Mario Neto of Bacamarte, adorning the piece with a wide palette of tones and textures (volume pedal, wah-wah, echoplex etc). Peraza is no slouch caressing her multiple ivories with supreme zeal and confidence within a massive symphonic wall, carousel synthesizers ululating like loco. The extended mid-section quieter part is simply divine, moody pools of reflected revelation and spiritual journey, a sweltering lead guitar screeching towards some surreal azure sky, weaving bass palm trees and searing sandy keyboard beaches expand toward the horizon. And then, a sudden drum hurricane blasts forth, devastating in its fury and swirling density, pushing the musical parameters of time and space further still. The symphonic luxuriance is beyond expectations, grandiose and majestic, very much in the spirit of classic Close to the Edge or the afore-mentioned Gates of Delerium. Easily one of the better 20 minute plus epics ever produced.

"Flying to the Sun" is of a sunnier disposition, scorching mellotron rays bronzing the skin, brooding synthesizer massaged into the raging bass arrangement and a howling butterfly axe solo that spreads its mighty wings effortlessly. Throw in a typical Wakemanesque church organ-synth duet to provide some sparkle. "Muy sinfonico"!

"Cosmic Man" is quite the opposite, more psychedelic/space in its disposition, with a harder edge, perhaps even a tad more accessible (rockier) , garnished with a scintillating synth solo and a vocal chorus you feel you have heard before. Sosa really stretches the limits of his lungs and the middle section evokes fond souvenirs of prog legends from the past without falling into overt plagiarism. The bass solo does have a Squire touch but not the trebly tone and the slippery guitar solo is furry, fuzzy and fantastic, mellotrons on fire in the background.

Montecristos, Ron Cubanos, Boxing, Baseball, Son music and now Anima Mundi. Lovely album cover to boot!

4.5 guantanameras