Saga – 10,000 Days

Whether or not we’re on the same page, I can tell you that these digits are special. The number relates to a specific span of time. If you are unaware of this rough estimate, I suggest you go to the back of the class so that you can brush up on their discography. This is a band that requires intense study or - at the very least - a cram session.

In their quest of progressive dominance, they’ve left no stone unturned. Like a thorny calculus equation, even their futuristic artwork gives students something to ponder over for years to come.

When you contemplate its purpose, this album could make a grown-man cry or a manic depressive doleful. Saga pulled out all the stops in the send-off of their principal member: that would be Micheal Sadler. As always, his lead singing is virile while his co-writing is vital and mature. Even producer Henning Pauly - who collaborated with him on many projects - gives Sadler his infrequent seal of approval.

To expound upon the topic, Sadler filled a gaping hole when Freddy Mercury booked his unexpected trip to heaven. Hopefully Saga can stick a finger in the dike long enough to find a worthy replacement. It’s a daunting task, but there is too much talent left in the band to call it quits.

Speaking of which, these chaps were made in Canada. These days that seems to be an untapped reserve in terms of venturesome musicians. To put it mildly, what has surfaced there has been very good; think of Rush for starters. Come to the present and you’ll get a terrible bout of scurvy if you nosh on too many of this land’s ebullient citrus. Hamadryad, Into Eternity, Karcius, Miriodor, and Mulmuzzler are a couple prominent examples from the upstairs neighbor of the United States of America.

As for this album, every song is gifted and talented. While they are all worthy of Wayne Campbell and Garth Alagar’s honor roll, “Book of Lies” and “It Never Ends” are standouts in the categorical sense. In terms of nominees, “Corkentails” and “10,000 Days” also make the short list.

Here are those exigent tracks in order of appearance:

“Book of Lies” is the appetizing egg roll in the vein of the ditty that had Run DMC allied with Aerosmith. This extraordinary piece is the cream of the crop; making it one of my all-time favorites. As a long-time fan who rarely exaggerates what I like, this says a lot. It goes without saying that this inductee should be spliced into the highlight reel. While it’s incredibly re-playable, I suggest you still save room for dessert.

To Oscar the Grouch and those who say they should close up shop, the instrumental “Corkentails” will force naysayer’s to shut up. It goes to prove that the residual skill left in the till is more than half full.

Paying tribute to another valiant candidate, “10,000 Days” is a fortune cookie from Dr. Fu Manchu himself. It reflects upon a prosperous journey and provides well wishes for the future. In a way, it merits gestures of self-praise. I got chills listening to them put their heartfelt memoirs into this journal entry. Not sure if the chicken or the egg came first, but Tool has curiously assigned their newest chronicles the same name no more than a mere year back. Nevertheless, if I were to have written the petite leaflet nestled within the twisted pastry of this track, I would have told them to pat themselves on the back. This creation constitutes icing on a very prolific cake. The album is cohesive and complete; full of tender moments that are sore to the touch. To purchase this pet is to buy a tragedy. After pining away for the date of its release, I’m already grieving.

To help us cope, they provide their condolences with an encore that ties for the grand prize. This occurs in the waning moments. Hopefully, “It Never Ends” is not the last we ever hear from Sadler. If it is, this conclusive dish of flambéed ambrosia is more appreciated than Banana’s Foster at a reception. They take their most passionate licks and then turn them over in a cocktail of Rice Krispies and kerosene. As if this weren’t already a ceasefire sale where everything must go, they put a Cherry Bomb on top of this tart strudel. With a flick of a lit matchstick, Bottle Rockets and Roman Candles burst from its gut. After raiding their repository in order to blast the ammunition dump, this tune quite righteously begs to be played live with a barrage of awesome sparklers.

Regrettably, the captain has come ashore, which means The Bounty is temporarily in a holding pattern. While the news of his departure could cause a mutiny, this album will satisfy our needs in the meantime. Fortunately, there will be air guitars and even air drums played across the world once fans catch a whiff of this highly flammable substance. As always, Saga is symphonic. Since they are a slim hair under heavy, it’ll appeal to enthusiasts of both rock and metal. All of this is extremely listenable no matter where the anvil falls. Conversely, it’s hardly painful on the ears. Turn this up and revel in this incendiary confetti that’s to an extent reminiscent of Queen.

While this is Michael Sadler’s swan song, there are a couple reasons to be content. First off, he’s leaving us to spend time with his family, which is a noble gesture in and of itself. Secondly, Christian Simpson’s amazing drumming has climbed to the next level. Couple this with Jim Gilmour’s keyboards, Ian Crichton’s guitars and his brother Jim’s bass; you’ve more than compensated for a deficit in any band.

If this weren’t Sadler’s last album, I might be tempted to take a fraction of a point away for a minority of unsatisfactory riffs. Then again, that would be petty. As one of my teachers once told me, nothing is perfect. When grading on a curve, you need to take some existential elements into consideration. For that reason, this requires much better than average marks. A simple pass would be an insult if you ask me. It’s a must-have on the essential scale, and it’s potentially their best album to date. There is nothing more this posse could accomplish. Likewise, Sadler pulls no punches and gives it his all in the final round. This concludes his long-time affair with a googolplex plus one of gaga fans.

The title says it all! Convert the days to years and cross-reference this with Saga’s prosperous career. That’s enough to call this exclamation point and seamless release paradisiacal.

10,000/10

Magic Pie - Circus of Life

I experienced much of this material live at RoSfest far before I ever heard the disc. While it was masterfully performed there, it is superbly done here.

From the alluring intro to the clever finale, this seven-parter (a five-track plus two) shines with an intensity not entirely felt on the first one. While the debut featured four-part harmonies that I sorely miss, this one has many scrumptious layers of guitars. Plus, the compositions are tighter than an engineer’s schematics on a microprocessor or the spelt circumference surrounding a ballerina’s waistline.

Between the electrics and the plugged-in acoustics, the tranquility is established instead in their instrument’s harmonics. As for the singing, I’m not saying it’s anemic. To the contrary, there are harmonies, which are referenced later on in this appraisal. For now, in a nutshell, each lead singer takes his own sweet time and presents his voice mostly by its lonesome self.

I have to give them praise for using these atomic talents in bold new ways and making an album that’s unique from their original award-winning recipe. It was risky business, because it was ambitious. Anyhow, it works quite well for the picky patron.

That aside, here is a quick and dirty inspection of the second storefront raised in Magic Pie’s enterprising venture:

01 – Circus of Life Pt. I – Welcome - At its commencement, they conduct a survey that bears convivial fruit. This follows many birds of a feather, possibly robins, orioles, or jays. While there is music, the focus is strictly on the customer. The hospitable ushers take your ticket and welcome you into the big top. Even for a grand-opening experience planned with warm-hearted intent, the anthem forms an especially-friendly greeting. With this reception, it’s obvious they are setting up an instant-classic and an epic.

02 – Circus of Life Pt. II – Freskshow - They immediately expand upon their successful franchise. On these burgers, Gilbert Marshall’s keyboards are thick. I’m not sure what’s in the sauce, but it’s progressive and I like it. What’s unusual is that Lars Petter Holstad’s bass, Kim Stenberg’s guitar, and Jan Torkild Johannessen’s drums add a curious side of grits. They serve every course and round it out with a milkshake. When one would think you’d have to go back to the debut to get a proper happy meal, they provide twice as many toys inside their artsy-fartsy sixties-inspired container.

03 – Circus of Life Pt. III – What if… - Within this rhetoric, they continue to branch out. This time they pump white noise into the shared space of the cafeteria. Due to the lack of calamity, this refectory is peaceful. Besides the calm sounds, each bite of their juicy jingle will beckon you to buy more sparkling items. With such light options on the back-lit menu-based-banner overhead, there is room for cake or more appropriately, fried apple pie. Also, we get limited choices that can still be ordered later on in the reprisal as well as a whipped layer of creamy hand-picked notes from Stenberg’s guitar.

04 – Circus of Life Pt. IV – Trick of the Mind – At first, it seems that the next target market would be the boroughs of the Violet District. Before the kids are allowed into the recreational area, they are sent back to Motions of Desire. With this, it looks as if the groundbreaking building is still under construction for another season. As a “Band”-Aid, it seems that the answer lies in temporarily parking the tikes in the daycare of its predecessor. Then just like that this suitable solution proves to be premature. They christen this vessel of sand, concrete, and dirt with mirth. It’s better than Dick & Mac’s McDonalds, Jackson’s Neverland, and Pee Wee Herman’s Playhouse combined. Here we are blessed with so much commotion around the monkey bars and slides; it isn’t very long before someone gets marred. The anger and embarrassment prompts fisticuffs which in turn causes fragile bodies to go airborne. So far this is the most unpredictable number they’ve conceived. Every time you try to gauge it, you’re misdirected. For instance, once you think you are submerged in a ceaseless battle between brats, a counselor intervenes and just like that the disagreement is settled. The sighs of relief are actually heard by the group and I kid you not, that’s no joke. Across the turf, there are several more outbursts from Stenberg’s belligerent guitars. While Holstad’s bass and Johannessen’s drums try to hush him, he is not easily subdued by the mere threat of hazing. When he is finally quiet, we find Marshall’s keyboards creating mischief in his place. As we turn our attention away from the rotten seed, he seizes the opportunity to go bad to the bone again. When he does, we get riffs and tantrums on par with “Devil Went Down to Georgia”. All around this song is pleasantly-exhausting and fulfilling thanks to the assistance from the grown-ups in the mix. Furthermore, in terms of the multi-pronged marathon that this song is a part of, we spend the most time here. As they say, time flies when you’re having fun and this was done in the four separate acts I’ve more or less pinned down. These split-personalities consist of “Song of Decision”, “Song of Anger”, “Song of Sharing”, and “Face to Face”.

05 – Circus of Life Pt. V – The Clown – If you were wondering why the funnymen were absent, it’s due to the fact that Cedric and the other entertainers occupied all the other stages. With jugglers, fire-eaters, acrobatics and more, we finally get pratfalls, slapstick, and jesters. Like countless famous stand-up comics, there is a frown behind the laughter. Before it’s all over, we get a sardonic discussion that hinges on a miserable experience in the company of satirical stories. Still, the expressions and smiles from the watchers are cathartic. In addition, the response is empathetic. This makes the conclusion a positive pot of gold at the end of an almost violently-vibrant rainbow.

06 - Pointless Masquerade – I can’t read what they are saying as there is meaning in the pretext. At the very least, it speaks to me. After shuffling through a complicated deck that accounts for five intense chapters, we receive this whimsical piece with a grin. Gilbert‘s keyboards embody the wildly-droll instrument of Ryo Okumoto while Stenberg is back at it yet again with an unequivocal series of eruptions from his guitar. The Latin influences seem less Spanish and more Neal Morse whereas the upbeat section has Moon Safari written all over it. At its stature, it’s nice to discover that the smallest souvenir sapped from the knapsack is both comprehensive and complete.

07 – Watching the Waters – It’s hard to close out any event after following so many strong performances. Nevertheless, this noble ringleader puts the entire display within the necessary context by supplying enlightening advice over the PA system. Kiddy-corner from the bleachers, a behind-the-scenes coordinator brings out The Flower Kings and Queen. For the climax, a harmonica ties it all together and then brings it to a remarkably-smashing end.

In “retro”-spect, my favorite song is that fantastically-long track entitled, “Trick of the Mind”; however, the entire album clicks as a whole. For that reason, I wouldn’t change it one iota. And when I listen, I begin with the initial note and finish in the secret chamber that only makes itself known after every last bit of calligraphy in the trailing credits is shown. The drawn-out pause is like a cursed chest of priceless coins. While the blight might keep you at bay, the return on investment will make you wait.

Aside from these semi-sprite details, spoiler and slip, mums the word on anything else their great show of vitality and joie de vivre entails.

I would definitely be interested in a third installment. To tell you the truth, I can hardly suppress my anticipation for the next melodious extravaganza they have scheduled.

If offered more Magic Pie, there is only one proper response: “Thank you, sirs! May I have another slice?”

9.25/10

The Flower Kings - The Road Back Home (a.k.a. My Epic Review)

When it comes to The Flower Kings, it’s not difficult finding something constructive or nice to say. To the contrary, it’s hard as heck to keep quiet. You could call me a pusher of their pixie-dust-infested powder. I’m frequently found urging others to check out their material. When it comes to my coaxing, it’s significantly more than peer pressure. I’m infatuated to the point of compulsion. There is no doubt that they’re a pet band of mine. Actually, I’d find myself in a heap of trouble if they stopped producing this exotic rock or I was ordered by a judge to kick the habit. I depend on the regularity of their releases. Without them, I’d certainly go through withdrawal or at a bare minimum, go bonkers.

Like man’s best friend, they can be found slouched around the house in one of many favorite spots whether it is the CD player, the couch, or at the top of the stairs. All kidding aside, their media is situated at the vanguard of a shelving unit set aside for this important purpose.

When I heard they were coming out with a “Best Of” compilation, I thought it was an excellent idea, but it made me scratch my head. How could such a discography be reduced to a single disc? I would have expected six; it turns out to be two. Even though it’s over two and a half hours of music, it’s still a daunting task to sift through all their priceless chaff looking for real platinum or gold.

First of all, they have many songs that surpass the 15-minute mark. Some exceed thirty minutes, and in one case, it’s approximately an hour. Consensus says these prolonged songs are among their most finely-crafted opuses. I’m sure Garfield would be in agreement.

Secondly, they have a lot of songs that are very good; no superb. If you ask me, they are a super-group with a star at every position. The number of albums they’ve produced bypass the double-digit mark and each one demonstrates masterful songwriting and playing.

So, how did they narrow it down?

When looking at the track-listing, I found the answer…

They stuck to their grooviest and most ductile tracks. “The Truth Will Set You Free” and “Garden of Dreams”, for instance, are absent. Like Starscream’s last-minute escape, this might lend itself for a sequel. Likewise, they work within the margins to provide a couple of their lengthier pieces. They also push the limits by widening shorter widgets and retrofitting some older songs with modern cogs.

While these wouldn’t be the selections I would have chosen, they are still great songs; mainly due to the fact that Stolt’s orchard doesn’t produce fragile saplings that crack from gentle gusts of wind or conk out with a child’s joking whack. No, these firmly-rooted chaps find themselves at the elevation of the Rockies, the Andes, and at times the Himalayas.

The sky-scraping bark found here might not soar above their highest peaks, but they are tall enough to earn themselves the tag of greatest hits. In reality, they are closer to the Colorado foothills than Everest, K-2, or Kanchenjunga. Then again, these crags are lofty enough to cause light-headedness and dizzy spells at the first sign of relief.

If you’re worried that this is not mountainous enough, the American Heart Association (AHA) will tell you that there is no safe level of exposure to their second-hand puffs. In support of this report, it will wedge itself under your skin and get into your ears. That’s an unfortunate bit of news for any fan that plans to skip out halfway through the show. One way or the other, they’ll be affected. On the brighter side, there is a healthy dose of clean-sweeping rhythms and lung-purifying riffs. This is not just good for you; it’s great. Actually, the surgeon general will state that this is an EXCELLENT addictor.

To paraphrase Queen, Stolt’s taken bows and curtain calls, but it hasn’t brought him fame and fortune and everything that goes with it. In a genre that doesn’t always pay, it’s been no bed of roses for him and his brood. Yet, his followers have been loyal to these royal gardeners and in turn, it’s allowed them to flourish.

This cool guy and his crew have built their own dynasty of sorts. In many ways, they demand the highest compensation from the festivals and many times they’ve gotten it. This is justified, and if you haven’t heard this band, you’ve been out of the loop. If you have, I’m sure you’ll be quick to concede that you’ve been reaping innumerable benefits from their progressive landscapes since that maiden day you laid ears on them.

Enough nerdy fanboy chatter; let’s rake more forcefully through this rich and bountiful loam called The Road Back Home…

Each disc is seeded with an unexpected opener: “Cosmic Lover” on the first and “Ghost of the Red Cloud” on the second.

We are nurtured with interesting choices such as “Stupid Girl”, “Starlight Man”, and “Painter”.

In the end, the much beloved “Stardust We Are” closes out the compilation.

That’s everything in a nutshell, but you’d miss a lot if you decided not to dig a little deeper…

Long before that poignant sunset, we acquire bonuses such as an extended “Cinema Show” that continues when you think it may cease to grow. For those who don’t know, this was initially discovered on Genesis’ Selling England by the Pound.

There is also unpicked fruit like the unreleased “Little Deceiver.”

Plus, there are highlights from the new album. “Paradox Hotel” is the selection that’s most easily seen peeking out from the foliage.

There is even an entry from Stolt’s solo album. That would be the Joni Mitchell cover, “Life Will Kill You”. It’s not spot-on; only because it’s an improvement. In this occurrence, Hasse Froberg sings.

There is even more to be exposed in this copious cornucopia…

Some might ask, “Where’s the beef?” Don’t fret; they provide viable alternatives. They butter their buns and fill the middle layers with meaty substitutes in lieu of their original stock. The muscle and fiber are provided by soy concentrate, mycoprotein-based Quorn, peanut flour, and squash. As a result, these mighty and magical musicians give each gamer precious regenerative resources on every turn.

They go straight from “World without a Heart” to the “Church of your Heart”. It’s enough to warm the veins in your pulmonary system. Additionally, it’s about as giving as the not-for-profit organization cited above.

Within the shared circuitry of the first disc, “Cosmic Circus” is a hop-skip-and-a-jump-away from “Cosmic Lover”.

Continuing on, they provide part two of “I Am The Sun”. By doing so, they take the opportunity and initiative to touch upon a tremendous epic without occupying an excessive amount of space. Be assured; you won’t incur empty calories or an ounce of trans-isomer fat.

They negotiate plenty of exciting terrain in “The Road Back Home”, which operates as the cover model for this issue. Within the realm of this collection, this is the one I enjoyed most. It does seem to tower quite a bit over the others; most likely due to its tweaks. It’s worthy of its central location on the mantel and its ostentatious alias as title-track.

We float high in “Ghost of the Red Cloud” and “Touch My Heaven”. Shortly thereafter, we go below the pretentious climaxes with countless tranquil waves found inside “The Rhythm of the Sea”.

Out of the numerous submissions, the only one that didn’t earn my immediate approval was “The Chickenfarmer Song”. I find that sometimes it’s best to keep the chickadees away from the cultivator and on the other side of the red velvet drape. All right; so that I don’t offend every fan in the world, I concede that its presence isn’t entirely bad. At worst case, I would have replaced this satellite from Space Resolver with one of the shorts from Unfold the Future.

Specifically, I was disappointed by the absence of “Roll the Dice”. If I were the devil’s advocate, I might argue that this shrub’s shoots would have acted as an invasive weed whereas the selected song intermingles in harmony with the others.

Other than that, I support their affirmations and votes. As it turns out, they provided many of my favorites. The overlapping list outputted from the Venn Diagram includes “A King’s Prayer”, “Vox Humana”, “What if God is Alone”, “Grand Old World”, “Monkey Business”, “Compassion” and what else but “The Flower King”.

By itself, that’s a mouthful as this product is never lacking. With such diversity, it shouldn’t be a dilemma picking out a baker’s dozen or your very own customized batch from Peter Paraskaksis’ corporation. Whichever way it’s broken down, the chosen set will have much to compare and contrast.

The album features all three drummers: Jaime Salazar, Zoltan Csörsz, and Marcus (Guru) Lillequist. Unlike Spinal Tap, the ones that left are still alive and kicking, and breathing and playing.

It also passes through a discography that spans a couple decades; even the ones that pre-date Jonas Reingold. When dinosaurs roamed the earth, Roine Stolt or his brother Michael would have been witnessed fingering the bass.

Many of the songs have been amended by incorporating a plethora of production goodies. Among them are new backing vocals and guitar solos. Even their earliest pieces sound pristine. Occasionally, Daniel Gildenlow’s voice can be heard. Ulf Wahlander’s saxes sporadically sprout out from the soil as well.

It’s a quandary settling on a winner for all to hear. If pushed to this impasse, I would call a tie between “The Road Back Home” and “Cinema Show”. The former is masterfully re-engineered while the latter is wonderfully extended. In a region that’s laden with more sites than I-90 through South Dakota, these two attractions will most likely produce the most fascination. For veteran fans, “Cinema Show” will probably be deemed the most premium pop in the refrigerator.

In another newscast, Hasse Froberg’s voice reigns supreme in “Painter”. The only time it has sounded better to me was when I stood at the foot of a stage and watched him close out a concert with chorus lines that went increasingly higher.

What’s more, “Different People” is so perfectly reworked; it deserves compliments and kudos. Regrettably, a pat on the back will have to suffice as the atmosphere elsewhere is so emotionally-jarring it will give you chills. The much-beloved “Stardust We Are” is more crystalline and frothy than a Wendy’s Frosty. It’s affixed on the trailer’s hitch as a tinier, less tinny version that will do more than make you pant.

Whatever the case may be, these cuts receive as much care as bag of Camellia Sinensis dropped off at Celestial Seasonings. An emperor will accept them whether the packing slip reads white, black, or green.

Each leaf is rinsed in the factory and tenderly combined by Roine Stolt, the blend-master of the mill. With repeated overdubs and samples, he readjusts these concoctions to give them more potency, and less pulp. All the while he ensures that they match his award-winning recipe with sprinkles of neatly-ground botanicals and finely-crafted flora.

Like Mo Siegel, who spent his summers harvesting bales, the rudiments in these plants constitute quite the cache. Many years later, the formulas are perfected for this anthology. When mixed, it makes up "Roine's 27-herb tea". That’s four more ingredients than Dr. Pepper.

With each sip, you’ll enjoy the same consistency and flavor. It’s obvious that Stolt holds his songs to the strictest standards; requiring a certain level of cleanliness, purity, and freshness. If a piece fails to meet one of his stringent thresholds, they are rejected, not processed or packed.

Nobody demanded it. They still supplied it. Ultimately, the fans will be happy for their consideration. On the surface, this might appear to be a ploy, a prop, a plot device, or what a few may call a MacGuffin from an Alfred Hitchcock script. (As Roger Ebert might denote, Wikipedia would help clarify the reference as this has nothing to do with McDonalds). Once you hear it, you’ll realize this album is an essential part of their libretto.

In every shipping crate, the adjustments equal improvement. Stolt apologizes on the invoice for the varying production quality; however, I seem to think he has created something that’s coherent and stable.

Over the past decade, it’s been a challenge. They’ve done their term – touring and producing albums one-after-another annually. It’s been a sweaty and laborious sentence. At the same time, they haven’t deserved the heartache they’ve endured; no crime has been committed. Without question, this band should be rewarded as they have paid their dues. It’s apparent it’s been no pleasure cruise. While they’ve had their share of sand kicked in their face, they’ve kept on fighting. Now there is no sign that they will ever lose. In fact, I foresee that their best work and happiest days lie ahead.

It’s about time The Flower Kings delivered a two-disc compilation. When it comes to Progressive Rock, they are the champions (of the world).

9/10

Saga – World’s Apart Revisited (Live)

When it comes to Saga, I was a very late bloomer, but now I am one of their biggest fans. I must be in the minority, because this supposedly well-known album is not a revisit for me. Back in the day, I may have acquired a copy, but I never paid it much thought or gave it too much of a listen. When they released Network and Trust, I was gaga for this newly-discovered substance. I played the heck out of these until the sheen from the underbody was duly scratched and totally worn out. Now when they put out something new, I am anxious and eager to gobble it up. When they released The Chapters Live, I was overwhelmed to find something out there so soon amongst these other outbreaks and then once I heard it I was floored. Having their latest in my hands, I am literally shaking like a pooch awaiting his favorite rawhide, biscuit, or bone. If a single crumb fell, I’d be all over it. As I take this disc from its case and slide it into the player, I’m panting like Scooby Doo used to peculiarly do when offered up the possibility of a scrumptious snack. As the vacuum seal is broken and the air slowly leaks out, I’m pretty much salivating in the moments before the vibes hit the hairs within my ears. As I munch on this material, it’s everything I had hoped it would accomplish. Not only is it awesome out of the gate, but it comes in several desirable formats: a two-CD or two-DVD set, or if you’re really lucky and an addictive fiend like me, both types of media can be scoffed at in a limited edition pack.

Moreover, the crowd complements the music. Sadler once recanted his dissatisfaction to me in regards to a certain singer’s disappointingly-poor live performance (won’t name names here, but it’s a fairly familiar mainstream artist). He has no need to worry about any criticism from this critic, his audience, or for that matter, anybody with taste. His performance is on the level with stars such as Sting, Peter Gabriel, and Freddie Mercury. Also, Saga’s transmission is so clear and in no need of error correction, it’s hard to believe the media is streaming from my speakers in real-time. There is no exaggeration in this claim. The guitars, bass, and keyboards are as sharp as heck. Coupled with immaculately-accurate singing, this is an unparalleled event. Too bad I couldn’t be there. I would like to catch them on the rebound, because they haven’t lost it and persist to tour. Then again, the rumor-mill has churned out statements to the contrary. In spite of this, I hope to see them in person someday as they are so good that standing in their presence must be like a safe landing in the paradise of another world. Meanwhile, I have Network, Trust, The Chapters Live, and now this one to keep me preoccupied. While we’re on the topic, other adjectives that come to mind are captivated, awestruck, and hypnotized. I’m for the most part under their spell in anticipation of that hallowed day that I’m drooling over to chew on. Until then, let’s continue to report on their most recent emergence.

In my opinion, the overall highlight is “The Runaway”, but in all seriousness, every item is phenomenal. What’s funny is that he says, “You think that one’s good…” as the fans cheer emphatically to “See Them Smile”. After a brief pause, they tear into that masterfully-performed work of art, which deals with a fugitive, escapee, or absconder. It’s not just the audience who appreciates this one. I’m a repeat offender and a habitual ogler who often elopes with this number. The guitars and synthesizers are killer on “Ice Nice” as well. With clanking glassware and twinkling keys, they take us back in the annals of their historical reign in the eighties. I almost thought he’d go into a fabled yarn like the shrewd soothsayer from Eragon, but alas he decides to start singing instead. Afterwards, he says, “We’re making a movie!”, and he does so with a country twang. With this, his fans become wild, get unruly, and go feral. This is when they delve into the bulk of World’s Apart, which begins at Track Seven Side One with the adorably-boingy “On the Loose” and ceases to respire at Track Five Side Two with the tempting venerations caused by the candies of “No Stranger”.

I’d say Disc One is best only because my favorites find themselves on that platter. “The Pitchmen”, for example, is an excellent source of fiber. It’s a smart choice to kick off the set and send this projectile into orbit. Other than that, the climate and mood is consistently pleasing throughout the duration of this excursion. Like “Don’t Be Late” is a strong contender that weighs in at the end.

As for others on the side I treasure, “Amnesia” and “Framed” are stacked like patties in a Big Mac. What’s more, these bosom buddies share common ground. The manner in which they cohabitate would make you think they were brothers. If ever the space were sold or reduced, these two peas in a pod would make ideal roommates. Conjointly, “Conversations” demonstrates what they can do instrumentally.

The hiccups provide surprise too. The crowd doesn’t participate as expected in “No Stranger”. Sadler gives them a chance to jump in, but they are difficult and diffident in his urgings to chip in. At any rate, the silence creates much needed space within a busy intersection. Despite the traffic, the song could have been lifted and overlaid upon output born from the studio and you’d never know it. By this, I’m referencing the record that dons a gal with microorganisms in one eye and the cosmos in the other lens.

To give you an idea of how they sound, they most closely emulate Queen. Still, they put their own stamp and brand on this hard-to-duplicate and tricky-to-replicate stock. While it’s impossible to replace the storied and the celebrated, these guys from Saga do a great job when it comes to filling the void. On a bright note, I heard through the grapevine that Queen is planning a tour with Paul Rodgers. This is gravy on top of succulently-mashed and lemon-infused potatoes.

Back to the basics of this particular assignment, Saga has mass-produced a surplus of goods and much coverage of this tonnage has been done on this album. Aside from World’s Apart, we find songs from their debut, Images at Twilight, Silent Knight, Heads or Tales, House of Cards, and Network. All these submissions do the album justice and use our time in a considerate and respectable manner. This outstanding concert sets the stage for one very gutsy self-defining point in time. To a degree, their genes epitomize nobility in the flesh. If Queen were the lady of the house, Saga is her firstborn and a priced-possession at that.

When Sadler isn’t doing an impression of his idol, he demonstrates vocal variety and an impression of other important persons. To a degree, “Scratching the Surface” embodies George Michael and Elton John. He also has the charismatic stage presence of Kevin Gilbert in his frequent dissertations between the pieces.
As for broadening the discussion outside of comparisons, the inset makes me think of that Saturday Night Live skit where Jack Black plays an anchorman at a photo op. He just can’t get anyone to acknowledge him. In this pic, the credit for the album is shared as the finger-pointing is equally-distributed.

In addition, this band really works the crowd in a way I’ve never heard. Sadler even conducts a sing-a-long and a dance routine. This comes through so clearly in the speakers, I felt like getting up and going for a trot around the sofa. Not to take anything away from the source material, but the music moves with a synergy and pace that is not entirely felt on the genuine article.

Furthermore, I’ve never heard “How Long”, and I was truly enthralled by the musky beat it spews. Before the spray can spurts, he begins with “Uno, dos, tres.” While foreign to my ears, this initiative was intuitive in the most indelible and unbelievable way.

While I make discrete comparisons to other bands, their style is universally distinct. I could pick them out of a line-up, and if I was playing name that tune, I’d suspect them in a couple notes regardless of my ability to consistently identify the title.

One thing I appreciate most about this concert is the fact that the inertia did not impede nor does it ever implode upon itself. The momentum goes from track-to-track, and the gap between the parts is bridged with idioms, a plethora of hoopla and jokes.

As they have done with their other live albums, they stay true to the original. Even the cover has that wizened traveler who is holding a globe. There is also that ghostly apparition with air force-issued sunglasses and chartreuse ChapStick on her lips. While this might appear to be another parcel on the pile, this is far from a completist’s neurotic acquisition. Better yet, I’d say it’s essential for fans whether they be committed aluminsts or newbies like me who are crazy about the band.

9.25/10 (Out of this world and one of the best of its kind)

Neal Morse - Sola Scriptura

Outstanding! If there was any stronger word to use in its place, I’d have chosen that instead to sanction my approval. I’ve been playing the heck out of this ever since I’ve had it in my hands. My greatest source of confliction is determining whether or not this is better than the last. I must be penitent awhile longer before any judgment can be passed.

As the Neanderthal evolved into a human, Neal Morse has come a long way since he has emerged from “The Water”. While that epic piece was motivated by his musical inspiration, the spirit of this album comes straight from the heart. There is purity in his lyrics that is rarely heard these days in music, or even religion for that matter. There is nothing superficial in his verses either. If you think it’s merely his message that’s impressed me, I must tell you that his compositions are as holy as the lord he worships. In terms of any quality or attribute you can ascribe, this grand work is all-encompassing.

Additionally, he conducts his service with at least two incessantly-loyal alter boys. On this album, Mike Portnoy’s drums are in top-form while Randy George logs his absolute best on the bass. What’s more, the guitars are better than good. Without having full knowledge of who is involved, or the clarity that comes from a publicist’s cheat sheet, I must take these beliefs on faith. Nevertheless, I can attest that the guitars have the vigor of Kerry Livgren, the serenity of Roine Stolt, and the reliance of his axe-strewn sibling. Whether or not these elite players are actual parties to the crime, if it’s others from his congregation, or it is indeed his flesh-and-blood who contributes, I cannot say. Whoever the brothers-in-arms shall be, they are definitely a worthy component on his quest.

As to the music, it’s packed with caramel goodness, creamy nougat, and a plethora of progressive goobers. Not to mention, it’s loaded with enough religious fervor to get Johnny Virgil to come back. I could give you a verbose analysis or playback his testimony verbatim. Instead, I choose to convey this insightful message: The first song on the disc is not only one of his best; it’s one of the greatest stories ever told. Including all that’s secular and sacred, I’ve never heard anything sung with such palpability, permanence, or purpose. I’d be committing a sin if I didn’t come right out and tell you that there’s never been a song that’s been delivered with such devotion.

Furthermore, the sticker on the disc makes me think of Silas from Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code. While he delves into expressions apropos to this ill-bred brood, he lets it be known that the extremists are the exception. Whether you’re a Buddhist, Hindu, Christian, or kosher, he’ll enlighten you on what it means to catch the almighty spirit.

With that said, let’s consecrate these cuts with my dedicated support of this supremely-divine opus:

The Door - As I said, this could very well be the best religious song ever known to man, and I’d only hesitate after communing and breaking bread with the upcoming trio. While it’s easily the most immaculate soul on this album, the following will make you wonder if he left enough room for dessert. This is the longest one on the album too, but not by a long-shot. Each retreat is relatively obligatory and extensive. As I’m an epic lover, I’m a devout follower of this early sect. By the time we get into his subsequent teachings, he has me hook, line, and singing as well as sold on every bridge and reprisal. This one starts with an overwhelmingly-alluring overture. That makes all the difference in the depth and extent of this radically-new Testament. After being showered in an ethereal rain of harmonious pleasure, we’re indulged with goody-goody gospel and a box of confectious gumdrops. There is even a passage that takes us through the core of Kansas, and it’s obvious we have been planted in the heartland of progressive rock. Between the bookends, we’re enlightened and entertained; however, it’s the craftsmanship in its invariable planes that are the most striking to behold.

The Conflict - It starts as hard as a nail struck into the arteries of AudioSlave. If there were ever an indication of an anemic condition, this might be it. Despite this critical comparative analysis, there isn’t a single atrophied muscle in its anatomy. The weakest people in this tribe are still stronger than average. Eventually, the omnipotent arrives and has us quaking in our boots. Without warning, this track turns a corner and floors it in the opposite direction. Before we know it, we’re suddenly supplanted inside the axis of a gyroscope. This extraordinary boogie would make Snow White quiver, or the Falconer, the Scarecrow, and the Snowman turn pale. In reverse, we go from “Snow’s Night Out” to “Stranger in a Strange Land” to “Señor Velasco”. These are themes we’re used to hearing from Mr. Morse, yet they’re sharp as a tack in this track. The piano interlude is one of his finest, and it’s accompanied by countless thrills and oodles of flair. The wrap-up is as moral and lavish as a convincingly-bona-fide faux fur. With this one in the can, that makes two righteous ditties down and two upright tunes to go.

Heaven in My Heart - I’d sooner expect this from Josh Groban than Neal Morse. This is a song fit for a world-class tenor. Yet, Morse’s take on his composition is beyond compare. As usual, he can do with the middle register what most can’t do with an operatically-inclined voice. Since this song is much shorter than the rest, I’ll end my transgressions right here.

The Conclusion - Before the conclusion of this sacramental album, a couple more miracles are anointed upon the listener. We are blessed with important reprisals and penetrating prayers. This constitutes a significant mix of the old and the new with too many messages for a single orator to recite. Somehow, he successfully manages to transfer a great deal of meaning in the compact pouch of this succinctly-packed satchel. Much wisdom will be mind-melded with any free-thinker who will accept delivery. It’s a superhuman feat that’s suited for a Vulcan if you ask me. Each section is quite distinct from the next, and it’s impressive how he expertly splices them together. The glorious chorus exalted upon us by the choir is enough to convert a cynic. After my conference with this cleric, I now believe in the existence of an everlasting psalm. This goes beyond the lyrical scripture since the instruments groan and growl with zeal. The bass is as grizzly as a Samuel Adams stout while the keyboards are as good as a rich, creamy Guinness. This incredible combination makes me think of Clive Nolan and John Jowitt in a fabled battle for our attention. Aspects of this song even bind disparate nations together by marrying the magnificent Transatlantic to the reluctant IQ. Couple that with the fact that it harks the herald angels of Procal Harum in its procession. It’s lionized like the first if only a little more laconic. Long and short, this song is nearly perfect.

Like Brett Favre, he’s accomplished so much in his tenure. However, he is still passing pigskins to the receptive listener at an unbelievably high-level and -rate. This is as good or better as “Question Mark”, and it’s as bright as “The Light”. I suggest you support this progressive priest and get your copy today. I’m happy to know; he’s giving us another season and not throwing in the towel yet. Neither has left, but at this juncture I feel the need to tell them both: Welcome back, Brett Favre! And stay the course, Neal Morse!

9.75/10

Charlie Dominici - O3 A Trilogy: Part 1

Long before Charlie Dominici became a trooper within the potent Progressive Metal sect of the InsideOut alliance, he had an incredible vision. Predating the formulation of an official band, this material begged to be formed, shaped, and fashioned. So, he took hold of his acoustic and just like that, he had at it. This resulted in Part One of a tremendously-profound geo-political sci-fi thriller-trilogy.

Eventually, he discovered an immaculate set of talented Italian musicians who were in need of a serious singer. From there, he and his crew developed Part Two with all the bells and whistles accompanied by all the plugged-in instruments. Like Tuscan White Bean, this classic European pairing of roasted tomatoes and ripened legumes provides important antioxidants like lycopene and the missing fiber.

Looking back, there are only limited copies of Part One in circulation. Actually, he’s sold half of a lot that totals a mere 5,000. As he says, once they’re gone, they’re gone, and it’ll truly be a collector’s item. Not to mention, his wife is an awfully-staunch businesswomen who says no more promos for anyone, regardless of their relationship to him, or this will lead to famine. To get one, you’ll need timing on your side, and simply put, it’s a cold equation, because you’ll have no choice but to buy it.

Luckily, I got my hands on a copy while it was still piping hot, and it’s not at all what I expected. I thought this would be closer to a demo or at best a suite of unfinished baked goods. Instead, it’s quite colorful, compelling, and possibly even earth-shattering. Aside from Nick Barrett of Pendragon; I couldn’t imagine a solitary man and a lone guitar capable of producing such lush and introspective music.

While Part Two might be enhanced with electric wizardry, Part One could still be considered by a scientist such as Tesla to be mystical circuitry or the demonstration of a supernatural device. While the raw material is awesome, the application, the infrastructure, and without a doubt the singing, believe it or not, are just as impressive.

Likewise, the escalator between the floors takes us up another progressive level, so after you take it down a flight, take the soon-to-be-constructed elevator up to the apex. One can only wonder where he’ll take us next, and what he does differently in the imminent conclusion planned for Part Three.

Regardless, it is really the conceptual mutton that’s the most intriguing part of the parcel, and truthfully, the nub provides more than a nibble. In other words, the debut provides an interesting and essential back-story that makes the entire chronicle all the worthwhile.

Could you imagine Empire Strikes Back without A New Hope? Speaking of which, Part Two has a track by the same name in it, and if you become a fan and let this prospect slip, you’ll be constantly reminded of this lost opportunity well into the impending future.

Don’t even think twice. Get your copy today. Even if you could burn a copy or download a sample, there is potential history here to own by possessing the genuine article. You’d also be directly supporting one of the few forefathers of the Progressive Metal genre who is still in operation. Let’s not forget, he took a hiatus for many years, so we want him to know that he’s wanted. Maybe if this sells like hotcakes overnight, it will send him the message that his voice is greatly needed. Thus, the collective signal would urge him to continue in the universal struggle for better music.

Typically critics get free passes and on occasion, early pre-screenings. To let you know, I had to purchase my copy, and once I knew of its availability, I got online with the program and remitted payment quickly. If that’s not enough, I even took a break from vacation to make it happen. Take it from someone who knows. Your decision at this time is crucial.

He’s accepting orders now, so hurry. It’s only available while supplies last, and chances are that once you’ve read this review, his stockpiles will be on the verge of being wiped clean. As Harry Caray used to say, “Going! Going! Gone!”

8.75/10


Here are the instructions I used in order to get a copy:

O3, A Trilogy- Part One, Purchase Instructions:

To purchase an autographed copy and have it shipped overseas:

Send $19 USD to PayPal account ($15 for CD and shipping-$3 for overseas additional shipping and $1 for PayPal handling charges)

For USA:

Send only $16 ($15 for CD and $1 for PayPal handling)

PayPal Account is as follows: monikadominici@yahoo.com

As an alternative, send $15 (USA) or $18 (overseas) money order or well-hidden cash (USD) in envelope to the following address:

Dominici Inc.
8436 La Mesa Blvd
La Mesa, CA 91941
U.S.A.


On Monday, March 19, 2007 Charlie communicated the following to me:

Yea, when you do the review, just let the people know the offer for an autographed part one CD is going to end when I move out of California over to Europe at the end of April, 2007.

I will need to find someone who wants to buy the remaining CDs out at a wholesale price after then.

Thanks!

Charlie Dominici
Dominici Inc.
http://www.dominici.com/

Dominici - O3 A Trilogy: Part 2

It truly sounds as if this material was influenced by the following bands: Fates Warning, Dream Theater, and Queensryche.

As I listen to this album, I would venture a guess that Jim Matheos, Derek Sherinian, John Petrucci, and/or Geoff Tate were in on this project. On occasion, you would even think this was another initiative from the Office of Strategic Influence (aka OSI). The greatest difference between these littermates is that this puppy features some very fine vocals. Not that Kevin Moore’s vocoder is unappreciated. It’s just that this singer’s pipes are clean and his plumbing boasts a lot a lot of extra pressure.

Take a quick glance at the paternity records and you might be stupefied by this breed. Have you ever heard of Riccardo eRik Atzeni (Bass), Americo Rigoldi (Keyboards), or Brian (Guitars) or Yan Maillard (Drums)?

Nevertheless, this is a new contender that borrows from the cream-of-the-crop. Upon inspection, they can hold their own in the ring. In addition, the number one groomsman and best man was actually in on an earlier version of the aforesaid. That would be none other than Charlie Dominici who sang on Dream Theater’s “When Day and Dream Unite”. He also operated as the singer at Mike Portnoy’s wedding. No, seriously! While the debut is relatively well-known to fans, you’ll be dumbfounded to find out that the second entry in this journal is also a statement of fact (at least if my sources are reliable).

On the whole, the album is comparable to Scenes from a Memory and Operation: Mindcrime. Maybe these Athenians have established a new empire as this exceptional album ascends to the halfway point of the pyramid. The only thing to consider is that while this is the second step, the anterior pressing is more difficult to secure. Part One is on all-acoustic one-man-show set ashore on a desolate label incorporated by Dominici himself. Part Two, on the other hand, comes from the ever-growing continent of InsideOut Music America. For most, the prelude will be missed while the sequel will become the principal point of departure.

I have to tell you, this is powerful and formidable stuff. Dominici’s voice harnesses the impetuous vibe of Russell Allen or John Arch. As a result, he is judge, jury, and executioner in this journey. His voice is so strong, once could say he’s been reborn as The Punisher. It’s so sleek; it may also be seen as a sign of the fantastical rise of The Silver Surfer.

While I haven’t heard of his partners, these strident riders are as arduous as The Four Horseman. The bass and guitars crunch like bubble-wrap. The keyboards, conversely, cut through the steel like butter. Everyone, even the drummer, has their own ignitable solos. They keep you on alert throughout the entire hayride.

Likewise, there isn’t a weak chink in this chain-mail. Upon every listen, there is a different riff or verse that gets me. After it’s undergone a rigid stress-test, it’s hard to say which link holds up the longest. They’ve come through the trauma without much conciliation. I also like the storyline, the soundbytes, and the methodically epigrammatic dialogue. It might be hard to interpret, but no time does it mark a momentary lapse of reason. It’s obvious every detail is deliberate even if it’s not intuitive. This kind of reminds me of that sci-fi horror movie Night Watch, but to be fair, this is significantly more coherent.

So that you don’t walk away without a schematic, key, or a clue, let’s quickly flip through the scenery:

“Nowhere to Hide” is a fugitive’s worst nightmare. Dominici’s voice is underground and in the trees. Literally, it’s everywhere.

“Captured” is bottled up like a shaken can of Coke. It’s tentative, reserved, and ready to burst at any time.

In “Greed the Evil Seed”, Marc Antony will try to feed the kitty. Between Gossamer, a Were-Rabbit, and the super-sized Mr. Mouse, this hare-raising tune is looney.

“School of Pain” is pretty mean and potent. With enough room to run, it gives each escapee a chance to flee.

“The Calling” and “The Real Life” are fundamentally sound, but by no means routine. For this feast, they provide Tofurky, a soy-based gravy and grits.

“The Monster” and “The Cop” are highly listenable as well, and with certainty, they’re the most integral part of the report. This duo goes together like Sonny and Cher, and if forced to choose, these would be the only pair trusted with the clandestine plan to go AWOL.

At the end, “A New Hope” happily succeeds the lowest of low notes just like the celebrated intergalactic space odyssey and soap opera.

After several sittings, it’s obvious the concept is about a baddie and the law enforcement agent who tries to bring him to justice. At times, you can feel the plight of the captive, his victims, and our champion. Fortunately, there is nothing to fear. With Dominici assigned to be the guardian at the gate, the future of the Progressive Metal society is safe.

8.5/10

A.C.T - Silence

Silence is not what I'd expect an album such as this to be titled. It's hard to keep quiet about this release. It's easily their best to date and when you consider the melodic wonderment they've created in the past, that's no small task.

If I weren't so reserved and didn't live on a prairie, you'd find me shouting from the mountaintops in regards to this one. Okay, I lied. Not about the terrain, because where I live, the land is far from hilly. As to my reticence, I'm not exactly shy and people have accused me of having my off-switch permanently fused in the "on" position. With that said, I plan to holler out to all my homies here.

To give you an idea how their songs sound, each would undoubtedly qualify as a candidate, if there ever were one, to the sequel of Queen's A Night At The Opera. Its genetic material spans the tribes of Spock's Beard's, Salem Hill, and Dream Theater. Like I mentioned, Queen is obviously nuzzled in there, but I hear Genesis and, oddly enough, Jethro Tull. There are moments that also draw from Echolyn, Kansas, IQ and Magic Pie. If that's not already sufficient, there is even a hint of Izz and Styx in the mix.

Individually, these artists draw from several veritable influences. The singing borrows from Freddie Mercury while the guitars are a combination of Brian May and Paul Bremner. Then there is the bass, which is a cross between John Jowitt and Dave Meros. The drums might be the hardest to categorize, but all you need to know is that they're distinguished. If I were pressed, I'd say they're an amalgamation of Mike Portnoy, Alan White, and Greg Moon. Shame on me for almost forgetting about the keyboards. My dear, I really do care and it's clear to me they're Martin Orford, maybe with a trace of Tomas Bodin of Ryo Okumoto.

I'm sincere in my assertions and entirely telling the truth. If you see them on the street, feel free to let them know they're welcome for such a set of compliments. Be advised, my allegations are accruate, neither tall tales, nor jokes, nor pranks.

While I enjoyed earlier output from this band, this album is considerably more polished. I'd go so far as to say it is superior in a substantial way. It's tweaked to perfection with absolutely little friction between its parts. With their induction into the InsideOut Music label, it seems they've brought their game to a whole new level and demonstrated a team spirit that could hardly be topped.

I'm still processing what I've heard. There's a lot to chew on in each of these newfangled cuts. It's surprising they fit it all on such a tiny platter. Like a proton, they create volume within their structured busyness. Additionally, their brilliance doesn't just trickle in on indiscriminate occasion. Instead, this intelligent creation contains 19 separate well-established, unshakable, and unwavering thoughts.

As Spock's Beard did on Day For Night, an entire suite of songs constitutes a single concept. Here they call it "Consequences" and it's comprised of 9 of their cleverest components. This stunning collection includes "Silent Screams," "Introduction" (which for some strange reason comes in the second slot), "The Millionaire," "Joanna," "A Father's Love," "Memory To Fight," "The Diary," "A Wound That Won't Heal," and "The Final Silence." It's like an insanely eccentric rendering of Dream Theater's "Six Degrees Of Inner Turbulence" or Salem Hill's "Stolen By Ghosts."

No album warrants a dissertation when it has so many items to assess. If it did, this would be the one, but I'm not in the mood to go through it track-by-track and write a thesis. With all they accomplish, I'm just too lazy to commit. Even if I did, this especially would require quite the ambitious analysis.

While all the songs are remarkable, it's "the long one" that requires some additional notice. It ranges from light to heavy as well as introverted to outgoing. It has both white and dark meat in its folds. As to the fat, little does it hold. In other words, it's all good and healthy. Well, actually the storyline is sad, but the tempo is uplifting.

This is what the word masterpiece was meant to describe. If you looked it up in the dictionary, it's the very definition of progressive. However, it draws so many influences; it actually deserves its own encyclopedia entry. It's not just the melody, but the lyrical depth that makes it a tried and true magnum opus. With each listen, I ratchet my admiration and esteem up another incremental step. Considering all that this album possesses, you'll be flabbergasted by the fact there is also a computer-based bonus encoded on this disc.

As out there as it is at times, I heard two familiar melodies hidden within its internals. Firstly, there's a recurrent riff from Air Supply's "All Out Of Love" in "Consequences". Moreover, Spock's Beard's "Game Face" and The Romantics' "Talking In Your Sleep" occur elsewhere. That'd be in the song, "Out Of Ideas," which they must have fussily deliberated over in order to assemble.

For me, it's the epic that scores biggest. "Into The Unknown" is another one that I surely enjoy, but let's just stop right there. Honestly, there is something positive that comes out of every piece. When conferring over this release, it would not take long to get lost within my giddy stream of consciousness as I sincerely believe it to be a true work of genius. Yet, you have to listen to it more than once to be among those who truly appreciate it.

We've seen many great albums come and go in the modern day, but it's a rarity when one so decisively engulfs the listener in irresistible bliss... In a nutshell, A.C.T is E.X.C.E.P.T.I.O.N.A.L

{For those who didn't get it, the last period is absent on purpose - i.e. it's not a mistake in grammar. :-)}

The Flower Kings - Instant Delivery (DVD)

Welcome to Paradox Hotel. We're going to try to make this visit as pleasant as possible. We're going to try make each one of you feel right at home. Alright!

One, two, three…

Finally, I understand Roine Stolt's vision. The drums have been streamlined in such a way that rather than congest the air with a corsage of jumbled jazziness, they instead approach us with a tactic that's both clean and cultured. The music is now more intuitive to your ears than ever.

Speaking of Stolt, how old is he anyway? He's been in the game for quite awhile, yet he looks like a kid on stage. At first, I was wondering, who is this young guy and why is he hanging around The Flower Kings? As a result, I was actively on the lookout for him. It made me chuckle when I became aware of my oversight. I guess you could say that all this gigging has kept him very young. Otherwise, he's using some miracle cream from an infomercial I'm yet to see. In either case, I wonder what it's like being the coolest cat habitating within the progressive realm.

As to the music itself, I was awestruck in my first reaction. They sound tremendous in concert and one song in particular, the title track to Paradox Hotel, really wowed me. While not one of my favorites on the album, the song sounds absolutely fantastic here. Whatever rehearsal was done in preparation has gotten this tune superbly tweaked. It arrives in the most sophisticated manner as well.

Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two, One... Ignition.

After a countdown, followed by a ping-pong match, this very title track is used to kick off the event. As it turns out, it's just the start to a series of hair-raising wonders…

We visit several of their standard landmarks, too. Though it's only a few years old, "The Truth Will Set You Free" is timeless. "Stardust We Are" also endures another majestic appearance. While it's almost become tradition for these two to surface at every engagement, like Dick Clark (and Roine Stolt), neither seems to show their age.

As to the latter, it's still the faithful crowd-pleaser it's been since the very beginning. When all is said and done, the highlights include both the old and the new.

Okay, so that was meant to be the wrap-up, but it's too good to end right here... To heck with the synopsis, let's just delve into the details:

Disc One

After "Paradox Hotel," we receive a wealth of righteously sacrosanct songs. A psychedelic transition occurs between "Hit Me With A Hit" and "Last Minute On Earth." The latter happens to be one I like more than general consensus typically states. I appreciate it for its mean riffs and countless unique traits.

I heard "Last Minute On Earth" for the first time in a live setting long before ever hearing it off a recording. I must also add that this concert I reference occurred on September 14, 2001 … Think of the coincidence… bingo, you got it. For that reason, it carries added significance. Regardless, I always felt it was sharpest when seen in the flesh and in this instance the experience is no different.

Next, "In The Eyes Of The World" has never, and I mean, never sounded this good. For the record, The Flower Kings might actually sound better live than in the studio, which is a statistical rarity, making them literally one in a million.

"Jealousy" was an interesting choice to follow. At first it slowed down as if it were weighed down with water. Once the sail soaked up the wind, it drifted. Then as soon as the schooner tacked, they were underway.

"What If God Is Alone" was another entity with a holy posture. In this session, it sounded similar to U2's "Where the Streets Have No Name." Hasse Fröberg embodied Don Henley, that guy from The Eagles, and I'm not talking about an American football team.

Subsequently, "Pioneers Of Aviation" soared through the skies. With its instrumental innovations, it braced onlookers for assimilation into the new age. Once it took off, the populace was beset with bliss.

To finish off the side, "Love Supreme" and "The Truth Will Set You Free" stake their claim. Here they a pair of exceptionally well-enacted epics. In the former, the verse "work of the master's hand" is masterfully sung. In the latter, they reveal why this very song is considered their greatest masterpiece.

Disc Two

"Touch My Heaven" is bestowed with an explanation from Bodin. For those who have never heard him utter a single word, he has a very elegant way of speaking. He lets it be known that the inspiration of the song is about getting up once you've been knocked down. Interestingly enough, the performance parallels its esteemed introduction.

Around this time, a heckler barks out some series of curse words. In response, Stolt says you're *bleeping* great, too. While a future edit is promised by Stolt, it remains intact in all its repugnant glory.

Reingold brings out double-headed beast for "Mommy Leave The Light On." There is no reason to be intimidated by this ditty. It's just a precursor to another extraordinary piece. That would be "End On A High Note" where Marcus Liliequist finds his stride.

This particular song comes off unusually sharp. The guitar-playing by Stolt and Fröberg are also crisp. There is this magic moment in the middle where the group switches gears and transports its riders to a fantastically ethereal place. The only other time I can remember feeling this elated was at a point in a Tangent concert, as well as a stint with Dark Star Orchestra. However, this was the only time something emanating from the TV set was capable of such an achievement.

I can undoubtedly say that "Life Will Kill You" is at its finest live. The chanting at its core and the strong vocals towards the end contribute to a superlative stature. Thus, it now exists in a better place.

Fröberg voice impressively climbs the scales in "I Am The Sun." I saw him do this once before at the previously mentioned gig. That time he did it with "Stardust We Are."

Anticipating the end, a guy donning a Depeche Mode shirt exits early. Bodin then bellows, "You are an extraordinary audience." Stolt notarizes the bond with, "We say that every night, but tonight we mean it."*

This appears as if they scaled the apex. Stolt storms to the mike and says, "We have to play the last song." When the gathering groans, he responds, "I'm a good boy." In hindsight, he was obviously joking. The crowd is truly saddened but if you listen closely he mumbles, "We're going to fool you anyway." Not many seem to catch this quip as there are scores of unruly protests. Funny enough, Stolt suggests giving them double by dividing it in half.

They obviously pulled a fast one as more came to the surface. "Blade Of Cain" is chosen for the next partition in the chain. I must attest this song is a beauty. It is unusual for me to describe a song in this manner. It only goes to show how it instills an honorable ambience within me. It carries a very admirable demeanor, too.

At some point in the encore, Stolt loses his coat and Liliequist misplaces his cap. This is far from what can be considered a wardrobe malfunction. It seems they're merely sticking with more comfortable attire.

With "A King's Prayer," what gets delivered is the two for one special. It comes encased in succulent layers from The Beatles. Subsequently, they say goodbye for the second time over venerated verses from the revered "Hey Jude."

Another encore is foreshadowed by time-elapsed footage. This particular film exhibits the entire affair from the setup to breakdown of the stage. It's also intriguing to point out that it's accompanied by a sound byte recorded in the vacuum of outer space.

The crowd keeps clapping and chants, "We want more." Stolt grants their wish with, "Stardust you want, Stardust you get." With that said, "Stardust We Are" is chosen as their last and final expression.

Reingold gets goofy around this time and balances his bass on his chin. That would be an expensive mistake if he slips up. It's only a matter of time, so I hope he quits the mischief.

The interpretation involved here seems to be more succinct than what I'm accustomed to hearing. When it gets rolling, the crowd sings along. While they might be out of tune, at least the band didn't forget the human touch or the human try.

I'm not entirely sure what the title of this song means as it's not grammatically correct. I wonder if this is something from the mouth of Master Yoda. I find it odd no other journalist has made this connection. In any case, it is one bodacious bonus track to tack onto such a frosty cake.

After filling our glass to the rim, our chalice overflows with delicious drops from this savory ditty. As the good book says, our cup runneth over. You could take a heavenly body or a celestial sphere from the sky and you wouldn't find one that dazzles in this manner. It's both a meteor burst and a shining star. So in line with the name, our muppet friend mutters, "sparkle they do."

The best part about every classic is that with a song this good, it can't get any better. The band is so rehearsed with every fine point attuned. They've dotted the "i"s and crossed the "t"s. If you're looking for an act with the highest caliber of cuts, this is "it."

When the credits appear, they're accompanied by a theme. It treks along like Frodo in Lord of the Rings. This exercise and excursion is bequeathed upon us by Bodin on his Mellotron.

As to the venue, the stage was organized and tidy that night with a lightshow that was pristine. In general, the theater was absorbing, intuitive, and urbane.

While this product is for the most part immaculate, there is one minor flaw. The disc operates in an unusual manner. If you go directly to a song it hangs or finishes abruptly once it's done. However, if you play the concert as a whole, it smoothly transitions between the tracks.

Aside from that, nothing negative to report. However, here are a few points to impart into regards to the indispensable input provided by each individual:

Hasse Fröberg's voice is so good, it'll make you wonder why they were ever looking for a replacement (I do think Gildenlöw has one of the best voices I've ever heard, but that shouldn't make him a shoe-in for the varsity position.).

When Roine names off all of Fröberg's duties, I half-expected him to complete his comments with a Howard Dean shout, a Taylor Ware yodel, or a Chappelle-based be-aaah! Then again, Lillequest's shirt reads Guau, which rhymes with Aaaaah!

As to the others, Reingold's bass playing is business as usual, which means it's extra gravy on the side; in other words, it's just great. He even has the white hat he's always wearing, but this time he dons a fancy suit instead of a t-shirt.

Stolt is quite serious while Reingold is the bubbliest of the bunch. He cracks the cork and sprays his entourage with his misty vibrations.

While we're on the topic, Stolt's ensemble is pasted with flowers and pastels. His playing is quite colorific, so it matches the outfit. Plus, his shiny guitar is just plain stoic.

Bodin adds to the atmosphere and there's even a time where he sings, though he uses a vocoder in cases where he croons. When Fröberg belts out, "Clock is ticking, day in, day out," he parallels the verse with his own intonations. What exudes from his lips is a wickedly amped-up demon voice.

He never plays the keyboard the same way twice. His varying style makes him intriguing to watch and to listen to in person. He's suave and relaxed at his post. You can tell he really enjoys the arts and crafts of his trade.

Fröberg handles percussive tasks as well. Overall, I was amazed with his provisions above all. While Ulf Wahlander (sax) and Hasse Bruniusson (percussion) were absent, as much as I like their contributions, I didn't miss them. Thanks should go to Fröberg as payment for his compensation.

Blah, blah, blah…

I could go on for hours about this band. In case you haven't known, they're a staple of the genre and kind of a favorite of mine. If you're into labels, you could call them my pet band. In my opinion, it's an absurdity, better yet a paradox; they aren't more renowned and represented on the radio. Then again, it's hard to say if they could find bigger fans.

If you're in the know, you've diddled their ditties often. If not, check into the facilities and peruse their pieces soon. For those who are new to the area, their hotel might just be the very best place to stay. It goes without saying, I highly recommend it! Since its inception, I've regularly dropped anchor there.

They've done almost everything a single band could accomplish and incorporate incalculable kitchen sinks. All that's left is maybe… a concept album. For now, this concert suits my fancy.

In summary, this is no-nonsense rocking from a group that's become a marvel, a supernova, and a household name within the progressive genre. In their latest DVD, they deliver the goods with a smile, in working order, and way ahead of schedule.

9/10

* I ponder; do they say that every night as well?