The Prawg Blawg

The Third Ending

2008-12-06T15:01:00.000-08:00

I wouldn’t necessarily put this in the consolation spot. This is very good music. Nick Storr has a clean voice whereas Andrew Knott lays on a layer of slick drums. The acoustic guitars operated by Andrew Curtis, well, they provide the oil & lube. Cornel Ianculovici is the machinist of the group as his bass drills perfectly symmetrical holes.

By the way, they each have nicknames: Nick, Curtis, Cornel & Knotty are how these guys like to be addressed. As for the album, it just goes by John Doe.

Anyhow, this no-name album is something worth writing home about, which is kind of why I’m writing about it now. Music buffs would be missing out if they didn’t hear these elegant verses and sophisticated riffs played out. The reason why this works is because they never go overboard. Just the right amount of spit n’ polish is supplied and nothing more. While it’s accessible enough for the usual passersby’s, its intelligence is mainly meant for people who are ProgRock literate.

It’s all good but I have a couple favorites…

“Back Home” is hospitable with its simple incense, and “Can You Hear Me?” is clever how it uses the structure of an inbound voicemail message to complete its doggerel.

Individually, those were excellent whereas the five-track epic -- appropriately named “Fingerprints” for its early and reprised refrain -- was awesome when combined into one piece.

Forgoing the progressive for a second, this music brings back those halcyon days of house parties listening to Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam and Collective Soul.

Like those legendary bands of the post-grunge era, these guys quite literally rock. Aside from the drummer, each shares in the vocal duties; still, even Knotty contributes that occasional strained verse.

One minute it’s Ray Wilson’s Stiltskin; the next it’s Kevin Gilbert’s Shaming of the True. It flip-flops between Pineapple Thief and Porcupine Tree. Likewise, it ebbs and flows with Orphan Projects and Pink Floyd. In addition to all that, a Dream Theater influence can be heard now and then. They control both the horizontal and the vertical. They are fine whether they cross the line into heavy subject matter or take us back into the light.

Third Ending has landed somewhere in that crack between popular and alternative. Whether they are in or out with the cool & beautiful people, they’d be considered special in my clique. This is one heck of an album, and I am thoroughly impressed.

I’m not sure I understand The Third Ending’s numbering system; starting with their name. They commence with “Eleven” and “Part V” is towards the end. As for my class structure, I grade on a curve and only have few aces to show. Yet, they managed to coast into that upper caste. With some conceptual material in their future (and I surely hope there is more), they just might join the ranks of other star pupils after school and earn one of those limited, coveted spots on a very rockin’ squad.

9/10

Guy Manning – Songs from the Bilston House

2008-11-17T21:04:00.000-08:00

With the buzz surrounding Phideaux’s Doomsday Afternoon, it seems as if last year’s best album may have gone overlooked. In Songs from the Bilston House, Guy Manning has totally outdone himself. When my hands weren’t giving the air guitars - or those equally phantom keyboards - their due, my mouth was agape with shock and awe.

For several days straight, I was humming this very music. I just couldn’t get these catchy tunes out of my head. And believe it or not, I’m not talking about one or two songs. In general, Manning’s latest album is littered with accessible passages and mantras. Every time I hear it, I am befuddled at how long it took him to craft this masterpiece. It seems like only yesterday he released A Matter of Life & Death, One Small Step, and Anser’s Tree. How in the heck did he fit so much onto a single disc?

Looking at the credits, I see he had assistance from Andy Tillision. This might explain why a number of the numbers parallel The Tangent. While that might fulfill a piece of the puzzle, this extraordinarily gifted Englishman deserves a glut of accolades for his wholesome efforts. He has 77 minutes and 14 seconds of confectionary goodness, and it’s completely absent of marshmallowy minutiae or fluff. Even his hazelnut gelato isn’t cut with lesser fillers.

To describe this concept album, I keep returning to the same correlation. This is like Charlie and The Chocolate Factory on shuffle. As Tim Burton has done for The Demon Barber, it would come as no surprise if the prince of dark fantasy came knocking on Manning’s door with the possibilities of a screenplay. To that end, this material is not only incredible; it’s as sing-able as an east coast musical. Then again, it’s more up to date than a sacrificial lamb on Broadway.Playing the role of Oompa-Loompas are Laura Fowles and Julie King whose backing vocals round out the equation by adding a sweet eeriness to the mix. Since they are females and neither pygmies nor munchkins, it seems as if Deep Roy, Warwick Davis and Kenny Baker, will have to keep looking for employment. Not to mention, Fowles brings her saxophone to the table; thus making her more desirable to the stage manager.

Even though every ditty is to die for, “Lost in Play” is leaps and bounds ahead of the rest. That’s my personal opinion so there’s should be no question which cocoa-covered nougat holds the golden ticket. I’m sure the fair-haired rosy-skinned demoralizing dwarves of Loompaland would agree with me that this song has the commercially acceptable vibe of the BoDeans. Piled upon the heap, Steve Dundon’s flutes are fabulous too; creating so much stickiness that it would have been impossible to flush this down a garbage chute.

Foregoing my favorite song, Veruca Salt is the center of attention in “The Calm Absurd”.

Persisting to stir diverse ingredients into the mixer, “Understudy” has David Million borrowing his lead guitar from RPWL. While his methods pass the litmus test, only when I checked the bill did I realize that Blind Ego’s front-man and shredder was absent. As I hold the highly-regarded Kalle Wallner responsible, it’s plain to see that this union buster has done his job and duplicated a precious recipe that’s one in million.

In concordance with the suspicions of Mike Tevee, Genesis is clearly referenced in “Skimming Stones” -- up until that point where Manning bribes the ferryman with delectable gelt.

“Icarus & Me” proves that this working prototype from GM is the newest model to come out of Neal Morse’s showroom. When taken for a spin, it seems as if Morse’s offshore cartel has incorporated a twist on the popular model: That would be the keyboards and brass from Spock’s Beards’ Snow.

In contrast, “Pillars of Salt” is a blast from the past that goes even further back. In a way, it’s reminiscent of The Beatles and The Doors. If I saw this on Ed Sullivan in black and white, I wouldn’t have known that the broadcast was a fake.

Bridging the connection between Italy and Ireland, the worldly infusion from “Inner Moment” comes without the layover. As it’s on the candy dot in terms of punctuality, it has no need for a flux capacitor to put a wrinkle in the time either. It does however feature an accordion and if you squint; you might find Iona running away with a piece of the action.

The only songs I didn’t mention were the title track and “Antares”. Trust me; these don’t deserve to be treated like chopped liver, but truth be told; the respective themes do correspond with Augustus Gloop and Violet Beauregarde. They also sound like The B-52’s. [That would be the band, and not the long-range working-class plane manufactured by Boeing or the uncommon gal’s beehive hairdo. To be absolutely lucid, I have cited one of the leaders of pop who has been styled after a coif that was strategically named after a Subsonic Stratofortress. Got it? Or were you just as confused as I was when trying to follow the chocolatier’s convoluted speech patterns.]

By the way, the startup program initiated from the knocker is extremely well-written. Plus, I love how the lexis posted on the artwork is chimed as we pass through the foyer.

In retrospect, my first thought was that this album was very good. Once the conclusive note expired, I wanted to hear it again. Out of impulse, I reset the player and surreptitiously hit play. Now that I’ve had time to ascertain what’s been done, I assert that he’s produced a hole in one. When weighed against his priceless ingots, bar none this is his best. It’s simply beyond compare even if it does appear to pay homage to spoiled brats.

While I purposely try not to use the same words twice, I have no qualms calling it a masterpiece more than once. Not only is it a marvel in and of itself, it puts a twist on that renowned phenomenon that queerly binds Dark Side of the Moon to the escapades of Dorothy Gale. This is more than just a clever analogy; it’s virtually reality. I was flabbergasted by the coincidence between this and Johnny Depp’s take on Willy Wonka. Also I was bowled over by the fact that an album with hair-raising effects went relatively unnoticed. You know what? It’s better than Cats. In translation, Songs from the Bilston House is just too good to miss.

So that’s the album more or less. Now that I have this critique out of the way, all I ask is for a moment of silence as I veto a misguided panel and announce the actual winner of last year. If there was something called the Programmy, the slip inside the envelope would read, “And the award goes to Guy Manning!!!”

9.5/10

[Don’t get me wrong: Doomsday Afternoon is an excellent album. It’s not as if it’s a stinker or being considered for the Golden Raspberry Award. To be frank, Phideaux’s latest opus is a masterpiece as well. I just think that this one is marginally better.]

The RPWL Experience

2008-10-31T16:17:00.000-07:00

As Monty Python put it; this is something different – from the eccentric title to the blistering opening track. This Pink Floyd cover band does nothing to the effect of copying their heroes here. If anything, this is more like OSI, the slower songs of Dream Theater, Yes or the less-than-rudimentary pieces of Jadis.

Honestly, it’s more in the vein of Blind Ego than RPWL. To state the obvious, Kalle Wallner, much to the same effect as Jim Matheos, slaps a choke hold squarely on his axe. Manni Müller on drums, no doubt, moves up the heavyweight ladder. As for Yogi Lang, his conditioning is about as good as it’s ever been whilst the bassist, Chris Postl, is the steadiest of strikers in his comeback bout. Not to mention, I’ve never witnessed a keyboardist employ the ground and pound so effectively. With that said, Markus Jehle could certainly force a tap-out with his should-be-illegal small joint manipulation. When it comes to the progressive beat-down, these guys are no joke.

Hardly an exaggeration; every song is phenomenal. They feature great sound bytes plus a banshee’s scream.

My favorite is “Silenced”. In it they use this brilliant line: “Our life seems to be so bright safe in our cities of gold, standing still and doing what we’re told; because it’s none of our business at all.”

Additionally, ”Breath In, Breath Out”, ”Where Can I Go”, ”Masters Of War”, ”This Is Not A Prog Song”, ”Watch Myself”, ”Stranger”, ”River”, ”Choose What You Want To Look At”, and – take a deep breath, ahhh - ”Turn Back The Clock”, all deserve the spotlight. Come to think of it; that canvases the entire album

While I’d like to provide the comprehensive sketch upfront, let’s work over the unusual suspects before we consider this file closed:

The RPWL Experience is their best album to date. Actually, it’s shockingly good. If it doesn’t knock your socks off, you’re in the wrong genre altogether. Even if this release weren’t paramount, “Silenced” is surely their finest song ever.

If I were a fighter in the UFC, this would be my anthem as I make my way over to the octagon. It’s an amped-up version of Kino or Arena. Additionally, the lyrics are outstanding; socially conscious to be precise. If there were a Nobel Peace Prize for music, they should get it for this piece (get it, peace).

They make the scariest of observations: Not only we’ve learned how to sleep well in the night with all this warfare going on around us; we ignore it when we knew more. It’s obvious these guys grappled long and hard with sociological issues.

Aside from a message that can’t be dismissed, the music itself is potent. At the beginning, it might be Echolyn’s “Georgia Pines”. The charged particles in its final ventricles hearken back to the World Wrestling Federation. Then after all is said and done, Lang raises a sobering, empathetic point in a poignant but much subdued ending.

Even though it starts with the tenacity of Brock Lesner, it paces itself throughout the last round as it completes this ballet of violence (a term once coined by Joe Rogan) with a finishing move from the repertoire of Frank Mir. Ultimately, such extraordinary displays of athleticism demand entry into the Hall Fame.

They cover the full gamut and then run the gauntlet in “Silenced”. While I’ve had a lot to relay to the spectator that only covers a tenth of the mat. So don’t shoot the messenger in the foot of hit me in the face to spite my lack of haste until you’ve at least heard about the rest.

“Breath In, Breath Out” is Bush’s “Machinehead”, only gentler right down to the accidental head-butts. But seriously, the well-known verse is where it has the most presidential overlap.

What’s most interesting about “Where Can I Go?” is how much its narrative plays into its beat. Only this time the posturings of the reverend are right. Other than that, this is classic RPWL, but as far as that’s concerned; it may stand alone.

The remake of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of Warfare” – yeah you heard me right – is anything but awkward. You’d be hard-pressed to pick this one out of the line-up. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Dylan took it from them instead of the other way around. In the passionate way that Lang sings it; you would have thought Dylan stole it from him. Regardless of its origins, this ‘is’ an RPWL song. Not until royalties are brought into question, will anybody raise the question, “What about Bob?” If possession is nine-tenth of the law, they presently own it like GSP owned Hughes in the most conclusive rubber match.

“This Is Not a Prog Song” is seriously funny but bloody serious. Tripping up the profiler, this vandal is closer to “That Thing You Do” than any of the mug shots in their scrapbook. Oddly enough, it takes a quick slide from The Rubinoos to indie punk, and it’s obvious they are poking fun at the critics in addition to the hecklers.

Simply put, “Watch Myself” is Sinead O’ Conner if she were to perform Porcupine Tree. Changing stations, “Stranger” is better than anything on mainstream radio, though this Rock ‘n’ Roller Coaster does star Aerosmith. Then again, its rusty girders remind me of Soundgarten.

On another front, “River”” is “Crazy Lane” before it flows into a blissfully atmospheric la la land ala Tangerine Dream. After they’ve laid the groundwork, “Choose What You Want To Look At” is this their push for the top forty. It’s not quite cheesy enough for the American playlist but it’s accessible as hell. Think Foo Figheres or U2 and you’ve precisely hit the mark.

Shortly thereafter, they end the album on a tender note with “Turn Back The Clock”. While it’s sad to see them go so soon, it’s a sweet sore nonetheless. For the moment, they’re swan song is much akin to Green Day’s Olympic anthem.

Anyhow, to wrap up the commentary, the politics they reference in this are so preposterous that they must have been influenced by Dr. Strangelove. If what they say is true; then when the spaghetti hits the fan, the western world will be in trouble.

While some have whined that festivals feature too many repeats, the RPWL of today is a completely new act when compared to their former selves. Therefore, they are welcome in my book to tour wherever the demand will take them. I guarantee that they’ll wow crowds with this material. So if you’re looking for a prohibitive good time, opt-in for The RPWL Experience before all seats are taken.

9.25/10 [This would be my highest score ever for a progressive song-oriented album. Sorry, no epics but with tracks like these – I can’t believe I’m saying this – who needs it? Also be sure to check out their web site: http://www.rpwl.net/. It’s absolutely amazing and provides another sign that they’ve made it to the big leagues.]

Black Bonzo – Sound of the Apocalypse

2008-09-28T19:03:00.000-07:00

These guys are world-class friends of mine. Not so much because we go a long way back; mostly due to the distance. But seriously, they were immediately friendly and quick to bring me into their bevy (by bestowing this wondrous album on me as soon as I showed interest).

BandMates Markus & Anthon remind me quite a bit of my friends Matt & Simon. Whereas the latter were English, the former are Swedish. Aside from a couple consonants and a large pond separating their continents, I feel as if I’ve known them all my life. Whereas Matt & Simon were brothers and amateur filmmakers in high school, Markus & Anthon have no relation to each other beyond the fact that they are professional musicians stationed in the same band. One could infer that you must be blood brothers of sorts to tour the world together.

In any case, I won’t just have positive things to say because they’re my best friends or a pet band. To the contrary, I’ve just met them and have only known their music for a couple weeks. Regardless, I must say that their live performance – which first turned me onto their music – was awesome and listening to their album – believe it or not – is just as startling of an experience. These young pistols and whippersnappers can do both with great success.

Finally, there is a band that defines Progressive Rock and contains all its attributes – from the Rickenbacker to the flutes. Likewise, they release material with zero filler.

If I had to choose one track for you to hear, I’d be totally perplexed when it comes to making the choice. They’re all equal and good. Though if one song had to represent, it’d probably be the “Thorns Upon A Crown” as I love the way this album starts.

Also in succession “The Well” and “Intermission – Revelation Song” bring Kansas and Jethro Tull to mind whereas “Ageless Door” splatters Deep Heep (or is that Uriah Purple) across the walls. In any case, that old joke and overused comparison actually comes into play - for real - this time.

As for that latter day saint, it brings Snow’s “Devil’s Got My Throat” to the surface and graffiti’s all kinds of Queen on its bridges. To our benefit, we get both May & Morse. With allies and guitar heroes like these, you won’t have enemies. Rather, you’ll have sugary candy-shelled acquaintances.

Actually, Joakim Karlsson makes the guitars sing. Providing full disclosure, Mikael Israelsson does drums and Nicklas Åhlund is responsible for the keys. As earlier referenced, Anthon Johansson is the bassist whereas Magnus Lindgren is their voice.

In “Iscariot”, the high hats compliment the top hats. In other words, there’s sheer classiness in the deliverance of vocals and drums. With this ditty, Black Bonzo brings the sixties and the seventies to the forefront whilst providing time signatures as odd as Clockwork Orange. Afterwards, they end the album with a title track that’s worthy of its alias. Then again, every song is on the level of “Bohemian Rhapsody” in terms of its level of melodic mania.

George Roldan, the founder of RoSfest, must have superhero abilities or an extraordinary ear. Even though this band has a funky name and is landlocked far and away in the tundras of Scandinavia, something must have made his thermoreceptors dial their digits or coerced a button-click from his index. Because few had heard of Gonzo’s sun-burned brother before he had made them known.

Their symbol, by the way, looks like the circular logo that Compuware has recently retired. While this international firm makes IT rock around the world, Black Bonzo brings it to festivals and living rooms. Personally, for music enthusiasts; this is better (especially on the weekends), because I can let my tuchos rest while these pros sweat. This not only applies to technical consultants like me, but also to the techies who constitute the majority of the Prog Rock populace. Sorry folks, that goes beyond starry-eyed Trekkies or geeks since this convoluted music is freakishly modish.

In synch with corporate suits trying to make their businesses cool, these guys are legitimately hip and chic. If I had to put this in a TXT Message, I’d write, “4 PR BBz 1337.” For the record, that code corresponds with the word ‘elite’.

9/10

[I do believe that tuchos is Yiddish for – pardon my English – butt.]

Dominici – O3 Part 3

2008-07-31T08:46:00.000-07:00

This installment is not only the last, it’s theoretically the best. The trilogy started acoustically. For the sequel, Charlie Dominici contracted with a plugged-in crew – members from SolidVision whose talent is inversely proportional to their fame (for the record, they are relatively unknown over here at this time).

Rather than make the endeavor lopsided on one end, he continues to progress. In the final chapter, he takes this into metal-heavy waters. Even so, the moat is covered in a layer of Greek fire and Napalm.

Before this article self-destructs, let’s flesh out what happens in Charlie’s harsh realm:

“King of Terror” is the quintessential calm before the storm. Once it’s passed through the Nordic gates of Valhalla, all bets are off.

As if literally doused in lighter fluid, the guitars are ablaze in “Liquid Lightning”. From start to finish, the bass drum tests the mettle of your subwoofer.

“Revelation” not only discloses a lions share of plot devices, it’s also one of my favorites. As much as I like it, this flammable piece precludes the overall highlight.

The real harbinger would be “Genesis”. Don’t let the title deceive you! This has some very rough patches. While the beginning is the end, its demise will be most welcome to heavy metal fans. Not to mention, “Klaatu barada nikto” is spoken before the unholy rollers decide to initiate extinction.

As for the remaining fare, the unmentionable perishables are just as nefarious and severe.

3 of 03 is nastier and louder than the prior two, but for the most part; Charlie Dominici is passionate about his message. He infers that the world has become a wasteland of prejudice and hatred. Rather than come out and say it, he brings us full circle in a story that’s a microcosm of these foolish wars, unfounded phobias and fears.

In my opinion, the second album was very good, but it’s a close call. This one is excellent, and if anything; it’s the most revealing of the series.

Ultimately, this trilogy is monolithic. Instrumentally, earlier parts were great; however, it was hard to tell if there was a point. With this release, it's now apparent there was a method to his madness. Truth be told, his machinations are made of one stone.

Go ahead and tune out from the important allusions that he makes. You’re reprimand and cost will be an opportunity lost to gleam from Dominici’s magnus opus. To any true enthusiast with a melodic appetite, that sort of penalty is bloody hell. Thankfully, all it takes is a cheap insurance policy, and it’s your choice to apply.

8.75/10

The Tangent - Not As Good As The Book

2008-06-30T21:54:00.000-07:00

Getting early access to this disc -- was a gift. So it’s no surprise that I waited till a certain milestone before making the decision to give it a spin: That would be my birthday. While friends and family wished me well, it was Andy Tillison who made my personal day all that more special.

To get the punch line out of the way, this is one of the best albums ever to be released. It’s not that it has strong melodies, insightful lyrics, clever artwork or a brilliant concept. It’s that it fulfills the bill in each of these aforementioned areas, and that doesn’t even get into the novella he wrote for select patrons.

Leading up to this day, I dug up some old Parallel or 90 Degrees. It is clear to see his raw potential back in those days. Rather than short out the circuitry with his imposing load, his kinetic energy has increased tenfold. With each new album he outpaces himself, and he does so in no small way. Now he’s taken this sturdy foundation and built a colossal sky rise upon it. It’s as if he’s collapsed earlier works and put all that brick and mortar into this project. Yet, it’s as exhilarating as a teenager’s first kiss.

With all the innovation cooped up in the past, it’s seems as if there is no slowdown in sight from his pen. It’s a conundrum of sorts that he has never experienced writer’s block. The musicianship could only come from practiced veterans whereas his wizened slyness is something that could challenge a lion’s lissome pride. It would make sense if this vigor and pep came from the youngsters of Engine of Earth; not a finely aged band of this caliber.

As for the actual litany applied here, he gives us seven song-oriented opuses followed by two artfully-engineered epics in the breadth of two discs. To ask me to pick a favorite would be like asking me to choose between savory entrées and delectable desserts. So I’ll give it to you quick and straight with this semi-automatic list of bulleted points:

“A Crisis in Midlife” is altruistic and astute (almost futuristic disco). The second it’s set to go, we are met by that ephemeral fork in the road. Inline with Yogi Berra’s advice, we rely on the hasty decision and take their modern transport into psychedelic oblivion. In other words, Star Trek thematically prefaces the episode, which is ironic since that distorted notion ascends later on sans the Enterprise. For the record, the new guitarist isn’t shy when it comes to carving his signature on the hull. Once the keyboards deploy and the bassist’s ballasts safely expel, he flips the switch on the propulsion system. Whether you’re progressively-minded or wet behind the ears, you’ll find that his shuttle craft warp by in a blink of an eye.

“Lost in London Twenty Five Years Later” is similar to that influential iceberg that tore up the Titanic. You don’t know what’s coming until it hits you. While I never expected to return to that passionate endeavor so soon; it’s a great way to spend the interim stretch of precious spare time. Go ahead and forgetaboutit cause it’s inevitable that the frosty slab will make first contact. It’s “Up-Hill from Here”, “Skipping the Distance”, and “GPS Culture” all rolled into one. If you were looking to further confirm Jakko M. Jakszyk’s skill, don’t even think about jettisoning past this timeslot. As for Tillison pipes – both piano and voice - they are shockingly spot on. Plus, it goes without saying that Reingold’s bountiful vibes sent such chills through my spine that I thought I was dipped in a vat of liquid nitrogen. At a minimum, his incessant air conditioning gave me an acute case of hypothermia. By the way, they enter into the taboo by mentioning a certain ‘S’ word more than once – well, not that particular one but a tricky topic nonetheless. So if the neighbor’s asking, “How’s the craic?” [This is the intended spelling], the correct response is not to smoke it because this bluesy rock boils way beyond a simmer. Funky jam aside; they penetrate the heat shields and cause the carburetor seals to splinter long before the toaster warms the pop tart. Resistance is surely futile in this bewildering instance. Nevertheless, when the sax sidles up against the fuselage, you’ll be overcome with respite because it set the voyager straight when it’s about to enter an uncontrollable tailspin. Before it’s over, Theo substitutes the frantic sax with a faithful flute. By now the most unbalanced audience member will be soothed into the La-Z-Boy position.

“The Ethernet” brings us something that’s both spirited and posh. This autonomous storyboard could be about Jim Halpert and Pam Beesley’s dubiously platonic love affair in NBC’s The Office. It parallels that mockumentary to a tee whilst one-upping the cynicism poignantly pointed out in “A Place in the Queue”. The comparisons hold true to such a degree that I am suspicious if this song possesses dual citizenship in its creator’s psyche. Could it be that Tillison already put this to paper and then decided to pay it forward? Like a tootsie roll tootsie pop, the world may never know. While it’s as ominous as The Police’s “Every Breath You Take”, this sacrosanct anthem gets flowery at the end. One would have expected Roine Stolt’s meticulous hands to have watered these ginger riffs. As it turns out, the surrogate is just as convincing as the initial lickster.

“Celebrity Puree” is a guilty pleasure. The reason why: This satisfyingly short feature is purely instrumental. Our instant gratification isn’t t the only reward as this naughty number leads guilelessly into the next piece.

Not until we’ve been wowed beyond belief do we encounter the quintessential title track. “Not as Good as the Book” is so fantastic that the written word cannot do it justice. Jakszyk demonstrates additional firepower from his arsenal of skill. In this scenario, he sings with a style that’s very Ritual-like in nature.

The next showing is lounge loafers followed by biker boots. The Tangent’s soles are far from tattered when they reach these consumer-approved top-shelf items hidden in the backroom. There is no telling why they were relegated to the clearance rack.

At its bleakest, “A Sale of Two Souls” is Van Der Graaf Generator and Blue Öyster Cult. As for the upbeat interludes integrated into its zealous theorem, take your pick between Jethro Tull and Procol Harum. Above all, I love the line where Tillison tells himself to, “Hold on for a moment. The sky is as blue as when I was young, and I have as much right to play here as the young guys under a billion year old sun.” The optimism of this wayward son carries on with, “I still have my fingers and they still push the keys. Everyone got older at the same rate as me.” This is poetically slick staccato if you ask me; somewhat like this pragmatic closing tag.

Pursuant to that manic depressive strain, a blind marsupial classified under “Bat out of Basildon” swoops in and skins George Thorogood’s teeth. To put a reference to the name, this ditty is “Bad to the Bone”; though it’s predominantly tongue-in-check. Therefore, it’s not exclusive to a belligerent brood of hell’s angels. By the way, they mention the ‘F’ word here – yes that sexy verb that earned George Carlin a night in the clink. I wonder if this cuss word qualified the album for an explicit label or if it went completely overlooked by censors. For the record, it’s not the easiest axiom to catch.

Anyhow, they end side one by showing us diversity in their output. By now I am convinced that they are the archetypal leaders of the progressive pack. For those of you still deliberating over their status on the totem pole, this disc just might convince you to put them on the utmost fulcrum of the stick.

That aside, there is more. We turn the page and find a twist. While the table of contents leads us to believe that there is no more than a pithy pair to chew on, each rind is long and winding. They call this anomalous section Throwing Metal At The Sky and in rapid-fire succession; this is what that couplet of keenly-coated auras entails:

“Four Egos One War” makes the Four Feathers look like a petty squabble. It also proves to be an example where the sequel is more acerbic than the setup. This gives us more than we could have ever expected from the trite premise. One of my favorite sequences is socked squarely to its midsection. Believe me; it’ll knock the wind out of you too.

Before the bibliography is reached, we finish with “The Full Gamut”. While I was more exhausted than Cloverfield’s cameraman from all the panning around in prior tracks, I refused to let go of the action. It’s so daunting and audacious that it would be an unfathomable task for a journeyman to transcribe this lively script. Even with all my know-how in regards to Progressive Rock, I could hardly keep up with this melodious monster. My consciousness was in the dust as I tirelessly tried to process the scenes that had just been witnessed. It seemed as if I was always a frame behind. In terms of speed and stamina, the last leg gives “All of the Above” a run for its money. Not to mention, this mini-concerto of sorts paces itself with necessary breathers. Those lightning quick recesses are where you have the best chance to close the gap. My heart goes out to those of you who are foolish enough to play it after a hard day’s night. Speaking of cardiovascular systems, I later found out by someone in Tillison’s camp that this was meant to be a mix between bittersweet remembrance and an apology to his longtime running mate.

With that cheerless note in the captain’s log, let’s return to my innermost thoughts…

In terms of birthday presents, there is one that I have always cherished. It was a deluxe Adventure Bound jacket from Wilsons Leather. At the time, I couldn’t afford and neither could the bequestor.

So while I cannot say this was better - because that jacket was extraordinary in its own right, I can tell you this: Not as Good as the Book is just about equal to the best present I ever received on that annual day where my friends, family and I celebrate my incremental click in age.

9.76/10

[This awesome album surpasses A Place in the Queue by a nanoparticle even if my review is an editorial mile shorter in length. For corroboration on the quantitative analysis, look back a blog to witness this galactic difference firsthand.]

The Tangent – A Place in the Queue

2008-04-21T16:29:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a long, comprehensive review. It might take you awhile to go through it. To save time, go directly to your local music outfitter. Otherwise, I’m sure you’ll appreciate this sprawled out sales pitch. It’s blatantly clear that the cat didn’t have my tongue in this instance. In reality, my problem was finding a stopping point.

The album is so colorful; it's like seeing the sun after being locked up in solitary confinement for a year. It seems like only yesterday they drove us through a brilliant world of adventure. They haven’t had much time in the laboratory since then, but you wouldn’t know that from hearing this material. Concepts have been attempted, but trust me; you’ve never heard one like this in the past. It’ll break the bonds of the The Matrix and free you from that oppressive sleep-induced incarceration. Their lyrical libretto will liberate your mind and make you ponder many awe-inspiring questions. It’ll also ameliorate any lemming-like behavior that you might be prone to act out. If you listen with intent, you too will join the ranks of the enlightened. This is an out of body experience that’s so existential; it can only come from the X-Men, X-Files, tiny greenies, or extraterrestrials. In other words, The Tangent’s skill is out of this world.

The band boasts that this release is two-in-one, and they aren’t kidding. You’ll find yourself checking the timestamp often in order to see how many minutes remain. It’ll be a surprise once you realize that so much is left. Its audiences will be perplexed by how much they were able to fit into this laser-etched Frisbee. Alas, it’s wedged within a standard disc. Speaking of which, Andy “Diskdrive” Tillison is not only the maestro on the keys, but a true master who corners the market on creative writing. Moreover, if you get hooked up with the deluxe edition, you’re meal will be doused in extra gravy.

The Tangent is arguably the best offering on the InsideOut Record label. Playing host to bands such as The Flower Kings, Pain of Salvation, Symphony X, and Saga, that’s no small matter to achieve. Even so, they consistently put out art that rivals the monuments of Bellini. Their premiere was hailed as the best progressive rock debut, at a time when there was a bottomless well of highly qualified candidates. In their sophomore year, they followed it up with another quality creation. Now they do the unthinkable: They skip a grade and graduate in short succession. While Michelangelo was a master painter and Rodin the accomplished sculptor, Andy Tillison is the cream of the crop when it comes to crafting melodic worlds of wonder. Da Vinci couldn’t have architected a better design. In my opinion, he can’t touch it.

I heard a sample in concert long before it was ready for pressing. While I was enamored with the highlights of their first two albums – i.e. The Music That Died Alone and World That We Drive Through, you can instantly tell that Tillison had something tasty cooking in the kitchen. I welcomed the reprieve because I couldn’t stand the downtime. Since then, I have found that this partially juvenile display has grown from a larva to a moth.

Lest I forget, the concept is an involved one. It has to do with how we’re buried in legalese and literally administered to death. Aiding and abetting sadistic aristocrats, the populace is ready and willing to fall in line. I think Tillison would appreciate Papillon starring Dustin Hoffman and Steve McQueen. The morale of that tale: While we’d like to be as free as a butterfly, we often let ourselves be dehumanized and treated as slaves. This indefensible behavior only supports the despots who swat and stifle our every move as if we were a nasty horde of flies.

Tillison’s words are cynical, but it’s not altogether depressing. Although the overall attitude is quite dismal, the instrumentals are to a certain extent cheerful.

Back to the bad news: Roine Stolt, Zoltan Czorz, and Andrew Jackson are no longer a part of the syndicate. Their departures constitute a major loss to the team. It’s like displacing last seasons leading scorers. Fortunately, their fill-ins make them more than whole again. Krister Jonzon (guitarist), Jaime Salazar (drummer and also a former member of The Flower Kings), and Theo Travis (flutes; sax; anything wind, not brass) bring a variegated vibe into the equation. While it’s neither better nor worse, in some ways it is poles apart. Nevertheless, the change is utterly invigorating. Their contributions make the seasoned players young at heart. We hear ELP, Van Der Graaf Generator, Yes and The Flower Kings in their collaborative synergy. On the whole, it is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. It’s so brand spanking new; your stump will be swollen and bruised from the rapturous beating of these progressive rulers.

While everything in general is enhanced, the guitars have been rebuilt from the ground up. Even with substantial adjustments, it still steers and jeers just as straight and tight. The replacement couldn’t have been received any better. This is a testament to Jonzon’s unreal talent built upon Stolt’s completely surreal foundation. Each guitarist has their own flamboyant style. Like King Midas, Stolt has been known to drag whatever music he touches into the direction of his sanctimonious garden. His surrogate keeps the quality afloat, but has more of a candid and fancy-free approach. It’s hard to say which style I like better. You can’t beat Stolt’s patience. Then again, Jonzon is a fun guy to have in the mix. Okay, maybe he’s not wet and mossy (Get it? Fungi… I’m so funny), but his wacky solos are sure to grow on you. When comparing the pair, it’s close enough to have to go back to the cameras. Regardless of what the referees decide, many fans will disagree; most will accept to along with the optimistic decree.

This gets three thumbs up: Ebert, Roeper’s, and mine. The movie critics may be ignorant to Progressive Rock and I may have made their alleged evaluations up, but the vote from me is tried and true. As a loyal fan of this symphonic genus, I’ve witnessed many great albums in recent years, but this is as close to greatness as a band can achieve. Tillison will probably come out with another tour de force. Despite that, this should stand the test of time. In the interim, it’s freshly squeezed, so expect it to be frequently revisited and then slurped.

As The Tangent takes us on the lamb from our tedious existence, let's check out their latest and greatest escape:

In Earnest – I heard an earlier rendering of this song before the Cray mainframes had filled in the empty pixels. That version was good, but this one’s drastically better. Maybe my stereo system is that super. Most likely the tweaks can be ascribed to Andy Tillison’s attention to detail. Either way, they deliver the Motts right on schedule. As usual, each piece is custom-crafted and made to order. What is more, the music is much warmer. The keyboards receive totally sufficient representation in this release. It’s bluesy and bombastic at times; clawing at the crust like Derek Sherinian’s ivory teeth in Platypus. Successive to this listening session, I’m scheduled to see The Syn. I cannot help but think of Chris Squire as I hear Jonas Reingold belch from the bass. If these gestures mean you approve of the meal then Reingold is really enjoying himself. This concoction is time-consuming (20 minutes to be precise). What’s more, it’s opaque. You’ve been forewarned! It will take several gasps to fully breathe in and more than a few gulps to suck down the regurgitated bits. It soars with the spitfire of Big Big Train and orbits with the poetic flight of Satellite. It’s also ingrained with the classiness of Genesis. That’s complimented by the organic earthiness of Echolyn. If it’s not already embedded with enough wonder to take flight, it also contains the pop-laden subtleties of The Beatles. Plus, it has the suave coolness of “The Canterbury Sequence” pooled within the symphonic whirlpool of Kansas. While Jonzon sets off a slew of rockets, it is Reingold who lights the wick. This flickers with the glint of the old but reliable Van Der Graaf Generator, and as I’ve conjectured and shared; I detect the molecules of Mei beside the pretentious detonations of Spock’s Beards “Crack the Sky.” They open with an epic that travels far and wide. It’s derived from Disney’s Fantasia and has a trajectory that intersects with the arcadia of Atreyu. Its radiant all-around, but to be explicit, the bass playing is top-notch. As it will take dozens of listens to truly appreciate, this is what I’d label a “delayed” masterpiece. So it’s contrary to Folger’s motto. All this and I haven’t even touched upon the thought-provoking storyline that pays homage to an old-timer and a ragged ace. While we're on the subject, it’s a whole different mission when your perspective is on the lyrics. That is why it’s wise to rack up your frequent flier miles here.

Lost in London – My oldest brother is an opera singer. He has a degree in music and he’s sung around the world. He’s been in the company of many renowned vocalists from Billy Joel to the understudy of Pavarotti. He’s an established expert in this art form, so his hypotheses are academically valid. With that said, he seriously thought Tillison was the best singer ever to perform at RoSfest. This is ironic since Tillison lists himself on the roster strictly as a keyboardist. Like Michael Vick, his talents surpass a single position. I agree… He is an outstanding singer. This album is a showcase of each of his many talents including his press permed voice. It’s not only his reputable pitch but also how he uses it. He demonstrates passion and grace, and this introspective parable depicts the paradigm best. Many singers could learn something from his technique, and his endowment doesn’t end there. He is an exceptional songwriter too. This composition especially is as delicious and austere as a cream cracker. It serves its purpose and adequately fills insatiable tummies. However, his pudding is not runny oatmeal or watered-down soup. It’s more like a viscous pancake or thick paste. Maybe that’s due to the fact that he is an Englishman. Consistent with every song on the album, he escorts us through a secret passage. It’s as if they took us on an Easter egg hunt. While it may be as straightforward as sticky rice, its belly is filled with tapioca and fruity jelly. You’ll be happy to get lost in the hidey-hole of this hazy mix. Just when it seems the point has been dispensed, current topics are insightfully referenced.

DIY Surgery – This is the most economical article to be furnished by this group of musicians. It’s as if it came from IKEA. As long as we’re talking acronyms, I thought the Swedish retailer would be credible to cite in my testimonial. In its succinct space, it pegs Far Corner’s self-titled debut to the corkboard. Additionally, the tacky assembly adheres to The Flower King's Unfold the Future. In other words, it’s vastly jazzy and very weird. The sax is one of the most frequently used tools involved in this witty episode of Home Improvement. When perusing the how-to handbook, it concludes by saying you might as well, “Do it yourself!”

GPS Culture – This intersects with Yes’ “Roundabout”, which might explain why it was initially my favorite song. When it hits the road, it’s really pound the tar. The transitions are so smooth; there is no need for a flimsy click track to guide it. As long as we're talking quasi-car analogies, it puts the pedal to the floorboards and revs on all cylinders. Due to its heedlessness, it slaps hard into a pothole and loses more than a heat shield. What’s more, it rattles to the sounds of Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water.” Speaking of which, this hydro-racer’s pit crew consists of Karmakanic. Once they’ve bridged the bottleneck and installed the navigational unit on the dashboard, they go on to complete the work order with very little resistance.

Follow Your Leaders – As promised, once you’ve voided the sodden sack, there are multiple goodies to snatch. There is nothing bitter or salty about this ichorously pulpy piece. It cracks with the verve of Kaipa, but sizzles with the sweltering sting of Pop Rocks Candy. This carbonated limestone fizzes when it damp. As you might have guessed, there is a lot of Reingold drilled into its trenches. His furious bass constantly chafes against this ditty’s fleshy thighs. They’re riding with no power steering and all brakes out. That doesn’t stop them from proceeding onward. When he arrives at the inevitable solo, his instrument purrs like a tabby cat. At this intersection, there are timely sound effects that make me think I’m being pulled over for speeding every time. I hate to admit it, but it got me on several passes before I memorized its unexpected ETA. If you’re out on a joy ride or asleep at the wheel, you potentially risk a heart attack when traversing through this cloverleaf.

The Sun In My Eyes – This melee of mainstream contentment comes to us in the spirit of a progressive affirmation. When they go contemporary, they give us “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” I’d sooner expect to find this song on the latest Earth, Wind, and Fire. Still, it’s warranted for this short recess. Not to mention, this could be the lone symphonic ballad that blasts them into the commercial charts. The keyboards cook while the bass really boils. Last but not least, the spotlight shines brightly on Jonzon. He wholeheartedly rocks the Kasbah with a religious recitation of the Kaballah. Also worked within the words is a truly funny line. Tillison despairingly admits to, “Getting his head bashed in for liking Yes.” For those who have been with the niche brethren since its inception; in a figurative sense, this is a true confession. While this relic is all right, the extended rendition found in the special edition in and of itself necessitates an upgrade.

A Place in the Queue – The “coup de gra caps the stack. As it’s sans pareil, this is what you’ve been - unknowingly - waiting to hear. It’s best described as Tillison’s “Tales from the Topographic Ocean”. I hear Transatlantic and Kansas in many of its sectors. There is so much in there; something’s gained with every listen. Along with Morse, Wakeman and Emerson, Tillison proves to be nothing like a hound dog as he reigns supreme as the king on the keyboards. The line between metal and rock gets blurred with every one of The Tangent’s albums. In actuality, parts of this sound like Dream Theater’s “Octavarium.” Supposedly, that’s a heavy band and this one ain’t but by scrutinizing these samples under a microscope, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. In accession to these similarities, it has its own unique features too. Theo Travis’ solos abound with delectable complexity. In a cameo appearance, Guy Manning monopolizes one of the segues just as he did for “Gap in the Night.” When you snap this disjointed jigsaw into place, its picturesque image is no less than one in a million. There isn’t a single spot where the concept gives up. The lyrics or melody parallel each other in perfect harmony. When one is inactive, the other is very much alive. While there is a front and a back, it’s easy to lose yourself in the pleat of its middle. Like a gobstopper, this opus is everlasting. Yet that doesn’t matter in the end. Each moment is precious and in retrospect; that applies to the patently abstract passageways as well.

In the studio, Tillison is a surgeon with the software. As I witnessed in person, he has no problem with the hardware either. No wonder he was once a part of tech support. The only fault - if anything - is that this release might be a tad too ambitious. For me, their greatest fan, that is never really a problem.

We do get two-for-one with this offer, but if you’re smart; you’ll dinosize the Big Kids Meal and get the doublestacked edition as a cheap means to gain access to more great stuff.

Let’s flip the supplementary patty:

It actually comes in thirds. The first constitutes prime cuts. In this section, the chunks are good enough to eat even if they didn’t make the standard release. In “Promises Were Made”, Sam Baine sings a tune that’s Mostly Autumn in nature. The second, “The First Day at School,” is elementary for someone like Sherlock to assess. While simpler in form, it bears a rough resemblance to “Lost in London”. Then the last in the superfluous batch, “Forsaken Cathedralsare” should have been metered with a first-class stamp and distributed wholesale to the masses.

The section to follow has just one song. It’s the alternate version of “Sun in My Eyes” and it’s vastly different than the uncola. While it may not be radio-friendly by today’s standards, it could have been a #1 hit in the seventies. The instrumentations remind me of Yes’ Magnification. What’s fascinating is that there is a substantial amount of disco deposited in this and only this take.

Assigned to the anchor position, there are two ambient heirlooms. “Grooving on Mars” is a live track that puts the razzmatazz in the jam whereas “Kartoffelsalat Im Unterseeboot” has natural juices in a concentrated block of mash. It’s a challenge to believe there would be room on the auction block for anything else. Somehow they’ve crammed it in.

While this series of songs is worthy of our full attention, we won’t cover them in any further detail as we already have a huge load of cargo on consignment.

The evaluators of Antiques Roadshow would very much like to have a personal showing of this extensive collection. These authentic artifacts are sure to earn a quick quote. For the most part, these works of art should earn extensive looks by prospective buyers even if their intrinsic value isn’t immediately apparent. By the time you cash this inconspicuous attaché of priceless trinkets in, you’ll realize it was more than worth the wait in line. If this is what fans get for their loyalty and patience, just tell me where to sign up for the pre-order. I’ve never camped out for anything, but I’d surely like to be the critic with admittance to the subsequent sneak preview.

Basically, the concept is hard to ascertain. Without the proper frame of mind, I thought it was their worst album to date. Now I’m convinced it is their best. Whatever they do, add my name to the spreadsheet. I’d gladly take my place in their queue.

9.75/10

Due to many reasons including my deliberation over the rating plus an inability to pipe down on my delight over this release, the review has taken me longer than any to date - come to think of it; I logged my first impression back in ‘06 and still had things to fudge together in ’08. All joking aside; I temporarily lost the material to a flood. Later, I became reacquainted with my notes and the CD when rifling through a moldy box. Likewise, I have never played an album this many times: Too many to count. The present tally is probably in the hundreds. This release certainly did not deserve procrastination or reckless abandonment from me. Since the delay was somewhat out of my control, I should be forgiven. Not to mention, it was ultimately submitted. So please let this unpardonable sin pass. To own up to the crime and state my reason to come clean, what finally pushed me over the edge was the fact I made a pact with myself to not hear “Better than the Book” until I addressed this one first. Now that I have, you can be assured that there will be more diarrhea of the mouth to dole out on its successor. Hopefully, the praise will come substantially sooner and be a whole lot more concise.

And now a word from Gary Hill - Editor & Webmaster of Music Street Journal...

2008-02-29T18:54:00.000-08:00

Music Street Journal has been bringing interviews, CD and DVD reviews and concert reviews to the internet for over ten years now. In honor of that anniversary the site has been fully redesigned and is looking great. It even features a new logo designed by none other than Ed Unitsky. You can check the site out at www.musicstreetjournal.com, and we’re confident you’ll agree. The thing is, if that’s all you look at, though, you’ll only be getting part of the picture. In addition to a full revamping of the existing site, we’ve added special features for members. These include concert photo galleries, audio versions of some of our interviews, exclusive audio and video material from participating artists, blogs from some of those artists, the chance to ask them questions and see the answers and the opportunity to read The Strange Sound of Cthulhu - Music Inspired by the Writings of H. P. Lovecraft (the book written by MSJ’s Gary Hill) for free online.

Bands and solo artists participating by providing material for the members’ area include - Aethellis, Asmodeus X, Black 47, Bill Bruford (a podcast), Clark Plays Guitar, Cosmo's Moon, Alan Davey, DC4, Djam Karet, Dream Aria, Eternal Descent, Farpoint, Fernwood, Groove Pipe, Gary Hill, Inquisitor Betrayer, Lana Lane, Magic Pie, Guy Manning, Matt Martino, Valentin Narvaez, Erik Norlander, OnOffOn, The Paisley Tones, Michael Paul, Pennenga, Raising Fear, Rocket Scientists, 2nd Day Crush, The Smith Brothers, Soniq Theater, Stealing Jane, Sifu Stephen Doe, James Sudakow, The Syn, Tafoya's Lost Boyzz, Mike Visaggio and John Young Band.

Some of the concert photo galleries represent pictures that were previously presented at MSJ while others have never before been seen. For the most part when they’ve been published before the pictures in the new gallery are of a higher resolution and much larger size and usually there are a lot more pictures presented. We have concert galleries of these artists - Alice Cooper, Amon Amarth, Arlo Guthrie, Asia, Atreyu, Black 47, Black Label Society, Bleeding Through, California Guitar Trio, Children of Bodom, Chris Caffery, Coco Montoya, Dimmu Borgir, Doro (two galleries), Dream Theater (two galleries), Echolyn, Enslaved, Enuff Z'Nuff, Every Time I Die, Frank Marino, Geoff Tate, Gojira, Grand Funk Railroad, Gwar, Hawkwind, Heaven and Hell (two galleries), Ian Gillan, Jean-Luc Ponty, Jethro Tull (two galleries), Judas Priest (three galleries), Kansas, Lacuna Coil, Lamb of God, Lonnie Brooks and the Brooks Family Band, Magma, Magna-Fi, Megadeth, Nazareth, Otep (two galleries), Overkill, Placebo, Porcupine Tree, Prong, Pure Reason Revolution, Queensryche (three galleries), Rik Emmett, Robert Cray, Ron Keel, Skeleton Breath, Slayer, Soul Sirkus, Spock’s Beard (three galleries), Star People, Static-X, Stratovarius, Superjoint Ritual, Tempest, The Heavils, The Red Masque, Throwdown, Tony Levin, Toto, UFO, Uli Jon Roth, Y & T and Yes (five galleries).

Audio interviews are currently available from Enslaved and Ray Manzarek of the Doors. Keep in mind, this is just a snapshot of what’s in the site today. New material is getting added several times a week and bands can change out their own material, so that can change frequently, too. You can get a look at what the visual appearance of the members’ area is by going to the official Music Street Journal blog. You can see that here – http://blog.myspace.com/musicstreetjournal. Memberships are only 25 dollars for a year – that’s less than fifty cents a week. You can get shorter memberships, too (down to one month for 6 bucks). To sign up just go to www.musicstreetjournal.com and you’ll see the members’ area access box on the right side. Just go to the “click to register” link to the right of the log in box and you’ll be set up in no time.

[Press Release Provided by Gary Hill - Editor & Webmaster of Music Street Journal]

Phideaux - Doomsday Afternoon

2008-02-06T22:04:00.000-08:00

By the time this was voted #1 album of the year – by various sources including friends - I had finally acquired my copy. After unworthy prospects burned me in the past, I feared it would not live up to my expectations. With apprehension, I played this allegedly resplendent disc.

Honestly, I was slow to absorb this highly-touted article of trade. I was perplexed as this commodity had not immediately reached me, and I soon began to doubt my reliable sources. In the opener – sticky tagged with the name “Micro Softdeathstar”; it seemed as if it were Gazpacho without the Salsa Verde.

Admittingly, the inclusion of a special guest in the preface was a plus. On loan from Eyestrings, Matthew Kennedy expelled benevolent vibes. He would later be munificent in other key places. Even so, his sapid bass didn’t exactly bridge the gap here.

To give it to you straight, I was dumbfounded at this songs lack of depth. The drums were awfully simplistic and the beat was so sparse that it failed to even live up to a fraction of those pledges to engulf me – at least that’s what I thought at first.

Obviously, this was not an album that planned to get you with the initial listen or for that matter, the hundred foremost bits in the preamble. To tell you the truth, it could be a letdown to someone like myself who read the puffery long before participating in the ballyhoo.

Notwithstanding these squawks and gripes, let’s consider the highlights before any of us join the dissenting minority…

I had a sneaking suspicion that the group would eventually spackle on the layers. Twice it didn’t get me. Over and above the icebreaker, “The Doctrine of Eternal Ice (Part One)” was nice, but it didn’t blow me away either.

In the third movement however, “Candybrain” gives us harmonies, flutes, keyboards and guitars. It has so much that we often yearn to swoon over. Suffice to say, this should have gotten the number sequence to the safety lock that safeguards the starter pistol. In other words, this song should have led the preemptive charge.

Besides the progressive elements and the worldly influences, I can hear Simon & Garfunkel and The Beatles in this eclectic mosaic of creamy yogurt and crunchy granola.

Incidentally, the name of this virtuous psalm is quite appropriate if you transpose its lexical counterparts or to put it in plain terms; place the very last syllable in front.

Charily, the compositions continue to expand upon their market share. With “Crumble” and “The Doctrine of Eternal Ice (Part Two)”, the musicianship improves throughout an upwardly mobile curve. Due to this economical advancement, I had decisively surmised at this juncture that the material was really above-average. Still, I was yet to believe the hype.

Adding salt to whatever laceration I’ve insensitively picked, one song is nearly repeated. We get “Crumble” in the both the fourth and eighth time-slots. The difference is mostly with an angel who rears her voice in the subsequent collapse. While it’s fine to repeat useful material, each occurrence deserves its own label. When it comes down to it, these are not identical twins, and that makes it absolutely hammy for them to use the same pseudonym.

Persevering into the next phase, we’re privy to criterion akin to Genesis and Jethro Tull. When they borrow, it’s for the greater good. In one such example, “Thank You for the Evil” closely resembles Pink Floyd’s “Hey You”. When comparing the carbon-copies, the clones stand on their own as they’re not entirely literal facsimiles of the laudable originals.

On the other side of the mirror, “A Wasteland of Memories” demonstrates Phideaux Xavier’s ability to write a motion picture score. It also shows a capacity to seamlessly integrate antithetical alloys into the manifold.

Later, “Formaldehyde” is soaked in an excursive solo from Martin Orford. Also floating in the pickle jar is a flute that’s gingerly shorn from a wistful fairy-tale. For me, this visceral web of magical instruments is the climatic point of the album. Afterwards, we keep to the lofty crest. This superior grade doesn’t recede until the end.

Assigned to providing last rites, “Microdeath Softstar” terminates the post meridian of Judgment Day, and it does so in the most impressive way. The reprisals contain everything that was previously missed in the crack of doom. For the record, the proscenium of this unctuous device had nowhere near as much charm. This might explain my rash decision to defy the propaganda early on. Now I’m completely onboard with the program.

For an explanation of the name behind the endgame, simply return to the commencement and read its appellation aloud. You’ll find a corporation run by megalomaniacs and a weaponized space-station that does a bad impression of a moon.

While the titles of the album and songs – as well as the artwork - are a little morbid, they don’t necessary pertain to bizarre psychological experiments used to channel a wormhole to hell. This does not require a terror mask or classification within the genre of survival horror - as rumored to be carried out inside the walls of Dr. West’s Splatterhouse. [Unless you’re from the Nintendo generation, familiar with the catalog of data cartridges for the TurboGrafx-16, or couldn’t care less, this will likely require redirection to Wikipedia.]

Aside from gruesome allusions buried in the lyrics, this melodic treaty actually calls for peace. Making an allowance for context and subtleties between the lines, Doomsday Afternoon is purely meant as a deterrent to social crimes. At his worst, Xavier might have a propensity to idealism or be an alarmist with Orwellian leanings.

Supposedly, this has to do with Big Brother and an ecological crisis in the vein of Dominici’s O3. It’s also the central nub in a trilogy that elaborates on a concept dubbed “The Great Leap”. In case you’re wondering, the glorious conclusion is already in the pipeline.

Anyhow, was this powder keg for the cocktail hour all it was cracked up to be?

In retrospect, I can respond with a definitive yes; though I’m hesitating to call it best. Then again, I have a hard time promoting another album to the throne it essentially reigns over. With The Tangent around the corner, Phideaux may have landed gold by such an indiscernible difference that it could only be measured by a nanotechnologist.

No matter how it’s quantified, this album is an irrefutable chartbuster - in the progressive sense. All you need is a couple tracks to warm up to; but more importantly, an eager mind to enrapture and entangle.

The violins alone are exquisite. Melded to the epics with surgical precision, they move an unwieldy payload as if it were a feather. Personally, I can now understand why so many people find the material venerable and hold it in such high regard. There is a lot to siphon and avulse from this inundated rock.

Like the seductive and acquiescent finger-trap, it’s only a matter of time before you’re in a bind as a result of toying around with it. Then along with the Manchurian Candidate, you too will be an indoctrinated fan who swears this authoritarian should hold that commanding spot on top.

9.00000000000000000000001/10

[As the actual ionization falls between four and five stars, I doped the score with a subatomic particle and rounded to that highly positive rating.]

Saga – 10,000 Days

2007-12-31T16:09:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-26T09:35:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-09-26T14:41:00.000-07:00

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)

2007-06-24T17:01:00.000-07:00

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

2007-05-10T10:26:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-28T13:55:00.000-07:00

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

2007-03-28T13:45:00.000-07:00

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

2007-02-11T16:20:00.000-08:00

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)

2007-01-03T13:53:00.000-08:00

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?

The D Project - Shimmering Lights

2006-09-01T14:15:00.000-07:00

It's a capital D that rhymes with V which stands for Vendetta. In other words, it's a rebellion against all that's average and illegitimate in the mainstream.

Newcomer Stephane Desbiens (vocal, acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards, and mellotron) is a shot of bright light on a very dim night. Just when you think there's nothing new and fresh, along with Frost* and GPS, he joins in on the fight. He also brings some elite talent into the incursion. Riding along on this raid is the likes of Tomas Bodin (The Flower Kings), Martin Orford (IQ), and Fred Schendel (Glass Hammer). You couldn't request a more influential band of leaders on the frontline. Assisting in the ancillary role is Mathieu Gosselin (bass, stick bass), Danny Robertson (Drums), Sandra Poulin (violin), and this secret entity named Alyssar (back vocals). Each one adds some impressive elements of their own. Then there is Francis Foy who produces and co-writes, and even incorporates some backing vocals. It goes to show you can accomplish a lot when you have a large circle of friends.

The only downside is that the production is a tad too grainy. Otherwise, it seems to work for all intents and purposes. The only recommendation I could make is for them to utilize a certain buddy of Bodin. That would be Jonas Reingold, who also happens to be a fellow Flower King's mate. He could fine-tune the mixing and mastering as well as fire up his bass. Reingold has repeatedly put out productions so clear you could hear a pin drop and let's not forget how well he channels his instrument. Then again, the cleanliness of these quarters isn't necessarily why you'd make the visit. Whether ancient or up-to-the-minute, The D Project gives you passage into an esteemed castle. With every threshold you cross, you're sure to find unparalleled pleasantries in the corners of these cuts.

Let's give the schematics a thorough inspection before anyone opts to surround this bastion of bliss:

"Shimmering Lights" - As Monty Python used to say, this is something completely different. You have no idea what you're getting into until you're a whole four minutes into the campaign. I wasn't sure if this was RIO, a warm-up, or an onslaught of instrumental bedazzlement. It's a lot like The Art of Noise with a famous quote from John F. Kennedy integrated into its bare middle. I really enjoy the music when the vocals pour in. Hopefully, my heads-up won't be seen as a spoiler. I found the beat to be eighties punk with dribbles of computer-looping and commercially-driven riffs. In the atmosphere is an air of Depeche Mode and New Order. It also has an edgy aroma of Echolyn and Izz. I even sort of hear Longshot's "The Cosmic Bacteria's Experiences" towards its end in some of the guitar and keyboard arrangements. I'm speaking out of turn as I have only heard this out-of-print masterpiece solely through a selection of hard-to-find samples. Regardless, it instantly makes me think of that genetically frenetic and fantastically fanatic fabrication... Now that's a mouthful!

"They Come And Grow" - This has the huff and puff of a dragon along with the dregs of Led Zeppelin. In addition, I hear The Tangent in their coldest impersonation of an era long passed. They seem to follow the path of a catchy Canterbury sequence. It's also easy to imagine the last letter in RPWL settled somewhere in the vicinity. It's as if Yogi Lang were floating within the viscous volume coddled inside this diaphanous vial.

"Hide From The Sun" - This is where Bodin first appears. I was really looking forward to seeing what he would do in this endeavor. His melodies are faint, but it's the moisture in the flakey brownie that provides the important aftertaste. Not to mention, it's the only place where Foy lends his voice, so you know it must be special. This song is a mix of Flower Kings, Riverside, Violent Femmes, and Herbie Hancock. It's really that odd of an incarnation, but still the chemicals blend well. It has just an ounce of lead in its paint and a hint of hardcore metal in its texture. As a secret ingredient, there is whispering that actually transcends into singing. For this reason, I found it to be very Phil Collins-esque at times.

"What Is Done Is Done (Rat)" - The title of this track makes no sense to me, yet it provides a fast-acting fix. Suffice to say, it's over before you know it. If you're keeping your eye on the clock, you'll miss it. Nevertheless, it offers a short reprieve from the rhythm. In this time out, you're allowed enough of a stretch to unwind and catch a gulp. Then again, it's belligerent and seems to purposely lack class. At times, it eats like a pig and act like, well, let's just say it'll make my mongrel happy. With that said, it has a touch of the female persuasion.

"End Of The Recess" - Orford is an artist who greatly undersells himself. Go no further than this song to find conclusive proof. His incantations are partly elfin magic and to some extent, enchanted moon dust. It certainly supports my supposition. He's a keyboard wizard and a true star. It's as if he hardly needs to import any effort in order to glimmer. This song spins in synch with Karmakanic's "Wheel Of Life."Again, I must wonder, "Where is Reingold?" If it's any consolation, it's unquestionable that this has a Swedish connection.

"September Solitudes" - I'm impartial to this piece. I really enjoy Bodin's subtle hand-outs. This piece has Porcupine Tree, Pineapple Thief, as well as a foggy mist of other translucent dreams in its midst.

"That's Life" - This is louder and rougher than the others, but I'll be darned if don't like it. Schendel puts some of his best progressions to the test. He plays Mini-Moog and Nord Electro keyboards through a “ring” modulator and a Leslie Simulator. You could say this complex arrangement is done on a one-of-a-kind device. When it comes to progressively pious pieces, this is the one that rules them all. It has oomph, as it seems to be a lighter variation of Time Requiem, Opus Atlantica, and Anderson's Space Odyssey. Oddly enough, it finishes in same manner as Transatlantic's first album. The fast wrap-up concludes the affair like a circus extravaganza.

In retrospect, the first couple minutes of the album are terse and tense. It was tough to settle in at the beginning. It doesn't grab hold of you immediately, but on subsequent listens, it fits as if it's that obscure piece you need to finish a puzzle. I found myself liking the music more as it went on. Each time I try again, it burrows incrementally deeper. While Frost* tricks us with an instrumental opener, it fools us in a totally different manner. You'll find yourself startled by the revelation, but not just by the fact it incorporates vocals. Like an underground coaster (see Mt. Olympus' Hades) it has unexpected passages and twists, which makes the ride awfully thrilling and a lot of fun.

Typically, the best song is the title track and it comes on at random. In the case, it's not only the opener, but it's also decent. However, I wouldn't call it my favorite. I'd have to say the two I liked the most both include maestro and ace Bodin. I felt these were the finest in the set. Regardless, I give this author credit for plagiarizing nobody and repeating nothing. In Desbiens' quest to make some newfangled fantasy, he finds victory in his debut. I'll be interested in seeing what triumphs lies ahead for this artist.

D is dubious; maybe even a wee bit deranged, but D stands for ditties that abound with creativity. In essence, D is for Delightful.

The Syn – Syndestructible

2006-03-20T17:32:00.000-08:00

Like a Phoenix rising, The Syn comes out of nowhere and competes at full strength. For hockey fans, this might be debatable, but for progressive rock fans and even those of pro wrestling, this is a matter that’s stone cold serious. As if they found the fountain of youth, their reincarnation makes Rip Van Winkle look like a weary old man. While their odometer shows mileage, they play with vehemence and vigor. Yes might have all the accolades, but this obscure band comes alive from the ashes.

I was unaware of their connections, let alone their existence, until I saw them live. In other words, they were literally in my backyard before I was ever exposed to their music. When I learned that Squire was reforming an old band, I immediately queried their tour schedule. It was at this time, I found they were playing at a not-too-distant venue in the not-too-distant future. On a whim, I hit the road and at the spur-of-the-moment was in their presence front and center. Then, when I finally got around to spinning their disc, I was enlightened further. They were loud and clear on stage, but in the studio, they were every bit as good or better.

Without taking too much away from their outstanding performance, I must point out that the album is tight in its very own ways. It’s hard to say with all the good material out there. Even if it’s not in mine, this deserves to be at the apex of many people’s top ten list. Altogether, it’s as mighty as the Titanic, but the ship that sets sail in their sophomore outing is more or less unsinkable.

Here’s what surfaces in this incredibly vast, impressive, and virtually indestructible ocean liner called Syndestructible:

The vessel departs from the docks in “Breaking Down Walls” without much ado about anything. You’ll hardly notice the waves crashing down upon its sides. This is as blessed and divine as Sid’s Boy Choir from Spock’s Beard. It’s so swift and wispy; you’ll be light-headed from its sudden drop in pressure. Then, just like that, you’re onto the next track.

Before you know it, we’re drifting into open sea and the song, “Some Time, Some Way” is underway. This part embodies Bob Dylan’s nonchalant singing with instrumentals as melodic as The Flower Kings. Much to their chagrin, they’ve culled the concerns of a leak in the hull.

They return us to shore in “Reach Outro,” which in case you missed it, is a clever play on words. Listening to the song, you’ll come to realize the pun was purposely intended.

Each wedge in this multi-tiered introduction goes together like the moist and sticky slivers ensconced within a slab of Spumoni. The first works aptly as an intro while the third effectively abates into The Outer Limits of the outro. This intelligently aligned alliance could have easily been one track, one song, one vision. Nevertheless, the meaty middle is packed with high-quality jerky and that’s where you’ll find the most nourishment. Either way, the ends justify the means. There are no stodgy byproducts acting as filler. This is as crunchy and nutritious as an organic apple. The surgeon will not only stay away, but any sort of tampering is strictly forbidden. As a result, this progressive rock is extremely palatable and passed without pain. Some of the more pensive parts are Kaipa or Yes. Yet, the more folksy elements are inspired by Crosby, Stills, and Nash. With followers always begging for more, right upfront, they give their fans a treat they’re sure to devour.

Early on, you know this band is for real. Nonetheless, it keeps chugging along.

With Squire on the marquee, they could have easily sold tickets and merchandise with a handshake and a smile. Instead, they use their experience and skill to skipper another watertight cluster.

“Cathedral of Love” features some the most powerful passages you could find today in music. It’s obvious they didn’t just put their best food forward and then fall back on their haunches. It’s so sweet and sensitive, it tickles the spine. I hear a potent combination between two opposite, but equally important influences. That would be none other than Paul McCartney and The Flower Kings. Since its rhythms are distinct, delicate, and discrete, it sounds unusually good on headphones. It’s as if they took “Hey Jude” and “Go West Judah” and sent them across the Atlantic to “My New World.”

To coincide with this comparison, Squire’s bass in the breakout section reminds me of Jonas Reingold. You may feel it’s sacrilegious to make such an association. If it’s any consolation, I hold Jonas in the highest regard and feel he has already earned his place in the queue of those with legendary status. In my opinion, to compare the superstar to this young pup is a true complement to both the bassists.

And, you know what; it only gets better from here…

While it seems we are nearing the end, the previous song starts a chain reaction. The next couple events broach the borders of the epic perimeter.

“City of Dreams” has a modern flair, but it awakens the Yes’ classics in a roundabout way. The switch-ups, stops, change of direction, and digression, while all unexpected, are quite amazing. This incredible cut will open your eyes, ears, heart, and mouth. Try not to sing-along or play with invisible sticks in the air. While the dreamer’s dream, only those who are alert and conscious can experience the spirit and elation tucked deftly within its folds. In other words, pay attention while it’s playing. This song combines Tom Brislin’s creative keyboards with Toy Matinee’s elegant background arrangements. There’s a degree of Spock’s Beard urbane Thoughts applied, but this time, it reads mostly from Revelations. Using his own indomitable and identifiable style, Squire patently plays the bass as a lead instrument. It’s awesome how he walks these wonderfully wistful lines. To sum it up, this song is ingenious and stunning and an ace among a suite of highlights.

The next on the hit list is “Golden Age.” This maudlin marvel pays homage to their sixties heritage both lyrical and instrumentally. As much as we like the symphonic, too much could be overly predictable or mundane. They agree and take us on this influential tangent in time. In a way, it’s out of place, but these new digs will do. In the mix, I hear what sounds like a cow bell and a banjo. It’s more like Sheryl Crowe’s Tuesday Night Club than anything in the earlier proceedings. They lose their scepter, but gain a thrown. They carry on the tradition of Tom Petty and The Rolling Stones. This is the closest they get to the mainstream. By exiling to the safety of the empire, they have abandoned the stronghold, but their choice is so simple even a child could understand. By going commercial, they’ve expanded the crusade to meet a wider audience. Hopefully, the progressive brethren won’t send them to Valhalla. It’s so good, all should be forgiven. In celebration, bells ring and angels sing. Even a Buddha Boy is spotted shouting out with glee.

At this stage, they could have packed it in and ran off with the spoils. Instead, they indulge us with more priceless treasure.

In “The Promise,” the finest alloys are guaranteed to you. Back to the days of future passed, we encounter Pink Floyd, Moody Blues, and The Who. This is my kind of song, because it’s in no hurry to finish. On the other hand, it conveys the kind of insanity, clout, and fortitude one would frequently find in Izz and IQ. The quarterback drops back in the pocket and ends the amusement with a miracle of a Hail Mary pass. The music they use to draw the opposition offside is as devious as the theme from Clockwork Orange. Also, in this sequence, the drums and keyboards bestowed by the Stacey brothers shuffle similar to how Hans Lundin and Morgen Agren did on Kaipa’s Notes from the Past. After a successful album, it would be ambitious to one-up the success of their earlier submissions. Even so, they end with this large-scale and elaborate effort. As aforementioned in the abstract, each song has earned their place in the polls. What they accomplish in the last track is convincing enough to move them up in the rankings. You’ll be forsaken, dare I say a fool, if you sign out early and miss it. As promised, stand and deliver and take this blissful beating like a real fan (note the careful use of a gender-neutral noun).

They cover all the bases in terms of songwriting, melodies, execution, and singing. They provide ecstasy for our ears and even intrigue to our eyes. While they do not outfit the album with one of Roger Dean’s imaginative drawings, they still choose attractive artwork to encase it. Mark Brown is responsible for the graphics and shape in the design. His creation comes together in an interesting and abstract way. Within the liner notes, a very old photo of Squire and Nardelli is also to be found. While the music is exceptional, this silly snapshot alone is worth the price of admission.

The Syn proves they still have that subtle spark. After a rotation and a balance, they’re as good as new. Even if they’ve been around the block a few times, there is quite a bit of tread left on their tires. If you unwisely discount the deal, you may not know what you’re missing. Drive this off the lot today and just avoid the whole ordeal.

9/10

Saga - The Chapters (Live)

2006-01-30T13:17:00.000-08:00

This has more episodes than Star Wars, Lord Of The Rings, and The Matrix combined. Truth be told, the story began in 1978 and it has spread throughout sixteen chapters over the course of eight studio albums. Aside from maybe a mix tape, this album marks the first time you can hear them all in order and in one single place. The bassist and co-conspirator, Jim Crichton, jokes that it's quite possibly the only album that took over twenty-eight years to complete. I haven't compiled the statistics required to confirm such a statement, but something tells me it just might be true.

The concept was inspired by two ideas: The Cold War and an odd article on the aftermath of Albert Einstein. Supposedly, the brain of this mathematical and philosophical genius sat on the shelf of pathologist Thomas S. Harvey. Whether the article holds any truth, and if it does, what the justifications may be, it makes for one truly intriguing premise. As I'm no expert on the band, all this explanation was found in the epilogue of the 36-page booklet that comes included. Without giving too much away, the notes give insight and hints into a twisted tale that ranges from alien abduction to the human flaw that directs our destructive tendencies. While aliens and astronauts are nothing new in Progressive Rock, it's still a unique notion and an atypical prime directive. It kind of reminds me of Henning Pauly's account on Douglas Adams (author of Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy) in "Last Chance To See."

Michael Sadler is the vocalist who fronts this grand extravaganza. On this album, his attitude and intonations are ultra-impressive. When he's not on the road touring with this showy circus act, the ringleader can be seen making the rounds in and about various other circuits. He recently put out a solo album aptly christened Clear, which took his talents in an alternate, more commercial, direction. He's even collaborated with other creative forces such as the aforementioned Henning Pauly by providing crucial parts and useful participation in Chain's most recent production. While this could easily congest the schedule of a busy multi-tasking bumblebee, his efforts don't end there. Sadler's name is supposedly on the sign-up sheet for other future side-projects.

As for the others, Jim Gilmour plays the keyboards like John Beck of It Bites while Steve Negus' drums snap, crackle, and pop with the hydraulic reflexes of War's "Low Rider." Then there's Jim Crichton's bass, which ricochets in the same poignant manner as John Jowitt of IQ. Other times the gears shift as he injects the gas with the same raw power as Dave Meros of Spock's Beard. His brother and guitarist, Ian Crichton, draws from Queen's Brian May and in turn, quite possibly influenced Al Morse, who along with the other king of torts is another affiliate in the grossly successful firm of Spock's Beard. Interestingly enough, Saga's style overlaps in several areas with these tactful trial horses, especially when it comes to the quirky pop progeny they produce. Then again, they whack the mole with the same blunt and bulky edge as bands like Threshold, Dream Theater, Arena, and Enchant. Even so, it never really breaches the contours of metal, but brushes so close to the ledge, it frequently threatens to do so.

The more I listen to the album, the more it becomes apparent their registry lists a group of products that are unusually varied. We get fantastically flamboyant solos on both the keyboards and the guitars, randomly rebounding into dark shadows and arriving inbound out of nowhere. Ian's outcries, in particular, are sweet lucidity when it comes to the unaccompanied escapades he goes on during "Images" (Chapter 1), "Will It Be You?" (Chapter 4), and "Ashes To Ashes" (Chapter 12). It's as if the ostentatious ace from Queen is making an unannounced appearance. In addition, there are many times when a duo or trio of instruments square off in a duel. For example, in the closing quivers of the album, that would be "World's Apart" (Chapter 16), Ian and Jimmy G do a synchronized dance. This fiercely spirited sombo prompts thoughts of an aggravated assault by Al Morse and Ryo Okumoto.

It's amazing that this was linked between separate releases as some of the transitions between the songs are quite seamless. The space that separates "Images" (Chapter 1) from "Don't Be Late" (Chapter 2) is so microscopic it's undetectable to the untrained ear. Afterwards, they don't rest as they do the same into the next song, "It's Time" (Chapter 3). Keeping pace, they don't substitute the picante sauce for a salsa that's mass-produced or manufactured in New York City. Instead, they incorporate an out-of-this-world theme that would actually suit Ralph Hinkley for the role of Greatest American Hero. Likewise, the third track fits snuggly within the catacombs of Styx. From each pioneering piece into the next fruitful frontier, they continue the rush with one golden nugget after another.

We are privileged to partake in a mixed bag of prestigious pieces. None have folds of fat or sport a portly potbelly, but most, if not all, are pickled in salty brine and slathered with pretension. "No Regrets" (Chapter 5) and "Not This Way" (Chapter 10) are classical, madrigal, and balladic in nature. This is proof they aren't fixated on a stringent structure nor do they feel compelled to stick compulsively to a certain design. In the first, I hear a soprano sax that captures the characteristics of Kenny G. Since no such instrument is mentioned in the credits, it's either the result of special effects on the guitar or careful calibration on the keyboards. These poised and polished passages are jewels in an ornate arrangement, hearkening back to the elegant armlets worn by Queen for their Night At Tthe Opera.

On the opposite end of the scale, "Tired World" (Chapter 6) and "Too Much To Lose" (Chapter 7) are less reserved and reticent, bordering on the whimsical and wacky. The former is lubed with a groovy section on bass that's so fluid it's greasy. The keyboards, conversely, are a rainbow of sprinkles that resemble the gaudy intro to Spock's Beard's "Go The Way The Way You Go". The other instruments, however, chug along with the crazy locomotion of a steam engine. Then there's the following chapter, which adorns a symphonic stamp that instantly traces back to their conventional stash.

The most impressive and ambitious aspect of this concept is the storyline. It was meant to be seen with an analytical eye and epic acuity. Yet, when breaking it down into its individual installments, you are left with more than a few exceptional song-oriented stand-outs. My favorite "Ashes To Ashes" (Chapter 11) comes in the second half of these extraterrestrial archives. I really like how the steamy keyboards sizzle and then evaporate from the surface. Lost in space, they scream for rescue with the high-pitch shrill of a siren. It's a distress call that is sure to cause a ticklish sensation. Rewinding the ribbon, "Will It Be You" (Chapter 4) proves to be a highlight early on. In its many breakout sections, it provides flash floods and flares as it flickers on and off with a strobe light of sparklers and streamers. With each bridge is crosses, it's like Flash Gordon exploring Planet Mongo, while in his quest, encountering many weird and outlandish scenarios. They flaunt their abilities, strut their stuff, and function in a form so fit it would draw the attention of Charles Darwin. Their exploits are so imperious in this piece; they're meant solely for the princes of the universe and nobody else.

It seems they not only deliberated to great length on the melody and the lyrics, but also considered the chronology of the pieces. Each one lines up side-by-side like jagged fragments flung from a jigsaw. Many themes are reprised, which is remarkable when you consider how these songs have spanned the generations (for the record, none of them were on Generation 13). The instrumental oboe section in "Images" (Chapter 1) shows up in the vocal verses of "World's Apart" (Chapter 16). Before the repeated section becomes stagnant, it trickles into a nebulous interlude on the piano. Also, "Don't Be Late" (Chapter 2) and "Remember When?" (Chapter 9) parallel each other when pampering themselves with the powder and putting on the make-up to the chorus. Plus, to put a spin on the singing, when Michael breaks away from leading the steering committee, Jim Gilmour provides his grizzly voice. In "Don't Be Late" (Chapter 2) and No Stranger (Chapter 8), he drowns these ditties in buckets of weighty words thus pouring on the extra gravy and giving the music much added gravity.

While "You Know I Know" (Chapter 12), "Uncle Albert's Eyes" (Chapter 13), "Streets Of Gold" (Chapter 14), and "We'll Meet Again" (Chapter 15) have yet to be mentioned, these gelatinous gems are so salacious; they squirt with an abundance of sugar-coated sap. Liquid spurts and spews from the fountain in jet streams of mouth-watering fluid. It's the same response one usually gets when biting down on one of those juicy candy wax conduits.

They've put a lot of verve into these classic cuts. They keep the energy flowing as they warp through hyperspace, taking us from "Images" to "World's Apart". The great space coaster takes us far, covering a distance that spans two discs. I may have jumped around in my analysis, but it's important to point out that the puzzle pieces were never presented in any particular order. There wasn't really any rhyme or reason to how they were released. However, they each stand on their own and provide the factors needed to fill in the fuzzy logic. Once you understand the concept, all the graphics they've used over the years will come quickly into focus. While it will become immediately evident that those insect-like beings are from outer space, you will be made aware they're not annoying pests or unwelcome invaders. As a whole, this live performance reads like a novel as we take this cutting-edge craft from one chapter to the next. It might be one small step for music, but it's a giant leap for a band.

8.5/10

RPWL – Start the Fire (Live)

2006-01-23T11:12:00.000-08:00

When it comes to the world of live music, RPWL is awe-inspiring. I saw them perform live at ROSfest 2004, which happened to be the first annual outing of this truly fetching and absolutely astounding festival. They headlined the event and, boy, were they ever impressive. The honor couldn’t have been bestowed upon a better choice. They had so much presence on stage it was uncanny. They pinned down every piece in the set list as if they were shooting tacks from a nail gun. On this particular album, they make use of their best recordings from the WORLD THROUGH MY EYES-TOUR 2005, so you know it has to be good. They represent every era in their discography, have great cover selections, and even bring one extraordinary guest onstage.

For starters, the special guest is none other than the veritably versatile Ray Wilson. It doesn’t take long for him to the board the bandwagon. He joins the crew halfway through the first disc (by the way, this is a double CD). When he comes out, the vibe radically changes. With the auxiliary motors engaged, the already alluring mood is supplanted by an abrupt outburst of energy. Afterwards, he sticks around for another enticing number. To give you a little background, his assistance was solicited for the World Through My Eyes album. It turns out Yogi Lang (the L in RPWL) wrote a song called “Roses”, which he thought was ideally suited for Ray’s voice. Through a series of fortunate events, Yogi got in contact with Ray who willingly came into the studio. They got him to join them in concert too and here you get a chance to hear the song how it was originally intended to be sung. If that’s not enough, they get him to follow it up with a tune from his own personal cache. The selection they choose is “Not About Us”, which in addition to Ray, was co-authored by legends Rutherford and Banks for the Calling All Stations album. With this pair of superb submissions, Ray’s appearance in this production is the pudding in their symphonically-syrupy power pop.

In this concert, they did little to hide the fact that they started as a Pink Floyd tribute band. They cover three of their infamous songs in succession. They provide “Opel” as well as one of my favorites, “Welcome to the Machine”. Placed upon the pile, they also perform the quirky cut “Cymbaline”. They have the goods to distribute the parcels from Pink Floyd’s sweatshop, but like Kevin James, they add their own distinct personality to the delivery. At times it is difficult to distinguish between these covers and the creations they’ve accumulated for their own private collection. What’s interesting is that “Opel” is on their Stock album while “Welcome to the Machine” has seemingly become a concert staple. This is my first time hearing “Cymbaline” spring forth from the band. Nevertheless, it too should become a common conveyance in the tour circuit as it has the most endearing acumen. At this point, it is hard to say whether or not the originals are better, because they are able to emulate them with such intimate precision. Yet, in more ways than one, they’ve made each song their own.

Besides what’s been mentioned, there’s plenty else to entertain us. Starting with “Sleep”, it becomes tentative and loose after freeing itself from ice-cold inertia. Once it thaws, it’s immediately apparent this slick fish was effectively fresh-frozen. It shakes the frost from its scales and bites down with the tenacity and teeth of a piranha. “Day on My Pillow” is so radio-friendly; you’d think they were covering a song from The Beatles. For those who don’t already know, this really is an RPWL original. Also, what’s clever about this song is that they stealthily squeeze in “I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)” from Genesis’ Selling England by the Pound. It slipped through my fingers many times before I finally grabbed hold and reeled it in.

I like all these songs, mostly the covers and especially the ones with Ray, but it’s the songs that hearken back to the debut that feed the fire best. Among them we get the critically-acclaimed favorites “Who Do You Think We Are” and “Crazy Lane”. They feverishly nourish the flames as if they were kindling. We also get the tried and true title tracks from other essential albums. That would be “Trying to Kiss the Sun” and “World Through My Eyes”. By now, I’ve accounted for a major fraction of the album and while there’s more, this is already enough to fill the foggy air with luminance. The remaining selections such as “Start the Fire”, “The Gentle Art of Swimming”, “Wasted Land” and “I Don’t Know” are glowing bulbs that have evidently been enhanced. You’ll find extended versions of many of their songs. There are breakout sections that introduce whole minutes of sheer instrumental madness. Mostly, Markus Jehle’s keyboards are responsible for this added depth, but everyone finds a spot to provide some kind of innovation. With embellishments that would warrant envy, these songs have exponentially improved over time. For that reason, even Anne Robinson would have a difficult time deciding upon the album’s missing link.

All that aside, my favorite track overall is probably “Hole in the Sky” and it’s the one that appears to end the album. While they may start in a haze, they finish in a cloud filled with static electricity. As this is the first and best song off their debut, this is the song that put the band instantly on my short list. It’s this song that I feel is also this album’s biggest attraction. After cheers and jeers from the crowd trailed by a convincing pause, it seems it’s finally over, but this is not the case. They find the space for an extension and work in a nifty encore. For our added pleasure, they ambush us with an unreleased studio track called “Stars are Born”. It’s long and it’s certainly studio quality. This well-constructed cut sounds similar to the supergroup Kino, which is why it’s an excellent way to complete the album.

Between the set list, the covers selections, and one very special guest, this is one amazing product. It’s really one of the best live albums I’ve heard to date. After earning accolades from their debut, entertaining fans with three fantastic follow-ups, and headlining one of progressive rock’s most foremost festivals, the band continues to keep the momentum going. While they’ve done enough to earn entry into the hall of fame early, they continue to keep their edge razor-sharp. In a time when bands are slapping together albums and releasing half-hearted efforts, especially on the live front, it’s refreshing to hear such great “live” material. I may actually give this one more attention than their studio releases, because it’s so energetic, refined, and balanced. Each side from dawn to dusk flows with seamless integrity while the opening and closing notes land with careful placement and clout. They didn’t start the fire; it was always burning since the world was turning. However, they take this opportunity to grab the majority of shares. Using their investments wisely, they supply the stockades with striking live licks and sentient technology. With this concert, they’ve tried their best and haven’t failed their fans trying. Then again, that’s just my opinion of how I heard their world tour through my ears.

8.75/10

Moon Safari - A Doorway to Summer

2006-01-16T13:24:00.000-08:00

If The Beatles were to go the progressive route, this is where they would have gone.

This band shares great harmonies in the vein of those famous four tenors from Liverpool. It would be hard enough to mimic John, Paul, George, and Ringo, but they set their sights even higher. Adding to the roster of their role models, they follow in the footsteps of their Swedish ancestors and sole parental guardian. As a result, much of the instrumental aspects of their music capture the fiber and fortitude of Tomas, Jonas, and Roine from The Flower Kings. To draw from one of these bands is brilliant, but to take from both is beyond compare.

Over and above inducing the innovations of Tomas Bodin, they also make use of the man himself. He contributes to this band in many ways, but it could hardly be considered a monopoly. He’s mixed, mastered, engineered, and produced the album as well as incorporated an incredibly stylish solo. It’s so trendy; it’s as sharp as a tack. However, he’s drawn a line and set a limit, leaving a lot of room for the others to flourish. On top of Tomas manipulating the gears with divine intervention, Simon Akesson provokes the organs, piano, moogs, and mellotrons with instrumental instigation. Then there’s the bass, which is intimately similar to Jonas Reingold, but alas it’s not him. It’s another fresh face that goes by the name of Johan Westerlund. As green as this guy is supposed to be, his talents are quite profitable and gainful. He adorns the instrument with the same commitment as the progressive prince and maybe even the almighty Chris Squire. Yet, he personalizes these tricky licks with his own new-fangled novelties and petulantly youthful fervor. The talent in these rookies is enough to blow the roof sky high, but it doesn’t stop there. Anthon Johansson guitars are so agile and spry they slice through the wind like a lissome Learjet. While he navigates well with an electric, his piloting is precise when plotting a course on the acoustic. Petter Sandstrom’s incorporates some essential elements on the harmonica, but his primary function deals with the deliverance of the singing. Simon also sings lead in a few places. Peripheral to these two voices, Johan and Anthon supply their own backing vocals, which cohesively coalesce within the colors of a prism. When they stand united and focus their signal, they create a spectrum of sound that rivals the resplendent rays of a rainbow. Tobias Lundgren is the only one whose lips are sealed, but that’s quite okay. He’s much too busy sanctioning all the necessary provisions on drums and percussion. While they already have enough executives in upper management, additional advisors are brought onboard. A person by the name of ‘P’ plays the Steel Guitar whereas Simon Lundin imparts his own percussive affirmations upon the delegation. Even though their meetings are strictly compulsory and altogether brief, these consultants provide creditable council, contributions, and subsidization.

Not only is the music universally accessible, nipping at the buds of many mainstream bands, it pinches at the nerves of numerous niche acts too. There is no doubt in my mind that it’ll run the table with Progressive Rock fans, especially fans of The Flower Kings. In many places, their style is nearly indistinguishable from the longstanding legends as well as the current Global Elite. I’ve never seen a band capture the entrepreneurship of the Rockefeller’s of Prog Rock and still have their own unique take on the music without going so far as stealing. As daunting or difficult as this might seem, they successfully accomplish this intimidating task and they do so much without even flinching. They may not be the tycoons of today or the Robber Barons of tomorrow, but they’re wallowing in a wealth of ability. It’s obvious this band is poking at the rocking residues of the past and the progressive prospects of the future. Once the embers are good and glowing, they daringly pass the rake over these red-hot coals and grill up the most exquisite music for the modern day. It’s palpable they’ll someday overthrow the House of Rothschild, but for now, they’ve at least become a part of the progressively promising nouveau riche.

Unlock the latch and hop into the hatch then brace yourself for the brave new world of adventure that exists on the other side of this solar-powered portal:

Doorway – Right away, we confront an ambiance you rarely encounter in the opening of a debut. From the get go, they are in complete command of the controls and you know you've discovered something special. These fine young chaps share many virtues with the founding forefathers of music. They base their compositions on a reputable constitution, but introduce their own artistically imaginative amendments. The harmonica passage, in particular, is an excellent addendum to an already inclusive script. It reminds me of the score I heard in a childhood movie called Lion’s for Breakfast. It’s about uncommon to find this kind of passage in rock as it is to find this extremely rare video. This alone should be enough of a reason to declare their independence. Then again, it’s obvious they were bent and shaped by Tomas Bodin’s skillful blacksmithing. It’s apparent why he has chosen these artists to intern in his apprenticeship. Like Evander Holyfield, they come up through the ranks and go on to prove they are the real deal. Unlike other up-and-comers, nothing is rushed in their development or hastened in their training. They have only entered into this release when it was good and ready and this song happens to be the most predominant prize in the trophy case. It’s long, but not the longest. It sufficiently accomplishes everything they’ve set out to do and right away, establishes their superior standing. What sets them aside in the realm of progressive rock is that they are not only adroit on their instruments, but they sing very well indeed. This is a science fair of harmonically-tuned functions and filters. Then again, it’s far from formulaic and nowhere near paint-by-numbers. Aside from hearing The Flower Kings and The Beatles, I perceive the earthy undertones of Echolyn tip-toeing through the tread of this mix. They may very well be the next progressive phenom and as a fan, you’ll be privileged to hear such uninhibited music. It’s good to know our liberties and freedoms include the right to pursue these kinds of progressive masterpieces. This will catch on as the consensus will hopefully show, but give it time; you’ve got to let it grow.

Dance Across the Ocean – This song shares a kindred spirit with Karmakanic’s second album. It’s easy to imagine it snuggling between a warm and cozy blanket with Wheel of Life. It surfs the cosmic collective of “At the Speed of Light” and “Where the Earth Meets the Sky”. In its travels, it encounters Gentle Giant and Spock’s Beard vocals. Like that mirror imprisoning General Zod, Ursa, and Non, this floats through space and rotates on its axis. As long as we’re talking DC Comics, the more balladic parts take you back to Seal’s “Kiss of a Rose” from Batman Forever. IQ’s “Born Brilliant” from Dark Matter is also buried somewhere below the sheets. It’s fresh and airy, so there’s little risk the bugs in this bed actually bite. Simon shows breadth and depth as he adjoins ELP to the sprawling district. When he’s not Emerson, he’s Wakeman in a roundabout way. To further support their cause, they endorse The Proclaimer’s “I’m Gonna Be”. Ironically, if this was a world without music, I would walk five hundred miles just to hear this song (though maybe not all at once).

A Sun of Your Own – What I find most intriguing is how quickly you can learn the lyrics to this one. It’s insightful and expressive. This is how verses were meant to be written. The rabbit ears are accurately angled, making for a clear and cloudless connection. Consequently, it strikes all the right chords. We get wily wordplay and a benevolent melody. The two come together like milk and cookies or for those international types, tea and honey. Speaking of harmony, this is the textbook definition of how to bundle layers of voices together. The end effect is serene, sympathetic, and sincere. You may think they’ve forgotten the main theme, but they’ve snuck that in too in a very covert way. There is a thoughtful passage that reminds me of Terms of Endearment. Again, there are ingredients from Echolyn’s, this time it’s “Mei”. I also found parts of the song coincided with the conclusion to Neal Morse’s “?”. As long as they’re borrowing from the masters, Anthon tries his hand at a guitar solo, which embodies the orderly edifice of a Steve Hackett structure. This cut is immaculately conceived, creating an ideal bond with each of its devoted disciples. Immediately you’ll hit it off with this track. The sun will not only come out tomorrow, but the skies are so blue, this astral dog has been out all day.

We Spin the World – While three’s a charm, the fourth track is the keepsake. It takes fifties rock n’ roll and couples it with seventies progressive rock. There’s the tiniest trace of disco and it even has a little eighties pop. It drives down the drag like a hotrod and then rolls into the downtown quarters of American Graffiti. After parading its custom paint job, Grease Lightning pulls into the parking lot of Al’s Diner. Aside from rock and pop, this takes us through many roads and channels that range from classical, symphonic, Broadway, and folk. It transitions in the most translucent way, never losing the listener. With fingers crossed, we can only pray the hooligans of Rydell High won’t turn this majestic moon into a sordid sun. It encounters a chorus that represents the populace of “We are the World” and even tunes into WKRP in Cincinnati. I hear “Suite Charlotte Pike” as well as various parts of Transatlantic’s other epic numbers. Overall, The Flower Kings rule the roost, but there are loads of instrumentals that I found to be new and exciting. This has athletic prowess and it’s very ambitious, but it contains two paltry imperfections. First, there is a minor mispronunciation. They make “jokes” to the crowd and miss, but it’s not like their routine leaves them with tomatoes in their pockets or egg on their face. Second, on the initial impression, it feels as if it’s tad too long. Where it seems it should end, there is a passage that’s meant to act as an intermission. These empty calories create a cavity, but it works to carve the incisor into two distinct halves. It aims for Kevin Gilbert’s “There Was a Little Boy” and comes relatively close to the target. I misjudged this the first time as the finale truly requires a hush before the hailstorm. It’s done quite well, but needs numerous treatments to fully take in. That's why this has the most potential as a grower. The most romantic parts remind me of Love American Style while the most prosaic moments are fiendishly familiar to Nightmare on Elm Street. It spins on its head like Linda Blair, but jumps like a gyroscope to each of its sections. With all these strange traits, it even manages to assimilate a goofy sector that’s oddly similar to the Get Smart theme. Fortunate for the secret agent man, the technology is overhauled with many intelligent upgrades. While he no longer has his telephone hidden in his shoe, this silly installment shows the ingenuity of these gadget guys. In the end, the writers of this episode find their bearings and wind it down with the kind of musical that would make Drew Carey blush. On the whole, this song is stretched to its max. Then again, progressive patrons have to show some patience sometime. After the sappy segue, it finishes happy and strong. It’s always dreamy and never mundane. After witnessing this intense and impassioned contest, it’s apparent this crew can hang with The Flower Kings. It might be a friendly rivalry, but it undoubtedly demonstrates how much they deserve to play in the professional league. Not to mention, its harmonies easily contends with Gentle Giant, Spock’s Beard, and even the “Elite” choir. Additionally, they use lucrative libretto with clever quips such as “Someone’s Borrowed Something Blue, Heaven’s Losing No for Two”. That’s just a sample as there are a lot of smart lines that will slowly seep into your brain. This son is far from motherless as early adopters stand in the queue while several foster parents sign on the dotted line. Furthermore, the conclusion of the cut is just the beginning to the album’s glorious ending.

Beyond the Door – Maybe this was an afterthought whose sole purpose was to rashly reintroduce the earlier themes, but for some reason, it’s this song that works best. It’s trim and lean, prim and proper, and spares no time getting to its point. It’s bittersweet, heart-rending, and even a little sad at times. In a nutshell, it packs an incredible amount of sentiment and sensitivity into a very small space. The last song will grab hold of your heart and take you home with tender, touching revelation. The intro on the piano is expressive. The keyboards to follow are inspirational. I find this song contains such a profusion of unbridled feeling; it’s almost over the top. Before their voices enter into the equation, you may be experiencing watery eyes or your tear ducts may already be leaking. By the time you hear their receptive tones; it’s tugging at the heartstrings with gusto. Ultimately, it will overwhelm your emotions. Because it’s so moving, it’s my favorite song on the album. While it’s galvanized in glitter and ruminates with romantic devotion, it still finds the time for a skillfully enacted drum fill. Aspects of this song contain the clarity and zeal of a Hans Zimmer creation. There are moments that sway to the cadence of a Caribbean calypso. There are others that teeter on a pirate’s plank, but skulk away to safety. The notes from the piano fall like a feather in much the same manner as the anecdotal opening to Forrest Gump. The ending, on the other hand, is complex in its creativity. It’s embedded with intuition, which makes it easy to comprehend. This is a reprise that radiates with the infernal brightness of a supernova. It’s par for the course and shares equal parity with some of Neal Morse’s best songwriting attempts. The lyrics, the melody, everything is like “Doorway”, but it’s shifted in slight and subtle ways. It’s so shrewdly different; I’d say the changes are not only eloquent, but ingenious. The outline and organization reminds me of “The Light”, however, instead of coming back in the closing stages of a song, it comes at the conclusion of this album. Even though this is merely the follow-up to their premiere single and reuses many of its ideas rather liberally, it's still them putting their best foot forward. The piano, the synths, the vocals, the harmonies, you name it; reach the top notch of the totem poll. These young musician's do it all. With the talent that’s out there, you have to scratch your head and wonder why all the great music these days is coming from Sweden. There must be something in the drinking water. As the stream starts to melt, the river only flows faster. While the window to winter might still be open, it seems the doorway to summer is ajar. When looking at the weather charts, my forecast shows nothing but clear skies and sunshine ahead for this awfully endowed ensemble. I guess you could say their future’s so bright; they've got to wear shades.

9.25/10

2005-12-21T07:39:00.000-08:00

This is me singing at my friend Adam's wedding. That's him on drums.

Tomas Bodin – I A M

2005-12-21T07:34:00.001-08:00

This concept comes from the fantasies of Flower King’s keyboardist Tomas Bodin. Right from the get go, you know I Am is going to grow on you. It is complex, but yet so sophisticated. It is rich in nutrients and planted in the most pristine of progressive soils. There are many elements in this happy mix and they all manage to play well with one another. Tomas has carefully picked out all the weeds and nurtured every plant in the production. The musicianship from everyone else for that matter is top-notch all the way. They each work hard to cultivate the land. No single contribution is rushed. Not a single laborer lays down on the job. The crops are faithfully tended with tender care, resulting in the most bountiful harvest seen on this side of the genre for quite some time.

I liked Pinup Guru and Sonic Boulevard very much. Those were each marvelous and melodious creations in their own right, but this album takes Tomas’ talents to far greater heights. Unlike his earlier releases, this one has vocals and plenty of them. This is no journeyman’s attempt at writing lyrics. Instead, the verses are insightful, innovative, simply put, they are downright incredible. I’m so astonished; it seems implausible he was able reach the summit in a solo journey of his own making. The vocals alone will come as a shock to any longtime fan.

To be fair, Tomas was assisted by some of the best specialists in the field. Still, it is hard to believe he was able to design such a framework all by himself. He has shown himself to be the Da Vinci of music as he reveals the secret code to making songs divine.

As for the others, The Flower Kings have a mighty new knight in the rhythm section. His name is Marcus Liliequist. In case you were worried, this guy can play.

Jonas Reingold still doesn’t have a bad record to his name. Wherever he contributes, he puts a glorious spark in every song. This isn’t a bassist who chose his instrument because he can’t play the guitar. The way he plays the bass makes it seem like a whole new instrument.

Anders Jansson’s singing is some of the best heard on any Flower Kings offshoot. It’s along the lines of Goran Edman’s delivery on the Karmakanic albums. For anyone familiar with that particular project, you know this says a lot. In addition, Anders is assisted by Pernilla Bodin and Helene Schonning, who each lend their lovely voices.

Last, but not least, JJ Jocke Marsh provides a new angle on this popular line of fashion. Without Roine’s flower power, the magic comes from a whole new realm. Not entirely sure what his initials stand for, but here he is the outlaw Jesse James. He’s quick on the draw as his solos take us through a series of intense shootouts. After every duel, he rides off into the sunset unscathed, only to come back scrapping in other skirmishes.

There is so much energy and emotion, so much pleasure and pain expressed throughout the passages, there can be no question this comes from the core of this keyboardist. Just as Jonas proved with Karmakanic, Tomas is substantially more than an instrumentalist. While he undoubtedly plays the keys with amazing ability, he demonstrates himself to be an excellent composer, lyricist, and producer as well. When it comes to making music, he can do it all and does no wrong in the process. Think of whatever may have been his best solo album to date. This is leaps and bounds ahead of the next best thing.

I had high expectations coming in and I Am exceeds every one of them. The album is unreal and unexpected. It’s an extraordinary work of art. This is basically what the term masterpiece was meant to describe.

Let me embellish further upon this uncommon accomplishment entitled I Am:

I – I found the music on this album to be very similar to the songs found on Karmakanic’s Wheel of Life. Each one has some crossover with the song Where the Earth Meets the Sky. This one is probably closest in nature to that exceptional epic. While it sits somewhere in the horizon, it also enters the colorful prism of the title track on Karmakanic’s Entering the Spectre. As we would expect, there is less emphasis on the bass and a great deal more on keyboards. Clearly, its limbs grow from the same seeds as The Flower Kings. Past albums foreshadowed a future unfolding in Tomas’ mind. You can hear many old themes revisited. This sets free much of the truth found in The Flower Kings’ earlier efforts. There are elements from Retropolis, Space Revolver, and especially Unfold the Future. Each one that surfaces is reworked and improved upon with sheer craftsmanship. With growth and maturity, Bodin has blossomed into a fabulous songwriter and storyteller. In the beginning, it takes a few minutes for this particular song to reach maximum speed. Anders slowly starts to disentangle the tale. Then the others join in on the hunt. Marcus’ drumming is like his Norwegian neighbor Robert Risberget Johansen from Gazpacho. While a little less busy than Zoltan Csorcz, there are some similarities to The Flower Kings’ previous prodigy as well. Marcus is such a smart fit for this style of music as every note is timed just right. The audio effect creates faint tingles in the earlobes, which in turn, sends shivers all the way through the entire nervous system. Jonas, on the other hand, takes a more high profile approach. There is no question it is him and he is just where we want him to be. He’s forefront in the mix and plays the bass as if it were a lead instrument. Jocke’s guitars are just as engaging. His style is a blend between two of my favorites: Roine Stolt and Krister Jonzen. In some places, you’ll find it hard to accept it is neither one of these dreamy shredders. With all these wistful riffs, he still finds the time to introduce an edge of rock and blues. All this playing is great, but Tomas is easily the brightest star in the heavens. At times, he takes a classical approach and incorporates whimsical circus tunes. Various parts take Mr. Hope out and about on his typical adventures. Others are the envy of David Bowie’s extraterrestrial imagination. Long before I was ever told Bowie was one of his influences, I could hear Ziggy Stardust in the music. There is a definite Deep Purple bit brought in later on as well. Looking at the composition and the singing as a whole, this is something that would be easier to accept from Pain of Salvation (think of the similarly titled album Be). This might be the strongest piece on the album; then again it was the first one I encountered. When I heard it, I was knocked flat. It took me a full count to get back to my feet. While I got such an incredible first impression, it continues to impress me more on every listen. While the others are slightly shorter and subtly different, you will be pleased to hear praise for those as well in the coming comments. To some degree, all the epics are equally exceptional.

A – After such an overwhelmingly outstanding piece, you’d expect the rest of the album to be downhill from there. As mentioned, this couldn’t be further from the truth. This one opens with a calm and comforting piano. The passage soothes the soul and takes us to a better place. All of a sudden, our attention is distracted by the introduction of an insidious-sounding guitar much in the vein of Big Wreck’s Ian Thornley. This song is more dark and mysterious than the last. Yet, it’s still delicious enough to nibble on for an epic amount of time. One of the instrumental parts reminds me of Liz’s song in Pinup Guru (Me and Liz). There are several flowery parts to follow that bloom in the coming sunrise. While uncredited, it is pretty obvious Roine sings on this one. If not, Anders is doing an excellent job impersonating him. Regardless of whether or not Anders is sharing the vocals, his voice shows devout depth, notable breadth, and remarkable range. As if we did not get enough, this piece also gives us a barrage of down-home blues and a hailstorm of jazz. Additionally, credit should be given to Tomas for how he handles religion and spirituality in this piece. I cannot imagine anyone, whether they are atheist, agnostic, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, or Jew, who is not touched by the words and thoughts Anders conveys in the passage called The Prayer. The story shares many similarities to Neal Morse’s Testimony. However, the religious content is a little less heavy-handed and much more ambiguous. This makes it easiest for many to relate to the spiritual side of his story.

M – This song leads seamlessly from the last and it opens as if it were a Broadway musical. Roger Water’s watermark is imprinted on this section as it refracts from Pink Floyd’s reflection. After Anders gives us some great moments in the previous two pieces, his singing is delivered most passionately here. This is probably the most cohesive of all the compositions. To put it bluntly, it just manages to rock the most. Everything is tied together taught, leaving us with no loose ends. There is an undying downpour of David Bowie forecast throughout the piece and the predicted storms come to fruition. A tornado barrels through with the fury of jazz fusion. The weather whirls around with symphonic satisfaction and the ending comes as a torrential shower of Transatlantic. If just one of the three songs were on the album and nothing else, this album would still be highly heralded by me. I have trouble picking out my favorite. It is an unbelievable feat to have one fine epic on an album. It is remarkable having two. It is totally unheard of to have three. While rare, you will discover that this is what Tomas has accomplished. They are all so good; it should be a sin to partake in such pleasures. While nothing is ever perfect, this is the best album I’ve ever heard, so it is only fair it gets the highest mark available.

5/5

Stream of Passion – Embrace the Storm

2005-12-20T07:33:00.000-08:00

Arjen Lucassen is a pioneer of the progressive as he can always be found engineering new and innovative projects. He finds talent in all the right places and involves many gifted artists in all aspects of his music. In addition to his obvious skills crafting compositions, he’s also a solid singer and has expertise on several instruments.

He’ll do an album that’s symphonic then one that’s metal. He’ll play some parts then farm out the others. He’s unpredictable and you’ll never know what he’ll construct next. Just when it seems like he’s run out of concepts, along comes another. He could have stopped with the success of Into the Electric Castle. He could have also continued to rehash the same old formula. Instead, he finds new discoveries to keep him perpetually busy.

In this project, he involves the talents of Marcela Bovia and does something rare in the world of the progressive. Like Paatos and Mostly Autumn, this band is formed around the female voice and as always, his results are fantastic. For those who don’t already know, Marcela can be found as a guest on The Human Equation. On that album she provides striking submissions, but she was merely part of the supporting cast. On this one, however, she is the primary focus.

To give you a little bit of back-history, Arjen found Marcela through an online contest that he both hosted and judged. The winner got a chance to participate in one of his albums. He was so pleased to find this earth angel and vision of loveliness (refer to The Platter’s song for my choice of verbiage) that it wasn’t long before she was the feature presentation. He wastes no commodity and doubles up on this wise investment. As a result of this intelligent allocation of assets, both their stocks go way up. Marcela and Arjen’s talents together produce a wonderfully wistful windfall.

While there are more than enough sopranos to go around these days, Marcela’s voice is extremely special. Her kind and caring qualities comes to life when she sings. Her voice is clean and compassionate and couldn’t be any closer a match to her true identity.

Rounding out the band is a rag-tag bunch from around the globe. Each sent their submissions “streaming” through the Internet, which is the best explanation for the album’s imaginative name. Mexican pianist Alejandro Millán plays the ivory keys. Adding her own female persuasion is guitarist Lori Linstruth on guitars who actually resides in Sweden these days. Dutchmen Davey Mickers on drums and Johan van Stratum on bass are the ones who are the most easily accessible since they live within the borders of Arjen’s homeland.

On a different note (always a pun in these reviews), there is something offbeat I feel compelled to comment on. On the cover, Arjen is seen wearing a coat that widens at the bottom like a dress. I must ask, what is up with this silly outfit? I recall seeing the bassist from RPWL wearing a similar wardrobe on stage. It’s funny-looking, but after awhile, this fashion statement hits home with the heavy metal riffs. It helps lighten the laborious tone and backbreaking beat.

In any case, here’s the quips and quirks you’ll embrace in your relationship with this extravagant release:

Spellbound – The music is immediately enchanting. It starts with a drum roll redolent of Dead Soul Tribe and Riverside. The piano penetrates the landscape and soon after, Marcela’s voice crawls out and perches upon the pillars. Once the guitars begin, it’s like a gang of gargoyles bashing through brick and mortar. It won’t be long before you’re no longer barricaded within the safe haven established in the start. As Charlie says in the TV serial Lost, there is a gargantuan quality about it. The drums do more damage and pound like rock-hard fists. It doesn’t take much pummeling for this band of brutes to dole out a heap of destruction. This song is short, but not much more is really needed to get your attention.

Passion – The pendulum swings as we encounter a dramatic shift in temperature. We then enter into this extremely tepid piece. These are the first building blocks in the foundation of the album’s consistent, but less than intuitive theme. The interesting aspect of this song is the orchestration of the instrumentals intertwined with Marcela’s vocals. Her voice dances independently while the others kick together in a manner similar to a synchronized chorus line. This is a good indicator of the chemistry between Arjen and Marcela. Her voice is dynamic and it’s spectacular how brilliantly the overdubs are done. The guitar solo, on the other hand, slices through the center like the sword of Voltron on some overconfident and oversized baddie (Remember that popular, but preposterous robot from the eighties?).

Deceiver – Subsequently, we get another abrupt change as the wind blows back in the opposite direction. It’s a different season and the forecast is outright unpredictable. This one reminds me of Dream Theater’s Burning My Soul minus the monks and plastered with a woman’s charm. The reoccurring tune in this number reminds me of the main theme from Nightmare on Elm Street. There are many unexpected element cropping up in the bleak blackness of this wickedly deep cut. Marcela’s voice provides some solace in this place of nightmarish hell. Again, we get another strong performance where she surgically stitches the most sophisticated notes. She closes up the gash in this song’s tender flesh. The guitar solo is a skillfully-wrapped dressing, which also helps to stop the bleeding. This might be the cleverest bridge on the album as comes together in a viaduct of violins. Marcela adds to the list of her talents by playing these impressive parts of the sweet strings.

I’ll Keep on Dreaming – The tempo is slow and brooding and in several sections, you’ll swear it was Jewel you were hearing. Here, the guitars have their say. Rather than shred, they take a melodic route reminiscent of the ingenious Roine Stolt. In this scene, Marcela is more or less just one of the extras. She shares equally in the tasks, but by no means would you think she’s second fiddle. Somehow, she still finds a way to stand out.

The Haunting – This is easily my favorite song on the album. Freddy Krueger is at it again with a creepy, but whimsical piano wreaking horror stylishly in the background. There are countless instrumental fine-points to add detail to something that’s already highlighting Marcela’s heavenly voice. She floats like a ghostly specter in this song. Don’t bother calling Ghostbusters as they won’t be taking this trap home. Instead, they will be frozen in awe at the sight of this angelic apparition. She faces the demons on her own and you’ll feel guilty at your hesitation to make them stop.

Wherever You Are – Wherever this song roams, you’ll lay your head and call it home. It’s a ballad with some restless sequences, but for the most part, you’ll lie peaceful on a soft and comfy pillow. The heartfelt harmonies will tuck you in, keeping you warm and toasty, as you drool through this serene slumber.

Open Your Eyes – In this song, Marcela shows an uncanny likeness to the versatile Josh Groban. The instrumental arrangements are cunningly crafted, but without her voice, it would take a paranormal event to make this piece work. You might be quick to give kudos to the backup singers, but alas, it is her voice too in each of those many luscious layers.

Embrace the Storm – It must have been difficult for them to pick the title track, because all the songs are exceptional. While this may not be the best, it’s still a high spot as well as the culmination of several cool fronts.

Breathing Again – The elaborate and brawny instrumentals found elsewhere on the disc are absent. This is more like a recital and Marcela’s voice is all that’s needed to captivate the listener. It is joined by subtle strings arrangements and a few strikes of the piano. With nothing more than a nudge from the others, Marcela gives us the gift of song.

Out in the Real World – The guitar riffs are similar to those found in Star One or Erik Norlander’s Music Man. These aggressive acts are a counterweight to the more passive expressions articulated by the acoustics, strings, and Marcela’s benevolent voice. No matter how hard we try, we must not hide. Between the darker shades of gray and the paler sets of pastels, we wind up with a palette of purplish hues.

Nostalgia – For something that references reminiscence, it’s very moist and modern. Marcela sings in her native language and many words roll off her tongue. With several verses slurred, she smothers the song in Spanish seduction. Like Breathing Again, this one carries a lighter load. Marcela backpacks across the terrain without a guide or a crew, but she’s not alone. Her inviting voice draws unwelcome attention. Evil eyes peek out and unwittingly follow her along. Eventually her team catches up and cause the vile creatures to scurry away.

Calliopeia – Just when the album dies down, new life is breathed into it again by a heaving chest and hefty lungs. It’s a bit like Evanescence with a gagging reflex and a chocking pressure. Every now and then, the noose is loosened. This is Marcela’s favorite song and I can see why it carries her mark of approval. It gives her a chance to stretch and play. It’s really a showcase of her talents and a fun way to end the album. Altogether, this album is a maelstrom of musical wonderment. Hot off the successes of Star One’s Space Metal and Ayreon’s Human Equation, Arjen is on a hot streak. With this order fresh from the ovens, there are more than enough warm buttery biscuits to go around. Fans will be more than pleased with Arjen's latest Dutch treat.

8.75/10

Salem Hill – Mimi’s Magic Moment

2005-12-19T08:35:00.000-08:00

They don’t even sound like the same band and I hate to say it, that turns out to be a very good thing. I’d sooner think this was a new album by Kaipa or Kansas than by Salem Hill. If not for the cover, I would have been totally tricked. Now that I know the true origins of this material, I’m flummoxed to learn of how much this band’s matured in such a very short time. As fans, we benefit greatly from a complete overhaul and waxing. This exponential increase in value seems to be a common thread among bands on the ProgRock Record label and this band is the perfect example. They have taken their music to new heights and like Frogg Café and Little Atlas, have done so in a dramatic way. If there was such an award, Salem Hill would get “Most Improved Progressive” band. While Frogg Café and Little Atlas would be in the running, it is Salem Hill that takes home the ribbon. So long story short, Mimi’s Magical Moment really moved me.

Here’s the miracle and magic found in the album’s four exquisitely executed songs:

The Joy Gem – This is immediately impressive and it doesn’t let up. Each section plays like Kansas’ greatest hits in succession. For this reason, it should come as no surprise to find David Ragsdale, Kansas’ former violinist, present in this piece. The string sequences he constructs are quite brilliant. The elegant use of the bells is clever as well. I found myself thinking at one point that a certain part was strangely similar to the music of Neal Morse. No more than a second after this thought crossed my mind, Neal’s voice apparates* out of thin air. It’s obvious they’ve been influenced by this man and you can tell these students have studied their progressive homework. Their vocals, arrangements, everything are very much improved. While their earlier efforts may have been slightly amateurish in nature, this is high-quality caliber stuff. I’d put it right at the top of the stack and I don’t feel guilty in my judgment or criticism of past work. It’s okay; because I know they have climbed to a whole new plateau and put their earlier efforts behind them. They, however, leaves one major dilemma. They’ve reached such mountainous heights; I’m not exactly sure how they can take it to the next level. This is like going from a losing record to winning the national championship and this first song is quite the coming out party. The lyrics are hard to understand, but they are utterly absorbing. This will appeal to fans of Transatlantic’s Bridge Across Forever and Kansas’ Song for America. There’s even a piano-like interlude wedged into the middle that borrows from Steve Walsh and Neal Morse. As long as they’re working in some of the best influences, the guitars swish like Steve Howe and their guest vocalist Alyssa Hendrix sounds an awfully lot like Kaipa’s Aleena.

All Fall Down – In the past, Salem Hill may have been guilty of sameness, but all you need to do is go just one track further and you’ll find something significantly different. While they may have started with epic, they follow it with this semi-short ballad. If the first allegedly copied Transalantic or Kansas, this one could be taken out of the line-up as it is substantially less tumultuous. The voices are all angelic whether they sing alone and work together in harmony. Throughout the course of this song, I hear Beach Boys, Spock’s Beard, Moody Blues, and The Beatles. There is Latin licks at the interior with Jeff Eacho’s flutes. It’s like Ian Anderson and The Tangent’s Canterbury sequence. Parts of this song also remind me of that fabricated fifties hit from that clever flick called That Thing You Do. Unapologetically, it ends with child play and the last lines of that classic kiddy song, Ring Around the Rosie.

Stolen By Ghosts – For an epic, it’s unusually unique and never all that redundant. The reprisals are done efficiently and effectively. There are a lot of different parts sequenced together, but by no means is it piecemeal. Actually, the framework it’s modeled on is quite ingenious. It’s elegantly knitted like a complex crochet blanket. The sadder and softer parts have the aura of Alan Parson’s Project. We get a wily and witty patch of Izz. Oddly enough, the new Spock’s Beard is stitched all over it. There’s a sketch of A Guy Named Sid and a smattering of A Flash Before My Eyes. Transatlantic even pops in again for another peek. This time they bring All of the Above, which is appropriate, considering the band has dabbled in it all. The greatest area of improvement is in their drums and this song probably demonstrates the most significant adjustments. They continue to use this atypical instrument, but find a way to use its irregular attributes to their advantage. The spot where Michael Dearing sings alone with the piano is heart-wrenching and the wrap-up is emotionally intense. In addition, there is an interesting and unexpected Genesis passage to trail this piece. Time passes on and has blurred the surreal nature of the antagonist’s pain. His empty soul still exists and suffers. Flexible and fluid, the violin is naturally rubbed into the sore. This song is depressing, lonely, and profound like a candle that burned too brightly and then burnt out completely. All around, it’s a seriously well-written sliver of bittersweet emotion. It hurts so good. It’s hard to pick a favorite, because everything on this album is done so well. The first track is terrific, but this may very well be the best one. It’s an exquisite and defining piece that takes that coveted middle spot on the mantle.

The Future Me – This embodies all the elements they did right in the earlier songs and yet it’s still distinct. To get an idea of how this track sounds, think of Transatlantic’s Duel with the Devil. In my humble opinion, the bass was always the strength of Salem Hill. In this track, the hammer hits so hard, the ringing bell is knocked clean off the top. In layman’s terms, this is probably where it sounds the best. The guitar is like Krister from Karmakanic and Alyssa drops in for another appearance. She brings along Fred Schendel as her guest and he creates a superb solo on the ivory keys. Additionally, each song offers something special and different. In this case, on top of the many layers of progressive pie, they incorporate accessible avant-garde in the fashion of Far Corner. So far, this is one of my favorite albums up the year. It’s up there with Neal Morse’s ? and Tomas Bodin’s I A M. I can hardly believe it, but this is really as good as the aforementioned masters. The music caught my ear, but something on the sleeve caught my eye. This album was dedicated to Jerry Keller. They couldn’t have given him a more melodious, magical, or momentous memorial than this marvelous album.

9.25/10

Implicate Disorder (the missing track) – This is a song that was cut from the album, but they’ve played it in concert. Randy George helped out with this particular track and contributed guitar and keys. I’d comment on it, but this phantom track is nowhere to be seen. Since the album meshes together so well as it is, I can see why they may have left off any additional material.

* Ask any 8 year old and they should be able to tell you what this means.

Henning Pauly - Credit where Credit is due

2005-12-17T10:19:00.000-08:00

Fans of Frameshift will surely appreciate this opportune album. One word of caution is that this one can be a hair heavier at times. Juan Roos (lead singer from Transmission) is more than a suitable replacement for Sebastian Bach. Come to think of it; his voice is very similar in a number of places. It’s so close at times that I initially thought it might actually be him on this album. Alas, it’s not, but the good news is that Henning has not lost an once of momentum going into this project. It’s as good as “Absence of Empathy” and I really can’t say there’s anything in here that’s all that close to re-hash.

In addition to Juan, Henning uses a choir of Shawn Gordan, Matt Cash, Karen Oyler, and Christy Leschinsky in a few places. On top of that, Matt provides supplementary vocals on two more songs. Therefore, Henning has no shortage of singers to fill in the vacant spaces. Even he does some of the singing at times.

The music is original, but still it carries Henning’s special touch. For instance, the banjo is tightly integrated into the opening track, “Your Mother is a Trucker” and surfaces sometime later in “Six”. Likewise, the static and syncopated beats found all throughout the Frameshift projects, shows up in the second cut, “Cure the Breach” and close to the edge with the heresy of “©opyright Conspiracy”.

As I’ve said, he tries out new ideas along with his time-weathered tactics. In “Your Mother is a Trucker” he incorporates rap and screams side-by-side with his trusty techniques. There are several aspects of the music and many moments that remind me of Depeche Mode and New Order for some reason or another. “German Metalhead”, for example, is geared at the knocking rate of a dance club beat.

He continues to mix it up in each and every cut. While “Three” toss and turns in its sleep, “Six” clears the cobwebs from its head and ties it all together. Subsequently, the piano unravels sentiment, emotions, and repressed memories in “Seven”. By the way, no leap in logic is necessary to figure out how he came up with the names of these songs. Then again, “Scheiblautundhartwiedreck” is not only a tongue-twister, but also one of the more tumultuous tracks.

Just as he did in “Unweaving the Rainbow”, he randomly changes the radio station in “Radio Sucks”. After that, there is “Halo”, which is just an incredible all-around track. So much heart, sweat, and soul has been put into this song. Once it gets going, even the kitchen sink is sucked into this virtuoso’s vortex.

As a head’s up, we do get the pretentious power ballad at the halfway mark in “Seven”. It’s at that point where the harshness and heaviness begins to taper off. Yet, the lighter parts of this project are just as genial as the album’s earlier parts.

Keeping in synch with his previous solo effort, he intends to ambush you at the end with some hidden bonus material. Like before, it’s mainly dialogue, but to let you know, there is a catch. This time there’s several characters and the entire act is done completely in German.

While we await his next big endeavor, which is deemed to be Baby Steps, this one will give you more than enough to chew on in the meantime. To give credit where credit is due, my hat goes off to Henning for another fine effort. Don’t believe the hype! Figure it out first hand and give this album your own private screening. What you’ll come to understand is that the proof is in the Pauly.

8.5/10

Neal Morse - ?

2005-12-15T11:20:00.000-08:00

He did everything I would have asked of him and a whole lot more. This is his best album out of his most recent batches and one that rivals all the best from the year. I didn’t think anybody would dethrone Tomas Bodin’s I Am for my choice of album of the year. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say he has surpassed it, this is right up there with it. It’s far better than One and it even edges out Testimony and Snow. The only downside is that it’s one disc and you’ll be wanting more long after it’s done. However, it’s in his most complicated format yet. In some ways, it’s one long song and yet it’s not. Each track fluently translates into the next better than anything he’s ever done. Additionally, this is, for the most part, a dozen separate songs that play alone just fine. If you ask me, that’s an impressive feat by itself.

A lot of the songs are short, but they’re cut and pasted in such a way as to completely overlap one another. You’ll have trouble knowing where one ends and the next one begins. If you thought of Testimony or Snow as one song, you’ll find it increasingly more difficult to differentiate between these pieces. This is a huge strength of the album. It keeps its hold on the listener and doesn’t give you a chance to sneak away. It’s merely a matter of convenience to break it up into these twelve separate tracks. It’s all good and I doubt that many will find themselves skipping tracks, jumping into the middle, or abandoning ship without taking it to its creative climax. Even though Neal is guilty of sticking to a certain style, you’ll never be bored by sameness or lack of originality. I found myself stuck to the contents as if it were covered in a sticky shellac of Elmer’s glue.

There are two additional improvements over his previous album also worthy of mention:

The first has to do with the lyrics. He is in touch with his spiritual side, but also open-minded and sensitive to the diversity that would be found among the different sects of people. It doesn’t matter your denomination or beliefs, these words can reach just about anybody. In my opinion, this is the greatest accomplishment of the album as this sort of message is seldom if ever done so well. It’s about religion, but at the same time, it’s about the enlightenment he’s experienced over the years. The whole world could learn from his message. Many people, even those who are seldom agnostic, will welcome these insightful expressions.

Second, the instrumentals are superior to his previous engagements. The guitars are significantly better than they were on One. This can be attributed to Al Morse, Roine Stolt, and Steve Hackett who each make exceptional guest appearances. Neal needs no help on the keyboards, yet we are treated to contributions from Jordan Rudess. Where else do you see all these musicians on the same release? As if this weren’t impressive enough, we bear witness to an unbelievable extravagance, these maestros trading licks. These parts will certainly wow you. In addition to these gracious gifts from these instrumental gods, Mike Portnoy is back at it again on the drums. It’s not Transatlantic exactly, because Pete Trewavas is absent. Instead, there is a new bassist on the block and his name is Randy George. He’s not altogether new as Neal has featured him on his latest endeavors. In any case, he’s a more than suitable replacement for the missing Pete and able to provide his own melodic wonder. Together, these musicians make a winning combination and cook up sweet symphonic treats that hearken back to the recent times of the relatively-retro, but positively-progressive Transatlantic.

The only downside is that as mentioned, there is a certain similarity to all his past pieces. This goes with the territory, but not so much as usual. We do get many of the same solos, the Latin licks, and much of the same orchestrations from the string and brass sections. To paraphrase Andy Tillison of The Tangent, who really cares when he does it so well? I wholeheartedly agree, but we’re fortunate enough to get new themes on top of the material we’ve already grown to fancy. I will take this album as is and whatever else he puts out regardless of how far (or near) he ventures from the familiar path.

Not only is it a trip you’ll take to its completion, it’s one you’ll take often and in some cases one you’ll return to right away. The repeat button was engineered to endure frequent clicks. This album has been designed to put it to the test.

While this pie is expected to be eaten as a whole, let's take a look at what's served up in each of these separate slices:

The Temple of the God – Though it has a similar name, it is not the song from Transatlantic’s Suite Charlotte Pike (that would be Temple of the Gods). After whispers direct us through a dark and windy tunnel, we bump into a beginning that rivals Testimony and Snow. This intro may be a tad bit better than both as it gradually builds and works in a whirlwind of ideas. The magnificent theme that dominates this track will return many times later on.

Another World – This short ditty works incredibly well. The passages are unique, yet have an early Spock’s Beard vibe about them. This one is so catchy; it might beat the regrettable Red Sox fan to that game-winning ball.

The Outsider – This takes two successful mixes and blends them together to form one frothy beverage. It’s a combination of Testimony and The Light, which results in melodies flowing fluidly from the tapper. He’s gotten quite good at telling a story without detracting from the music. He takes elements from the sad outro of the first side of Testimony and combines them with the uplifting intro found on the second. Eventually it brings in to the happiest of beats. It’s carried upwards by an acoustic guitar. It’s also sprinkled by the ringing of regal bells not too unlike the chimes typically found coming from The Flower Kings. It’s a powerful statement to have this pleasurable piece emerge so early on.

Sweet Elation – There is a smooth transaction between the controlling parties. The operator switches lines without the slightest interruption in service. I’ve never heard a transitional piece that binds the parts together so well. Not a single seam is showing and no static can be heard. It’s almost impossible to pick up the receiver before the call has been forwarded on. I can hear Transatlantic’s Duel with the Devil and All of the Above in the instrumentals. Randy’s bass parts sound suspiciously similar to Dave Meros. It’s another clue that Randy can keep pace with all the great bassists.

In the Fire – This starts with a strange, but alluring beginning that revolves around a wailing guitar. This was definitely born from the ashes of Snow. I hear Devil’s Got My Throat and Snow’s Night Out. Randy’s bass is wild and outrageous in this wickedly ostentatious number. This catches fire like a moth to a flame. The keyboards remind me of the solo infernos lit up by Richard Andersson on Karmakancic, Time Requiem, and Space Odyssey. This may have the best moments on the album and it’s some of Neal’s best keyboard-playing ever. This fact alone should say a lot about the kind of symphonics you’ll stumble upon in this song. It sounds a lot like Ryo Okumoto, but I suspect Jordan Rudess has had a hand in this one. After being hit by these extraordinary instrumentals, we get incredible licks from the guitar and bass. Before it finishes, we get some vocals that are so amazing, they are sure to sound the alarm. Then, the keyboards hit us again and this time, they swap the seeds of Derek Sherinan for Kansas-inspired crops. There is even a sax situated within these sonic gateways. Neal does it all, carefully coordinates his crew, and puts together an incredibly entertaining cut. This song is reluctant to quit. Between the blistering devil and the frostbitten snow, this burns both hot and cold. As a result, it easily qualifies itself among my favorite cuts of the album.

Solid as the Sun – This song is solid as a rock and sizzles like a raisin in the sun. It sounds a lot like Ajalon especially in the singing and the bass. There’s an interesting monologue in the middle. At the heart of it, we encounter another great solo on the sax. This one would impress the likes of masters such as David Jackson or Theo Travis from The Tangent.

The Glory of the Lord – It’s as if you entered Sunday Service when we come upon this sophisticated sermon. The parishioners stand up and chant a divine prayer. On this Day of Atonement, you will find a congregation filled with inspiration and emotion.

Outside Looking In – This is a sad and sullen song reminiscent of some of Snow’s more downtrodden tunes. Like Scrooge, we are outside looking in. We can see warmth and light a few footsteps away. All it takes is a simple twist of a door handle to escape this chilly domain. It’s a beautiful ballad, that’s well sung, and with subtly elegant instrumentals.

12 – This song features a piano piece that competes with the one found in All of the Above. Like its predecessor, it comes at just the right time and each note is navigated in the most skillful manner. If that’s not enough, we get an incredible guitar solo. This is the track that showcases the talents of Roine Stolt. With Mike on drums, we almost have a Transatlantic reunion. Randy is the only exception, yet his bass does little to hold them back. Instead, he pushes the pack even further. They run like gazelles on the prairie with passion, poise, and grace. We might be observing them from above in a chopper; even so we have a hard time keeping up with them. We can’t help, but be in awe of their refined and synchronized movements. This could be where you’ll find the album’s most heavenly highlights. It’s a bit of everything he’s ever done, plus passages influenced by the Middle East and Russia. This may very well be his greatest track ever.

Entrance – After taking on the high hills, we decelerate and take it in for a cushy landing. We take this portion of the trip on foot. Isolated in a remote region, we get a chance to walk and talk with Neal. We get his complete and undivided attention as he recites the most personal parts of this tale. It’s almost like another prayer. He continues to combine music and story together in an unusually cohesive manner. This tape won’t be hitting the cutting floor. Once this is screened to viewers, you can bet it becomes part of the special edition. It has the first of false endings (hint), but what’s cleverest is how he ties in the earlier themes from Sweet Elation and The Temple of the Living God.

Inside His Presence – In this Broadway ballad, I can picture Josh Groban alone on stage under a bright and balmy light. He’s confident as all eyes watch his striking display. Out there by himself, he is under pressure to perform, yet his experience and talent create awe in his audience. Bagpipes actually appear at some point onto the scene. While this would normally seem out of place, it is right at home on this track. Towards the end, we get bombastic and booming instrumentals that scale a staircase to the highest summit. It almost feels like the album is wrapping up here and it’ll trick you every time. There is more to come and it never stalls. He stays in the driving seat as he slickly shifts into the subsequent song.

The Temple of the Living God (Reprise) – This commences in the most cunning manner as it picks up cleanly from the previous piece. I’m totally infatuated with this exchange. Then after many elated parts, it ends in much the same manner as the album begun (hence, why it shares the same name as the opening song). Rather than start with the sound clips we heard when this rocking rocket took off, he has the format flipped. Before the album fades off into the heavens, the soft-spoken murmurs from the beginning become the final noises to resonate in this recording. Then, there are only two options to follow. One being silence from the speakers, the other would be a gasp or sigh coming from your lips. That’s how it was for me. I was that stunned by this accomplishment. After giving it some time to absorb, I was back to playing it again. I doubt the repeat button will break. Before that ever gets a chance to happen, I’m sure this disc will have worn out its plastic shell. It’s great the technology was made to last, because this one will keep on spinning right up until his next release. Before signing out, I must leave you with one final warning. This album is so staggering; listening to it runs the risk of breaching a very vital commandment. Which one would that be might you ask? Well, when playing it, don’t be surprised if you happen to use the lord’s name in vain.

9.5/10

Roine Stolt – Wall Street Voodoo

2005-12-14T12:25:00.000-08:00

As usual, this artist is hard-at-work and boy is he busy. It’s ironic when you consider how many artists are so preoccupied with the promotion of a single album and then take years to develop it. Not only does Roine Stolt regularly pump out studio production from his main band (The Flower Kings) on an almost yearly basis, he lends his talents in countless other places.

He finds time to make guest appearances in the solo efforts of Neal Morse and Tomas Bodin. He also makes major contributions to bands like Kaipa and The Tangent. There’s still a whole lot more he participates in, keeping his prolific nature safely intact. With all that he does, it’s inexplicable how he still has time for this solo album. Not only does he succeed in making one, it’s quite the quality endeavor. In addition, it’s not one, but actually two “jam”-packed discs.

It would be impressive if it was just more of the same. However, this time he tries his hand at something new. Rather than take aim primarily at progressive rock, he locks into something else from the past. By my definition, this is still progressive, but it captures sixties and seventies rock as well as a heaping helping of the blues. Mixed in with his trademark riffs and patented moves, I hear Deep Purple, Cream, Frank Zappa, and Jimi Hendrix to name just a few.

In addition to the instrumental aspects of the music, he attempts something out of the ordinary with the lyrics too. The concept is incredibly clever as he shares political perspectives along with his analysis of capitalism, money, and greed. The colorful artwork encapsulates the essence of the theme as well. He even works in many mesmerizing, but mysterious sound clips. He’s left no stone unturned as he has chosen a cool title, developed great art for the cover, and provided excellent content within.

Roine does the bulk of the heavy lifting, but brings in a few of his friends to aid in the excavation.

Marcus Lilliequist assists with all the drums and Hasse Bruniusson incorporates a number of percussive elements. They each do a fabulous job and while they operate in a capacity that’s strictly for support, they contribute more than a journeyman’s effort. When scouring the remains of this prosperous site, they both find a wealth of riches in the relics they dig up.

It’s also great to see Neal and Roine pooling their resources again. Neal handles the lead in one song and then later trades verses in another. He also contributes an ounce of the Hammond Organ to help hollow out the quarry. It’s a pleasure hearing these two distinctly different voices on the same album. When they do, it has the same magic as “My New World” from Transatlantic. By themselves, each has charisma and character. When they’re singing together, the quirks in each of their voices melt into one steady signal.

There are also a handful of additional guests that go by the odd nicknames of Slim Pothead (Wurlizer Piano, Mini Moog & Hammond Organ), Victor Woof (Fender Bass), and Gonzo Geffen (Congas & Percussion & Loop treatments). I’m not sure if these folks are too famous to be mentioned due to contractual agreements or if they are merely bandmates in disguise. In more than a couple places, I’m sure I heard Jonas Reingold’s brisk bass or Tomas Bodin’s classy keys. In either case, it’s not apparent who to hold accountable for these donations and deeds, but it’s awfully suspicious if you ask me. Nonetheless, the relocation from progressive rock to the proprietor’s past residence goes off without a hitch. Not to mention, it benefits greatly from all these mysterious musicians housewarming gifts.

Let’s take a look at the cool cobalts, serendipitous sapphires, and imperturbable indigos that can be discovered in the mossy interior of this musical mine:

The Observer - The opener is an outstanding self-starter. The coals are soaked to the skin in this formula of highly-flammable lighter fluid. The first notes sound like Frogg Café’s “All this Time”. Although, the body of this beast is a bit more like “Don't Let The D'Evil In” from Garden of Dreams. There is also an element of Deep Purple’s “Smoke on the Water” in there as well. He has great lyrics such as “watching half the world taking all they can while the other half is left with empty hands.” Many times, he sacrifices easy rhymes for more difficult and deeper meaning. For someone who lists English as their second language, his skill with verbiage and vocabulary is quite extraordinary. I wasn’t sure if he put his best foot forward or if this was going to be the trend of the album. Fortunately, his cup runeth over and the latter holds all the water. There is a few swear words on the album and here the “s” word makes its maiden manifestation. There is also a twist to the retelling of this tale. Instead of being stripped to his skivvies, the king not only has all his clothes, but he’s draped in a wardrobe of style and chic.

Head Above Water - This is where Neal Morse first infiltrates the music. Here he handles the lead vocals and he does so in a very commanding way. It begins like The Beatles and ends with a crazy finish in the vein of Platypus, Dixie Dregs, or a live jam from The Tangent. I wonder if Derek Sherinian, Tomas Bodin, Andy Tillison, or any one of the Dixie Dreg keyboardists (e.g. Frank Josephs, T Lavitz, Mark Parrish, or maybe even Jordan Rudess) contributed to this part. Might one of these suspects be the real “Slim” Shady?

Dirt - This pony has many tricks. It features a beguiling beat, powerful lyrics, and an unexpected break in the middle. At the halfway point, it almost seems like we’ve gone onto a different song, but he eventually works his way back to where he began. This personable piece is exuberant and enlightening. It’s as profound as putting guns in the hands of killers.

Everyone Wants to Rule the World – Both Roine and Neal trade off between a host of verses and harmonies. This one impresses me more and more on every listen. I’d say it takes a few times to fully appreciate it. Lyrically, it’s like Tears for Fears’ “Everbody Wants to Rules the World”, but instrumentally, it’s more like “Sowing the Seeds of Love”. Conversely, it’s closer to “Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band” when it comes to the vocals. These passages could have been easily integrated into Transatlantic’s “Suite Charlotte Pike”. It reminds me most of that famous Dr. Pepper commercial decades back. The subtle details by way of the keyboards are downright delicious. They’re like the cherry in the coke. If you don’t want a beverage with bite, choose this one instead. After one swallow, odds are you’ll take another swig of the snifter. With that said, this soft drink is sure to go down smoothly.

Spirit of the Rebel - This would have been a suitable submission to the soundtrack for the movie American Pop. Roine performs a séance that eerily embodies the flamboyance of Jimi Hendrix. It’s so seventies psychedelic, it’s psychotic. This is a double dish of Phish Food and Wavy Gravy. To top it off, it’s dripping in Vanilla Fudge.

Unforgiven - This track takes the top spot on the first disc. It’s really upbeat and driven. Not sure why, but it reminds me of B-52’s “Love Shack” and The Rascal’s “Good Lovin”. It has a good use of claps and bells without getting too goofy and I really like the bass lines bestowed upon it. This song is utterly engaging when you add in all these attributes. The only problem is that it’s much too short.

Dog With a Million Bones – The crooning in this one is calm, cool, and collected. It’s a real son-of-a-gun. The customer is confident, takes its time, and knows exactly what he’s buying. Bob Marley does the blues while Stevie Ray Vaughn has gone the Jamaican way. The piano sails the pristine waters of a sparkling clear blue bay. After trawling around the harbor, the guitar slices down the belly of a freshwater snapper. Once dusted for prints, Flying Food Circus has left a mark and earlier Flower King influences can also be detected. There might be a little “Corruption” in its dubious business dealings. The evil imp returns once again to steal veggies from the garden and nobody’s home. As aggressive as he tries, the attempts of this vermin are thwarted. This song is fertilized with Flower Power and pesticide.

Sex Kills - When he isn’t hitting us with one of the three highlights (the two others to follow), he’s keeping us extremely entertained with a classic. Also on this side is this unique take on a timeless Joni Mitchell masterpiece. He’s written all the words on this album aside from this exceptional exception. While I cannot give him credit for the lyrics or the songwriting on this piece, he has done a fine job reenacting this tantalizing ditty. He’s also added many of his own refined touches. Aspects of it remind me of Roy Orbison’s “You Got It”. There is also a bit of Bachman-Turner Overdrive’s “Taking Care of Business” and Huey Lewis’ “If This Is It!” It even has the southern twang, catcalls, and cattle bells of Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like A Woman!” Between the penetrating plasma gun sound effects that pop in and out, Marcus’ wields some wicked drumsticks. As Marcus skis the slopes and muddles through the moguls, Roine ascends the scales with the passion and fury of a searing Steve Morse.

Outcast – This is the most straightforward blues to be encountered yet. The spirit of Stevie Ray Vaughn returns yet again. You can imagine the smoke coming from the roof of this shanty shack. The ribs were slow-cooked for so long that the meat literally peels from the bone. Like M&M’s, this too will melt in your mouth, but it’s much too hot to hold in your hands. This song is so sultry, it sizzles. It’s a steamy and unhurried rendition of Ray Charles’ “Hit the Road Jack”. It’s a self-assured stranger strolling through the blues-stained badlands.

The Unwanted – This begins the second showcase showdown and it’s filled with loads of prizes. If I had to choose one, I’d say the fortunes to be found on this side are slightly better. Either way, the price is right, but this disc has the edge as the highest-scoring contestant. This first song on the second side is like Led Zeppelin with splotches of futuristic flair. As a warning, the “f” word is dropped out of nowhere and lands like a load from an industrial crop-duster. When this cut commences, it will coax you along, but after that blast, you will be fully awake, on your toes, and out on your feet.

Remember – On this album, he lays it all down, but in the following series, he shows us a pair of aces. This contains the first of the prominent high cards. The stately gardener reveals a royal flush and it’s one of Roine’s strongest suits ever. The groove is very catchy. While the albums goal was the reincarnate the past, I hear The BoDeans and Matchbox 20 in this incredibly swishy song. There’s a lot of detail edited in as Roine shreds like Santana. Plus, his singing here is seriously striking. The song’s finale fits with The Flower Kings modus operandi, which might be explain why it’s my favorite selection off this album. Anybody who doubts Roine’s abilities, needs to check out this song. While Jonas is not in the credits, you can’t tell me that’s not him playing those bubbly bass lines. It could come straight out of a Karmakanic creation.

It’s All About Money –This is where the album’s crooked character (Wall Street Voodoo) is mentioned. The instrumental aspects and lyrics are driven by angst, but this song is more about the meaning than the melody. Roine speaks to us in this piece. The instruments urge him up to a soapbox and rally round his words. His guitars climb, claw, and charge ahead. Then, without warning, he hops from note to note. It’s like the Steve Miller Band mixed with blues and a smidgeon of rap. I’ve never heard anything like it. Roine just invents his own form of music. Rather than come up with a mindless beat, he incorporates a plate of syrupy pancakes and a side of panache. For this reason, it’s the most progressive piece on the album and not progressive at all at the very same time. Also, there’s an interesting use of string arrangements worked in at the end. The orchestrations are off-kilter, yet work as well as the ones from Yes’ Magnification

Everybody Wants to Sell You Something - This reminds me a lot of the second side from Unfold the Future (obviously, minus the epics). This has the seventies funk I’ve always admired from artists such as George Clinton. It is more or less monkey business as Roine has mastered his interplanetary funkmanship. If you fake the Funk, your nose will grow à la Pinocchio. However, I’m not lying when I say this is certainly the second high card he’ll be showing. While it tops “Unforgiven”, it’s a very close second to “Remember”. This is for the current times as he mentions modern items such as Ipods. The words aren’t too difficult to pick up either as its melody is undoubtedly memorable. It’s quite a lot of fun if you sing along. Again, that’s got to be Jonas bounding along. How does Jonas, um, I mean Slim get all those bass lines to sound so good. As the result of the Big Bang Theory, there ain’t nothing, but a party in this black hole. This should satisfy hardcore funkateers and appeal to fans of such bands as Funkadelic and Parliament.

Hotrod (The Atomic Wrestler) - This is a day at the races. It’s similar to Dixie Dregs Cruise Control, but it’s as fast as a dragster. This Formula One muscle-bound monster finishes with so much heat on its tail; it requires a chute to finally slow it down. What’s interesting about this one is that it contains an un-credited female singer.

Mercy – It’s as if we’ve stepped into a spaghetti western. Before getting a chance to run away with the loot, Roine snaps his lasso and ropes us in with some truly sublime licks. This tender track carries a vibe that’s comparable to Transatlantic’s “We All Need Some Light”. The gunslinger has come to town and he’s cajoled into a duel that occurs promptly at High Noon. He escapes unscathed and rejoices by playing a disarming tune on his steel guitar.

People that Have the Power to Shape the World – This is an odd incarnation. It will appeal to simple folk as well as you and me. It’s country, progressive rock, and the blues all coiled up into one. The toxic effects of the snakebite are eminent. When it lays into you, it’s likely to be lethal. This poisonous piece contains a copious amount of venom and vehemence. Adding to the danger, the carnivorous cottonmouth is too slippery to clutch. All at once, it’s ambitious, experimental, simple, and senseless, yet it’s still sane. I believe it best represents what Roine is trying to accomplish on the album. The vocals are like those in 2Pac’s “California Love”. Stevie Wonder's "I Wish" is also ingrained in the chorus and for some reason; it reminds me of both The Door’s “People are Strange” and Jamiroquai’s “Virtual Insanity”. He fuses all these influences together, making it a great way to end the album. When I first heard Roine was taking this alternate route, I was apprehensive. A change in pace had me worried he was heading in the wrong direction. Everything he’s done so far has been great. If it ain’t broke, why fix it, the wise men always say. Then again, this album is not at all what I expected. It does have a mainstream aura about it, but it’s definitely done up with the flowery tendencies his most devoted fans desire. Avoiding this album, would create an emergency on your planet’s progressive time-space continuum. Hot off the heels of Tomas’ I A M and in anticipation of the next Karmakanic album, another member of The Flower Kings brings us another superb solo. Roine Stolt simply has the Midas touch. He squeezes water from good “old” rock and turns the blues to gold.

8.75/10