THE LEAF AND THE WING

Raven Sad are an Italian band hailing from Tuscany, listed here under Psych as opposed to RPI.

The Leaf and the Wing, released in 2021, is their fourth album, albeit the first since reforming in 2017 following a six-year layoff. This album has been one of the most pleasant surprises this year for me, having picked it up following a favourable review elsewhere in the prog universe. Band founder Samule Santanna is a fine guitarist, and he is joined by old cohort Fabrizio Trinci on keyboards, with new band members Gabriele Marconcini, the lead singer, Marco Geri on bass, and Francesco Carnesecci on drums.

Growing older, and hopefully wiser, I am not a huge fan of labelling works by their supposed sub-genre, so it is sufficient to say that this is very much an atmospheric work which rather escapes such categorisation. There are many highlights.

The album is bookmarked by two instrumental tracks, Legend #1 & #2. The initial piece is a perfect introduction to the type of soaring sounds we hear all over the album preceded by a Floydian talk-over. The closer brings proceedings to a close with five minutes of an ensemble beauty which provides perfectly the conclusion to the work I describe below.

The Sadness of the Raven is a thoughtful track, whilst City Lights and Desert Dark features at its core a vocal which reminds me very much of one Yusuf Islam, or Cat Stevens as he was previously known, and some wonderful riffing by all concerned creating a mid-track wall of noise, with a wonderful, soaring guitar solo by Santanna which segues into a beautiful, brief, coda.

There are two 10-minute plus epics on the album. First up is Colorbox, a monster of a track clocking in at 13 minutes, and my favourite here. It opens with a quite lovely harmonic vocal overlaid on a piano chord before entering a far darker (again brief) phase. This then takes us into the main segment, which twists and turns in its themes and musical textures, but with that lovely "wake up" vocal at its core. Marconcini can make you sit up and take notice, because the hairs on the back of your neck are rising when he hits the top notes. The closing third is just gorgeously dreamy with piano and a deceptively powerful rhythm section backing more soaring guitars before the lead vocal introduces the close with intensity. Very powerful and very classy progressive rock.

Approaching the Chaos is a heavier track, but with some interesting fusion cemented within. A sense of deep foreboding is expertly created in this instrumental story which then takes us to the second epic, Ride the Tempest. When said Tempest arrives a third of the way in, following a deceptive calm, it hits you straight between the eyes, but once more the moods and tempos change as we move through the track with such intelligence. The easy option would have been to provide us with crashing riffs throughout, but the band take us on a journey, at once with beautiful guitars, then with thumping drum and bass underscored by some looping keyboard work. The closing segment features a mournful cello solo.

Absolution Trial is simply a joyful heavy prog piece of music, perhaps not as subtle as all else here, but certainly foot-tapping and head-shaking execution before the close once again has those soaring guitars and delicate vocals underscored by rhythmic excellence.

What we have here is a work whose musicianship is never less than exemplary, with vocals that lilt all over your sound system, and a sense of yearning throughout, and by far the best (what I have interpreted as a) commentary I have heard on climate disaster since the wonderful Disturbance Fields by Edison's Children, to which I feel it is worthy of being compared both in scope and in execution. The production is crystal clear, and the album is available via Bandcamp. Oh, and the cover is to die for as well.

Highly recommended, and four stars for an album I hope marks the long term re-emergence of a talented outfit.