VERSIONS OF THE TRUTH

Ah, The Pineapple Thief. I'm still trying to work out whether the "most underrated band in the world" moniker, inherited from their slightly more accomplished and much more defunct cousin Porcupine Tree, is meant to celebrate hidden genius or the fact that anybody who might dispute it doesn't seem to have heard of them. Their habitually biennial "new studio album" release is treated with enough fanfare to assure us of their competence, but never enough conviction as to persuade us we've got anything reaching "masterpiece" status. This is a shame, because some of their records come pretty close. This one isn't really one of them, but, in short, it's still very listenable, ahead of their 'mainstream' competitors and worth the cost. So, on the one hand, this is a pop album. Well, kind of alternative rock, but inoffensive enough that the "alternative" label serves more to justify low sales than demark some uncompromising musical iconoclasm. We have "singles" with "videos", each following a lethargically familiar "verse-chorus-repeat-other-bit-chorus" pattern, but don't switch off. We have nothing creeping past the eight-minute mark for only the second time ever (after the similarly solid alt-rock "Magnolia"), no real displays of virtuosity and no real climactic explosions that these guys used to give us. We have a kind of concept, the malleability, contingency, ambiguity and multiplicity of truth in the modern world. Which involves fascinating ideas, but is still the stupid person's idea of a 'clever concept', and the second-rate-lyricist Bruce Soord predictably turns it into an excuse for pseudo-intelligent divorce songs. No, please don't switch off. What we have instead is one of the most consistent bands ever formed pushing their own distinctive sound towards its logical, mature conclusion, with a selection of mostly excellent songs. Musicologists, or so I'm told, in trying to make sense of the good, bad, and (mainly) disappointing of the 2010s in music, have pointed to MINIMALISM as the primary ascendent quality. This is the age of earbuds and introspection (particularly closer to 2020 than 2010), and anthemic 'bangers' no longer really cut it. What you need is an 'anti-chorus', dipping BELOW the verse in intensity, which creates a far more intimate musical experience for the sensitive listener. This means the meticulously insane maximalism of, say, "What Have We Sown?", is out, and with it, the Pineapple Thief's signature slow-build. Or, more to the point, we build to climaxes that never come. The title track is perfect. This band have a history of brilliant album openers, and this is no exception. Glistening, echoey, ethereal chords disperse into an opening line, "You caught me in the black light", that oozes cool until you think too carefully. Then we get Gavin Harrison [insert gushing praise], but, where some were probably expecting him to casually throw in an extraordinary break, instead offers?marimba [Ed. typo? No, wait, marimba?]. After some more (half-decent) wounded post-truth ramblings alongside impeccably considered backing from the band, we begin driving forward with more intent. Soord's poor poetry actually sounds amazing in the "scattered voices" section (although I'm inclined to blame the music). More chorus, and then minimalist marimba outro before it all just stops. Excellent song, excellent video. "Break It All", the second single, has another strong video (although is this really where they're spending the money? Apparently it was sponsored by Gavin's drum manufacturers, so we'll let them off). Similar lyrical themes, too many riffs, chugging darkness in the music, relatively boring verses, anti-choruses, but one of the best instrumentals in the band's oeuvre rips open the song's middle. I'm going to throw in words like "claustrophobia", "Phrygian", "OMG Gavin!", "stormclouds", "polyrhythms" (alright, not *that* impressively), but ultimately only listening to it can do it justice. The lead single comes in third. Many people love this song; it's taken me slightly more effort, but I'm beginning to see the appeal. The verses have a brilliant, incongruously bright but latently poisonous descending melody, and the chorus exemplifies tasteful use of major sevenths as catharsis [alright, that sounded less pretentious in my head]. Yet another strong song. Fourth, "Driving Like Maniacs" exemplifies the minimalist tendencies. Self-consciously balladic, wistful, and above all, mournful, the dark symbolism of "one more corner to go" is a probably inadvertent delight. The tempo is perhaps a tad too slow, and the drum sound frustrating, but beautiful overall. Check out the similar, and superior, "Out of Line" in eighth position, which uses empty space to excellent effect, exuding sophistication and restraint, and a haunting solo. Fifth, the first "new" song, and it's excellent, clean and brooding, similar in vibe to "Demons". Another case of every note carefully and tastefully chosen, but with atmosphere remaining this album's defining strength. Along with disappointing marimba number "Stop Making Sense", the lacklustre "Too Many Voices" represents the weakest point on a strong album. But matters are salvaged by the prog-pretender "Our Mire". Gavin shines, a sense of energy and purpose pervades the track, with enough hooks and metre shifts to satisfy the whole spectrum of tastes. Guitars ring beautifully, and the last minute is just beautiful (reminiscent of Wilson's glory years). Then the closing track, "The Game", is probably the best of the bunch. One reviewer namechecked Porcupine Tree's "Stop Swimming"; to me, this sounds much more like Radiohead's "Videotape", with the insistent minor-key piano, atmospheric, hypnotically repetitive percussion, indistinct builds and rage cooled and fossilised as resignation. A grower, one of The Pineapple Thief's strongest ever tracks, and the best example of their new-found minimalism working perfectly. To describe it as essential would defeat the intentions of such a restrained collection of songs, but accusations of laziness by those who mistake maximalism for sincerity are unfounded, and any lower seems harsh. Not their best, but easily good enough. On any scale, Progarchives' or otherwise, this screams four stars.