I Talk To The Wind: Prog Blog and Reviews

Octavarium, Dream Theater, 2005

Octavarium marks a sort of double-effort by Dream Theater, aiming to create another distinctly Dream Theater album, with Dream Theater compositions, including obligatory ballads, metal songs and epic songs but also to do something new and artistic overall. So, I'm offering two opening analyses: one, the 'art', two, the 'songs' (they're not entirely indivisible, but they're not exactly too chummy either).

Personally, the first aim turns out rather better than the second, which goes in for the gimmicky 'nuggets' far more than truly novel ideas. I guess the best illustration is that if I'm meant to give them credit for having 8s and 5s, should I criticise them for having track limits that aren't 8.88s or 5.55s or not using cyclical track lengths, or say they should use something like ottava rima or a Sicilian octave for the rhyme scheme of the lyrics? Yes, it's arguably clever, and I have to admit one of the nuggets was actually, as I understand it, pretty good, but does it actually add anything to the album and the impact it has? I don't think so... the 5s, 8s and cycles are all referenced fairly often, and all sorts of influences are consciously and often openly aired, but again, that's just an artistic superfluity. So, that's one side on which the album attempts to make a lot of impact or show cleverness that really, just wasn't needed and doesn't add the overall piece.

So, the second: initial remark, the songwriting (or else pick-and-choosing: some reviewers have mentioned borrowings from bands I basically don't know, so for the sake of the review, I'll call it writing: just be aware I'm not 100% certain it always is) is pretty good. The four metal songs are effective and moderately individual, though they're not sing-in-the-shower memorable, and Sacrificed Sons, the Preppic (preparatory-epic), much as I don't really appreciate the lyrics, is a musical triumph, and the title track definitely has its moments, though honestly, I could happily cut it off the album's end. So, all-in-all, on the musical, and, for most of you, I guess, more important front, a success, though not an unqualified one.

Well, that's three times the usual space for an introduction, but what I'm going to say is something contradictory to expectations: if your listening approach is generally like mine, fussing over the effect of specific fills, whether a song should or shouldn't use a fade, whether a lyric is supported properly by the feel of the music and so forth, this album gets much better if you can just switch off, and let the music sink in rather than trying to seek the album's deeper conceptual fish, which are floating lifeless on the surface. At least, that's how it worked for me.

The first of eight (surprises there...) tracks, The Root Of All Evil starts promisingly with a firm, low piano note, a menacing hum and Rudess solidifying over Portnoy's startling, mechanical bursts. A thick riff coalesces very naturally from this, and from that, somewhat more awkwardly, the vocal bit. Labrie offers menacing and murky vocals for a snappy set of lyrics with a matching bass underpinning the whole thing. The slightly ambling chorus doesn't have the punch of the verses but on the other hand the superb squirming Petrucci solo and a tasteful piano part from the later Octavarium slipped in smoothly at the end make this an effective statement of intent, both for the metal and the artistic sides of the album. Not entirely certain we needed eight minutes to get it, though.

The Answer Lies Within is a somewhat typical Dream Theater power ballad in the vein of Another Day or The Spirit Carries On. While it doesn't have the inspiring guitar part of the former, it compensates with somewhat less painful lyrics and a fairly nice, if simple (for some reason, Rudess seems to turn the speed down on the 'emotional' piano parts), piano backing that is darkened neatly at the entrance of the violin. On the minus side, the harmonies just aren't something Dream Theater have convincingly engaged, and Labrie's basically good voice is hamstrung by the audible intake of breath before just about each word and an occasional ineffective echo choice. The violin's entrance and a nicely dark conclusion stand out, and all in all it's not a particularly important attraction, but a fairly pleasant break in between the album's general heaviness.

These Walls opens with a block of surprisingly effectively arranged noise which twists into one of DT's most convincing metal riffs. As Rudess enters at speed it's not really so much changed as revealed to be a more deep, dark, brooding song, and a drifting electro-acoustic or something of the ilk brings us to a great entrance from the still hard-breathing Labrie, as usual, slamming vibrato left, right and centre in a decent performance. Rudess takes the only real criticism for his pseudo-orchestral apparitions, which don't really give the Stravinskian punch I think they were meant to. But, even if the song could be a little more involving and stabbing, the melody is great, the bass part is really neat, the chorus is very memorable, and I don't dislike the lyrics. Petrucci's clever hooks offer it an almost unanticipated staying power (and he also takes credit for a calm, tasteful guitar solo with a good tone), and the rhythm section gives a spectacular, cohesive impression as well as the idea that these are really good individual players. I mean, as Dream Theater goes, this just about manages to unite all their best elements, and I can only criticise a couple of either basically insignificant or else very general elements (too many chorus repeats, maybe? Rushed ending? Not a lot of balance?, but these are all very general or nor really important).

I Walk Beside You opens with a fairly clever transition from a jumpy string-synth opening somewhat reminiscent of Queen's The Show Must Go On to a fairly horrendous pop track – now, I admit that elsewhere I've been lavishly praising of 'pop' songs on otherwise 'prog' masterpieces: I Know What I Like on Selling England By The Pound, Love To Love You on Nine Feet Underground, Tua Casa Commoda on Ys... the difference between this one and those ones is that the classic prog bands were generally able to keep their identity and individuality, and also to throw out great hooks and compositions even when working within pop constraints: Dream Theater, here, at least, do not. Labrie's vocal begins well with a sort of jittering Myung bassline, but, as the chorus begins, the song moves from anything memorable to a general mess. The lyrics are uplifting in the sort of way that Finding Nemo was uplifting (terrible movie). The big crescendo is just trying far too hard (straining your voice is not the only way to evoke emotion with it... sometimes it's not even one of the ways), albeit balanced with a brief and somewhat more tasteful piano-sounding flourish.  The issue with this isn't that it's pop, incongruous though it feels, but just that I get no impression of personality from it, just 4.27 which is, admittedly nice intro aside, emotionally blank and musically limp. Short, by the album's standards, and inviting the skip button.

Panic Attack continues the trend of the 'metal' songs on Octavarium being better than the pop/rock ones by a large margin, with a hell of a kicking riff interspersed with effective orchestra-lite melodies from Rudess. Energy, attack, a great vocal melody (later reprised in Octavarium with a bit of a twist). Labrie is again (I much prefer him this way) working on the darker side with a couple of neat wavering high notes, and the vocal melody is interweaved pretty cleverly with repeats of the riff. Petrucci and Portnoy are both in full force on this one, offering aggressive, mule-kick drumming and screechy guitar solos, with Rudess' selective decoration and this energy doesn't relent at all until the great end. I haven't a complaint... well, maybe the introduction of Petrucci's solo involves a couple of unneeded bars, but even with that tiny nitpick, it's a hell of a song. Best on the album.

Never Enough is another of the album's metal numbers, and with the heaviest riff, I think, though the build of the chorus leads us only to some very plodding long syllables (I can only take so much of your un-GRAAATEful wAAAYS) are emphasised agonisingly. That particularly section aside, Labrie's twisted, slightly distorted almost opera-metal vocals are among the best I've heard from him, and even his bawling long syllables seem to slip in unreasonably well.  Portnoy's lyrics are pretty simple and direct, and dissecting them is naturally going to prove both unfair and unnecessary, but the chorus feels almost intently ambling by comparison with the verses. However, his drumming here is great: energy, attack, a mild element of surprise, fits neatly in with the bass parts, and not too dense for continued impact. Both Rudess and Petrucci seem to be contributing basically embellishments during the song's main chorus, they seem to twine together to create both the killer opening riff and the instrumental mid-section, but then, they're acting just right by the song, and, even if it's not musically visionary and the chorus isn't as great as it could be, it is really a very good song.

Sacrificed Sons finds itself in an awkward position. Automatically, it's the second-most-epic song on an album, which is never enviable, and it's put right against the title track, and it's clearly aiming to be something more than the metal tracks. So, in the album's context, I don't think it's really going to bring out its full potential – guess that's the issue with making 70 minute albums rather than 40 minute ones. However, from the synthesis of Arabic-sounding prayers, a wandering violin and a set of quotations about 9/11, understandably a sensitive and relevant topic, and I credit the band for trying to engage with it. On the other hand, I don't particularly feel they engaged with it effectively but maybe I'm just too detached to really feel the human, emotional pull they're angling for.

A chilling, simple piano-voice-drums trio, with Labrie's voice on top form is augmented by a fairly harmless orchestral addition played off against swirling, brooding solos from Rudess and Petrucci. The initial melodies aren't especially creative, but the song's main attraction lies in Petrucci's astounding soloing - and all directed towards the song and its lyrical theme – and the heady metallic mid-section, full of the sort of complex band-lines that made Metropolis pt. 1 such a classic. All, in all, were this the album's ending, I'd call it an almost unqualified success, as it is, the denouement before the album's intended piece de resistance doesn't really suit it, but still, a minor classic in the band's repertoire, and the best playing I've yet heard from the very talented Petrucci.

The centrepiece and twenty-four minute epic Octavarium is obviously the album's making-or-breaking, whether it'll be an occasional listen or a regular visitor to the headphones or CD-player. I personally can understand the accolades it receives on one level – Dream Theater are a talented bunch of musicians, and they're producing an enormous piece jammed full of information and references in a strictly progressive rock track. I guess it's just not an idea that appeals to me, and the silly five/eight/cycles thing appears to gain any interest accidentally as much as by design – OK, the notion of infinite reincarnation as a trap is interesting, but I'm not convinced with all the eight-octave-that's-a-cycle thing going on, and five-that's-like-the-black-notes-man. As for the reference soup in pt. III: well, I can't blame them for using them: who doesn't , but just slamming references down rather than using them to establish a point or something of the kind is essentially messy rather than insightful. Still, musically, it's not a bad thing, and addressing that:

So, the first four minutes or so are a twisted welding of Bijou and the introduction of Shine On You Crazy Diamond – Petrucci's more than up to the task, not so convinced that Rudess' keys have the emotional grip that Wright never relinquished. After this and admittedly a very pretty flute part, a content guitar (any resemblance to Cadence and Cascade is probably an imagination on my part), a good Labrie vocal and the occasional reinforcing piano note. Portnoy's arriving rattle adds a slight, building depth, though the transition of 'I thought what I could tell' unfortunately sees Labrie straining to create effect. I find myself at about nine minutes in by now, with a cool bass groove, less cool lyrics, some neat fills by Portnoy and three minutes later, I'm still in much the same mood... it's not so much that the song's not good, but just that it's making no continued impression on me. I phase out and find myself waking up occasionally to check where I am by the lyrics.

A very neat synth solo – according to the site I've got up, cribbed, but still, it's well-played – is my next point of actual contact with the music, and after sitting through it and wondering just what it's meant to add to the piece before settling down to plain enjoy it. Now, Full Circle, part III, is a dilemma for me. As mentioned, I think the lyrics are a horrendous mess, but Labrie is on top form and the riff they've pulled out is really strong, and the descent into a sort of collective madness at around 16.00 is great, with what sounds like a brief reference to Metropolis pt. 1, or, at least, the same sort of complex fast-paced, high-energy progressive metal. Head-spinning assaults from the bass and guitar and synthesiser counterpointed with a big range of keyboards, solid ten-second references. I find myself strangely able to completely ignore the lyrics of the next section and carry my full enjoyment of the song across Labrie's odd, but effective, vocal stylings and the full yowling post-ordial swirl of the band. Razor's Edge, though itself somewhat unremarkable, does a good job of working out the tension and energy spilling over from the previous two sections. Some more Brian May-ish guitar-work takes us on our instrumental ride out with a complementary, if brief, appearance by the orchestra.

Well, left in the aftermath with one chilling low piano note, what do I think of Octavarium? Good question... my description's been pretty brief given the length – and I've been trying to give impressions rather than a list you yourself can hear if you pick up the album. Still, it's an enjoyable progressive rock track, with some of Dream Theater's most focussed and impressive music yet, and yet it's a conceptual mess – pritt-sticking a hundred influences together with little other than a lot of instrumental talent to do it. From an intellectual, puzzle-solver and poet, standpoint, I think it's decidedly lightweight, from an emotional standpoint, it almost pulls off the huge finale thing it was going for. And from about the 11.00 or 12.00 mark it never really lost my attention. Unfortunately, this isn't really a case where something less than absolute success can be enough, the album's impact clearly depends on this suite to unify it from a smorgasboard (I wouldn't recommend the cheese) of harmless pop/rock and artistically-leaning metal numbers, and for me, this one isn't good enough to do that.

So, all in all, I think Dream Theater somewhat overreached themselves by a sheer effort to be artistic here, instead ending with a jumble of circumstantial or arranged fives and eights and a couple of whole-album links that really are a bit too light to justify the effort put into them. Additionally, the enormous centrepiece supposedly unifying this is good, but just not good enough or intellectually convincing enough to iron out so many kinks. However, this artistic misfire actually has little effect on the enjoyment of the album proper and, all in all, we're left with some very good songs, in fact, some of DT's best, especially Never Enough, These Walls and Sacrificed Sons, and I think the band's overall sound benefits a bit from Rudess being a little less and Myung a little more noticeable (worth using a good set of headphones for this one – really enjoyed the production). All in all, a pleasant, fairly memorable effort, and worth a few listens even if you're not the band's biggest fan, even if the whole effect doesn't really pull together and I Walk Beside You is a real monstrosity. Three deserved stars from me.

Rating: Three Stars, 10/15... if you want an introduction to the band, I'd say Images And Words (a sketchy 11/15) would be a better choice than this, and Awake a better album than either of them.
Favourite Track: Panic Attack

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For the record, this is the fifth Dream Theater album I've heard, and the fourth I've listened to enough times to get a good impression (about four or five 'complete' listens, and a fair few repeats of the various songs depending on inclination and challenge). However, given I'm reviewing this one based on the excellent Spotify, I find myself without the negative time between the tracks, so be aware that I'm missing about two minutes of the album's incidental music. Additionally, this review has hit, at the moment of completion, 2917 words... long reviews, I'm afraid, result from my style – it wasn't just that I really hated Scenes From A Memory Metropolis.

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I found Dream Theater's back-catalogue was up on Spotify, so got distracted. Alack.

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.

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

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.

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.

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...

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.