I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Queen II, Queen, can't be bothered to look up the year



Queen are the band I would’ve said were ubiquitous in my slightly younger years. Annoyingly enough, even prior to picking up Queen II, I couldn’t deny they deserve that position: catchy writing, distinct songs, a unique sound, a great singer. However, more annoying still is that none of the variety of wonderful offerings on their sophomore album (other than Seven Seas Of Rhye) even made the best of. Aside from being one of the greatest guitar albums of all time and plainly a great album, Queen II synthesizes outright experimentalism and variety with enviable songwriting perfectly.

Even on the songs I’d say are a bit weaker, most of the band’s strengths are usually out in full force: the vocal melodies are, with one exception, great; May’s guitar work on the album is phenomenal... I might even go so far as to rate it above Electric Ladyland as the rock guitar album; the writing is complex and dense but purposeful and very fast paced; the rhythm section more than adequate. Even without mentioning the incredible vocal leads, harmonies and effects we have one hell of an album to get through. And as a collective strength, I’d say, Queen II is remarkably well-paced... fluent and capable of very quick transitions but never quite verging into the realm of the frantic. That and the strength of the melodies and riffs make it very easy indeed on the ears.

The opening pair, for instance. May uses Procession to stretch out his canvas of guitar textures, alluding subtly to both God Save The Queen and the following Father To Son, by turns a heavy rocker with some bestial guitar soloing, a whimsical a-capella piece and a hymnal call (I mean, listen to that organ-like guitar work and those harmonies near the end). By contrast, the wonderfully sung White Queen is a lush inversion of that, moving rather from its mournful opening to glimpses of heated memory. May’s tone, again, heavenly, and the sitar(-like?) solo is yet another example of how effectively he varies his guitar sounds on this album while sticking to the stellar tone that unifies it for most of the songs. While that is perhaps my favourite song on the album (with the warped Fairy Feller as another runner), I can’t help but feel Some Day One Day is rather underestimated: a wonderfully unforced display of Mercury’s singing, with delicate vibrato tingeing the end of gorgeous vocal lines, a great acoustic melody, and the guitars and choral harmonies so characteristic of this album as a whole. I mean, it’s not a showy piece but I really do love it.

The ‘Black Side’ is much along the same lines and of the same quality, though Mercury’s writing is more overtly experimental (I’ll try to leave some of the surprises unmentioned), uses piano more and maybe has slightly more emphasis on the lead vocals (though nonetheless a number of insane harmonies). To talk about a few highlights (the whole side is basically highlights), the guitar section in the middle of Ogre Battle must have three or four interlaced layers of May’s finest work, Fairy Feller is an entirely bizarre fast-paced piece of maddened folklore characterisation with some of the strangest melodies and hooks I can remember from Queen, Nevermore’s an exquisite piano-and-voice ballad. March Of The Black Queen, by contrast to these, is virtually a suite... I’m particularly fond of the vocal interplay on it.

By no stretch of the imagination is Queen II quite a perfect album... some of the transitions do jar a little, the folksy lyrics verge from the mildly intriguing (White Queen) to the plain naff (Ogre Battle) and I’ve little affection for Taylor’s tedious rocker Loser In The End and the rather nauseating set up piece Funny How Love Is. Thankfully, enough for each of those, we have a more than fair share of very winning material. Just take the concluding radio hit Seven Seas Of Rhye: great vocal melody and mad harmonies, fading away just briefly enough for the solo voices to shine, amazing intertwining piano and guitar riffs, bloody amazing soloing from May as well as his incredible range of textures... even if I wouldn’t elevate this album to the pedestal some fellow reviewers have, there’s a lot to love here. Get this album.

Rating: Four Stars, something like 12/15
Favourite Song: too greedy to pick just one


Edited by TGM: Orb - March 29 2010 at 11:28

Indeedovich.

The weakest I've heard from him so far, but still charming.

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Review #1 in a while, So, Peter Gabriel

So what?

It’s always slightly annoying when the closest thing to a cheap pun doesn’t really fit your opinions (the other one I’ve always wanted to use was PG tips... I blame a childhood deprived of the fourth series of Blackadder for this terrible sense of humour)... this then makes you write things like reviews. Still, Peter Gabriel’s fifth ‘real’ studio album was his first real mainstream hit, and understandably so: it’s a great album, has half a dozen songs that could reasonably have been hit singles (and four of which were, I think) and yet has enough odd and atmospheric stuff, innovation and idiosyncrasy to appeal to long-time fans and smug critics. And it’s pretty much flawlessly produced (frankly, I’m amazed that Gabriel’s production with Daniel Lanois managed to actually improve on this for Us)... every sound has effect, without ever seeming to crowd the songs.

I suppose there is some ‘dumbing down’ from the startling structures and raw atmosphere of PG IV (we don’t hit anything quite as daring as Lay Your Hands On Me or Rhythm Of The Heat) and the lyrics have also lost some of their mystical grip... I guess Gabriel’s new directness leans on his voice the central idea generally being strong enough to sort of spread its mood to the fairly haphazard phrases supporting it and on So, that’s not always the case. However, there’s also a lot of bigging up on So... the ambience is far more consistent and less naked than on IV, which makes for a more satisfying unity: the ‘pop’ sensibilities feels linked to the experimental sensibilities. And, most of all, Gabriel’s confidence and the tightness of the band(s) is phenomenal... there’s really no sense that Gabriel is ever holding back here, which makes even the songs which don’t really have much to say oddly moving and the ones which do devastating.

From the opening of Red Rain we are hit by this confidence: it’s big, bombastic, catchy, interesting and, most of all, punchy music. The inversion of the grandiose crushing waves of drumming (Stewart Copeland adds some fantastic hi-hat work to Jerry Marotta’s clattering drums) and searing vocals descending to the sad showers of piano over a lonely voice at the end. Perhaps could have been cut down, but I can’t really think of any moments which don’t have something I’d miss. The quality of the synths and treated percussion is only improved from IV and it’s overall a superb opener, though I’m not perhaps as keen on it as others here.

The confidence hits even harder in the slowly building Sledgehammer, which you’ve probably heard... a rolling funky song with a seriously awesome bit funky bass/guitar riff, blaring horns and a lead vocal and lyric so infectiously fun that it maybe clouds just how good the music behind it is... the flawless incorporation of the bizarre flute intro into the main song, the little organ melody rolling in at the end, the cool overdub harmony on sledge. While this is an undeniably ‘pop’ song and probably Gabriel’s most notorious hit, I still don’t think I’ve heard anything quite like it.

Contrasting to these two is the lush atmospherically underlined duet Don’t Give Up. The matching of Gabriel’s increasingly searching and strained vocals meeting Kate Bush’s astoundingly sweet and soft replies is just perfect and the idea of the lyrics is here really moving. Credit for the piece’s effect goes also to Richard Tee’s crisp piano, Levin’s smooth, funky, vaguely tragic stick-work and Manu Katche’s immensely tasteful percussion. Just incredible.

That Voice Again is the one piece of the album that stands out as not really being particularly great. It’s not especially bad, but the melodies just don’t strike through, and the contrast of the moments of general shiny threat and the bright shiny chorus feels rather too clunky. And the lyrics just aren’t very effective for me. There are a few features I really like... Levin’s basswork (and I find it hard to criticise the drumming either), the incredible ‘listen to the wind’ vocal answer, the rather dark conclusion, but as a whole piece it just doesn’t really satisfy.

In Your Eyes simply blows away any doubts left over from the previous piece... I have to admit I probably made myself like the first chorus by sheer force of will... not that I ever particularly disliked it, but I felt that it didn’t really match up to the heartbreaking opening. There are very few openings that compare to the way Gabriel introduces ‘Love... I get so lost... some-times...’ over the rising piano and percussion pairing... and then the way it comes back later is even more powerful. And the chorus keeps building power, too... if I find it a little too light initially, when Levin’s bass, Youssou N’dour’s backing vocals, the extra drums and the synths come in it moves from heart-wrenching to heavenly.

And Mercy Street: understated and mired in sadness. The cold, lost lead vocals contrast with soft, strange harmonies (my favourite vocals by Gabriel, ever). The percussion is as unobtrusive as any continual rhythm could be, blending in with a whistling sound and the bass (Larry Klein’s) has a power over the heart here that I’ve never really associated with that instrument. And the ‘solos’ (synthesiser and treated sax) are matchingly soft, sad and unobtrusive. Words really fail to describe this piece (while we’re on it, the words of the piece are very striking, ‘nowhere in the corridors of pale green and grey/nowhere in the suburbs in the cold light of day/there in the midst of it so alive and so alone/words support like bone’).

Big Time flows astonishingly well from this utter immersion, snapping straight out with its awesome basslines (I mean, Levin is usually awesome but here he’s just on fire... I guess that’s the collaboration with Jerry Marotta on the ‘drumstick bass’ sound), thunking percussion and Gabriel’s deliciously ironic ‘HI THERE’. A sharp narcissistic mockery of narcissism, with some hilarious lyrics, the snappy Big Time is really not all that much like Sledgehammer if you actually listen to it rather than assuming that any song with occasional gospel backing and some horns will be the same. Loadsa fun.

 We Do What We’re Told is barest piece on the album with freakily singular vocals, and a virtually purely atmospheric backing with the melody stuck more into the percussion than anything else. Hits a distinctly creepy mood.

This Is The Picture, a duet with Laurie Anderson is something completely different again, catchy as any of the more overtly ‘accessible’ songs and with a delicious sort of interplay between the two singers’ slightly gravellier voices and (again, Gabriel’s vocals are incredible) their more soulful seconds. As the lyrics go, it’s excellent nonsense that really gives an opportunity for the vocals to move around into a lot of different oddity. And the little synth melody and cool bass part are just perfect. Great way to end an album (or at least the remaster?).

So, four stars. I love everything except That Voice Again, though I guess I’m slightly colder to the still superb Red Rain than the remainder of the material. There’s a lot to commend So for, and I think it’s comfortably Gabriel’s most unified effort to that point, even if it’s not my favourite. As for the whole pop/prog/SELLLLOUT debate... I really think the possibilities of (very commercially successful) pop music are much wider than people sometimes think, and here Gabriel has demonstrated that with an album of music that can’t really be categorised single-mindedly as pop, prog, rock or world. So is an album you should probably have, if only to bear witness to that.

Rating: Four Stars... virtually essential but not quite perfect.
Favourite Track: Mercy Street

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And that's a surprise for everyone.

@Rogerthat: yet to hear/see the Carnegie Hall performance, I'm afraid. I'll take a look at it when I can.


Edited by TGM: Orb - March 29 2010 at 11:27

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Ashes Are Burning, Renaissance, 1973

The thing that makes Ashes Are Burning a very special album for me is that it's not perfect. The songs' structures seem careless, even crude, and two occasional elements of the sound (chief writer Michael Dunford's acoustic guitar and any time Annie Haslam's wonderful, creamy soprano finds itself sprawling over a male harmony that doesn't really match up) simply don't blend with the album as a whole. And yet, in spite of these inadequacies and crudities, Ashes Are Burning is a spellbinding, compelling album. The music shines through.

Quickly summing up the band: John Camp (stop sn****ring at the back) is a jolting Squire-esque lead bassist with plenty of crunch and attack to cover the principal deficiency of keyboardist John Tout's classically inspired, cinematic piano and organ parts. Drummer Terrence Sullivan fills out the rhythm section very capably, if generally unremarkable, and Michael Dunford's sort of limp-folk acoustic is perhaps compensated for by his ability as a songwriter. But we couldn't forget singer Annie Haslam, whose clear soprano has a creamy, luxuriant quality; occasionally, it feels almost too rich, but even then, a real treat to hear. Once saw ‘Everything fusion' as a very fitting description of their music, and given their use of an occasional orchestra, strict classical piano, a chugging rhythm section and folk-based writing and subject matters, I don't think I can better that.

And this sound is best off in the opening/closing pair of the album. Can You Understand features possibly my favourite instrumental intro ever, with a gorgeous little piano motif pulsing away under the jarring, jabbing attack of Camp's bass, with all its various elements soaring away and then falling back into a tight, powerful, rich and complex arrangement. Two and a half minutes of the best music ever made. Thereafter, we see variously a rather irrelevant ten-second choral segue; a plain folk tune rolling into a more Gypsy-flavoured chorus, which is then instrumentally developed without particularly striking uses of either Tout's odd-sounding piano or the ornamental orchestra, which then slides back into a more deeply arranged variant of the folk tune with a blaring orchestra and Tout and Camp walking around on the chords behind it and now back to that wonderful opening theme with its parts overrun by violins, cellos, brass. Strangely enough, the intellectually interesting aspects of the song (a sort of abcCBA structure, where the capitals are orchestral) don't seem especially well-realised... the band's creativity seems to have gone out for a smoke whenever a bridge was needed, it flows pretty poorly, and yet, the contradiction of the album is present here: it's just fantastic. The individual sections are a delight, Renaissance are easily the most convincing incorporators of a classical orchestra in rock music (perhaps it's writing for Tout's noticeably classical presence that gives the orchestra something to latch onto), and that instrumental opening is so powerful that even the clumsiest transitions barely slow the song's emotional drive.

Well, since we're still recovering from that one, the sweet ballad of Let It Grow (admittedly, clichéd lyrics, but Betty Thatcher's word choice fits the tune very well) is a sweet follow-up, starring a remarkably calm piano and an absolutely winning vocal from Haslam, who moulds a lovely melody into a nuanced, full, gripping part. Camp, Dunford and Sullivan wander along in the background, and only Sullivan's precise ‘leave' (one of those cases where I'd love to know a drumming term) on the end of Haslam's melodies and band presence the cathartic, harmony-laden denouement feel particularly relevant. Very charming, though the instrumentation is often superfluous.

On The Frontier took a while to appreciate. Have to admit, I still find Dunford's acoustic a bit tinny on the intro, I don't think much of either the vocal arrangements (a sort of strange oil-and-water crossing of Haslam and Camp's (I think) vocals) or the lyrics. However, those seemingly essential elements don't really seem to matter that much; the band's instrumental strengths simply outshine it. Tout's lush piano (even his very stiff efforts at jazzing it up), Camp's ability to take up and then fill out all parts presented to him and Sullivan's solid sound and capacity for fills, and a very neat acoustic part on the end secure this as at least a positive impression.

But, altogether excellent, bright and bouncy, Carpet Of The Sun is a folk/pop tune substantiated by the fully-functional orchestra with a fluent harpsichord, an interesting drum part running along behind it, and, indeed. Haslam's vocal is gorgeous, delivering in a suitably uplifting format a suitably uplifting lyric. A song that smiles just about as broadly as this reviewer is comfortable with but which thankfully has very nice teeth.

At The Harbour is a strange contestant for my favourite tune of the album; it doesn't boast, it's not particularly stressing anything, it's about the aftermath and not the event. Piano introduction, a persistent, clear acoustic melody, a mournful harmonium and Annie Haslam's beautiful, haunted vocal... it's really an emotional piece, brought out by Thatcher's ambiguous lyrics. Eliot's 'new art emotion' seems an appropriate description.

Ashes Are Burning is the second extended treat for us here, and the powerful closer that matches Can You Understand blow for blow. It's far more coherent in its mixture of folk, rock and classical than the opener... at least, everything patches together very well, the number of great melodies, on celeste, piano, organ and bass is just extraordinary, a number of styles are touched upon but Sullivan pulls everything together into the rock camp, Haslam's lead vocal over an organ-and-pedals about eight minutes in is amazing, pure, powerful, haunting and the driving conclusion with a gorgeous blues guitar solo (courtesy of Andy Powell) is divine.

So, there you have it, a sandwich with the bread on the inside? Nevertheless, an album with a few flaws, real flaws, flaws that really should matter, that is pulled through by the power of its melodies, the individuality of its performers and the willingness to try new things. Something any music lover should take a look at sooner or later, and an example a lot of bands could do with... it's personality, not mere accuracy and coherence, that makes great albums.

Rating: Four Stars
Favourite Track: three contestants, of which Ashes Are Burning probably comes out as the winner.

Fool's Mate, Peter Hammill, 1971



Peter Hammill's solo debut is a veritable outpouring of things Van Der Graaf Generator weren't doing at the time... pop songs, positive songs, tuneful embellishment, songs with a select 'leader', songs with less-than-fantastic vocals and songs with naive, light-hearted lyrics. Thankfully, this lot is all taken with a hint of irony, distinct professionalism and a number of immensely capable musicians (you may know Fripp, Jaxon, Banton, Evans and Potter... the rest are from folk rock band Lindisfarne, I believe) who are given freedom to work and a generally solid production (well, the bass sound is a bit dull, but I said generally). And most of the songs themselves are pretty good, the weak points never drop beyond a bit awkward and the high points are superb. Worth having, sooner or, more reasonably, later.
 
Feedback bookend 1 and we're off with the immensely fun Imperial Zeppelin. With brisk rollicks between mock-philosophical, cartoonish rock, haunting and deeply unusual interplay between Jaxon, Banton and Evans and even an R&B-type all-vocal section, it's probably the best thing on the album. Hammill's vocals flick from screeching to humming to hurried to snide and mocking without an inch of quarter given. Superbly played, of course, and a real highlight.

Candle is one of the more clumsy Aerosol Grey Machine sort of ballads. The mandolin presence is its main prop, and the vocal melody is confused rather than Lost. Nice piano, but, really, a throwaway?

Happy has a fun, choppy organ melody that is drawn together in the verses, and supported by Banton's great tone, the delightfully compact interplay of the well-greased Van Der Graaf Generator line-up (they can play positive music, believe it or not) and a dancing vocal melody. And that drum-and-organ flourish on the end is just gorgeous.

Solitude is the first of the album's convincingly moody numbers, with a haunting acoustic running along with a strange watery vocal and a gorgeous drawn-out, longing harmonica. The bass part perhaps seems superfluous to the rest of the piece until it at last comes into contact with Martin Pottinger's drumming and the occasional odd violin shimmer, and if the lyrics aren't as tight as elsewhere, they compliment the mood. Innocent, lonely, but empowered.

Vision is a piano and voice piece by Hammill. Frankly, there's only one way those go for me. The piano sound is wonderfully full (Hugh Banton is one of the rare pianists ), the voice flicks into the picture with precision, harmony, melody and the adoring vulnerability that fills out the lovesongs on, say, the more developed Nadir's Big Chance.... 'be my child, be my lover, swallow me up in your fireglow... take my tongue, take my torment, take my hand and don't let go' might seem saccharine to the uninitiated, but it's a mood anyone who believes they've been in love can probably appreciate.

Re-awakening is the odd one out? The grandiose combination of thick organ and limited piano makes an impression, as does the rushing breath all over the verses. On the minus side, I'm not convinced there's really a great song beneath the instrumentation, and if the lyrics are fun, they're not really particularly song.

And now, Sunshine, which features our stars Jaxon and Fripp playing rather unusually conventional  bluesy parts with great vim and vigour and Hammill sliding all over a vocal with refreshing contrast and energy and a carefree jazz piano. One of those pieces so positive you can't help being dragged in.

Child is a piece driven by a jabbing acoustic with Hammill's more naive voice and lyrics striking through with sporadic power. But even if I feel a more constant vocal could really turn this into a classic, the current content is already very, very good: some of Banton's lush, detailed piano-work, casual and yet striking flute from Jaxon and an astonishingly beautiful understated solo from Fripp.

Summer Song In The Autumn... male alto type vocals, displaying a healthy vocal range along a nice lyric, I believe, and with the presence and dedicated interaction of all five of the Generator-men here, this has a much-needed snap, isn't taken entirely seriously and comes off as a fairly potent piece. Hugh Banton's organ pedigree again works for it.

Viking is a bit of harmless medieval-vibed pastoral music with little bite, charming acoustics, some Fripp backgrounds along with the occasional lush lead from him, frankly unconvincing lyrics but at least an earnest approach to the vocals that offers something inside it to appreciate. A mead hall with ambience but not nearly enough drinks? And some water sounds, because otherwise, a song about Vikings would be unconvincing.

The Birds is essentially another Hammill piano-and-voice piece, though this time augmented by the suddenly extraordinarily beautiful work of Fripp, more of Banton's wonderful piano tone (reminds me a lot of Toni Pagliuca's (Le Orme) approach to the piano...) and a constructive rhythm section (Evans' capacity to contribute in quiet songs over or under the obvious numbers is one of his best attributes). And the vocal has the rounded and haunting qualities which I can't help feeling some other songs here could do with. Wonderful stuff.

I Once Wrote Some Poems is a one-man conclusion with another quick-and-dirty feedback bookend tacked on. The acoustic part is convincingly tender and then jarring, and Hammill's ability to express himself vocally comes across yet more powerfully without other musicians crowding the picture... the lyrics are some of the best here. It ends the album sternly.

Note on bonus tracks: Van Der Graaf Generator rehearsals of early takes of the songs. Probably not worth re-grabbing the album for unless you're an absolutely fanatical completionist or really love the album.

I think a three is probably in order... sweet, a tad sentimental, undertaken with a suitable ironic detachment, and once you're familiar with the overwhelmingly rich cake that is every single Hammill solo album from Chameleon to Over, perhaps this musical brioche is a decent alternative to the brooding coffee-shop desserts of the early 80s. Long sentence, final meaning: be aware of what you're in for and take a look at some reviews of other, later, more experimental and probably better Hammill albums you don't have before picking up this charming but occasionally lacking endeavour.

One mostly superfluous mention: any more serious fans (I mean the bootleg-collecting, got every League of Gentlemen CD type) of Fripp or Banton could do with this as well... their performances are some of the album's most beautiful and understated moments.

Rating: A gentle three stars
Favourite Track: The Birds, I think

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There we go. I think I've decided to just hammer through all my Hammill for a while, because doing serial reviews is less hassle and more fun for making up obtuse metaphors and similes.

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Innuendo, Queen, 1990

I have to admit, as an at best partial devotee of Queen, Innuendo was basically a blind selection (I was completely unaware of the background, or how respected it was)... saw it in a store, picked it up. I also have to admit it's probably got more good songs on it than any album from 1990 has a right to. It being Queen, the vocals, guitar-work and most of the basic melodies are top notch, there are interesting ideas all around. It being Queen, the more meaningful the lyrics are trying to be, the more they annoy me. But there's a flaw I wouldn't have attributed to the other Queen material I've heard (Greatest Hits 1,2, 3, Queens I+II)... just about anywhere that something is repeated or not a lot is happening, something (generally a nonsense sound) is thrown in, even if a tasteful rest would have been fine. Most of said somethings are entirely unimpressive. Still, a good album, even if I can't help feeling that with a little less superfluous polish, the real qualities of the album would shine through far more.

Innuendo is big. Not only does it last about six and a half minutes, throw in surprisingly hard guitar tones and include the most rough and belting vocals of the album, it also features militaristic drumming and a damn flamenco interlude (courtesy of Steve Howe). OK, the lyrics aren't great, the drumming is a bit too lethargic for me, and a more defined set of keys wouldn't hurt but any song with that great a trio of guitar solos (May's reprise of Howe's flamenco theme is just amazing) is at least a minor classic.

Kicking onwards, pop song 1: I'm Going Slightly Mad is a wonderfully crazy little pop number, complemented by a rather odd synth atmosphere, some weird and wonderful guitar tweaks and an exceptional warped cabaret-sounding Mercury vocal. Headlong is a lot heavier, doesn't quite manage the same atmospheric pull, the major highlight is the trippy synth part in the instrumental break... the piece seems to be padded a bit beyond its potential, but it's still a fun song.

I Can't Live With You... well, no idea how to classify this one, Mercury's vocal twists and turns like a twisty turny thing and it is just perfect. It sort of seems to alternate between a darker bluesy part and a pop  chorus and then a slightly queasy set of guitar solos. A reserved yes. Don't Try So Hard is a fairly bland bit of Mercury pseudo-preaching which slips into the unbearably dim category... musically speaking, the verses are basically nice with a charming little guitar bit, smooth synths and a lush vocal, while the choruses/verse extensions are basically cheap and tacky. A reserved no.

And onto rock song 2: Ride The Wild Wind, which alternates between basically asinine and insanely cool... the driving main rhythm, the vocal twists at the end of that basically daft chorus are delicious, the guitar soloing is great. I'd guess I like the good bits just about enough to forgive how long the bad bits go on.

All God's People, On The Other Hand, is a soul-based track, which seems to assume you'll be wowed enough by May pulling out his trademark guitar sound and Mercury's vocal to forgive the limp harmonies and rather odious backbone of the song. Have to admit I'm a bit fonder of the heavier bits, but still, I can certainly live without this one. These Are The Days Of Our Lives is a rather better soft piece constructed around a worldy set of percussion, and the lyrics aren't trying so hard and prove much more simply touching. May's guitar parts are just gorgeous here.

Delilah is basically daft. I think you can't make a great song out of one guitar-miaow. Cute as the whole cat theme is, it remains a silly song. But still, a fairly nice silly song. I just find it difficult to be angry at a song about cats. We are a cat person.

Huzzah, now, Hitman. A surprisingly cutting guitar riff, which can basically hold up the song alone in combination with the neat mass vocal chorus. Well, I don't feel the vocal is the album's most creative, but it fits it nicely, and there isn't all that much diversity, but it doesn't really hurt it.

And even better, Bijou, which is basically a gorgeous May solo thrown over some very loose keyboard chords, plus a short and sweet vocal. Just about perfect. But even better, now, what we've all been waiting for, easily, easily the album's best song: The Show Must Go On. Haunting, dark vocals, precise fills and bass parts, an array of menacing synthesisers, weeping, but tremendously potent guitar... an entirely appropriate set of lyrics... it's simply an incredible song.

So, a variety of stuff, both in style and quality, and while there are a few things about Queen in general and this album in particular that annoy me, it's still generally very strong, and for the last two songs alone deserves a comfortable three stars. An altogether good album, and, even if you wouldn't consider yourself a big Queen fan (I don't), you could do worse than picking up Innuendo.

Rating: Three Stars, 10/15 or so
Favourite Track: The Show Must Go On

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@Crimson: good to know... I have got Coma Divine, which is actually very good, and I can Spotify the rest of their albums, guess I will, sooner or later...

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The Hazards Of Love, The Decemberists, 2009

 
Firstly, let me say that this was my introduction to the Decemberists, I had previously heard a lot of praise for them, and that may have ended up influencing my not-quite-appreciating the whole thing (for the record, I’ve since heard The Crane Wife, and I thought that album was generally very good). I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not really half as impressed by this album as the other reviewers here seem to be.

On the positive side, I recognise that it does have a few very good songs (the instrumentals and the Wanting Comes In Waves and Repaid sections), memorable main melodies and a boldness in developing and reprising a few melodies across the album (more of a melodies-stalking-characters-to-create-one-musical-and-lyrical-entity thing: Peter And The Wolf rather than Thick As A Brick).

My grievances are basically two-fold: first, that lots of the content just doesn’t seem to be adding anything to the table; yes, slight variations on established themes are appreciated when they can offer something new to the feel or mood of a piece; some of the embellishments here seem to me to simply be things that happen alongside the established themes, rather than actually altering or adding character to them. Secondly, the lyrics are a wreck and the vocals don’t help: ye olde disingenuous woodsy poetry with indiscriminate alliteration aplenty, telling a fairly loose and light story (one where things happen and that’s it) driven by a gaggle of stereotypes. To me, it appears imitative (of an idea rather than a precedent), uninteresting and thrown together with no sense of a poet’s discrimination. Now, the vocals are equally an issue: not the basic sound of the singers’ voices, but simply the fact that the parts they’re singing don’t appear to have much material. Essentially, the singers’ parts are the melody (which can vary from great to not that great) and trying a bit harder when you’re looking for a way to resolve the current bit. I like vocalists who actually contribute to the songs, have unique voices, are willing to show development from one verse to the next, who’ll throw themselves into the emotions of pieces rather than playing safe, and few of the vocals on the Hazards of Love manage any of those.

Now, for a rock opera, those problems are serious. For an album driven by a story, if you don’t make the story itself fascinating, it should probably have interesting characters, be well-written, be sung by great voices, take look at important issues, be advanced continually by the music or simply be so bizarre, strong and bold that picking apart individual pieces feels wrong... The Hazards of Love doesn’t seem to me to manage any of those, and for that, rather than a lack of good musical ideas, it really suffers in my eyes.

Prelude is exactly what you’d think it’d be, if you expected a bit of typical atmospheric brooding based on a dark organ sound. Just about non-descript enough to work as an introduction, and it sounds alright, but it doesn’t really add a huge amount to the album (other than expanding the opera references).

The Hazards Of Love 1 is a fairly nice Strawbsy acoustic-driven piece, with odd percussion adding a bit of flavour to a banjo and acoustic piece, and some of the vocals I described in my introduction. It does expand really nicely after its first couple of harmless minutes, with a neat drum part coming in. It’s a fairly good song, even if I’m not a huge fan of the vocals and lyrics.

A Bower Scene has both the album’s most awkward bit of tension-creation (I mean, it doesn’t seem to be done in a remotely interesting way, with ambling guitar and thick organ) and that heavy blues explosion after which is just right.

Won’t Want For Love is a real consolidation on that one, with a moody heavy blues sound emphasised by low piano notes (I have a thing for crisp, low piano notes) contrasting with a healthy female vocal and a really sweet chorus... I mean, the lyric is not something I’d admire, but the melody is very pretty and the drums provide a sort of continuity. William offers a suitably yearning response; Very neat indeed.

The Hazards Of Love 2 is, fairly obviously, based on the original piece of the same name, and with some more nail-biting lyrics and vocals, as well as one really awkward melody seemingly driven by the perennial alliteration fixation of this album (‘and we’ll lie ’til the corncrake crows’... rhymed with ‘clothes’ and complimented with the vocabulary choice ‘bereft’ and a bit of basic metonymy seems to me a very, very awkward line... at the time you least want it), it’s really not my favourite of the Hazards parts.

The Queen’s Approach is an appropriate half-minute instrumental interlude with a lone banjo over a subtle, melancholy keyboard. It sort of fits as a quick characterisation. The following piece, Isn’t It A Lovely Night, is just horrendous. Aside from a limp acoustic, and horrendous accordion, the female vocalist inhales audibly before just about every line (something that can annoy me in very slow-paced songs) and is following through an irksome singsong line (later on, you have a choppy and bland waltz following on from the same melody); a mildly redeeming, yearningly Gilmourish guitar part is the only feature I’d say I actually like of this one... and the lyrics are the most gallingly untrimmed yet (‘and here we made a bed of barbs and thistle-down, that we had found... to lay upon the dewy ground’... erk, a lesson in not setting too much stock in your rhyme scheme).

After that, thankfully, the album’s best piece washes out the aftertaste. The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid is a merging of the two songs... the fawn William taking a harpsichord-introduced, then pop-rockish, verse and chorus (with a really nice watery female vocal harmony) followed by the queen’s magnificent response (for the voice and a killer riff, and the lyrics just about work well enough for this). Both the longest and the best piece on the album.

An Interlude does what it says on the tin. But it does it really nicely (huzzah for mandolins).

The Rake’s Song is unabashed pop-rock, which isn’t bad, unless, for instance, you put the chorus as ‘alright, alright, all-right’. I mean, there are moments of severe cool-folk-rock syndrome, and then that chorus pops out again or I get bored of listening to the lyrics, which clearly suggest: this is the bad guy/menacing Act II begins!

The Abduction Of Margaret begins the trend of the second act imitating the first, with a slightly harder take of A Bower Scene complete with some gnarly guitar. The Queen’s back again for the next piece, with her incredibly neat motif and some supporting female vocal harmonies and splintering guitar. So, the Queen, as a rather over-protective mother, helps the bad man (boo!), and with much fairly blues organ solo, ends her second song as still the most musically appealing character of the album.

Annan Water takes us back to our bold, if slightly randy, anthropofawnic hero, in a more subdued mood and cutting a quick deal with the river. Aside from unimaginative vocals and a chorus with a slight hint of cheddar (organ does not make everything OK), it’s a good, reflective piece with a subtle churn in it.

Margaret in Captivity is a moody and slightly threatening reprisey piece alternated with the clarion call from Won’t Want For Love.

The Hazards Of Love 3 (Revenge). Following a Wanting Comes In Waves bit which clearly shows our brave and amorous hero giving the baddy a well-deserved thrashing. Immediately, thereafter: Singsong children’s chorus, and if I were being analytical, I’d say the harmless uplift of their playground harmony (again, it’s a Hazards Of Love theme after a somewhat needless wanting-comes-in-waves instrumental intro) was meant to contrast with the threat implied in the lyrics, and the notion that this fun condemnation to his children’s mercy and mockery is a crueller punishment for the Rake even more than unspeakable violence and torture would be. Alas, since I’m not, it’s certainly a cruel punishment to listen to it. Blech. Anyway, that offence to taste overshadows the truly excellent experimental and edgy work (and harpsichord) that fills out the end of the piece.

The Wanting Comes In Waves (Reprise) does what it says on the tin. Not entirely sure that it’s really needed here.

The Hazards Of Love 4 rounds off the story and is perhaps the most uninteresting thing on the album. The lyrics don’t work for me, the bass part is incredibly bland and I can’t say I find anything in the drums or the string additions, or the harmless positive chord it decides to leave us on. Without the nice tonight...tonight...tonight harmony and the delicate guitar solo, I’d be harsher on it, but those two components probably make it worth getting past the blandness that characterises this romantic conclusion. Not bad, per se, but I’m a firm believer in the principle that to produce a moving and touching piece you don’t have to all but abandon the creativity which The Decemberists often do show.

Well, it’s obvious that this is not my favourite album ever, and though there are some very nice songs on it, a fair percentage of it (say, 25%) sets off my *yech, don’t touch me* sensors for one reason or another and I really don’t follow the story emotionally, which seems to be the album’s basic aim: so, it’s a two rather than a three. Anyway, if you want to start your acquaintance with The Decemberists with a good album, I’d recommend The Crane Wife, because I’m not completely convinced that this is one.

Rating: Two Stars
Favourite Song: The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid or something like that.

Edited by TGM: Orb - September 01 2009 at 17:12

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Valentyne Suite, Colosseum, 1969

The leap from the talented but somewhat hamfisted Those Who Are About To Die to the chic, suave musical narrative of Valentyne Suite is a remarkable step for this early traditionally-rooted jazz/rock outfit. From the first crunchy guitar chords and the entrance of Hiseman's superb, laid-back, absolutely textbook drumming, it clear this album is something special, fun and unique. Get a cup of your favourite brew, connect Valentyne Suite to your CD player and *relax*.

The Kettle is punchy, classy, deceptively simple-sounding jazz rock. Some belters of bass solos from the criminally unknown Tony Reeves, quality wailing blues guitar, a great riff and Hiseman's ever-present supporting, classy drumming. The lyrics are mostly nonsense, but sound great and the general energy is just right.

Elegy is one of the album's most unusual pieces and, to be frank, it doesn't quite work for me. Litherland's vocals are best for me in very small doses, and the disjointed organ/sax interplay is clearly very clever but fails to go much beyond that. Not quite sure whether the violins are really doing much but everyone's kicking around nicely, and any band with the instrumental talent and taste Colosseum have naturally leave redeeming features all over the place, whether in the solos or a neat bit of interaction I didn't quite notice before.

Butty's Blues is, predictably enough, a blues. Nothing wrong with that and it is a very creative one. Dave Greenslade on organ brings the house down wonderfully with a biting harmonica-impression and the one-man-brass-section-sound of Dick Heckstall-Smith is not to be underestimated. Litherland's vocals, guitar and the attached lyrics are a perfect fit. The rhythm section, as always, is great. Love it to pieces.

The Machine Demands A Sacrifice is the most frantic and strange piece on side one, going for a sort of edgy, cutting vibe and actually hitting it very well. Wonderfully choppy organ that grooves in a way that takes a while to work into you, snarly vocals, a rhythm section that alternates tense aggression, avant-garde percussions and charmingly absentminded jazz with absolute fluency. Not to mention the menacing rebirth of the piece towards the end into a block of sound. Strange, but it really works.

And now, the big bit: Hiseman's entrance is simply a 'you're here' announcement. Crisp, fresh, warm percussion lines, a bit of Broadway style offering a cinematic overview in glimpses between the band's precise, coherent jazz improvisations. Dave Greenslade is on particular top form, adeptly tackling wandering vibraphone, glaring organs and an incredibly smooth piano trio with Dick Heckstall Smith's mournful saxophone and a mounting wall of expressive percussion. The ideas are just everywhere, playing is precise, sharp and you get the sense of a band who are truly in the zone. Just when you're in your comfort zone, one of the neatest rhythm section parts ever written thunders out of the woodwork in air-drumming ecstasy. And hey, that's like inverted classical distorted organ... I mean... wow, where is this...

The band simply has an astonishing capacity for this huge, improvisationally-rooted, many-part composition with roots in a huge number of styles coherently in unexpected and wonderful directions and then pulling it back together. Going through all the details would be a waste of my time and yours, but highlights include a Litherland-Reeves duet, almost each and every time John Hiseman inserts in a fill. Strictly in and of themselves, I think the bright first and destructive third parts are a bit better than the second, but it's the second that ties it all together and allows the third to seem so appropriate. An absolute triumph.

Onto bonus goodies (both lives, neither produced spectacularly, but both very audible): Arthur's moustache is an initially sluggish jazzy piece with what I think is a bass solo and a half slammed in the middle. You get an impression of what the band is doing, and that it's probably a good thing, even if the claustrophobic sound makes it fairly heavy going.

The more open Lost Angeles resembles, with its rolling vibraphone, the more pictorial bits of Valentyne Suite. Again, the extensive vocal bits don't really seem to serve the piece, but they're niceish, and Hiseman and, indeed, the whole band, seems to be on pretty much top form and we get some delicious guitar soloing. Worth hearing if you're a fan of the group.

So, props to an absolutely killer album. Only the slightly irksome presence of elegy is warding off a fifth star, but, for all that, you won't find a better other thirty minutes of music easily and for fans of musicians who know what they're doing, this is one of those albums you might not have but which contains half a dozen real virtuosos without the contagious impulse to show off at every possible juncture. Which isn't to say that they don't do just that more than sufficiently a lot of the time. If you don't have this album, your collection is incomplete.

Rating: Four Stars, possibly going to be revised to a five if I find myself warming to Elegy at some point in the future
Favourite track: First part of Valentyne Suite, hands down.

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Fear Of A Blank Planet, Porcupine Tree, 2007

My problem with Fear Of A Blank Planet is that it is an absolute non-event. I can go through an entire listening without thinking of a single bit that I either particularly like or dislike... a fairly tame set of vocals (going for a representative non-voice, and since the lyrics aren't representative, it basically ends up being a complete non-representation) and the ridiculous preconceptions of the lyrics (I mean, seriously, 'X-box is a god to me'...) admittedly don't help it much. No complaints with the performance, nor really with the compositions; it just continues to make no impression, except for the occasional nail-biting lyric.

Keys and a slightly Opeth-flavoured acoustic introduce a very much alt-rock number. Somehow, despite a number of individual features that seem appealing (Harrison's drumming, cool harmonies, memorable melodies, birdcall guitars, some ornamentation), the overall texture is a sort of cold soup (not mushroom, though: that tastes even better cold), which, despite nice components and a bit of forethought, has been left out on the side in the concept album kitchen too long to hit the spot.

Way Out Of Here, as a cooler number, seems to work better. Menacing electronic throbbing creates an undercurrent for a slightly Quadrophenian verse (perhaps the theme, perhaps the style but that's what it reminds me of) and a great entrance by Harrison. The sort of slow-metal groove of the chorus is effective; the guitar solo and that plain dull metal bit entirely unhelpful... I mean, why do I want to hear a generic metal riff in the middle of a pop song... it just doesn't add anything? All in all, a bigger ratio of 'oh, that's nice' to 'where did the last seven and a half minutes go', but I'd still be surprised if it's a 1:1.

Sentimental sees a sort of effort at a moment of brief hope in the o so real wasteland of desolate computer-screen-starers who no longer care about anything with a cheery piano, and more or less non-depressive melodies. Admittedly, the vocals seem as doom-and-gloom as ever (I'll spare the lyrics; you probably know what I think by now). All in all, it's a fairly harmless alt-rock song with a particularly decent set of background guitar solos and still a non-event.

Anesthetize is like an epic poem in that it's long and has a suitable amount of repetition... it's also a bit like a stool with two legs, where the missing leg is quite important. The vocals are just about blank, but somehow not blank enough to convince me that I should forgive their content (moderately loong syllables with no colour or flavour all over). There are a few, rare, really spine-tingling moments where the whole band pulls together in a manner just about moody enough to convince you that, even if the album's message is ridiculous, if it were about something else, you'd be impressed. Lifeson's guest solo is neat, as is the burst of jamming over a speaker-switching riff. These flashes of excellence meet with the dreaded repetition as a springboard:  'relax... I know that was a bit quick, so calm down, wait until you think you're in your comfort zone... we had a metal riff... have it again... we might develop it when we're sure you're OK with it... ready... alright, have a bit more content... it's OK...'

Maybe I'm just more picky about what should be in a long song than when I first started, and as said, there are some glorious moments in Anesthetize but the repeats, the first couple of sets of vocals and the lyrics do put down what at times emerges into something of a quality, structured epic. Admittedly, the structure's just about lost on me (meaning: only the immediate contrast makes an impression). Again, it could make a bigger impression than it does, but it's on the nice side.

My Ashes is a small step up for the album's more friendly material, augmented by a set of lyrics I can conveniently pretend are about something completely different, a nice vocal melody, a contrast between the piano and guitars and some synth strings which I fear criticising in case it actually turns out to be Fripp (who later on makes some suitably bizarre soundscapes). Harrison's entrance darkens and hollows out and cools the whole thing in a manner pretty typical of the album. Another not-really there track.

Sleep Together features more of the throbbing synths (and a great sound on them: a nod to the producer to make up for all the nasty things I've been saying about the lyrics), as well as metallic moments that are credible and add to the song. Some sly oddball guitar licks, a constant keyboard presence and thick metallic drumming add up to a slightly more exciting ending to a generally bland album. Even if a Midsomer Murders incidental music type melody is drawn out a bit and the concept remains the just victim of a Harold-The-Barrel scene where I harangue it to just jump already and leave the rest of us to deal with more menacing and genuine types of angst. Still, musically, it's not bad.

Writing all this, I've realised that my problem with this album is simply that I can't take it seriously... the lyrics seem like a parody more than an insight, and consequently all the concept album paraphernalia... picked voices, moments of contrast and triumph and so forth, fall flat. Anyway, if you don't care about lyrics, or spend more than 50% of your waking hours complaining about the sinister results of the internet via the medium of progressive rock forums, this is probably not a bad place to start with Porcupine Tree... I mean, I can see how, if I could ignore the concept and pretend it was about hobbits or tantric scriptures or how you got Christopher Lee to add voiceovers or something a bit more credible, I'd possibly really like this album. As it is; two stars for an album that really, my collection would be just fine without.

Rating: Two Stars
Favourite Track: Anesthetize or Sleep Together, I guess.

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Much shorter, see

Edited by TGM: Orb - July 24 2009 at 02:13

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The Future Now, Peter Hammill, 1978

StarStarStar (Star)

The Future Now is maybe a moment in Peter Hammill's career when that improvisational edge is lost (only for a moment and only in part and only maybe... it's rather that the improvisation is expressed in ways other than the vocals... though vocal material from the same year by him is as out there as anything); every song seems clearly thought out, down to the vocal, down to the guest soloists' tone, and there are no vestiges of the hell-raising Van Der Graaf Generator compositions or the quaintly philosophical acoustic pieces here. Everything is direct. The lyrics, for one, are angry; with critics, musicians, the music business, fans, the world, politicians, apartheid, religion, science and himself. Unremitting, recalcitrant anger underpins a lot of seemingly careless songs and this undercurrent gives a unique edge to the album which makes up for occasionally cheap imagery and much blunter comparisons.

Musically, it's not consistent in quality, neither over the album itself, nor over various listens... one time I'll find myself enraptured in the mocking imagery of something like Energy Vampires, the next I'll wonder why I'm listening to it. I think, most of the time, everything from If I Could onwards is strong to stunning, and that's also where the most bizarre material seems to be concentrated. Hammill's instrumental talents extent to a newly independent bass, guitar (both acoustic and electric) and more extensively orchestrated synthesiser, with a piano thrown in once or twice... I think the drums are programmed rather than played, but they're not especially common anyway. Guest performances from David Jaxon and Graham Smith (especially) offer strong confident contrast to this songwriter's effort, and you have another element of contrast between the two broad categories of song -artistically embellished songs and songfully embellished art tracks. Lastly, a word for the vocals; the new thing about them seems to be both a masterfully captured resigned tone in a few of the songs as well as a much expanded range of mass and harmonised vocals; there's also a general trend of deeper and more real vocals. Less acrobatics and drama, more backbone; it's a trade-off, certainly, and it threw me at first, but once you get into this new voice, it is as beautiful and individual as the old one (and, for the sake of completeness, some live pieces from '78 on the unofficially released Skeletons of Songs bootleg have the best vocals I have ever heard... it's not that he can't pull off those unrestrained dramatic pieces, but rather that he's trying something new for the new studio material).

The near-casual rocker Pushing Thirty fits on a border between smugness and mockery so casually and cleverly that that alone is almost winning. Big thick bass and jagged odd-sounding guitars with a sort of jumpy piano are the focus, while the caricaturing vocal is followed by a strained Jaxon sax sound and a laidback drum part. All in all, clever lyrics and an interesting mood redeem a slightly disappointing opener. And I don't particularly like that sax sound... I really get the sleazy vibe I think it's going for, but that doesn't quite make me like it. The defiance, the fun and the satire all come across superbly, but I don't think it does justice to the album that follows it. As always, with this album, it's an impression over two or three particular listens -on others it's been good, exceptional, flaccid and adequate.

The finger of The Second Hand is now pointed firmly at rock musicians, and with a much better Jaxon performance gracing it, the tone being a little more graceful and with a lot more intricacy and contrast. A drum pattern, basic yet oddly appropriate and occasionally varied, underpins it. The downcast, non-prominent acoustic is supported by a more prioritised bass and some non-commital e-bow or synthesiser work. The instrumentation feels more like a detail than a key element, and other than Jaxon, all the attraction is Hammill's sort of spoken-sung vocal, with a quiet brain-bleeding-out-slowly vibe and alternating neglect and concern. Very hard to express or examine, but when it gets through, it does work its way in. The lyrics are a double-edged sword, with metaphor occasionally falling flat and occasionally augmenting the piece, but other than that slight slip, it isn't a take I've seen elsewhere before and the direct statement is superb. Another piece that isn't really remarkable in its own right, but it's interesting enough not to drag the album down. Note that when I first tried to write the review for this one, I was very complimentary of it -the album has different things for different moods, it just doesn't often all come together at the right time.

Trappings is a marked step-up, in my view, with some incredible shrill, disappearing and distorted mob vocals contrasting a flat and snide basic vocal and its companions, more floral and low, all fitting together into one really unique overall voice. Well, the vocals are one of the real highlights. The lyrics (four legs good, music biz bad) are also a step up, not because the words on paper are of themselves stunning, but because they fit the music and the vocal stylings perfectly... lines like 'he's a prisoner, in a gilded cage' or 'he's a man of the people, as long as the people don't talk back!' work not only because they're basically good, but because they're delivered cohesively and with an entertainment value that doesn't detract from the basic point of the song. And the instrumentation has also pulled together; all the pieces feel like they're needed... the gradually cohering acoustic with a neat melody, the snarling electric (and a great individual tone... yes, Hammill's not the cleanest electric guitarist, but by Over and certainly by The Future Now, he can express himself on electrics better than most), decorative piano, and most of all an immediate and punctuating bass part with a brief solo... it's all one song with a top notch bit of arranging and it succeeds in the way that both the previous two didn't.

And Mousetrap (Caught In) doesn't let up on this; if anything, it's even better arranged, with that gorgeously ethereal operatic-sounding synth, a very clean piano base with perfectly measured lines, ghostly echo coming off it, and a stronger ARP that contrasts and compliments those piano melodies. And the lyrics, now introspective, are Hammill in his element. Emotional, direct and individual (admittedly, 'all the world's a stage' is not new -but there's certainly a direct meaning and interpretation of that which another song using that idea hasn't quite got. 'Every time... that I go to turn the pages of the calendar, I can see that I'm not really going anywhere.' That hits home (even if I'm still young enough not to deserve the right to think that yet). The vocals are just perfect here... clean, with a mood developing through the song, and achieving an emotionally overwrought state through very neat vibrato, attention to detail and a strong melody... the live recordings I've heard are darker, more aggressive and barer, and both angles fit the content and the idea so strongly that it's difficult to choose between them. This might catch it, if only for the tasteful synthesiser. From strength to strength.

Energy Vampires was something I loathed at first. Weird sounds, all over the place, comic vocal parts, ridiculous lyrics ('excuse me while I suck your blood, excuse me when I phone you, I got every one of your records, man, doesn't that mean that I own you?' -I mean, I kind of like the overall sound, but the content is both serious and ludicrous at the same time and it initially makes for very odd listening'). However, I've gotten over that, and the main riff, acoustic with a reverb detailed echoey contrast floating into a thudding bass is just fantastic. The song also includes an astounding high-pace performance with some incredible yodelling solos from Graham Smith (who coined the title, coincidentally), who contributes some amazingly beautiful, haunting sounds in an incredibly versatile moment in the middle of the song and also a substantiation of the basic theme with a thicker violin sound. Musically, one of my favourite pieces on the album. Lyrically, I've now got to the point of happily ignoring most of it. Vocally, again, very good, with more of the mass vocals and one astoundingly vulnerable lonely outcry contrasts all the previous mockery and multiple-part deadpan delivery. Coincidentally¸ this song's bass work appears to me sort of as a forerunner for later bass-heavy songs like Last Frame, and yet I have altogether no idea what to make of it. The violin performance is killer, though, and any fan of progressive violin work would be crazy to miss this one.

If I Could is one of those songs that stands out for its sincerity as much as its content; the simple plea and explanation is its own declaration, and though everything else is wonderful, it's this idea that carries it. A gorgeous, sliding Graham Smith violin adds exoticism and bearing to a wonderful-sounding acoustic part (the production as much as the part is very enjoyable). Another clean vocal and another set of mass choral harmonies, this time mostly in a low to mid register, making the higher vocal harmonies and the incredible sustained notes at the end even more intense... various live attempts to substitute for that harmonic attack are always interesting, but can't quite match the way the original just works. One of those songs I can't really judge or criticise, and I wouldn't want to, even if I could.

The Future Now is the second absolutely solo piece, a riveting anthem with a majestic guitar over a dignified piano (at one point it feels like it's taking the sort of role you'd expect from Tubular Bells), clustered synths offering a sort of hymnal significance to a roaring protest song. An incredibly pretty piano and an incredibly edgy guitar come together to make a dark interlude, a screaming, stabbing guitar and bass emphasise the vocal break, gorgeous choral vocal harmonies back significant parts of the song. I mean, Hammill himself has said that this is the sort of sound he was aiming for and even if it takes a while to sink in, this is not a cheap pop song, it is serious business and when it sinks in it is just about perfect. And that's just the music and production: the vocals, equally grand, but with a hint of underlying darkness, roaring and confident and intense, no holds barred, hitting indignance and aspiration with no excess or embellishment. It's exact but has a spontaneous edge and it works perfectly. And the lyrics:
'O blind, blinded, blinding hatred of sex, race, religion, colour, country and creed
They scream from the pages of everything I read
You just bring me oppression and torture, apartheid, corruption and plague
You just bring me the rape of the planet and joke world rights at the Hague'
I mean, how many 'prog' songs are this direct, meaningful and real? For all the pretension Hammill's poetry is occasionally accused of, it's hard to argue that he didn't have ideas. All in all, The Future Now is a song I completely didn't musically understand at first (though the solid version with The K Group on The Margin was much easier to appreciate) but with a little thought and time to adjust I've grown to appreciate its power. Great electrics, coincidentally.

Still In The Dark is perhaps par for the course, nothing awkward or abject, but really, other than the insightful and individual lyric and an expressive vocal, it doesn't excel. A piano song, the piano filling the breaks in the voice as much as the reverse. Additional e-bow and synthesiser offer an instrumental and sonic originality to a piece that is compositionally accomplished but not compositionally thrilling. The message:

And if that fairly conventional number seems at the time of its arrival as a sort of representation of the things the second side is going for, this is turned on its head as dramatically as possible. Mediaevil cuts in, with the angry choirboy's revenge (not my phrase *click. Click. Click... the sound of the search function*... thanks to Refugee for that one). The mass harmonies are now shrill, mocking, and sarcastically Gregorian (well, perhaps not exactly but it captures that mood), encircling a lone, bitter and stabbing lead vocal. The lyrics take a surprising double twist from a very sharp, if rather normal (compared to things like Still Life or Gog) mockery of organised religion and embezzlement with a medieval backdrop and texture, and then it moves on bitingly to the media with the same destructive glare: technology glorified, sex devalued, individuality still suppressed by mass deception, nuclear weapons prolific... the message, that we need to wake up and do something about it is powerful and direct, and there is a real originality to the comparison (well, perhaps the comparison is not entirely new... and I've seen and read similar things; but I haven't heard that sort of comparison conveyed as a lyric... it's just not done) and the musical style (it's mock-medieval, but with as unmedieval a lead vocal as you can get and some brilliantly warped harmony choruses). A real message, managed intelligently, enjoyably and artistically: is there anything else a song needs to do?

And those who are strange
Are still locked in asylums
And a sterile pope proscribes the pill
And those who are rich
Are still getting richer
And those who are poor still foot the bill

(lyrics moment here... seems true as ever today)

A Motor-Bike In Africa is even stranger. A rhythmic mess, with a roaring motorbike doubling as thick layers of tribal percussion (such a clever rhythm), an increasing layering of twisted production, percussion, vocals and harmony vocals under a low and menacing lead voice. Again, meaningful lyrics: just because you're messing around with sound, you don't need to sing about Sun Gods to make it work... this time attacking apartheid and colonialism. Another aspect of Hammill's originality... like the later work of Peter Gabriel, though even more eclectically, he's able to move into relatively type-cast genres in a fashion other artists wouldn't think of... move to World Prog?

The Cut is a song that is nothing like a song. I don't think I've got much more to say. There's a melody underlying the vocals, which are intentionally disinterested. There's an acoustic part, guitar 'soloing' (really, it's working with the sounds guitars can produce. On the other hand, the melodies cut off and jump around unexpectedly, the sounds vary maddeningly and a conclusion meets with a completely noise-based reopening that seems somehow to continue the song. Truly crazy but it does work brilliantly before it segues into Palinurus, creating a sort of weird kinship between the two.

Palinurus is another song that does manage to resemble a song most of the time. A sonic whirr is met by a longing harmonica (also Hammill, and perfect for its content) and a smooth piano melody with matching accents and counterpointing synth whirrs. The vocal and the lyrics, despite the reference to the Aeneid (overrated commercial dross; the synth-pop of the Augustus' time), are some of the most passionate and disarming on the album, with a full demonstration of Hammill's range. The essential four components of the song: synth, piano, harmonica, voice fit together so well and neatly that at the first listen you almost don't notice it. Another triumph, and a great note to end on.

Completely solo takes of If I Could and The Mousetrap (Caught In) from the Skeletons of Songs bootleg more than match up to the studio material (I think they, though different from the studio material, benefit more by not needing comparison with it), with an incredible passion in the vocals, some of Hammill's unique grating growl and strong, clear vibrato. The stripped back versions also really display of just how pretty those acoustic and piano parts are and the basic strength of the lyrics sung. These stripped down versions reveal a lot about the songs and offer an emotion and vocal variety that is simply astonishing. A real bonus addition, though slightly incongruous with the end of the album proper.

Obviously, I speak from the point of view of an enthusiast. I've got about twenty of his albums (including live ones), I've heard bootleg and live material, I'm kicking myself for missing the VDGG tour early this year. Consequently, it's somewhat difficult for me to say how essential a disc like this is... people who aren't fans of the earlier and more accessibly extreme solo efforts possibly won't understand this, and even I don't particularly like the first two tracks. A strong solo effort that is a worthwhile purchase for any serious progressive rock fan (how many good, well-known and clearly progressive albums are kicking around in '78 anyway?) and one of the more obvious directions for the Hammill fan to branch out in. Two top notch violin performances add another area of specialist interest, as does the use of production as a real tool in its own right. Rating is consequently a bit of a problem: I'm offering a complimentary three star in the same way as I did to the excellent Nadir's Big Chance -I might enjoy these two more than a number of acknowledged classics which I've possibly rated higher, but the appeal is maybe not one for the site in general and there are some weaknesses on both which are just about enough to bring the albums down a notch.

I stress again, despite a 'low' rating, this is thoroughly worth getting.

Favourite Track: ask me four weeks ago and I'd have had a decisive candidate on any given listen... now, say, maybe The Future Now, If I Could or The Mousetrap (Caught In). It's just not one of those albums with just one song I think 'this is it!' to... there are four or five with very different merits, and choosing one isn't something I'd do. A nod to the Skeletons of Songs take of Mousetrap as well... just incredible.

Rating: three stars on the 'hesitate downwards' rule... four for the general Hammill fan and me personally. Would probably have been four if I didn't want to recommend another fifteen Hammill albums highly as well, so some sort of discrimination is probably worth trying. An 11/15 seems about right.

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Now, I took a look at my old review of Nadir's Big Chance (and that's going in the record player, time for some embarrassing drumalong) just before rounding off the conclusion here and it's about 2/5 the length of this one (another three thousand worder). Now, seriously, I'm not trying to write long reviews, and I'm aware it probably stops some readers from bothering. The reason I write reviews so much longer these days is that my ears, my understanding, my background knowledge, my base for comparison is more than 5/2 times larger, and cutting out thoughts isn't something I like doing... plus, there are some albums that are always going to get longer reviews.

So, gentle reader (if I've any left), I feel obliged to ask:

1) would you like me to cut the size down a bit? (these are still going to be 1,000 to 1,500 words in any case... I'm not a commercial reviewer so minimalism doesn't really feel necessary)
2) On the grounds I'm not writing a lot of reviews and I'm in a patient mood at the moment, I can probably fix up the reviews here with cover art for quick reference. Any point in doing that?
3) Hammill/other/Hammill/other sound good? I think that's what I'll be doing for a while... lots of unreviewed Hammill albums, not all that much cash for new shinies. I can also, fortunately, Spotify things, though, so if anyone's got a particular recommendation or request, there's a good chance I can check it out... depending on the style/importance of production, I may or may not want to write a review based on headphones or lousy computer speakers.

Edited by TGM: Orb - July 17 2009 at 11:32