I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Pfeh, I seem to be on a roll.

A review of Hendrix Live At L'Olympia can be found http://www.progarchives.com/Review.asp?id=212391 I lacked the motivation to put it up here because I'm still working out how to review live albums.

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Three Of A Perfect Pair, 1984

(but a good two stars... fans only in the sense that you really need to be on the band's wavelength to enjoy it, and that you couldn't be criticised for not being on the band's wavelength)

My big criticism’s of 80s Crimson’s last studio effort are two-fold. One: it sounds much better live. Two: it sounds much worse in the studio. The first side consists of, largely, decent pop songs plus a calmer ambient number, the second of three weird instrumentals and an absolutely thrilling Belew freakout. Everyone involved, of course, plays excellently, the production is strong. The songs, however, really come out of their shell live, and this studio thing ends up rather as a thing of interest than of beauty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good, sometimes enjoyable music, but its artistic pull is greater than its emotional one.

Three of a Perfect Pair, the opener, showcases some of the pop capabilities of 80s Crimson: they make an obtuse song catchy. The guitar loops are eclectic as anything, Fripp’s solo sounds like a UFO’s malfunction, Levin comes up with a crisp, cold bassline, and Bruford’s drumming is irritatingly difficult to follow in its own way. And yet it’s a very sympathetic, winning and catchy song. The lyrics are fairly good, following in the ‘awkward in theory: but we’ll make it work’ principle of 80s Crimson. Levin’s devastating groove is a highlight, the switches between verse and chorus are clear, well-prepared and effective, and the vocals work just right. Excellent.

Model Man is going after the same ideal, I suspect, but it doesn’t succeed as well on either the weird or the catchy bit. A deliberately quirky and extremely subtle guitar part underlines the chorus bit, Levin provides some more memorable bass/stick/whatever parts, Belew’s voice is still great, but he doesn’t use it as effectively, and the lyrics aren’t as individual as some he pulls out. Finally, a note about Bruford’s performance on this one: it’s not dazzling in the conventional sense, in a way it can be seen as pretty bland and a one-trick-pony. However, the sheer feel and detail he manages to put into the crescendos at the start of the chorus bit is awe-inspiringly new, and show a control of sound which few progressive drummers can really boast.

I’m afraid I can no longer listen to the studio take of Sleepless. I just can’t. Not because it’s bad, but simply because it is a ghastly, insipid shadow of the roaring dance/industrial number on Absent Lovers: Live In Montreal. The studio version’s big highlights are the complex rhythm parts being played a bit more clearly, and the bing-abingbing guitars. Belew’s voice is back in force, the lyrics are a bit light, but they fit the song well enough. Again, Bruford is working with sound more than material, which suits some better than others. Anyway, a great song, but the version on Live In Montreal is simply leagues ahead in terms of energy, force and compactness. Also, the band’s only ‘hit’, for some reason.

Man With An Open Heart is another committed pop song, albeit with Crimson trademarks throughout, including some very complete guitar phrases, some of the Tama electronic drums coming out to good effect, and a memorable and someone sarcastic bass part. The vocals are maybe less wowing than they have been elsewhere, and the song ends up as more of a kitsch piece than a stunner.

Nuyages (What Which Passes, Passes Like Clouds) is an atmospheric piece with blanketing synthesised or guitar-synth (or something) sounds and a gloopy, complex rhythm part filling out the expanses of sky. The highlight, though, is the superb Spanish-sounding guitars, later shifted to a full, mournful electric. A clear and interesting experimental and emotive piece, maybe this incarnation doesn’t always have the force that Wetton/Fripp/Bruford/Cross carried, but they’re still producing good, interesting music.

Industry is a similar creature. Again, the synth-things are ubiquitous and blanketing. On the other hand, there’s a chilling, militaristic bass part from Levin, vicious energy in the guitar part, and some muted breakaways by Bruford, as well as a more incisively vicious guitar solo. This is sort of the dark counterpart to Nuyages, and a fairly neat opening to the experimental side of the album.

It transitions smoothly to the insane, enticing guitar-lines of Dig Me. Belew’s distorted, metallic vocal mockingly rattles off the tale of an abandoned guitar, and the chaotic control of Bruford and Belew gives a uniquely gripping effect. The plain, almost folk-tinged, style of the chorus contrasts interestingly with the more unusual material, and the immense skill of all the players involved comes out here if you listen carefully. A gripping, out-there monster of a track. Vital listening for Crimson fans

The potent No Warning is another of the more atmospheric numbers, I’m afraid. To its credit, it is very good, with a real soloistic attack from Bruford that he’s been restraining for most of the 80s Crimson line-up, as well as thumping bass and tense, moody guitars wailing away in the background. Dark and effective.

A twisted quote from Larks’ One opens Larks’ Three, which hints at the attack and verve that live 80s Crimson had, producing a full band beast in a way that you feel Belew/Bruford/Fripp/Levin generally tried to avoid. A particularly gritty guitar wails on at times, and the general effect is strong, though not overwhelming in the way that the first two parts were.

The bonus goodies aren’t stunning, a light Barber-Shop Quartet is hilarious, Industrial Zones A and B are forgettable and Sleepless is a great song, but clearly the band were so excited about their underground hit that they’ve put three mixes in here. The Dance Mix is the most interesting in its own way, but the version of Absent Lovers is basically the definitive one for me.

Listening to this one again, the thing that’s most impressed me is the roundedness of the players. The precise detail in their parts is truly impressive, even for a non-musician like me. Unfortunately, the songwriting here is rarely as strong as that of Discipline or even Beat, with most of the atmospheric pieces not registering in the brain at all after they’ve finished, and only two truly good pop numbers. A very interesting album to listen to, but Absent Lovers: Live At Montreal is the essential 80s Crimson purchase and this is, if you have that, little more than an occasional curiosity listen, something to be admired perhaps more than it is to be enjoyed. Two stars from me, but keep in mind that I definitely appreciate the album (and it’s a damn sight better than some I’ve thrown three stars at), I just wouldn’t even try to recommend it to someone who isn’t otherwise interested in 80s Crimson.

Rating: Two stars, I’m afraid, not poor, but definitely a fans’ selection rather than a general choice

Favourite Track: Dig Me

Great reviews! Keep them coming. I like the lengthy song by song descriptions and have used that in a few of my own reviews; however I'm trying to move away from solely that type of review. I feel if I can summarize the music and mood of the album while describing highlights, then it will be just as effective. While helpful, I'm thinking now a simple description of the songs doesn't give the music itself justice, as no review really can.

As for your reviews, very detailed and insightful. Your rating system tends to give your reviews more validity

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Deep Purple In Rock, 1970

Probably going to raise a few hairs with this one, but here goes. In Rock is clearly considered a seminal hard rock/metal album, and understandably so. It’s dirty, heavy, a bit groundbreaking, has a couple of killer tunes and some of the best straight musicians out there on it. Unfortunately, being heavy and well-played doesn’t necessarily make for a consistently stunning album (coincidentally, the progressive leanings aren’t jump-out obvious here, sure, they’re there, but it’s a clear virtuosic hard rock album first and foremost). First off, let me say that the opener Speed King is 42,633 types of awesome, all the songs are listenable, solid, and have some pretty good moments (as well as the odd killer riff), but none of the others is really an especial highlight for me. Clearly a must-have if you’re a hard-rock person or simply love a plain instrumental/heaviness showcase for what it is, even if you aren’t, the historical import of In Rock probably makes it a must, however, from a personal point of view, nothing more or less than a consistently pretty good album with one blowaway song and a couple of other very impressive ones (Flight Of The Rat, Hard Lovin’ Man).

As I said, Speed King is simply leagues ahead of the rest of this disc, it’s leagues ahead of just about any other hard rock I’ve heard... the keening, forceful, hurtling solo from Blackmore, the reverent organ, and then the all-out ear-blasting take on rock’n’roll, with thunderous but tight drumming and Gillan belting out with all possible verve the mixture of dirty blues and mock-Presley lyrics adds up to one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, hammering through the speakers right into the gut. A cool organ/guitar duet fills up an instrumental break while Glover’s bass puts out some more churning lines, before the song slides off into its anarchic conclusion. The energy, the riffs, the soloing and the feel are all fantastic, and an absolutely killer sound from the production adds to it. Easily the best thing on the album, in my view, and worth the price of the whole thing.

Bloodsucker is remarkable mostly for Gillan’s screaming ‘Oh nonono!’, but, to be fair, the riff is pretty memorable and well constructed, even if it wallows a bit, and the whole vocal performance is quite cleverly done. The obligatory instrumental break, in spite of some cool Blackmore soloing and a neat flourish from Lord is so disjointed it virtually loses my interest, and the only change for the return of the verse seems to be an annoying vocal effect. Not bad, but hardly a standout.

The iconic Child In Time, while not as impressive to me as to most others, it seems, does deserve its status in a way. Delicate, but gradually building in power, a great, defined organ tone from Lord, and a much more low-key and accessible vocal from Gillan, perhaps showing off a bit more of his range and contribution to the band, it’s an understandable classic and a good song. Really, though, I think the first few minutes are merely nice developments of one melody, and only after that do we come onto the real gold of the harder-rocking mid-section, complete with a slightly meandering, but nonetheless great fun, solo from Blackmore. A return of the vocals, with an ever-excellent rhythm section, marks a considerably more moving and powerful revival of that melody with a newfound sense of direction in the rhythm section and Lord’s more chaotic organ-work. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good song, but not, for me, the classic which it’s often made out to be.

Flight Of The Rat is another pure rocker, with a hell of a kicking riff, a good vocal, more solid drumming and extremely neat funk-tinged solos from Blackmore and Paice stuck into the mix. The energy is back, and only an overly noodlesome Lord solo brings the song down a bit for me. Approaching the opening in terms of general coolness.

Into The Fire... well, Bloodsucker wallowed only a little, Into The Fire takes it to a whole new level of extended, awkward, shuffling riff with an obvious effort at both seriousness and heaviness, which comes off instead as laboured and plain daft. Basically unimpressive, not even really redeemed by a Blackmore solo, and for once Gillan comes across as a liability rather than an asset.

Living Wreck opens with a cool solo drum part, before a Hammond swipe brings it forwards, and though a particularly cool bass part comes through the mix, the opening and the swipes are definitely the song’s most memorable bits. The riffs are heavy and clear, though one is clearly better than the other, I have mixed feelings about the vocals, the more rhythmic use of the drums is great, and the lyrics don’t do much for me. One of Lord’s better moments, and overall a good thing.

Hard Lovin’ Man begins with kicking riffs and some ferocious organ dissonants, before Gillan kicks in with a slightly watery but nonetheless energetic performance, and it continues as a sort of showcase piece in its own way, with more great work from Paice, a grinding, albeit unconvincing, organ from Lord, a classy and collected solo from Blackmore, and some of the album’s arguably most progressive moments (mainly messing around with sound effects and production, nothing Hendrix hadn’t done earlier), before heading off to a noisy conclusion. Good stuff, by and large.

Black Night opens with a surprisingly calm riff, before Jon Lord’s hazy organ latches on and Ian Gillan throws in his fairly fun set of vocals. It’s essentially a slightly volumed-up pop song, with a very neat drum part from Paice and a small, but neat organ solo as well as the immense ability of Blackmore wailing off without all too much direction. Memorable and fun, but not an outstanding number. The rest of the bonus material is either studio chatter or forgettable/missable. I’d guess it’s worth getting the 25^th Anniversary remaster for anyone more enthralled with the band than me, though... it has a lot of bonus goodies.

In short, could do with more direction (especially the solos... for a band so strong, the solos manage surprisingly little other than showing the skill of the players), a bit more balance and a bit more real atmosphere rather than plain musicality and heaviness (a criticism I’ve levelled at just about every hard rock album I’ve heard, not just this one). Undeniably very good most of the time, but not my favourite style of music, and perhaps not essential for fans of progressive rock who aren’t so interested in a general understanding of classic rock. A conservative three stars from me on a personal level, but four for historical importance/doing what it sets out to do.

Rating: Three Stars subjectively, perhaps four if we’re trying objectivity.

Favourite Track: Speed King

Prog reviewer in pop love scandal

OK, after the mild confusion of this page for the last few days, I'm going to link the reviews I don't have the energy to repost and see if Open Office can't screw with the site in the way word apparently can.

Thanks, Kotro, and I'll probably check them out in due course (though the jazz kick is still on), and apologies to the gent whose post got mauled in some bizarre microsoft-word-caused chaos. I didn't think it'd be possible for a glitch like that to remove other people's posts, but apparently it can.

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Genesis, s/t, 1983

The self-titled revival of Genesis in the 80s features something a bit surprising – Phil Collins as an assertive vocalist (well, 81’s In The Air Tonight sort of had that, but here, it’s on a whole new level). He’s aggressive, biting, rounded and capable of a range of surprisingly vicious vocals. Complementing this is a lot of great writing, some kicking drum machine programming (I mean, Home By The Sea, Mama... it’s great stuff if you’re happy to drop the must-be-a-drummer-behind-the-kit attitude), Tony Banks taking a more tasteful, understated part on the synths, as well as more than adequate guitar and bass support from Mike Rutherford. Yes, you must admit, it’s not a 70s Genesis record, but it’s not meant to be – it’s a damn good art rock/art pop album, and much more daring than it’s given credit for.

Just take the opening Mama, a moody drum machine repeating the same manic line as some bleak, despondent keys from Banks bring out the atmosphere, then suddenly, the new Collins comes in with a desperate, pleading, and furious vocal and Mike (Rutherford seems too formal for the jaunting guitar coming along with this one) kicks in. Maddened, sickly laughs, the thunderous entrance of the gated drums, the slowly developed (well, one-sided) dialogue, are all done perfectly and Collins manages to bring out negativity in a sympathetic way with the force. Can you really call anything this dark, serious and visceral ‘pop’? I wouldn’t say so.

That’s All features a catchy, clear piano part comparable to Time Table or Harold The Barrel, followed by a slightly funky bass and guitar and a killer vocal from Collins, with the characteristic edge on his voice, now, as well as some very rounded and memorable clean phrases. He seems to be back on the kit for lots of this one, pulling out some neat sounds in more or less unanticipated places, and the general vibe is just on. I really like this one, but hey.

Home By The Sea (first part of a sneaky ten minute suite) opens with the low, sharp guitar thrum before the drums kick in and a mechanical ‘home by the sea’ opens the song, before Banks pulls out on a vibraphone-like keyboard sound some melodies as clear and pretty as anything off A Trick Of The Tail. It’s well-structured, with the memorable vocal hooks coming up several times, includes some very curious drum sounds and a story which wouldn’t have been out of place on England or Nursery Cryme, again bringing out the moral ambiguity which has been a characteristic and long-standing feature of Genesis lyrics, and, all-in-all, is a hugely successful merging of the progressive rock which Genesis were coming out of and the melodic pop they were going into.

Second Home By The Sea is more of an instrumental jam piece, reminiscent in some ways of the instrumental numbers off Wind And Wuthering, albeit a bit more structured, and with some fiendishly catchy guitar work and the general feel of story-telling, never losing my interest, and with one of my favourite ever bits of Banks playing (when he brings up the vocal melody again with that scrailing sound in the background), as well as a clean and suave guitar solo. Again, fantastic stuff.

Illegal Alien needs to be listened to with the right spirit. The social message of it is somewhat overshadowed by the generally hilarious ‘gringo’ vocals and what-political-correctness? attitude. Consequently, first time I heard it, I was filled with rage and hate, after that, I calmed down, listened to the music, and really¸ it’s alright. Trite pop chorus, which I’m sure you’ll all balk at, a curious-sounding string-synth, a fairly cool talky interlude thing under a descending brass-synth and a bit of cool Collins drumming as well as a sort of steel-drum-like (my intuition says that’s a keyboard’s effort at a tymp, maybe, or alternatively my keyboard’s just crazy?) sound floating around in the mix somewhere, as well as the neat backing-less take of the chorus. Those are perhaps the best bits, and, I have to say, though it’s not my favourite song ever, now I’ve given it a bit of time to listen properly, it’s a well-constructed pop song and I like it a bit if I’m in the right mood.

Taking It All Too Hard is maybe the least distinctive thing on here, though it’s not at all bad. A nice Collins vocal, a clean, effective drum part and some bleak, minimal keys, but it feels simply resentful and sad, and comes off as a bit light in comparison with the psychological trip of Mama or the I-AM-TRULY-PISSED fire of In The Air Tonight. The little sha-la-la thing at the end of the vocal lines is very nice. It’s not a bad song at all, it’s just not stunning.

Just A Job To Do is another surprise, upbeat, thumping and brimming with energy, taking on the perspective of a hitman, . A killer riff from Mike fires the piece with general energy, and a combination of Collins yelling BANG BANG BANG (sounds really cheesy in theory, comes across alright, but my cheese sense is sketchy these days) with an accompanying thud-thud-thud on the drums works just right. The brass synth effect is maybe more a gimmick than a really necessary thing, but it does make the song distinctive, and it’s very impressively played, and neatly follows the grooving bass build-up before the last verse. Except for the slightly bland guitar solo, a classic.

The awkward sexual advances of Silver Rainbow, are somewhat matched by the not-quite-yet rhythm section (Mike is on especially good form, here), with the entertaining synth part, and another solid Collins vocal. It’s generally a good song, though it goes on a bit longer than it needs to, but (and I get too excited about these) it ends with a bass solo, so I’m happy.

It’s Gonna Get Better is a calmer number, with a more quiet and yet neat Collins vocal (along the lines of the stuff on Peter Gabriel II or Face Value – their voices are quite similar when they’re singing more softly), as well as a whirling atmosphere contributed by Banks, some carefully disguised melodies, a nice opportunity for Mike’s bass-work to shine, and a calm conclusion to the album.

I have to admit, this is my first real venture into post-Hackett Genesis, and I like it. The first four numbers are fantastic, with a lot of the trademarks of 70s Genesis (morally ambiguous lyrics, both edgy and accessible music, great melodies) while being in an entirely new style, and the succeeding lot all have noticeable up points and are generally decent, listenable tunes, Collins sounds superb on this one, the drum programming is used in an interesting way, and it’s possibly better structured and better produced than any of their classics. Maybe not something for the purists, but nonetheless, a great album. Four stars from me.
Oh, and thanks to the excellent Spotify for indulging my curiosity when I wasn’t quite ready to part with cash for an album – this the first review I’ve written solely from it. A hard copy should be coming up on my next amazon-binge.

Rating: Four Stars

Favourite Song: probably Home By The Sea just clinching it over Mama

Edited by TGM: Orb - May 02 2009 at 18:04

Peter Hammill, In Camera, 1974



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Peter Hammill’s solo career takes a new twist with every album, and I’ve yet to hear anything of a standard which isn’t at least good. However, for the more general progressive rock fans, the gold is his 73-4 output, three absolute masterpieces. In Camera is certainly the most diverse of these, with everything from idiosyncratic ballads to the hellish progressive rock masterpieces of Gog and (No More) The Submariner to a piece of daring musique concrete, all complemented with some of the finest lyrics out there. While a general description doesn’t do it justice, the big developments from the previous album come in the density of synthesizer and guitar overdubs, representing, for the first time, an entire album of really full and fleshed out solo compositions from Hammill, and his ever-present sense of melody is out in force.

The range of material and its new depth and complexity, however, isn’t the only thing to admire. Every piece here is effortlessly experimental, and simply doesn’t really relate to anything else, and they come together to produce an album that, if a little disorienting, is nonetheless surprisingly cohesive mainly because of this attitude. Lastly, and it needs to be mentioned, Hammill’s voice is  really at its peak in this sort of general time frame, and here every vocal (well, except Magog, but that’s completely something else) is both dazzingly beautiful and intelligently thought out, particularly (No More) The Submariner comes off as one of his best. So, essentially essential: maybe the album to try if you want a real Peter Hammill solo album that isn’t singer-songwriter based or, largely, in the style of Van Der Graaf Generator (though, to be fair, Guy Evans has the performance of his career on this one). And, in addition to all the experimental, intellectual and diversity-based respect this one gets from me, it’s also simply a great album without one fragile song.

The curious and affectionate Ferret And Featherbird emerges from a slowly converging mesh of acoustic and twelve-string guitars and a tenderly wandering piano, while the tender electric thrums off some inquisitive calls. The hauntingly beautiful two-part vocal, with its expansive and yet very immediate lines, tells the story of two lovers becoming parted and then reconciled by the distance between them, to the picaresque backdrop or idea of these two playful, affectionate creatures  discovering about themselves through their tentative interactions with the other. A very sweet-natured and disarming piece, as charming as it is accomplished.

(No More) The Submariner is completely different. No more charm, not even an effort to bring the listener on side, just a man singing his soul out, tearing mockingly into his childhood dreams and his current existence, backed by tearing, menacing synth lines, which swirl headily around with every change of mood, and incisive bass and piano parts rumbling beneath this near-primordial synthesised void. The stern confidence in the composition and the performance is reflected by Hammill’s vocal control, he is immediately comfortable with both the superbly produced watery effect on his voice and his natural vocals, and filling these up with idyllic choral overdubs. No less solid is his control of the mood, he can put uncertainty into as little as a single word (‘fireglow’) even with that menacing effect on his voice, and the darker range of moods, fear, resentment, mockery and self-pity, are interspersed with moments of hope, of regret and introspection, and the slowly ascending choral section is strikingly well-arranged, with its shimmering mist of voices reflecting the internal voices of youth driving onto the largely concealed personality of adulthood. Rightly regarded as one of Hammill’s finest hours, and a seminal progressive rock track, both for what it was pioneering and its overwhelming quality.

The thundering rocker, Tapeworm, rollicks magnificently with the elephantine Guy Evans throwing in overspilling fills to the thumping piano riff and some whirling, at­-the-man guitar and bass. An acapella-styled break in the middle features some of the distinctly musical humour Hammill was capable of in the midst of all that wordiness, and also how sophisticated his compositions were becoming.  I mean, this break, the fills, the number of different guitar ideas and the cohesion of the whole piece... it’s a four and a half minute piece that feels like a ten minute one (only at the time of writing have I taken a look at the running lengths – I swear I thought this piece was 7 or 8 minutes long) – really, really rich content, and despite the slightly self-parodic (though certainly meaningful) lyrics, the lines Hammill comes up with here are absolutely astounding and the rhyme scheme is equally madly inspired, ‘Feed me honey and watch me rise, to the bait lying on your knife/If you let me I can hypnotise your life!’ Took me a while to really appreciate just how good this one is, but now, I think it’s a classic.

Again, later reworked by the K Group for a superb group number, is a somewhat ‘simple’ ballad, based around a simple, mournful acoustic or electro-acoustic, empowered with a subtle reverb, and supplemented by a mournful bass part and a crisp, almost Elisabethan (in feel) piano part, albeit with some very unconventional and understated composition in the mid-section. Hammill’s vocal again shines, rich, creative, fluent and positively gorgeous, and his lyrics are equally touching and, while they never lose touch with their basic emotional idea, this is lost love song which creates clichés rather than using them, and without a wasted word, ‘I see your picture, as though it were a mirror, but there’s no part of you outside the frame’. And, what’s more, it features a menacing electronic conclusion, with the sort of feel of wiping out memories – maybe tearing them out. Pretty unique, non?

Faint-heart and the Sermon is an interesting one. I have to admit, at first listen, I didn’t like it all too much, I didn’t understand what it was trying to achieve, and it seemed almost out of place (more like an archetypal prog-rock song) on an album of such obviously individual pieces. However, now I get what he’s doing, it’s just as amazing as the rest of album’s songs. First off, that synthesised cello, or bass pretending to be cello is pretty astoundingly neat, and the rest of the largely synthesised instrumentation is very well thought out and interesting. Second, the vocal tracking-the-instruments, the overwhelming, overspilling lines and shimmering mellotron crests are again in the psychology-reflects-music style which Van Der Graaf Generator would later become even more sophisticated in pulling off, the feeling of being trapped in a wave of religious euphoria and yet not quite agreeing with or understanding it, of replying in one’s own voice to this universal voice. And besides, everyone loves the mellotron. Well, except Harry, but everyone loves the mellotron. Yes, I’ve completely changed my view on this one, and though it’s probably still my least favourite number on the album, it’s very memorable, the vocal lines and vocals are great, the instrumentation is very interesting and it’s still something I really look forwards to whenever the album goes in for a listen.

Now, here’s something you don’t see a lot of in prog. A guitar quartet (bass, acoustic, twelve-string, electric). The Comet, The Course, The Tail supplements this rather unusual set of instrumentation with a suitably intelligent and interesting philosophical metaphor. Again, there are some masterful vocal self-harmonies, which do nothing to obscure the basic strength of the individual vocals – exploring both Hammill’s gorgeous clean vocals and his more eclectic stylings. The melodies are extremely memorable, and the thick bass part, admittedly somewhat styled on Modern from his previous album, is particularly satisfying. A very hard one to pin down, with the tails of the various parts weaving together and floating apart effortlessly, and, though not on the original vinyl, I guess, its somewhat self-propelled, but nonetheless dejected conclusion offers a rather interesting starting point for the visceral Gog.

Gog is not just dark, it is terrifying. The breathing, suffocating menace of the harmonium, Guy Evans’ tribal, savage, untraceable drumming, thundering cymbals, primal rhythms and unstable crescendos, Hammill’s spiteful, arrogant and hateful vocal, filled with disdain, mockery and violence spitting out the most hideously, overwhelmingly single-minded set of words – the scripture-like statements and spitting phrases, ‘my soul is cast in crystal but unrevealed beneath the knife, all wells are dry, all bread is masked in fungus, and now disease is rife – WILL YOU NOT RUN FROM THESE and LOVE ME FOR ONE MORE LIFE’ in a stream of increasingly irregular and vicious vocal phrases. The instrumental break gives no relief, plunging the listener even further into this place of fire and all-surrounding harmonium and the humming chaos of the bass.

And out of the end of this corridor of flame, this first ring of agony, is only desolation, emptiness and suffering. Magog is almost empty, excepting the demented chants and the scurrying fear of various percussion lines and a tortured cello, leading off one after the other into a distant nothingness, occasionally mingling and coalescing and then fading back into the background of scattered ash. No uplifting melody, not even a sign of hope, nothing except the bleak collection of fear, and concealed behind that, more fear. Truly unique.

The last two ‘numbers’, comprising about half the album, obviously hit very hard emotionally¸ and maybe in a way some people won’t enjoy/appreciate. Despite this almost physical impact, the intellectual impression of those two pieces isn’t lessened, the very idea of a God who simply doesn’t care, the ever-so-precise descent into increasingly fluid and deliberately unrestrained vocal lines is something to behold, and, simply put, it doesn’t sound like anything else out there. The lyric, here, is resistant to dissection and yet each individual phrase adds something, and builds on the impression of singularity, disdain and universality – a god that doesn’t provide security, a god that doesn’t care about your attitude to him, a god without anything except a bemused disdain for humankind. The connections between the various verses and lines are so many as to make them inseparable, and the dense fog of imagery never hinders the sense of movement, of tense, clustering fear. One of the most accomplished lyrics of all time – I wish I could write like this.

And the bonus material, if anything, is even better. Three live (BBC session) takes of (No More) The Submariner, The Emperor In His War Room and The Faint Heart And The Sermon, all produced very strongly and bringing out the real strengths of those songs, as well as showing that, even without the studio jiggery-pokery, Hammill could still pull off or effectively word around some of those out-there effects covering his ever-amazing voice.

Yes, there’s no way I can give this one less than a five star rating, it resonates, it goes through to the soul, and it’s fervently daring at a time when the creative verve of a lot of the main progressive rock acts was beginning to dry up. Not only a five star album, but a perfect 15/15 for me (my reasoning was: can I think of half a dozen albums I clearly prefer to this one? Nope. Can I pick out a weak track? Nope. Does the album work well as a whole? Yes. Is it something unique? Yes. That’s a sneak peek into the criteria.)

Rating: 15/15, absolute masterpiece, possibly best by artist and an obvious 5 stars.

Favourite Track: Gog, by a hair

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Been writing that one for a while. Still think the Comet, Course, Tail paragraph isn't really appropriate, because I can't really break down that song that much, but I think I covered the other songs pretty well.

Yeti, Amon Duul II, 1970

Now this is a very interesting one to try to break down. Amon Duul II’s second effort is huge leap  forwards from the already pretty strong Phallus Dei, and, interestingly enough, it uses the double-LP format to allow the band to both expand their existing lengthy, bleak and atmospheric improvisations and to complement them with the sonic seltzer of a half dozen or so classy, energetic rock pieces. The resultant album has many, many high points, an astoundingly unique mood to it, and throughout displays both compositional and performing excellence and some very charming, despite the accents, vocalists. Where the problems creep in is maintaining the listener’s interest for the whole length of the album and in trying to create a coherent work from so many improv-rooted pieces. That, for me, weakens the album’s impact and keeps it, at least, a notch below Wolf City in terms of listening time. ‘Objective’/importance says 5 stars, but my enjoyment only allows for 4.

The lengthy opening suite, Soap Shop Rock, transforms quickly from a slightly clumsy rocker to an intense, involving and surrealistic bit of psychedelia, with particularly memorable work from the rhythm section of Peter Leopold and Dave Anderson, as well as the multi-talented Chris Karrer. More unusual, perhaps are Renate Knaup-Groschweitz’s high and distinctive backing vocals, taking over the role a keyboard or two normally would. From the raw rock of the opening Burning Sister to the psychedelic craze of Halluzination Guillotine to the light-hearted operatic vocals of Gulp A Sonata, this piece is excellent, but the real gem is the final ‘movement’, the astounding Flesh-Coloured Anti-Aircraft Alarm, opening with an absolutely jaw-dropping violin lick from Karrer and then developing with crazy going-off-all-over-the-place vocals and whistling mixing in with the unpredictable rhythm section and some astounding violin soloing and high-register organ. A quick repeat of the opening phrase rounds off the song, and, even though it’s quite neat, you have to admit that the anti-climactic ending doesn’t quite fit it. An astounding piece of music, in terms of conceptualisation, playing and ideas, and the mood is set quite nicely for the album... as micky remarks, not exactly coherent, and that does hurt it a little.

The following She Came In Through The Chimney is a much more calm and collected number, with a relatively consistent six-string guitar part being imaginatively expanded upon and improvised over, with some particularly superb Ratledge-like work from Falk Rogner on what I think is a lowry organ. The imagination of the bongo parts is very neat as a feature... you don’t get all that many bands really treating them in the same way they would another instrument. Smooth stuff, not really a highlight for me, but a nice lead up. Edit: took another look at the reviews already up, and the consensus is that some of said Ratledgeism is a violin. They’re probably right... though I’m still somewhat convinced the organ’s on there.

The most straightforward rocker on the album follows this on pretty sharply, with a kicking main riff, killer drumming, lead vocals throughout most of it and some psychedelic organ and guitar soloing thrown into the breaks. Always nice to see a very eclectic band take on and easily conquer the basic rock song, and Renate Knaupf throwing her range all over the place as a lead vocalist is a real bonus, even if her backing parts are maybe what makes the album so atmospherically dense.

A bit of a storm-in-a-teacup next with the high-tempo folk-based number Cerberus, fully exploring the interplay between the two guitarists, with the bass (Dave Anderson) and the bongos (Shrat) effectively taking on the part of soloists for this one, before electric-feedback-land comes in and takes over the groundwork of the acoustics. A very unique and well-explored piece, with a bit more of an eastern European vibe... maybe the best prepared track on the album.

The Return of Reubezahl is an intense, concise, almost soundtrack-like preparatory piece for Eye-Shaking King, with its smoking blues/rock ending leading into the fiery maw of viciously distorted-vocals, distorted guitar, fuzzed-up-bass and thundering drumming, a heavy trip from that prelude through the wilderness of the mind. Exceptional.

The briefer, on my reissue, at least, Pale Gallery, is a bit less astounding, relying on a slightly insistent and mechanical drum pattern as well as some very interesting organ and violin work. Unfortunately, the sort of ghosts-flitting-around image doesn’t really transform into something really solid and striking. Nice, but is it really adding anything?

The second original LP is made up of three distinct, individual and creative improvs, and I think it represents the album and creates a mood even more effectively than the first. You can see the band is confident enough to strip back its sound, and to try some new and effective things even in full improvised flow. Describing it fully is obviously a waste of time, but a general mood thing isn’t out of order.

The title track, a dark, brooding, scenic number, in addition to the typically excellent and pacy work from the rhythm section, features all sorts of feedback, demonstrative twangs from the 12-strings, and violently clashing electrics, producing an overall dense forests-and-mountains mood accompanied by an impressively dense aggression and movement. Some wordless vocals, both male and female, fill out the abstract fog in this musical forest, while a more mournful conclusion harnesses all this restless energy to a more introspective and exotic end. All in all, Yeti is an extremely well thought-out and followed-through bit of improvisation, with a wonderful freedom of interpretation, as well as some distinctly avant-garde organ and violin work.

Yeti Talks To Yogi is a bit more light-hearted, starting out with a dense clump of instruments, which gradually collaborate (with some fantastic bongo-work from Shrat) to work out each others’ space and produce a very dense, dark mood, from which the conversational wails of the violin or the feedback from the guitar pre-empt the very loose and touching herdlike vocals. Admittedly, the ending is a bit overly curt, but otherwise another amazing piece.

Sandoz In The Rain, with guest flautist ‘Thomas’ and a further guitarist/vocalist and bassist, features a much calmer and more capable mood, with some superb acoustic work, a full, probably improvised, lyrical section, pretty work between the violin and the flute, and for me, it conjures up memories of walking along steeper paths by rivers in Wales and the North, with a slight misty/rainy vibe to it. Again, evocative, touching, and excellent improvisation. Particularly lush is the amazing roll of the drums and thundering feel of the line, ‘Sundrops in your eyes.’ Simply put, the inclusion of the lyrics gives this the most pictorial and absolute feel of the three improvisations, but at the same time, the band adapt that to create a more free-flowing, abstract picture for your mind to fill in. Again, maybe trails off a bit too sharply, but that doesn’t obscure the merit of the rest of it.
So, all in all, a collection of The Good Stuff. The second half is particularly good and has clarity in those improvs that Phallus Dei wasn’t quite self-confident enough to achieve, as well as a really striking mood, and most of the first half isn’t much weaker at all. Still, problems creep in from trying to unite and compile all this work into one album. Yes, it’s not quite perfect, and yes, there are some tracks which are markedly less interesting than others, but just look at the release date... 1970: it really sounds nothing quite like anything else out there. Remarkable for its time, and it’s a gem of the Kraut Rock and Psych Rock (and, you could say, ‘Heavy Prog’) genres... a must have for anyone, and a very secure four stars. Maybe worth listening to the two ‘halves’ separately if you find it a bit too much heavy going.

Rating: Four stars, ‘Objective’ five, 13/15
Favourite track: Sandoz in the Rain

OK heres my review of Love Beach

That album deserves a lot of credit. Loved it. Although I stopped at 4 stars

Dream Theater, Metropolis pt. 2: Scenes From A Memory, 1999

To nick half an opening line off a fellow reviewer, ?[Metropolis pt. II: Scenes From A Memory] is not only Dream Theater's most overrated release, nor is it prog metal's most overrated release?, it?s awful.

First off, the ?concept? part of ?concept album?: a good concept album surely needs the following: a good concept, and preferably a well-written one, a strong relationship between the lyrics and the music, appropriate vocals and more importantly, to me, a depth to actually keep the listener coming back to the concept... it?s the difference between Foucault?s Pendulum and the light-hearted The Redemption of Althalus, both are good books, but one is much deeper and consequently more rewarding... in the context that you hope, surely, to listen to an album more than once, the former approach is more valuable.

Now, does Metropolis Pt. II, Scenes From A Memory, which has more depth in its title than the entire damn 70-minute monstrosity, fulfil any of those requirements? Me, personally, I, myself and further I, don?t believe it does. The plot is a gaping hole, in which things happen in spasms, things are very occasionally revealed in between the main character?s angsty soliloquys, conclusions are drawn and a concluding twist is ruthlessly inserted. Unfortunately, these things need connections and arrangement ? is there really any emotional content in someone believing ?The spirit carries on? because they?ve been hypnotized into thinking about their (obviously real) previous incarnations? Or is there any point in the ?Sleeper? and the ?Miracle? ?metaphors? for two of the cast characters? Themes and ideas are introduced, but there is just no depth to these (?Without faith, without hope/there can be no peace of mind??...  the why for this precise, repeated line isn?t there, as far as I can see... it just appears to be an underlying assumption of the speaker). If you genuinely like the plot of this one, I?d recommend action sci-fi film The Core. It?s probably on much the same level.

Now, well-written, obviously not: ?She wanted love forever/but he had another plan/He fell into an evil way/She had to let him down/She said ?I can?t love a wayward man?, and (Exhibit B, your honour), ?Now that I?ve become aware/And exposed this tragedy/A sadness grows inside of me/It all seems so unfair? are representative cuts, and the overall impression isn?t helped by the predictable alternation of the two parallel stories (well, one of them isn?t even happening, it?s just a commentary with an event at the end) ?past event happens? and ?Nicholas comments in an angsty/happy way on the past events, with no sympathetic motivation?.

So, we have remarked that it is a wafer-thin plot, following the travails of wafer-thin characters, direly written, and with a sort of pretence of dual depth (past and present), which , when examined, is unconnected, and, regardless, nothing of interest happens in plot B until the very end. Dire stuff. Now, why does this matter so much? Well, one, it?s a concept album and it?s pushing the concept... it annoys me for the same reason that The Wall?s stress on the Hitler rally does... it doesn?t make sense, and what is presented as if it were a strength is built on the sand of pretence. It doesn?t help either that Labrie is obnoxious to the extreme in his presentation here... his voice is clearly meant to convey an average, normal person most of the time, but, on the other hand, it?s plain irritating.... the occasional efforts at a smoother or more aggressive vocal style, rare though they are, are a welcome relief. He also adds an ?a? sound to every word in some sections, which is a pet peeve of mine. So, basically, he?s over-presenting a hollow, irritating plot in a hollow, irritating way.

OK, I think you?ve probably worked out I don?t like the concept by now, so that?s out of the way... now the album part. Here Dream Theater seem to be hell-bent on alternating the pacey metal riff with the tingling acoustic ballad... unfortunately, they?re not particularly good at either of those. The number of good, memorable riffs in these seventy minutes is in the 0s (well, there?s one salvaged off I&W, but I?m hardly going to count that), and moreover Petrucci is just a lousily generic and tedious acoustic guitarist... if your introduction to progressive rock included the acoustic features of Howe, Hackett and Fripp, you?ll probably hold very, very little affection for the harmless ding-DING-ding (simple acoustics, not always a bad thing, but it?s the difference between a writer with a knack for good melodies and one without... Dream Theater don?t benefit from this difference being so highlighted) we get from such an admittedly capable electric soloist... again, Petrucci?s guitar work, when on an electric, when in a lead role, when soloing, is phenomenal. Unfortunately, at any other given time, he can be unimaginably dull... for instance, for the majority of Scenes From A Memory.

Now, onto the rest... Rudess sort of fits the band, and has to his credit a gimmicky ragtime solo and a generally unoffensive vibe... admittedly his piano parts as a rule don?t seem to add a lot to pieces, and occasionally the synth sounds simply don?t come off. Portnoy, in addition to being technically sharp and complex, is a bore (though not as much so as on Images And Words), and I hear on good authority the brotherhood of the Sacred Ear to this day have a bounty on John Myung?s basslines, so if you can actually hear them on this one, you could be in for the big bucks. There are, musically speaking, two pieces I sort of like on here, and I can remember literally only fragments of them, it?s not a well-written album, in my view, and while the more technical-masturbation-themed songs are definitely a bit more interesting for me, I fail to remember more than seconds of any individual piece, and it says a lot that those seconds are generally the gimmicky ragtime solo or the sitar sampling. So, in short, not a compelling metal album (in my opinion... now, I?m not a metalhead, but there are metal albums I like [by Opeth, especially Blackwater Park, Iron Maiden and Arcturus, to name a few]... this just isn?t one of them... and I can?t say it has the more appealing qualities of those artists I mentioned earlier), not a good progressive rock (indeed, progressive more in derivation than in innovation... a melting pot of styles, rather like making a paella in a mould-encrusted pan) album, not particularly a good album in any sense.

OK, so, I haven?t even discussed the individual tracks, and I?ve explained why I think this is a lousy concept album. I?ve also written 1123 words already, so it?s probably time to bite the bullet and spin the damn album again... I might be brief on individual tracks, because spending this much time writing about Scenes From A Memory when it could be spent giving enjoyable albums such as Awake, Molignak, Darwin! or Skin a small boost in PA?s collective consciousness is probably unneeded.

OK, so we have the spoken hypnotherapist intro, complete with ticking... then an exceptionally vapid acoustic-and-voice number with some warbling synth in the background. Thankfully pretty brief. Paragraph merge, because I can. OK, we have a quote from the admittedly neat Metropolis pt 1, which, while just about unrelated (in the same way as the two Cygnus books blatantly are), is probably the best ten seconds of the album. Some nice soloing from Petrucci is probably the key feature of the instrumental Overture 1928... the occasional foreshadowing of later music by collecting themes is clearly an effort , but at the same time, I don?t like that later music either, so it?s hardly a plus for me. Now, onto the first real vocal number, which, in addition to the thick layers of mind-numbing suffering brought on by Labrie?s voice,  has (presumably Portnoy) providing atrocious backing vocals. The drum part is precise, but trapped by its own precision, so often being rigidly unpredictable in the same fashion that the ?unpredictable? bit of it fails to impress, Rudess?s short piano bits are neat, his synth parts don?t seem to have a lot to them... Myung, when audible, is neat.

The following Through My Words is too safe a piano-and-voice number to really criticise, and if you can ignore the lyrics, that and the opening of Fatal Tragedy are actually quite nice. The latter moves on with some AOR (that?s right, you heard that) choruses and the standard riffing interspersed with some fantastic solos and the occasional organ tone. I?m sort of torn about whether I like the prog-metal thing at around four minutes... very energetic (and I like the shredding, and I think Petrucci, when soloing, has a fantastic tone, though it seems to go out the window on the riffs), actually sort of cool, but it feels so blatant, and really holds no relation to the rest of the song other than having the same track number. OK, out of hypnotherapist talk, we get a riff. Wow. That was really unexpected.

Beyond This Life is the first real engagement with the ?Past? story. Unfortunately, it?s terrible. OK, the riff is slightly better than most of those on the album, and when Labrie?s vocals are under that weird effect thing, and I can pretend he?s singing about hobbits and wizards or something, I can pretend I like this one. There?s some surprisingly atmospheric Rudessage here. I like that. Unfortunately, the lyrics are so badly written, they make the opening virtually unlistenable and Labrie is trying so hard to specifically irritate me. OK, he does the occasional neat operato-aggressive thing, which is good, but otherwise, he?s mechanically and systematically irking my vocal hates. Some of the bland systematic...... .

OK, Myung comes to the surface halfway through, albeit with a completely harmless part. A random bit of daft production fiddling (Dream Theater are just too calculated to do a Hendrixian interlude, sorry guys) leads into what is actually a really neat bit of bluesy guitar before another superb Petrucci solo. A dire brass synth takes us on... well, let?s just say Rudess?s solo showcase here is nailbitingly tasteless with the sounds. Portnoy doesn?t really add anything to my enjoyment, but he?s alright here. It?s a pity that Myung?s remarkable exit to the daylight from the world of very-low-in-the-mix isn?t remarkably good. Bits of this could be really good if I could hear them without hearing the other bits of this soon after.

Some heavy handed Dark Side Of The Moon references (guitars, howly female vocals), complete with an almost hymnal set of keys, followed by a little piano part and the lousy ballad that is Through Her Eyes. Portnoy barely contributes to this bit, obviously, because it?s a soft song. Petrucci strums, yawn. Labrie amazingly manages to mess up even this vocal style on occasion... and his incessant vibrato (is that the word?) is a pain. Rudess is a bland piano note every once in a while, and Myung, still on his exercise hour from the prison of the regular production provides the only thing about this song that?s actually enjoyable (well, the occasional electric burst isn?t terrible, but that?s mooted by the acoustics). So bad I feel like going to youtube and listening to a high school band?s cover of Video Killed The Radio Star to clean my ears.

Home is a rare thing: Dream Theater dabbling in diversity and also a good song on this album. A vaguely sitar-flavoured thing , with an embryonic riff beneath it, and the occasional precise roll from Portnoy, and suddenly, BIAO-BAO, this absolutely fantastic riff with spiralling guitar work coming off it comes in... Rudess has pulled his tones together, I can barely hear Myung, but I assume he?s doing something nice, there?s a sharp metal riff... and now, Labrie, L there goes that run, lads... OK, the lyrics are actually not too terrible, more reminiscent of Pt. 1, but his vocals, at least to start with, are unpleasant. OK, then he pulls together and we get shockhorrorscandal a catchy melody... what?s going on? Has the spirit of 10cc taken over my stereo player for a few seconds? Did I just like that? Yes... well, whatever witchcraft is going on, Labrie again layers his voice with effects over a menacing, Indian-flavoured riff, and The Miracle?s vocal section is slightly less generally irritating... now, if we get past the generic sexual-noises, which would clearly have some sort of affect on me if I didn?t hate the concept so much, the sampled-sitar/electric interplay is nice, and even if the solo bursts of the last three minutes are the definition of forgettable, the points where the band pull together make up for it. Anyway, whatever Dream Theater were aiming for with the rest of the album, they somehow managed to just about hit it here.

The Dance Of Eternity opens with some nervous collective shuffling, all laboriously united by little re-echoed solo bits, and double-kick-drumming covers the whole thing. On the other hand, aside from this opening demented soundtrack thing, there is just about enough of the gimmick to keep this one alive, whether in silly synth things, crazed intensity, little dah-dum-dah-dum  bits, something that reminds me of a particularly theme, but I?m not sure which (James Bond, I?m thinking..., maybe I?m wrong), and a random ragtime piano, which is admittedly a gimmick, but a relatively good one... still, I liked this one at first, but I?m finding less and less to like about it. Then, there?s a tiny, tiny nice bit with piano and band on before the band goes on into crazy dramatics with only the guitar and piano providing any pleasant reprieve from the dumbfounding, soul-crushing irksomeness of Labrie?s vocals on One Last Time.

OK, my ears have switched off by this point... but I?ll try to listen to the following The Spirit Carries On (doncha love concept non sequiturs J) despite Labrie?s presence... there?s a lot of reference of things from The Wall, here, I think... the piano is reminiscent, and Labrie takes on an almost Watersy edge... and there?s the classic Eclipse (Dark Side, admittedly) organ chord... OK, so a laboured Petrucci solo, which I don?t particularly enjoy, and Portnoy in full flow and yet failing to make any impression on me... OK, gospel choir... yeah, right, no reference to a certain band?s crowning moment there? Labrie is trying. Yes, very trying (sorry folks, had to be done). OK. Bland rock with half a million Floyd references... I suppose that?s progressive in itself... Floyd were never bland :p

Finally Free... well about bloody time... could?ve done with that seventy minutes ago. Hypnotherapist again, direly bland synths, an unimpressive Petrucci part, sound effects which are indicating the change in the plot... dun dun dun... OK. There?s not a lot I like about this tacky cartoon stuff... so I?ll say there?s a smooth piano in there, and then Labrie comes in again revealing the GRAND CLIMAX of this grand sham. Victoria?s bit is actually quite nice at times... seems odd that Dream Theater would bring in a female choir just to reference Pink Floyd but shy away from getting a female vocalist to take the female lead on this one, still... ?Then came a shot out of the night? is possibly the most undramatically delivered line I?ve heard in a while, which is odd given how much drama Dream Theater can throw in when the lines don?t merit it... OK, murder sound effects, wow... what next? Grandiose conclusion with particularly lousy vocals. OK... turning back to the comic dramatics... some noodling blandness (me, personally, I like content, having a story doesn?t preclude having that), followed by some more hypnotherapy and a squib which is evidently significant to the story?s grand twist. I dislike it intensely. Very intensely. So, to illustrate the style of lumping this together as a concept album, I?ll mark the thing by ?Scenes? and give you an average grade. Novelty shift in style. Of course, it will have no relevance on the final grade/star thing I give it.

Scene One: 1/15, Scene Two: 3/15, Scene Three: 6/15, Scene Four: 4/15, Scene 5: 1/15, Scene 6: 12/15, Scene 7: 6/15, Scene 8: 1/15, Scene 9: 3/15. Averaged out, we have 4.111etc./15, which would be a one rather than a two.

So, on the final grade: I cannot possibly give a three to an album from which I really enjoy only one song, and which is conceptually so terrible. Whether one track in a seventy minute album and the occasional glimpse of pleasantness qualify an album for the glorious second star is questionable. It?s getting the one from me, which is, admittedly, on the harsher side of justice, but I can see myself very happily not connecting this one to the CD dock again, and once Home is safely ripped to the computer, this will be ?put out to stud? (i.e. collect dust as a glorified coaster).

Rating: One Star, I think 4/15 is actually the mark I?d have given it anyway. 3 if I couldn?t skip tracks. Favourite Track: Definitely, definitely Home.

So, what have we learned from this review (well, I say we, I mean I):

Don?t buy Scenes From A Memory Metropolis. Unless you really feel like you need to have Home. Or are a Dream Theater fan and think Mike Portnoy is the best drummer ever, at which point you already own the album, most likely. Anyway, not a wise introduction choice, in my opinion, at least, compared to the decent Images And Words and Awake, which is great stuff... if you really like other Dream Theater or you feel like a good, nervous, horrified laugh, go forth, DT fans, and multiply.

A concept is not necessarily a good concept.

Writing about albums you don?t like can be fun.

You can write three thousand words about anything.

Credit goes to topofsm... his review was the one my opening line sampled.

OK... there's a line in there where I trailed off, but I can't remember what exactly I was complaining about, and changing it would ruin the 'exactly 3000 words of review excluding title and footnotes' thing I've got going on.

---

A bit acidic and definitely overlong, but hey, it was fun to write.
Edit: oh, and I was still four hundred words behind The T, but he can probably be expected to write more about PM albums.


Edited by TGM: Orb - May 26 2009 at 16:13

An unfortunate place to get a dry spell... but hey. Yes, four or so half-finished reviews coming up that I'll probably end up scrapping and re-doing. Still, for your entertainment and acid-filled-tomato-hurling, here comes:

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Free Hand, Gentle Giant

The man who first proclaimed that the progressive rock musicians shall wear capes and play solos and not, under any circumstances, write catchy songs obviously forgot to tell Gentle Giant. Their very credible 1975 release Free Hand is a full text of how-to-play-well-without-being-accused-of-masturbation, how-to-write-songs-that-are-both-involving-and-catchy and, more importantly, how-to-put-out-a-great-album. Admittedly, the excitement of this one is somewhat consolidated on the superb side one, and pleasant as the medievally flavoured work of side 2 is, it somehow stops at intelligent, pleasant movement rather than making the murky transition to a full-fledged classic.

The opener is pretty much symbolic of the album as a whole, catchy as hell, opening with the infectiously obtuse shifting of handclaps from speaker to speaker and a bouncy piano part. Gary Greene and Ray Shulman leap to create a polyphonic pop song, taking in its stride the lively saxophone-heavy verses, a chorus introduced by a cool keyboard hook and a bizarre instrumental interlude, moving from a well-thought out shiny synthesiser over a calm groove to a theatrical bit of bending moog mastery with a much sharper jazzy backdrop from Ray Shulman and John Weathers. A happily rocking guitar repeat of the piano riff leads us back into the song proper, and before you know it, the chugging bass rhythm and handclaps have taken us out again. Worth mentioning, Minnear (keys) and Ray Shulman (bass) give great performances on this one.

Now, how I’m meant to review On Reflection is beyond me, but I’ll try... here Gentle Giant’s amazing capacity for arrangement comes to the fore, with complex vocal parts interweaved with classical density and medieval flavour, interspersed with the band’s incredible range of instruments. Derek Shulman’s bouncy and impersonal energy on lyrics such as ‘In my way did I use you/Do you think that I really abused you/On reflection now, it doe-esn’t ma-atter’ is matched perfectly by Kerry Minnear’s lush yet fragile and affected ‘I’ll remember the good things how can I forget/ all the years that we shared in our way’, and the complimentary gradually introduced xylophone, glockenspiel and piano tracking the various multi-layered vocal parts supplement the feel of individual voices crucial to the song’s lyrical theme, as the exquisite low-tempo keyboard-and-bass support for Minnear’s great vocal, and with the introduction of subtle violins and cello, this reflective moment leads up to the energetic burst out of the ‘all around/all around/ all around...’ block harmony before the great rock instrumental conclusion, with bass, guitar and organ trading parts just about every time and yet finding the space to add in. An impression you get from the instrumental parts of this one, which maybe wasn’t there in the Giant’s early albums, is simply what great musicians they are. Ray Shulman’s bass in particular, is probably among my favourite albums for the instrument ever, and this instrumental burst is a prime example of how to play great interesting starts while serving the song absolutely. OK, maybe the fade isn’t a perfectly satisfying ending from a musical point of view, but the idea of happily going off from this failed relationship to do one’s own thing is suitably conveyed by the defiant melodies springing up over this, and I can’t think of a better way to give that impression. A top notch Giant piece, and certainly among my favourites.

 If at the time of reading, as at the time of writing, this song is a title track here, open another tab/scroll up and click the play button and I can say with a fair bit of confidence that you shouldn’t be disappointed. A typically punctuated Minnear piano and a kicking Gary Greene riff, backed up by its bizarre pauses, an incredibly fun and odd bit of bass from the virtuosic Ray Shulman, as well as some choice drum fills from John Weathers, who, if overshadowed by the other band members is a rock of consistent creativity throughout this record. If you can work out exactly what’s going on in the instrumental sections, the first laden with clever piano dissonants and the second a minimal guitar-driven thing with some mystical percussion and a weird marine-sounding keyboard, bulked up by Greene’s jabs, you’re a braver man than I. The melody is just fantastic, and the little details present everywhere. The quintessential eclectic song? Well, either way, great pop music elaborated beyond recognition and with Gentle Giant’s charm and great complexity.

Time To Kill continues quite strongly, opening with a sort of inverted outro, taking thrumming static and suddenly throwing in twenty or thirty seconds of a building riff crammed full of their wonderfully obtuse musical knowledge and then pulling together to give the impression that they’re aiming at a sort of running-out-conclusion already as if on the end of On Reflection... but they don’t. The shift is straight on into a slightly remorseful rock song with some of the bulky vocals and a suitably great lead from Derek Shulman, alternating between immensely musical band set-ups and a sort of prowling lead bass thing hunting the voice. The wonderful vocal harmonies are almost the precursor to some of the stuff on the later pop albums that I’ve heard, if much, much better... again, a fade on the end isn’t really satisfying, but otherwise a very clever and catchy song... Gentle Giant are fantastic at the combination of the two.

The somewhat tragic and reminiscing His Last Voyage is the album’s first sign of flagging just a little... the bulk of it is a sweet medieval-sounding vocal section, and much as Gary Greene’s gorgeous acoustic guitar and the band joining together, it goes on a relatively long time for a section where making out the words is a challenge and also one where it doesn’t really mesh with the intelligently created introduction and interludes set up to add some flavour for it. Now, in spite of this pleasant but slightly inelegant bit, at the three minute mark, it transforms, a sharp coordination between the piano and bass and a set of remarkable airy fills by Weathers are overlaid with an equally ethereal vocal to give a sort of surrealistic web of ghostlike atmosphere over which Gary Greene finally gets the blues-driven, but creative, solo he seems to have been itching for all album, and a return to the tranquil part brings a real conclusion to a mixed, but at times wonderful, piece.

Talybont (a Welsh town, by the way; nice place, I’ve been walking there, and the music fits it nicely) is more of a hearts-on-sleeves medieval piece, with twin recorders and a harpsichord; there is a clear main theme throughout, which is frequently echoed, and the superb production of the album really allows some of the song’s subtleties to stand out as highlights here, whether in the form of a solid clavichord or clavinet contrast to the playful main theme, or in John Weathers’ matching drum work, placing much more emphasis on a mood than a beat. Wonderful work by Minnear and Gary Greene in particular here... overall, a very satisfying piece of music, achieving character without going to the lengths of the rest of the album to do so.

The ending Mobile is, erm, wearing. Yes, it’s clever compositionally, I can remember the main theme, and the dense polyphony is still there, and there are a huge number of neat catches, but, by this point in the album, it maybe feels a little odd after the two cute medieval numbers to return to the style of the first half, albeit with a somewhat more prominent lead vocal and a set of discernable and unimpressive lyrics. OK, so the band have a boundless childlike energy and musical knowledge that allows them to slam in vocoders, violins, wah-wah guitar work, suspicious piano work and a creative intensity to shame their contemporaries and their successors, but I can’t really say that, either because it’s simply not as memorable as half one, or because my musical brain is getting tired and I’m preparing to switch off before Interview (ah, the banes of two-in-one-CDs)... anyway, as a stand-alone song, it’s good, but as the ending to such a fantastic album, it doesn’t really hold up, and I can’t say the random wait-then-drum roll ending is ahead of the fades that characterise the rest of this one.

So, all in all, rush out to your nearest purveyor of quality music, which probably remains either Amazon.co.uk or Amazon.com unless you’re less of an almost-but-not-quite-rural unfortunate than I am, and acquire or order this album. Or listen to the sample; that might be a good idea first. Alas, the fifth star eludes this one on the grounds that a few of the endings aren’t exactly decisive, when the band’s ability to write a song ending is really not in question, and Mobile and His Last Voyage fail to stand out in the way the other five songs do. Ah, Gentle Giant, forever stuck on four L, despite it all. Worth mentioning, this is one hell of a bass album, and you get an impression of virtuosity as well as the creativity, individuality and emotion that has, up ‘til now, been a constant feature of Gentle Giant’s repertoire.

Rating: Four Stars, 12/15
Favourite Track: tough choice; maybe Time To Kill or On Reflection