Warm winter --- Memories of Machines --- 2011 (Mascot Records)
We first met Tim Bowness in No-Man, where he teamed up with multi-instrumentalist and overall musical genius Steven Wilson to produce some incredible albums, one of which, "Schoolyard ghosts", was reviewed by me in "Bitesize" some time back. Here he has linked up with Giancarlo Erra, brain behind Italian prog and art-rock band Nosound, to form Memories of Machines, and this is their debut album. Don't expect to be rocked: it's not that kind of album. Almost everything here is quiet, laidback, gentle but with a definite passion and purpose. Tim handles all the vocals and Giancarlo handles, well, everything else. They also draw in some primo talent from the world of progressive rock to guest on certain tracks, with the likes of Julianne Regan from All About Eve, the legendary Peter Hamill and the even more legendary Robert Fripp.
The opener is a short, atmospheric synth-led piece which essentially forms the signature track, with Bowness singing on "New memories of machines" before we move into "Before we fall", a rising synth soon joined by feedback guitar and a slow pounding drumbeat as Bowness's voice washes over you. This is the best description of the singer's style; he sort of breathes the vocal, exhaling it out over you in a glorious outpouring of emotion and passion. Very Pink Floydesque backing vocals from the aforementioned Julianne Regan, powerful drumming backing her and Bowness as the song shifts into its final section on the back of an exquisite guitar solo from Erra. Sumptuous cello from Marianne de Chastalaine on "Beautiful songs you should know", which also appeared on "Schoolyard ghosts" in a different form. A soft, evocative, gentle song which tugs at the heartstrings, it's typical of the sort of thing you'll find on this album, with Erra accompanying de Chastalaine on acoustic guitar.
The title track then is a slightly more uptempo song, though not much. Acoustic guitar from Erra frames the track, with a lovely emotional bridge and an evocative motif:
"Hear the sirens through the rain".. Soft percussion urges the song along until Erra slips in the most beautiful, yearning guitar solo you'll hear in a long while, reminds me of Gary Moore at his most emotional, then Steven Wilson makes a guest appearance himself on "Lucky you, lucky me", adding keyboards and guitar to the soft rolling almost acoustic sound of the track. Bowness's voice drifts over and through the music like a lost soul, searching for his home. There's a lot of pain in his voice, but a real note of hope too. A lovely Mike Oldfield-sounding guitar solo right there at the end just completes the song, and takes us into the somewhat eerie opening for "Change me once again", where the intensity goes up again with strong keyboard lines and acoustic guitar, and Bowness's voice ringing with passion.
As I say, you'll get no change out of this album if you expect hard rockers or fast songs; it's all very laidback and serene, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't pack one hell of a punch. Julianne is back to add backing vocals to this, with the voice of an angel. The shortest track on the album then, bar the opening intro, "Something in our lives" runs for just over four minutes and is a bleak, sparse song with very ominous and dark sounding piano, some weird little effects against which Bowness's voice stands out starkly until some soft acoustic guitar backed by electric slides into the song, and the whole shape and feel of the song changes. Then it pulls back to the barebones on the piano and synth effects, cold for the verses, warmer and less threatening for the chorus. Talk about contrasts. The great Robert Fripp then joins the lads for "Lost and found in the digital world", with some gorgeous guitar soundscapes. This is the only song on which someone other than Erra and Bowness write the music, as Fripp has a hand in this one himself. It's ethereal and a little lonely, with low trumpet adding to the sense of desolation.
"Schoolyard ghosts" is a rewrite of the track that appeared on that album by No-Man, but was titled "Mixtaped". In fact, the song was a solo effort written by Tim Bowness, and is the only song here written just by him. There's a certain difference between this and the rest of the album, and it certainly stands out. The guitar on it is very Gilmouresque and appears to be something called a "volume swell guitar": you guitarists will know more about that than I do. There's also some lovely eighties style synth and electric piano on the song, and a fine piece of work on the sax by Myke Clifford. The percussion, too, is about the hardest and most pronounced you'll hear on this album, where many tracks don't even feature a drummer.
The closer is also the longest track, and "At the centre of it all" features prog rock legend Peter Hammill on guitars, with a rising, atmospheric synth opening which runs for almost two minutes before it's joined by sparse piano and Bowness comes in with the vocal. A slowburner, it takes its time to establish its mood but the time taken is well spent. There's a return for Marianne de Chastalaine on that beautiful cello, and some lovely double bass work from Porcupine Tree's Colin Edwin which just adds to the overall atmosphere of the song. It's a downbeat finish to an album that really doesn't have too many "up" moments, but is somehow all the better for it, and in more ways that one it's a very fitting and appropriate way to close this superb album.
TRACKLISTING
1. New memories of machines
2. Before we fall
3. Beautiful songs you should know
4. Warm winter
5. Lucky you, lucky me
6. Change me once again
7. Something in our lives
8. Lost and found in the digital world
9. Schoolyard ghosts
10. At the centre of it all
This is not an album you dance to. This is not an album you rock to. This is not an album you throw on when you're doing the dishes or taking a short trip into town, or walking the dog or heading into work. This is an album you don't so much listen to as experience, don't so much hear as inhale, don't so much play as allow it to enter you. It washes over you, spreads through you like a soft mist, permeating your pores and flowing into your bloodstream. It's carried along your arteries and through your body until it reaches your heart, where it carefully but firmly slips through the wall of your most vital organ, swirling around in there like a magic potion, till from your heart issues the softest of sounds, transmitted up to the brain and finally expressed through your lips and lungs as the most grateful sigh of pleasure.
Then you understand Memories of Machines, and realise how special what you've just been witness to is.