GRACE FOR DROWNING

Grace for Drowning eclipses Steven Wilson's first solo album both in scope and composition. It covers a broader spectrum of sounds. While Insurgentes was heavily inspired by Wilson's love for 80s new-wave music, borrowing musical traits from Talking Heads, Joy Division, and The Cure, this album harkens back to the early 70s, with songs being highly experimental, much darker, and a lot more progressive.

Having worked on a lot of early King Crimson material lately, there is no denying that some of the influence has crept into Steven Wilson's songwriting vision. This album is more daring in its approach to melody construction and flow. There are a lot of jazzy elements with extended passages for improvised instrumental bliss. Thanks to the jazz-inflicted drumming, there is plenty of dialogue between the soloists, but the Steven Wilson sound is fully intact. The compositions are characterized by dense soundscapes, but each piece is fragmented with lush, easier-to-digest instrumentation. The tension-filled "Sectarian" involves utterly dark acoustic guitars underscored by eerie percussion, tense silences, weird stop-start riffing at once bringing to mind a strange marriage between Univers Zero and Thinking Plague, but the second half is very accessible due to the sudden shift of mood highlighting the blend of the jazzy piano and Mellotron swells.

Some tracks start and end abruptly while others serve as shorter pieces that tie them together. Wilson sets melting pianos and rising synth modulations against melodic constructs. However, the tracks lack tonal centres, and there is a vast array of electric and acoustic beats with shades of texture placed into sparse arrangements. There is no hierarchy of pitches focusing on a central note. Rather, the notes function independently of each other without adhering to tonal principles. This obviously makes some of the songs a more demanding yet at the same time more rewarding listen.

At face value, some fans may write the album off as meandering, too slow, or too long, but this album seems very defined beneath the surface. Yes, it is long, but Steven Wilson chose to spread it over two 40-minute discs, rather than cramming it all onto a single CD. He hopes fans will tackle each album independently instead of trying to take all of it in at one sitting. The first disc is a little more song-oriented while the second one is darker and more experimental. That said, there are songs on each disc that are coterminous with each other. The short two-minute instrumental "Raider Prelude" on the first disc is actually just a foreshadowing of the 20-plus-minute progressive epic "Raider II" from the second CD. This monstrous composition recalls Lizard-era King Crimson in terms of ambition and breadth. Replete with Jordan Rudess' electric piano interludes and Mellotron-infested sound manipulations, it boasts cascades of guitars resolving with odd-time signatures under hypnotic, trance-like passages. All the while, Theo Travis' coiling flute and sax lines weave in and out of the dissonant composition, deconstructing it to its calm finale.

Do not listen to this album in hopes of figuring out in which tunes the stunning list of guest musicians play. Jordan Rudess' contribution to the album is very uncharacteristic for him. His Grand piano on "Deform to Form a Star" sounds nothing like he's done in Dream Theater, perhaps because the song puts the piano in the back in favour of Wilson's stunning vocals following a silvery guitar solo. Similarly, Tony Levin's bass is utilized for a strong low-end here. Unless you're a crazy fan of King Crimson's criminally underrated album The ConstruKction of Light and the dazzling The Power to Believe, you won't notice it's Pat Mastolotto playing on the Blackfield-like "No Part of Me," whose instrumental break is punctuated by Trey Gunn's heavier-than-everything Warr guitar.

The only song that will give away its guest is probably "Remainder the Black Dog" with Steve Hackett providing his unique, gorgeous fretwork. Hackett is easy to distinguish because of his tone and phrasing: he juxtaposes fusion-inflicted notes with dissonant melodies before allowing a groove-locked bass solo to shake the very grounds you stand on. It's a killer song that evokes Wilson's work on No-Man's Returning Jesus in places, but this one is more chaotic and heavier.

Also, there is the beautifully crafted, chilling dark pop of "Postcard" which sounds like Blackfield crossed with Steven Wilson's 'daily life' lyrics delivered over a haunting piano-acoustic guitar theme and the more modern-sounding "Index" where Wilson emotes spoken vocals with narcotic melodies and Mastelotto's rolling drum beat accompaniment. All throughout, the mix and production are ingenious, possibly Wilson's best.

Lyrically, the album is inspired by stories of people who have had near death experiences, particularly with drowning. It is about the state of calm one gets into after the struggling, but the title may also be a metaphor for 'drowning' in the stress and speed of modern city life, which has been the subject matter of many of Wilson's recent songs.

If I were forced to make a choice for a single album in the experimental progressive genre, I would be torn between this album and Garden Wall's Assurdo. Grace for Drowning is some of the most beautiful music I have heard this year. Beautiful in a strange way.