DOMINION

Dominion arrives six years after Resistance, making it one of IQ's most anticipated albums... Mike Holmes has clarified that many other tracks were written but set aside to preserve artistic unity. This shows how carefully each track was chosen! With "The Unknown Door," IQ opens the doors to a new masterpiece. I don't know what exactly I was expecting when I launched "The Unknown Door," the opening track from IQ's new album Dominion. But certainly not this. Not this immediate thrill. Not this dazzling return of everything that made me love The Road of Bones, with this little something extra: an even more refined maturity, a more muted tension, a more immersive narrative. Because yes, IQ is back, and they're not just prolonging their legend? They're elevating it. From the very first seconds, the song establishes an atmosphere that is both mysterious and heavy. We find this signature style so characteristic of the group: the dark and enveloping keyboards, a tense rhythm that advances with determination, and this voice? always the voice? of Peter Nicholls, which seems to emerge from the mists to tell us something crucial. He does not address us: he takes us along. "The Unknown Door" is both a journey and a warning. The sonic textures are rich, dense, but never stifling. The piece takes its time (more than 10 minutes!), but it never drags. Each sequence evolves, transforms, becomes tense. There is something almost cinematic in the way IQ constructs the rise: a progressive narrative, which advances scene by scene, without ever getting lost. What is most striking is the quality of the production. Everything is clear, each instrument finds its place. The guitars are sometimes sharp, sometimes ethereal; The keyboards, meanwhile, paint post-apocalyptic landscapes that look like something out of a science fiction film. We sense a band that has mastered its craft, but refuses to rest on its laurels. The instrumental break in the middle of the song is a pure moment of grace. Where many bands sprawl, IQ condenses emotion. The harmonies are subtle, almost unsettling. And when the vocals return, it's to remind us that this song is a gateway to something bigger, to an album that promises to be ambitious, dark, almost conceptual. As someone who's not really familiar with prog, I'm always amazed by how IQ manages to make this genre so fluid, so emotional. No need to understand all the time signatures or references: the music speaks directly, without detours. And this song is the perfect example. He takes your hand, shows you an unknown door, and simply says: "Come in, we don't know where this is going, but you won't regret it." "The Unknown Door" isn't something you listen to; it's something you experience. It places you in an almost meditative state, then shakes you up, gently but surely. And when the last note rings out, you're left there, a little drained, a little fascinated, with only one desire: to hear what happens next.

After the hypnotic shock of "The Unknown Door," IQ continues with "One Of Us," a track that's brighter on the surface, but just as subtle and nuanced in its construction. It's a welcome contrast, almost like a breather after the tension of the opening. But be warned: with IQ, even "accessible" songs are emotional labyrinths. From the very first bars, we sense a more direct, more fluid melody, almost pop in its hook?and yet, the layers pile up very quickly. A round bass line, supple drums, keyboards dancing discreetly in the background. And once again, that voice of Peter Nicholls, still as inhabited, but here softer, almost benevolent. It's as if the band is saying to us: "You're part of the journey now, let yourself be carried away." The chorus is a true melodic gem: simple, immediate, but never banal. IQ achieves a rare balance here in prog: that of not sacrificing emotion for complexity. There's an almost radio-friendly side to this song?which doesn't mean commercial? but rather universal. You can listen to it without being a fan of the genre, without knowing the band. It still speaks to you. But IQ wouldn't be IQ without a few surprises. The second half of the song opens with a rich, more contemplative instrumental variation. We find this finesse in the textures, these production details that make each listen different. And when the melody returns, it's with a new weight, a reinforced emotional depth. "One of Us" is the perfect introduction for those new to the band. A more accessible track, yet one that retains that unique identity: a balance between light and shadow, between restraint and intensity.

If "The Unknown Door" was the solemn opening to a dark universe, and "One Of Us" a more melodic clearing, "No Dominion" closes the opening triptych with a discreet but relentless punch. It's a shorter, more compact piece, but also more urgent, almost nervous. As if the tension built up in the first two tracks ended up overflowing here. From the first seconds, the rhythm is more direct, drier, and the tone is set. We feel a form of dull anger, contained in Peter Nicholls' voice, which here seems less introspective, more frontal. The guitar is more present, incisive, and the keyboards weave a taut, almost threatening sonic carpet. There's something post-punk in the way the instruments converse? A nervous modernity that contrasts with the classicism of prog. But IQ never goes for pure rupture: it's all about controlled contrast. Even in this new intensity, there are moments of respite, furtive melodic reflections, like memories of a lost calm. The chorus, in particular, retains the band's typical ability to capture an emotion in a few notes. "No Dominion" acts almost as a declaration of intent: this new chapter for IQ will be neither comfortable nor predictable. The band rejects all domination? in both the literal and symbolic senses. We sense here a desire to assert an identity that is always in flux, to tell the audience: "Don't put us in a box, we are alive, and we are moving forward." This track marks a controlled break in the album, a tenser, more electric turn, which undoubtedly heralds darker corners to come. And it does so without chatter, without artifice. In less than five minutes, IQ reminds us that they can also hit fast and hard? And that even in its conciseness, their music can leave deep traces.

With "Far From Here," IQ offers us a poignant and introspective interlude, almost suspended in time. After the electric tension of "No Dominion," this track acts like a deep breath, a necessary pause, but tinged with profound melancholy. Here, the power comes not from the instrumental flourishes, but from restraint, silence, and naked emotion. From the very first seconds, we are struck by the apparent simplicity of the track: a soft piano, subtle keyboard layers, and Peter Nicholls's ever-disturbing voice, poised and fragile. Everything is slow, stripped down, as if the band wanted us to stop for a moment and look back. And it works. Immediately, we are transported "far from here," as the title suggests. Far from the chaos, far from ourselves perhaps. But this gentleness hides a great emotional intensity. The main melody is disarmingly beautiful, with a chorus that tightens the throat without ever falling into pathos. IQ excels here in the art of expressive restraint: no need to overdo it to touch the heart. Each note seems weighed, each word chosen with care. There is something almost cathartic about "Far From Here." This track is reminiscent of a lunar stroll, a moment of floating between two storms. We find a bit of the soul of Harvest of Souls or Closer, but with even more tenderness and maturity. It's a song that could stand on its own, but which, inserted here in the album, takes on its full meaning. It acts like a slow heartbeat, a space to breathe, reflect, feel. And then, towards the end, a few notes rise, like a discreet hope. IQ never lets sadness completely take over. There's always that discreet glimmer, that tenuous thread that connects us to something larger, something brighter. "Far From Here" may be the album's most accessible track, but it's no less profound, sincere, and essential.

"Never Land" is at once a conclusion, an apotheosis, and an enigma. This lengthy piece, over 19 minutes long, closes the Dominion album with a rare ambition: to embrace everything that progressive rock has to offer, while remaining profoundly human. From the introduction, we feel we're entering a more introspective, almost spiritual territory. The first notes hang, almost silent, like a held breath. Then, slowly, the piece unfolds. We find all the faces of IQ: melodic melancholy, emotional surges, instrumental flights, motifs that intertwine and echo one another. But what's striking here is the time given to each idea. There's no rush. Each movement seems to live its own breath, in a fluid and immersive musical narrative. Peter Nicholls's vocals are particularly touching on this track. We feel him on the edge of a whisper, then carried by the waves of sound, always in tune, always expressive. There's a discreet theater in his voice, a way of conveying emotion without overplaying it. "Never Land" is a mental territory, an elsewhere. We hear the band's past, their neo-prog roots, but also a form of contemplative modernity. The song explores areas of light and shade, with transitions as natural as they are surprising. The finale, especially, leaves a sense of gentle grandeur, a suspended farewell, as if the album weren't really ending, but letting us continue alone, with everything we felt.

With Dominion, IQ delivers an album of rare coherence, chiaroscuro, magnetic and moving, shot through with constant emotional tension. Each track explores a different facet of their universe, in a subtle balance between sonic density and melodic grace. IQ isn't seeking to shine technically, but to tell a story, to make it felt. The production is clear, the arrangements are polished, and each track acts like a chapter in a larger narrative. Dominion is an album that can't be listened to in one go: it's experienced, and leaves a lasting impression. The production is clear, the arrangements are polished, and the performance is remarkably precise. Peter Nicholls delivers one of his most captivated performances, while the instrumentations of Holmes, Cook, Esau, and Durant weave a dense but never stifling web. You breathe in this album. You live in it.

And perhaps the most beautiful thing is that Dominion is profoundly accessible. You don't need to be an expert in the genre to appreciate it. Every fan of demanding, melodic, and narrative music can relate to it. It's a work that deserves to be heard, yes, but it never closes the door on you. Quite an achievement for a band that will celebrate its 45th anniversary next year, and that has never been so prolific!

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