Trollheart

Depends. A lot of my material is pre-written, as in, I write reviews in advance and then later on decide when to actually post them. I also have a list of "sections", which I add to and check as I go along, so that if I haven't done a particular section recently I might think about going back to it, as in today's "NO! It can't end like this!" slot. I'm also working on only the second "Crashing solo" feature, the last of which was sometime last year.

Often I just like to review albums I love, but sometimes ones I hate; then again it can be a case of well I did a prog album yesterday, a metal one the day before that, hmm... how about Barry Manilow? Or something similar; a chance to keep everything as varied and eclectic as possible. I prefer if possible not to review albums from the same genre too often together --- unless I'm doing a series or feature --- and even then, I try to ensure the journal isn't just jammed with album reviews, slotting in other sections like "What's in a name?", "More than words" and so on.

There's no actual set plan: I actually have too much music to ever be able to adequately review all my albums. In general I try if I've reviewed an album by one band to not do another of theirs for a while, perhaps months. This great restraint is shown in my only reviewing two Marillion albums in all my time here, even though they're my favourite band. Excuse me, three: I forgot "Somewhere else", which was reviewed in the "Last Chance Saloon" --- must do that again soon, but I digress. If I only concentrated on the albums I love then this could become quite a boring and predictable journal, but really, no-one knows what I'm going to come up with next, least of all me. I mean, who else would think of reviewing Black Sabbath and then Pixie Lott? Or Holst's "The Planets"? Or Vangelis? I like to surprise my readers, throw them a little off-guard. Lisnaholic said that on his first visit here last week he was surprised not to find just prog albums. That's the kind of reaction I'm going for. It's like, wow, you're a prog head but you listen to Robbie Williams/Steve Earle/Motorhead? Keep em guessing, say I!

But yeah, that's it. Sometimes I'll have an idea what I'm going to review, sometimes it's taken from something I've already written, perhaps weeks or months ago, and sometimes it's almost stick a pin in the map and see where we end up, as it were. Much more fun that way. But hey, that's my style, might not suit everyone.

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La futura --- ZZ Top --- 2012 (American Recordings)


To most people there are two ZZ Tops. Well, that's not exactly accurate. Let's start again. To most people, there is the ZZ Top who wrote such hits as “Legs” and “Gimme all your lovin'”, and pretty much faded away after the initial buzz had faded and the hipsters moved on to the next big thing. They will forever be (I'm sure to their considerable delight) linked with videos of sexy girls in short skirts, which was, let's be honest, their window to mainstream success in the early eighties. I mean, these are great songs, but you ask any man (I specify man, not woman) in the street what they remember about them, and nine out of ten are going to grin and mention the women. Some will remember the tunes, yes, but all will remember the girls. I know I do. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but once a band establishes a pattern for their videos, people expect it, and if they don't get it then the next single may not do as well, or even chart. Madness were known for their comedic videos, and when they stopped doing them and tried to be taken more seriously --- that ship had already sailed --- people just weren't as interested.

I'm reminded of Bart Simpson in the episode where he finds fame as the “I didn't do it boy”. Tired of milking the one phrase and desperate to be taken seriously, he goes on a talk show and tries to talk about the rainforests, but all they want to hear is the phrase. The public want what the public gets, as Paul Weller once caustically wrote. Or to put it another way, who would you rather see: the terrifying, all-powerful Oz, or the diminutive, somewhat scatterbrained old man behind the curtain? Often, it's the spectacle we crave, not what lies beneath. Style over substance.

None of which is ZZ's fault. They got great mileage (geddit?) out of those videos, but predictably their next album, though successful, was not the monster that “Eliminator” was. Ask anyone who's not a fan to name a ZZ track, I guarantee you next month's wages (I'm not working, but that's beside the point!) that they'll reel off one, two or three of those hit singles and not know one other. I'm no huge fan, but I can point to “Tush”, “Cheap sunglasses”, “Rough boy” and others. That doesn't qualify me as being more into ZZ Top than the chart-buying public, but I do know some things about the band that they don't.

Of course, real fans will talk about “Tres hombres”, “Deguello” and “Rio Grande mud”, perhaps even their album prior to this, “Mescalero”. I don't claim to know these albums, though I did come across a few of them when looking through record bins. I always put them back, thinking they looked boring. Hey, I was young once you know! But it's been twenty-nine years since “Eliminator”, and even nine years since “Mescalero”, and you have to wonder, are the tres hombres still relevant? Does it matter? More to the point, is this a good album?

Well, first let me disabuse you of any notions of an almost-thirtieth-anniversary “Eliminator”, because this album is nothing like their most famous one. If anything, it would seem to be a return to the blues rock of albums like “Tejas” and “Fandango!”, or that's what I think. You won't get any big commercial pop hits here: there are no drum machines, no synthesisers (though Billy does play piano) and no dancefloor fillers. What there is, is that old style Texas blues and southern rock they were once famous for. No real attempts to bust open the charts again; they've been there, done that. This is ZZ playing how they want to, and if the world don't like it they can just spin on this middle finger.

They set their stall out from the off with “Gotsta get paid”, a big growling guitar from Billy and heavy drumming from Frank Beard, Billy's gruff and instantly recognisable vocals cutting through the music like a Texas longhorn. Squealing guitar and thumping bass are the order of the day, and not a sexy model in sight! Well, okay, there are, but they're not driving the song, and they're only featured sporadically in the video. As for the music, hombre? It's downhome, it's dirty, it's raw, it's ZZ as they used to be, and it certainly makes an impression. Apparently it's, at least in part, a cover of a rap song called “25 lighters”? Fraid ya got me there, but so spake Wiki. “Chartreuse” hits right in as the opener cuts off abruptly, and we're into a big striding boogie rocker, with a lovely walking bassline from Dusty Hill, and almost on the very same melody “Consumption” piles in, boogeyin' on down the road. It's actually quite scary how similar these two songs are; they could almost be two parts of a suite. If ZZ did suites. Which they don't. Unless they're in the Rio Grande Hilton, I guess.

This one features a superb twelve-bar blues on the guitar from Billy, though I have to say so far I ain't heard nuttin' from that there pianner! Never mind, here comes the ballad. It's a lovely, slow, swaying piece driven by a soulful guitar line with Billy finally tickling those ivories, and it's impressive how he can be roaring and growling about booze and women one moment, and the next so sensitive and vulnerable, like a broken man crying into his whiskey. Kind of sounds like Tom Waits singing a ballad: although it somehow doesn't seem right, it somehow does. Great emotional guitar solo, while Frank and Dusty hold the line like comrades that have Billy's back, always. A song about realising it's finally over, and getting on with your life, it's a sobering piece of work and just really bookends the heavier, rockier tracks well.

Speaking of those, “Heartache in blue” gets back to the grind, more dirty guitar and although it's slower than what's gone before it's not a ballad, with some fine harmonica from James Harman which really adds to the rough, raw Chicago blues feel of the song, with some pained backing vocals from Dusty. Brilliant duet between the harmonica and guitar near the end, then the oddly-titled “I don't wanna lose, lose, you” is another hard rocker, with breakout guitar from Gibbons, and a real flavour of toolin' down the road on a hog, after which they take off on “Flyin' high”, upping the tempo a little, though there's nothing breakneck about this album. It's all hard, tough but grounded southern rock/blues, swaggering rather than running, reaching the same destination by a different route.

I have to say, the cover of the album is odd: the guys (two of them, anyway) look more like Jewish rabbis than bearded Texans! Course, we're used to the bearded image of ZZ, but that particular silhouette? Nah, doesn't do it for me. Still, it's not what's on the cover that's important, and if you're a ZZ fan you're gonna buy the album no matter what's on the sleeve. Big heavy grinder as the boys fall back to earth with a bump for “It's too easy manana”, which I think is a cover of a bluegrass song by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch, who popped up somewhere ... where was it? Oh yeah: my review of Mark Knopfler's “Sailing to Philadelphia”. More great guitar work from Billy G, and it's a powerful, intense song delivered with real conviction, almost a Lynyrd Skynyrd feel about it.

ZZ has always been Billy's band. He was the founder, and he writes most if not all of the songs, plays the guitar, sings and, as mentioned, at least here plays piano too. As if that wasn't enough, he also produces the album. But that's not to say that Frank and Dusty are just along for the ride, far from it. However, as with many big bands, there's one big personality that stands proud to the foreground, and here that's Mister Billy Gibbons. “Big shiny nine” is one of those, I think, risque songs that ZZ love to throw in on their albums just to either confuse or piss people off, and we close then on “Have a little mercy”, a slow grinder that showcases Billy's rough, gruff vocals to the limit, the most “Eliminator”-esque track on the album. If I had to compare it to anything off “Eliminator” it would be “TV dinners”, with a slow growling guitar and lazily laconic vocal, with a brilliant twelve-bar blues ending.

TRACKLISTING

1. Gotsta get paid
2. Chartreuse
3. Consumption
4. Over you
5. Heartache in blue
6. Don't wanna lose, lose, you
7. Flyin' high
8. It's too easy manana
9. Big shiny nine
10. Have a little mercy

Anyone who comes at this album expecting to hear the chattering drum machine from “Legs”, or hear synthesisers warble away is going to be most disappointed. They would also be pretty damn stupid, unless they've just woken from a coma and the first thing they want to do is buy the new ZZ Top album. “Eliminator” was almost three decades ago, and ZZ Top, who have by now been in business for over forty years, are carving their own musical path, as they have always done, down the years.

“Legs”. “Sharp-dressed man”. “Gimme all your lovin'”. Great songs, great videos. Great times. But they're all in the past now, where they belong. ZZ ain't livin' in the past, they're lookin' to the future.

And from where I'm sittin', la futura es muy luminosa!

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The world is a game --- Mystery --- 2012 (Unicorn Digital)


He's a busy man, is Benoit David! Not only has he replaced Jon Anderson in Yes, but at the same time he's fronting his original band, Canadian progressive rock troupe Mystery. I got into this band through their last album, “One among the living”, which I was very impressed with and which I reviewed, and from what I've heard of this to date I expect to go on being impressed. With only founder member Michel St-Pere and David left, the rest of Mystery is made up of session men or guests, like Spock's Beard drummer Nick D'Virgilio and some rather nice flute work from Marylene Provencher-Leduc. St-Pere helms everything as usual, not only playing guitars and keys but also producing the album and writing all but two tracks on it, those two he co-writes with David.

Mystery have been through some lineup changes, even suffered tragedy in their twenty-five year history: bass player Patrick Bourque committed suicide in 2007, while original drummer Stephane Perreault fell prey to a crippling disease which took his life two years earlier. The control Michel St-Pere exerts over the band could be seen as almost dictatorial; after their second album he formed Unicorn Digital and has released all their albums on that label since. However he's steered them through five albums and more bad times than bands twice their age have to deal with, so he must certainly be commended.

This is Mystery's sixth album, and it opens with a beautiful short acoustic guitar instrumental called “A morning rise”, with already that soft flute from Ms. Provencher-Leduc adding to its ethereal feel, some choral vocals on the keyboards from Michel building up the theme before it too soon ends and we're into the first song proper, with again guitar intro then heavy drums and organ as “Pride” opens, Benoit David showing his time with Yes has certainly not tired him out or left him uninspired or burned out. It's actually amazing (as I stated in the review of their previous album, and as anyone who's heard “Fly from here” will no doubt attest to) how much like Anderson he sounds!

Although this runs for just over eleven minutes, it's not the longest track, indeed a mere hors d'oeuvre when compared to the closer, of which more, obviously, at the end of the review. This track which we're concerned with now has exploded into a big prog rock monster, belting along in a Yes/Genesis style, with heavy galloping drums and squealing keyboards, then dropping down to unaccompanied acoustic guitar for short sections before taking off again. Above it all floats the voice of Benoit David, never having to strain or shout. He's a born singer, like Anderson, and it's delight to listen to his dulcet tones.

Of course, as mentioned, the star of the show really is Michel St-Pere, and when he's not running off complicated keyboard fills or playing delicate piano runs, he's firing riffs and solos like a man possessed, making the guitar an extension of his body, man and instrument in perfect harmony. His soft guitar accompaniment and fluting keys are the perfect foil for David's gentle but strident voice on the closing sections of the song, then he kicks in some overdrive guitar as the song reaches its conclusion. This is what Mystery do best: big, multi-part, epic songs that go through several changes along the way to their destination and leave you gasping, as often as not, at the end.

Quiet digital piano and acoustic guitar then open “Superstar”, and it's a soft, exquisite ballad with alternately laidback and powerful guitar from St-Pere, effective percussion and great vocals from David, passionate and soulful. Some lovely choral effects on the keys too from Michel, but it's his guitar that really leads and gives identity and character to the song, whose lyric contains the title of the album, though there is a title track. In fact it's up next, after a less-than-a-minute instrumental called “The unwinding of time”, which features a beautiful little flute intro then minimal percussion and piano into a sort of musical-box melody, and ending with a powerful, rising guitar.

The title track then opens on that guitar, as the instrumental basically forms a prelude to it, then it drops away to more restrained guitar against a sort of distant choir sound, before acoustic guitar and piano lead in the main melody against David's soft but stirring vocal. Bass from Antoine Fafard fills out the sound then a beautiful gentle little guitar solo from St-Pere as David warns ”And so the world is a game/ But remember these pawns all have names”. We run then into a Genesisesque instrumental part as the tempo quickens, before it all slows down again for the final minutes of the track, David's voice rising high above the grinding guitar and thundering drums.

The standout for me comes in the form of another ballad, opened again on acoustic guitar with attendant flute. “Dear someone” is a stronger ballad than “Superstar”, with much more contribution from Marylene Provencher-LeDuc, and quite guitar-driven, with not much if anything in the way of keyboards from St-Pere. This, and the title track, are the only two on which Benoit David co-writes with the founder, and whether it's intentional or not, I would imagine he's the one who slips in the line “Love will find a way”, which is of course on the Yes album “Big Generator”. Beautiful, expressive guitar work from Michel and a very humanistic tilt to the lyric conveyed in David's singing.

Dolorous, forlorn church bells and acoustic piano open “Time goes by”, with a somewhat French feel to the melody, a lot of drama and tension in the music though it generally comes across as another ballad, played slow and without too much in the way of heavy guitar solos or rampaging keyboard arpeggios. Great vocal harmonies, though as no-one is credited for backing vocals, I would think perhaps it's Benoit David's voice multi-tracked. Very impressive though, and used only where they'll make the most and appropriate impact. Nick D'Virgilio's drums start to pick up the pace about two minutes from the end, and the tempo rises as Michel St-Pere introduces some hard electric guitar, the piano still playing in counterpoint, though it's his guitar that has, predictably, the final say as the song closes.

And that brings us to the final track. Remember I said that “Pride”, with its eleven-minute run, was nothing? Well, “Another day” runs for just over nineteen minutes! Talk about saving the best for last! It opens on harpsichordal keys and a nice little pastoral sound as David sings, a man watching the world go by and hoping for better days. More multi-tracked vocals with some sort of delay make the sound much more expansive, and the song then slows right down for a guitar and keyboard interlude as it heads into its fourth minute, then abruptly Nick fires off on all cylinders and everything kicks off before David comes back in with a harder, rockier vocal, the whole thing much more uptempo now.

Of course the comparisons will be made with Yes, and they're justified to a degree, especially as David has been, and is, in both bands, but to write Mystery off as a simple Yes clone band would be a huge mistake. They've been going for a long time now and they certainly have their own very definite and identifiable style. You could say they sound like Genesis too --- and at points they do, and Rush, and a hundred other great prog bands --- but that's just influence. There's a difference between taking the things you like or admire in a band and shaping them to form your own sound, and blatantly ripping them off.

St-Pere's piano takes over at the ninth minute, but the track keeps rockin' and David's multivoice performance is coming more to the fore now. The music turns a little funky, maybe the tiniest bit jazzy as it enters its eleventh minute of existence, then falls back to the pastoral style of the opening minutes in the twelfth, David's voice strong and clear while Michel's piano keeps the melody behind him. Of course there's a guitar solo coming, and it hits in the fourteenth minute, really effective, then a few soft piano notes and we're into a two-minute instrumental section as the tempo kicks up once again before on the back of Benoit David's returning vocal it slows down again as the song nears its end. There's a final flourish on the flute from Marylene as the last minute plays out, and she's accompanied by fading keyboard choral vocals and St-Pere's acoustic guitar, till that's all that's left.

TRACKLISTING

1. A morning rise
2. Pride
3. Superstar
4. The unwinding of time
5. The world is a game
6. Dear someone
7. Time goes by
8. Another day

This is truly a mesmerising album. I loved “One among the living”, and as expected I haven't been disappointed by the followup. It really is an essential album for any lover of progressive rock, or indeed just any aficionado of great rock music. It will certainly appeal to Yes fans, with Benoit David on vocals, but more than that, it's a testament to a great band who have quietly worked away for over a quarter of a century now, but who are still almost unknown beyond their native Canadian homeland.

If there's a mystery here, it's why these guys aren't filling out stadiums across the known world. Hopefully, with the release of this, their sixth album, that may very well soon change.

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Seventy-four minutes of pure perfection.

Sounds that can't be made --- Marillion --- 2012 (Ear Music)


Marillion's first “proper” album in four years --- the acoustic set “Less is more”, while certainly an album is not what I'd consider a new one from them --- comes on the back of considerable fanfare from the band and their website, and with I would think high expectations from their fans, certainly this one. A Marillion fanatic since Day One (October 25 1982), I had enjoyed (that is, loved) every single album of theirs up until the year “Somwhere else” hit. Something of a sledgehammer blow to me, this album refused to reveal itself to my ears, and persists in doing so. No matter how many times I listened to it, how carefully, with or without as much bias as I could, there was very little I liked about that album. Well, to be fair, I liked it but I did not in any way love it. I tried, I failed, I eventually gave up.

That, it has to be said, shook my hithero solid faith in the band. Up till then, I bought every album as it was released without question or delay, not expecting but knowing that it would be great. And it always was. Without exception. Until that album. So after that I became, for the first time in my life and the first time in my association with the band, wary of future releases. Oh, I wanted that album to be a blip, make no mistake, and I didn't really see any sort of possibility I would lose my devotion to Marillion, but whereas before I had been as certain about the quality of their future albums as I was that the sun would rise, now there was just that tiny little sliver of doubt, that almost infinitesimally small, but still there, worry that my heroes might fail to live up to the high standards they had set for themselves, and which I had judged them by.

In the armour of my belief in them, the most miniscule ch1nk had appeared, and I could only hope and pray it would not lead to larger tears in the fabric of my --- let's be brutally honest here --- adoration of this band.

And to be fair, in general that armour has held, even strengthened. With the release of “Happiness is the road” the following year my faith was repaired, and although that album is not perfect --- and the only one since “Somewhere else” to even fall left of that divide --- it was nine thousand percent better than the 2007 effort. This was followed in 2009 by the aforementioned “Less is more”, which I did buy, but as it was basically a reworking of older songs (their version, I suppose you might say, of Bon Jovi's “This left feels right”) I didn't pay it that much attention. I liked it, yes, but it's hard to get overly excited about songs you already know, even if they're presented in a new and interesting way.

So “Happiness is the road” began the healing process, and now we're five years down from the site of that blip, that bump, that unaccountable twist in the fabric of Marillion spacetime, where suddenly the old laws I had become accustomed to over a period of thirty-five years briefly failed to apply. Since then, I've returned to the universe I know, and here really Marillion can do no wrong. Or can they? I mentioned “Happiness” was not a perfect album: it's not. But to be fair, even going back three years prior to “Somewhere else”, 2004's “Marbles”, while a brilliant album in its own right, did suffer from the odd bad track, which again is something I had never, up to then, associated with Steve and Steve and the boys. However, in the case of that album, the rest of it was so top-notch that I felt justified in just claiming the bad track --- “Ocean cloud”, featured recently on the “Bad Apples” section --- was just that: one bad track, and the rest of the album, taken as a whole, was excellent, just what I would and did expect from Marillion.

Not so with “Somewhere else” though. No matter how I tried, no matter how many excuses I made or how I looked at the album, it pretty much sucked, and I had to face up to the fact that my idols had suddenly developed feet of clay, if only (hopefully) temporarily. Perhaps it made me a more mature music listener: I stopped just accepting each new album and started really listening to, judging, and rating it. I realised with something of a shock that no matter how good the band or artiste, it's always possible to make one bad album. On the flip side though, it should and hopefully always is possible to put that behind you and come back stronger than ever. That's the sign of a really good artiste.

So have my heroes come through for me this time around? Well, to be fair I haven't listened to the album all the way through yet, so this will be essentially a first impression. One thing I do notice is that this is one of the shortest Hogarth era albums, in terms of tracks, and by far the longest of any Marillion album, clocking in at a mighty total of 74 minutes and nineteen seconds running time: for those of you who can't do the math, that's 1 hour, fourteen minutes and nineteen seconds. That's a lot of music!

It's also the first Marillion album to feature three songs which are over ten minutes long: the opener runs for a staggering seventeen and a half minutes --- a feat they haven't equalled since the aforementioned "Ocean cloud", and prior to that, 1982's “Grendel” --- while there is also a fourteen minute song and the closer is just over ten and a half minutes. This of course adequately explains the paradox of how this can be both a short and an incredibly long album at the same time. But length of songs is only a factor if they're any good, and whereas before 2007 I would have just assumed that would be the case, now I'm a little more nervous, eager not to repeat the experience of “Somewhere else”. So, as those Americans say, what's under the hood?

As mentioned, the album opens with the longest track on it, and the second-longest Marillon track ever, beating out their epic “Grendel” by about fifteen seconds (I don't count the title track from “This strange engine”, as although it's shown as over thirty minutes long, over half of that is silence, so the actual song itself runs for about fifteen minutes; “Ocean cloud”, however, runs for approx twenty seconds longer). It's also the most outright political song they've ever written. Marillion have dabbled in current affairs and the state of the world on tracks like “The last century for man” and “When I meet God”, but this is the first time they've come out strongly to talk about a political subject since 1989's "Berlin", the very year that barrier fell.

With the simple title “Gaza”, you know what it's going to be about, and though Steve Hogarth has confirmed the band is not taking any particular political stand, neither condoning the attacks by Hamas on Israel or seeking to denigrate the jewish nation in any way, the song manages lyrically to navigate what is mostly a tricky path through a minefield of possible controversy, leaving essentially the politics and the warring factions, and the reasons for the ongoing conflict behind, and looking instead at the human face of the refugees struggling in the Gaza Strip.

Opening on spacy synth lines that contain sound effects that could be rockets flying, walls falling and then definitely people praying, it suddenly breaks out on a big heavy militaristic melody with an eastern tinge, as Hogarth takes the persona of one of the refugees relating his tale of woe, the drumbeat becoming almost mechanical and Steve Rothery's hard guitar cutting in angrily, counterpointing Hogarth's pleading vocal delivery. Marillion have come a long way since the days of Fish and the Jester, and though I love and always will love those first four albums, this is a new band for a new millennium, and one thing Marillion have always known how to do is adapt, change and survive, remain stubbornly relevant. Here they mix screaming guitar solos with soft synth backdrops, almost orchestral keyswork and patches where there is almost no music, ambient in the truest sense of the word, while above and along and within it all floats the sad, despairing, tired and bluntly angry voice of the man they simply call “H”, who has become by now identified as the signature sound of the “new” Marillion, a band which has been going for over two decades.

At this point, I think it's prudent and indeed important to give you Hogarth's thoughts on the song, as taken from the article in Wiki: ”This is a song for the people – especially the children – of Gaza. It was written after many conversations with ordinary Palestinians living in the refugee camps of Gaza and the West Bank. I spoke also to Israelis, to NGO workers, to a diplomat unofficially working in Jerusalem, and took their perspectives into account whilst writing the lyric. It is not my/our intention to smear the Jewish faith or people – we know many Jews are deeply critical of the current situation – and nothing here is intended to show sympathy for acts of violence, whatever the motivation, but simply to ponder upon where desperation inevitably leads. Many Gazan children are now the grandchildren of Palestinians BORN in the refugee camps - so called "temporary" shelters. Temporary for over 50 years now. Gaza is today, effectively, a city imprisoned without trial."

That really says more about the sentiments behind this opening song than I ever could. As you would probably expect from such a long track, it goes through various changes and different movements, but it is I think in the tenth minute that it really starts to come together, with some soft keys and gentle percussion, echoey guitar joined by Steve's singing before a whole choir comes in to help him and the true heart of the piece reveals itself. Against Mark Kelly's simple piano notes and Steve Rothery's impassioned but restrained guitar Hogarth mourns ”Nothing's ever simple/ That's for sure/ There are grieving mothers/ On both sides of the line” followed by a breakout emotional guitar solo from Rothery as the other Steve roars "It just ain't right! / It just ain't right!” and goes on to say "We all want peace and freedom / That's for sure/ But peace won't come / From standing on our necks”.

An incredibly moving and emotional song, and pretty much worth the price of purchase on its own. I am impressed, heartened for what's to come, but I have to ensure that “Gaza” is not just one good track among seven bad ones. I don't expect that, not in any way, but I want --- I want so much! --- for this album to be the return to the great Marillion albums of the nineties and early noughties that “Happiness is the road” and “Marbles” so very nearly were. So on we go, shaken and moved, a tear (okay, more than one: Hogarth has that effect) in my eye, and next we meet the title track. It's not a seventeen-minute behemoth like the one we've just heard, and from the off it's far more uptempo, with a driving drumbeat from Ian Mosley and almost new-wave keyboards from Kelly, a pulsing, thumping bass from Pete Trewavas, who often gets overlooked on Marillion albums, but who is one half of a pretty perfect rhythm section.

Kelly's keyboards change to an almost orchestral, strings-driven sound, and Rothery's guitar adds the final touch, with some great backing vocals. Then some dramatic downturn keys and some very ELO-style vocoder work before Hogarth returns with the vocal, the sound now quite bright and boppy, very optimistic with Rothery's signature sound, until about halfway in it goes into a lovely, laidback, soft and lush keys melody with flecks of guitar around the edges, the tempo slowing right down and we get one of Mark Kelly's famous keyboard solos, followed by one from Steve on the guitar. THIS is more like the Marillion I know and love! Hopefully, with two openers like this, high quality such as this can be maintained throughout the album. If it can, I'll be a very happy reviewer, and an even happier Marillion fan.

“Pour my love” opens on lovely soft digital piano, faintly reminiscent of the great Tony Banks, then Trewavas's slick bass slides in, and I'd hazard this to be a ballad; Marillion are certainly not averse to them, though they don't sprinkle them around their albums like some bands tend to. There's a great smooth guitar sound to this too, and it sort of puts me in mind of those old soul classics from the sixties and seventies, nice gentle vocal from Steve Hogarth and a beautiful and expressive solo from Steve Rothery. A clever little keyboard part at the very end recalls the opening of “Beautiful” from the “Afraid of sunlight” album.

Also slow in tempo but not quite a ballad, “Power” rides along on a heartbeat bass pattern from Trewavas and Mosley's measured percussion, which shows how well the two knit together as an almost seamless unit. With a certain ominous feel to it, the vocal is almost isolated, with just the rhythm section backing Hogarth as Kelly and Rothery add little flashes of colour to the tune without taking it over. Different story in the chorus, where both come in strongly, but their retreat for the verses helps build the sense of tension in the song, making it all the more effective when they power (sorry!) in.

That takes us into the second-longest track, just over fourteen minutes of “Montreal”, which opens again on a soft piano line but accompanied by a striding bass line with the very barest of percussion, then everything, including the vocal, falls away for a sweeping synthesiser melody before Rothery's guitar throws a few soft notes in, and Hogarth comes back in with the vocal, now set against the gentle rise and fall of Mark Kelly's susurrating keyboard soundscape, then a memory from over thirty years ago as he runs off the introduction to “Fugazi” on the piano for a moment, before switching to mellifluous organ, Mosley's drums coming in stronger now, and we're only five minutes into the song...

It's another instrumental section then, with some chiming soft guitar from Steve, almost sitar-like at times, and a deep, rolling keyboard line from Mark, peppered with other keyboard and piano melodies as Steve H comes back in to relate the trials of being on the road, the people you leave behind and how hard it is to see your children grow up without you in their life, but it's all for the love of music and they wouldn't have it any other way. Still, it's a touching and very personal glimpse into the private thoughts of the band, mostly Hogarth, as he writes all the lyrics. Another fine Rothery solo as the song enters its tenth minute, and it all speeds up in the last two minutes, everything coming together for the conclusion of the song.

Almost Peter Gabriel-like in its mood and structure, “Invisible ink” actually clocks in as the shortest track, a few seconds short of six minutes. It's a slow, morose, somewhat brooding song again carried on Pete's bass, which is soon joined by Mark's soft piano upon which it takes an upswing in terms both of mood and tempo, Steve Rothery's guitar then taking command as the song breaks out, Ian's drumming fiercer and more insistent as it grows in intensity. The guitar in “Lucky man” reminds me very much of “Asylum Satellite #1” from “Happiness is the road”, and certainly starts off heavily but then settles down into something of a guitar groove, with Hogarth's voice showing just how powerful and controlled it is as he belts out the lines without a single trace of effort or strain, despite the strong backing from the guitar and bass.

It's hard to know whether Hogarth is being sarcastic/ironic when he sings ”I truly am/ A lucky man/ I have everything I want”, or whether he is being thankful for the life he has achieved, but I think the latter. Marillion don't tend to write anything that doesn't come from the heart. The closer is another long track, though of the three long ones on this album it's the shortest, just over ten and a half minutes. Opening, as so many of the songs here do, on Mark Kelly's delicate piano line, “The sky above the rain” reveals itself to be a tender ballad in the style of “House” from “Marillion.com”, with some lovely slide guitar from Rothery and a soft, almost laconic vocal from Hogarth. Strings-style keyboards rise like the morning mist from the music, the gentle piano still rippling along the melody like a stream. The tale, again, like “House”, of the breakup of a relationship, it's tender, touching and really pulls at the heartstrings as the protagonist tries to see the good in the world when his own world has fallen apart. Featuring some of the best work from Steve Rothery on the album, it's a fitting and exceptional closer to an album which has certainly restored my faith in Marillion, if indeed it needed to be restored. If not, it's strengthened it, and I think that tiny spark of doubt I had in my mind since 2007 is flickering, fading, all but gone.

TRACKLISTING

1. Gaza
2. Sounds that can't be made
3. Pour my love
4. Power
5. Montreal
6. Invisible ink
7. Lucky man
8. The sky above the rain

It's taken a long time --- five years --- but I think I can now say that Marillion have returned to the excellence of albums like “Radiation”, “Afraid of sunlight” and “Brave”, and that they can only go from strength to strength now. Okay, there won't be any hit singles from this album --- all of the tracks are too long --- but then they've never been about chart success. For Marillion, certainly since Steve Hogarth took over, they've always been about the music. And here, they shine as never before. Vindication? Certainly, without the shadow of a doubt. No, not even that one.

Sounds that can't be made? You've just been listening to them.

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Writing to reach you or losing the plot?

#3 --- The Script --- 2012 (Phonogenic)


Having released their debut album in 2008 and seen it rocket to the top of the UK and Irish charts, followed that up with their second album (previously reviewed) which not only hit the top spot in the UK and Ireland but also blasted the US market wide open for them, we come to Irish band The Script's third album, and what you wonder is left to do? They've had a number three position on the Billboard Hot 200 with “Science and faith”, so you would have to say they've conquered America in that regard, and that's always a difficult territory for a band from outside the States to crack. They've already been hailed as musical heroes in the native land and across the water, so is it time to sit back and reflect on this, their third album? Is the pressure, as such, off?

Well you certainly wouldn't think so, listening to the album. But it does open another can of worms, so to speak. The opener is a hard rocker with a sort of rap feeling, rapid-fire vocal delivery from Danny O'Donohue and a lot of synthesiser and what could be drum machines, though I feel there are “real” drums in there somewhere too. “Good ol' days” is something of a hybrid I feel, mixing hip-hop, pop and rock elements, even coming close to dreaded boyband territory, though a deal heavier. There's a lot of energy and power in the song, and it's a good starter, certainly doesn't show The Script resting on their laurels, but for me it's just a little less rock than I prefer to hear from these guys. “Six degrees of separation” is better, with a nice piano and keyboard line backed up by some moaning violin, a more restrained vocal from Danny , but then a duet with will.i.am moves everything back towards hip-hop territory in “Hall of fame”, which though it has a nice sparkly piano line and some decent percussion isn't really what I think these guys are about, and it just sounds a little strained to me.

I'm also a little concerned that I haven't really heard too much of Mark Sheehan's guitar; I'm sure it's in there somewhere, but so far the album has been heavily keyboard and drumbeat based, and I'm waiting to hear a decent solo or even contribution from him that stands out like some of the material on “Science and faith”. The next song is acknowledged as intensely personal to the two guys, as they both lost their parents at an early age and “If you could see me now” is a tribute to both Danny's father and Mark's mother, but I'm again disappointed that instead of a tender piano ballad, which I had expected, it's another rap/hip-hop uptempo energetic song. There's no doubting the sincerity in it, but I personally hate the rap element of it, which is, let's be honest, almost all of it.

There's a boppy, almost soul/motown feel to “Glowing”, and at last we get to hear Mark's guitar, albeit not terribly strongly, but there's a great catchy hook in the chorus and this is probably the first track on the album I can honestly say I like. It's more a look back to their previous work, and as I've said I'm not too happy with the direction The Script seem to be heading in, so it's good to hear something that reminds me why I started listening to them in the first place. Ah yeah, but then we're back to rapping --- well, of a sort --- with “Give the love around”, though it does have a nice soft kind of gentle guitar melody to it, nice vocal harmonies and an almost gospel feel. There's also a nice sort of sweeping orchestral keyboard sound built into it.

Good to hear some old school acoustic guitar on “Broken arrow”, but then they start rapping again. I don't remember this being the style on “Science and faith”, and as a non-aficionado of rap I'm disappointed. There's a great mournful violin line though before it all breaks out into a big drumshot, and it's not a bad song in fairness. I'm just not a fan of rap singing, so I guess that's always going to be there. I'd probably listen to it again though to be fair. There's a lot more guitar in “Kaleidoscope”, and it's a more uptempo, rocky number, great bass line and some almost Edge-style guitar from Mark, then “No words” is a nice little mid-ballad, but we're back to the rap vocals with some female backing vox, not sure who's performing them though. The album then ends on “Millionaires”, about which the best I can say really is that it's okay.

I have to say I'm pretty disappointed by this album. To my mind, The Script seem to have totally changed their musical direction, and are heading much more in the way of pop and even hip-hop than the rock roots they displayed on the previous album. It's not a bad album, but it's by no means a great one, not in my opinion. It's changed my opinion of the band, and not for the better, obviously.

Third time lucky? Third strike? Take your pick. But it's not for me.

TRACKLISTING

1. Good ol' days
2. Six degrees of separation
3. Hall of fame
4. If you could see me now
5. Glowing
6. Give the love around
7. Broken arrow
8. Kaleidoscope
9. No words
10. Millionaires

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There are no passengers on this train!
English electric, part one --- Big Big Train --- 2012 (English Electric)


If I had to pick just one word to sum up and typify Big Big Train, and notwithstanding the title of this album, it would have to be English. Whether they're writing about the Battle of Britain, as in the album “Gathering speed”, or talking about the building of Winchester Cathedral and Isembard Kingdom Brunel, as in their last album, “The underfall yard”, their quintessential Englishness is something that shines through their music and defines them. Put quite simply, they could not come from any other country. Their music resonates with images of the Devon hills, Yorkshire moors and the general beauty and wonder of the English countryside, and echoes with the long and often troubled history of England, but usually takes on a more reflective view of it, with gentle pastoral scenes painted in brushstokes of guitar and keyboard, flute and strings, creating a panoramic vista that is, as the poem says, forever England.

I must admit, I don't know how well they're known in the US, but I would hazard that their very Englishness might work against them. It's a peculiarly insular mindset, and much of their lyrics might not be fully understood by those who don't come from England, or at least Britain. Or Ireland. Genesis, whom they are continually compared to, and with good reason, found it difficult to break America under Peter Gabriel, their first few albums totally ignored “across the water”, and it wasn't until their charismatic frontman left and Phil Collins began nudging the band in a more commercial and modern direction that the USA began to warm to them. This is I fear the path BBT are heading down, and though I wish them every success, in every territory, and want to see them known across the world, I would yet prefer they remain unknown in America if it means that they have to change or tailor their sound to the, shall we say, less forgiving market over there.

Because what BBT have right now, and have had for almost twenty years, is an identity all their own which is inextricably linked and merged with the English countryside, the English way of life, English history and English lore, and it informs and drives their music in an almost supernatural way, as if the band are conjuring up the pagan gods of ancient Britain to stand beside them and be their muse. Should that Englishness be diluted or marred in any way, we will be unlikely to again hear albums of this incredibly high calibre.

As soon as David Longdon starts singing, if you haven't heard him before you instantly do a doubletake and wonder if Peter Gabriel has joined the band? His voice is that close to the ex-Genesis frontman's it's actually scary. Add in his flute playing on the opener “The first rebreather” and you're almost instantly back in Genesis territory, circa “Selling England by the pound” and “Trespass”. But there's much, much more to Big Big Train than a Genesis clone: they manage to somehow imbue the somewhat retro-progressive sounds with a spark of modern flair, so that you in essence get the best of both worlds: 70s original prog and bang up-to-date modern prog for the twenty-first century.

There are only eight tracks on this album, but each one is a revelation in and of itself. The gentle acoustic guitar of Greg Spawton merges with the harder electric from Dave Gregory to produce something that is very much more than just the sum of its parts, and Andy Poole's at times gentle, at times cantering keyboards lay another stratum on the beautiful edifice BBT are slowly building here. It is however the use of strings and woodwinds that truly sets this apart from some of the more comparable albums of this year, even Marillion's recently-reviewed “Sounds that can't be made”, although I love that album.

Everything from recorders and piccolos to trumpets and trombones is utilised across this album, making it much more than just another progressive rock album, and “The first rebreather” --- though I have no idea what it's about --- is a fine starter, preparing you for the lavish main course yet to come. Odd, then, you might think, when the next track opens on a hillbilly/bluegrass banjo and turns out to be a folky/country style eclectic little song, but it shows the band so confident in their ability, and in their fanbase, that they're not afraid to take a chance, and have some fun while doing it. It works quite well, Nick D'Virgilio's steady but happy drumbeats driving the song along, though the main melody is taken by the somewhat incongruous banjo, with some more fine flute from Longdon, who puts in a great performance on the light, crisp and whimsical vocal.

Flute and soft guitar leads in the laidback “Winchester from St. Giles' Hill”, with some beautiful vocal harmonies but with the main focal point of the piece being Longdon's lazy, gentle, again totally Gabrielesque voice, with the midsection graced by some truly beautiful sparkling piano, almost classical and certainly again recalling Genesis at their seventies best from Andy Poole, a sublime guitar solo from Spawton and then closes with some gentle flute. Ramping up the tempo very much then is “Judas unrepentant”, with a running organ line from Poole, heavy, solid percussion from D'Virgilio, and again sorry for the Genesis comparisons, but this reminds of nothing more than “In the cage” from “The lamb lies down on Broadway”, with its urgent, hasty rhythm and the frenetic keyboard line. It's not in any way meant to be a criticism.

A beautiful instrumental section follows at the midpoint, where flute, clarinet, violin and other orchestral instruments mesh with the keys and guitar and percussion to form a gorgeous backdrop to the song, until David Longdon's vocal comes back in, powerful and triumphant, and Poole goes off on a mellotron solo for a short moment before being reined back in by the vocal as the melody slows down to a sort of swinging, waltzy rhythm, lots of organ as it heads towards its end, finishing indeed on a drumroll flourish from Nick worthy of the ending of “The musical box”. Changing tack completely again, “Summoned by bells” is a soft, gentle, pastoral opening with the melody mostly driven by repeating piano and soaring violin, with some great bass lines by Greg Spawton. It's in fact the longest song on the album, over nine minutes, but just beating out the closer by twenty seconds, and meanders like a babbling brook winding through the English hills under the summer sun, evoking all sorts of images of bright sunlit days.

It's Spawton's bass pattern in fact, backed by trumpet and trombone that informs the last part of the song, as it moves into its seventh minute for an almost slow-jazz instrumental, with slow, measured and calculated drumming from D'Virgilio helping it on its way to the close. A lovely lilting guitar melody then opens “Upton Heath”, with Longdon at his vocal best, soft yet powerful with accompanying mandolin lines adding to the folkish flavour of the song, and some fine backing vocals from, among others, Martin Orford, and a real celtic feel added by accordion, also played by Longdon. Lovely interplay between the various violins, cellos and violas too.

But savour that feeling of innocence, of happiness, of enjoying life, because the mood is about to turn decidedly dark, with a tale about the plight of young boys who were sent down the mines in nineteenth century England. “A boy in darkness” is driven on sad cello and violin, with pealing church bells in the distance, then D'Virgilio's drums hit in like hammerblows and along their punching rhythm runs the urgent, almost screaming keyboard of Andy Poole, dramatic and tense. The tension is delineated even more by the dropping back of everything to a quiet, almost reflective vocal and soft melody for the verses, while everything explodes in a burst of anger and frustration for the chorus.

Suddenly everything is let loose, as Poole and Gregory go on something of a musical rampage, joined by flutes, violins, and of course the hammering drums until it all calms back down in the fifth minute, the soft violins crying their way back into the melody, with Longdon now sounding to my ears more like current Marillion vocalist Steve Hogarth. A big organ and guitar collaboration close the song, fading away on ominous dark keyboard chords.

After the darkness, the light, as the album closes on the upbeat and cheerful “Hedgerow”, with its almost Byrds-like guitar and happy Beatles-style drumming. Quite psychedelic in its way, it's a whimsical song, standing very much in contrast and apposite to “A boy in darkness”, and though you can't forget the former it's the latter you'll be humming to yourself as you put the album away. A song of hopes and dreams, simple things and desires, a song of a less complicated world, it does sound like it belongs more in the sixties than here, but then that's Big Big Train for you: fusing the old with the new, taking influences from the past to create the music of the present, and the future.

Every review I've read of this album has praised it to heaven, and I concur, with good reason. It's a brilliant album, and deserves all the kudos it's received. It shows Big Big Train maturing as a band, accepting some of the slight criticisms levelled at them --- for instance, being “too English”, sounding like a Genesis rip-off --- and instead of brooding about them or trying to change them, incorporating them into their sound and their music, and forging their own identity. BBT stand proudly and say “Yeah, we're influenced by Genesis, what of it? Doesn't mean we are Genesis, or would ever want to be!”

They know who they are, if they didn't before. They know where they're going, and if you like good progressive rock music that tips its hat unshamedly to the masters of the past, then you should hop along for the ride. Who knows where they're going next? Well, actually, we do: this is labelled as “part one”, and we're told part two will be released in March. It seems a long time, but I guess once we get past Christmas, that won't be all that long after all. I personally can't wait.

Big Big Train: long may they roll!

TRACKLISTING

1. The first rebreather
2. Uncle Jack
3. Winchester from St. Giles' Hill
4. Judas unrepentant
5. Summoned by bells
6. Upton Heath
7. A boy in darkness
8. Hedgerow

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Been a long time since we looked at a cover version, so let's set that right now. I guess Rod must be something of a Waits fan; he's covered two of Tom's songs, both of which were hits for him, but of the two I prefer his cover of “Downtown train”. Now, I prefer Waits' version of course, being a big fan of his, but I have to admit Rod didn't do too bad a job with it. Mind you, he didn't exactly rewrite or rearrange it, and it's fairly much the same song, but sung without Waits' world-weary drawl and his vision of the world seen through the grimy window of a run-down motel. Rod did change a few things, like the phrasing, but stuck more or less to and retained the general spirit of the song. His version is also more polished, more fleshed out whereas Waits' is rawer, stripped-down, sparse but this is the very reason that it works as it does. Here anyway are the two side-by-side for you to compare, and decide which you prefer.

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Time to redress the gender balance here a little. Up to now I think I've only had one female artiste featured here, and that's not because I'm biased against women --- far from it --- but somehow my mind just tends to gravitate towards male artistes. I'll do my best to feature some more ladies, starting with this one.

One of the most accomplished songwriters I've come across, Suzanne Vega often picks odd topics for her songs. Sometimes they're dark and scary, like “Luka” from her “Solitude standing” album, or just weird, like “Small blue thing”, from her debut. But one thing she usually does is weave a story, however unsettling or fractured, around her lyrics, resulting not only in some amazing songs, but some damn fine prose too. This is one of those, taken from that debut, self-titled album that launched her career over a quarter of a century ago and gave her an instant hit with “Marlene on the wall”. This however was not a hit, but is a fine song, almost an adult fairytale, in which nobody gets to live happily ever after!

The queen and the soldier (Suzanne Vega) from “Suzanne Vega”, 1985
Music and lyrics by Suzanne Vega

It tells the story of a soldier who, tired of fighting, climbs the hill to the castle that overlooks the battlefield, demanding an audience with the queen, for whom the armies fight. Declaring he will no longer take part in battles that seem to be for her own personal amusement, he is surprised by how young and beautiful she is and despite his anger at her falls in love with her. He then makes an appeal to the young queen to come with him. She makes as if to agree, but at the last moment she gives the order to have him killed, and so the battles continue, endlessly.

At its heart, of course, it's a parable of the futility of war and, perhaps, the pointlessness in trying to find a reason for it. It's also the tale of an essentially spoiled brat --- worse, a royal spoiled brat --- who can command her subjects to do anything she desires, including die for her, for no reason, and does. And who takes a perverse delight in doing so. It's clear from the song as it goes on that she sees the wisdom in what the young soldier says, and part of her does yearn to leave it all behind and go off with him, but reality asserts itself and she decides she would rather be alone and in command than the wife of some lowly soldier. The young man has uncovered a weakness within her, one she did not know existed and one which, as the queen, she cannot afford, so she makes the decision, tearing it out by the roots, and the status quo remains.

The first time I heard the song I was shocked by the ending. If you don't know it's coming it's hard to predict, as it really does seem as if the tortured queen has had enough, and is going to give up the pointless wars and leave the castle. When she gives the order, it's almost as if you've been shot yourself; it's that much of a surprise and a twist. And that's what Vega does best; creeps up on you from behind and hits you over the head with an iron bar of shock, leaving you reeling. It's still my favourite song from her.

”The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more".
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.

He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill?
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will:
Only first I am asking you why?"

Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head;
She asked him there to sit down.

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won,
And I've got this intuition says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"

The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread;
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled."
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.

"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.

And the sun it was gold, though the sky it was gray;
And she wanted more than she ever could say;
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.

And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand:
Your highness, your ways are very strange."

But the crown it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached.
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait:
She would only be a moment inside.

Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word;
And while the queen went on strangling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on.”

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Take me back to school --- I'm ready to learn.

Ghostory --- School of Seven Bells --- 2012 (Ghostly International)


Strange thing about School of Seven Bells: I would never have been exposed to their music had it not been for the inclusion of the review of this album in my favourite mag, “Classic Rock presents Prog”. I was intrigued, and thought they were in fact a progressive rock band, when in fact it turns out they're really more ambient, electronic, and if Wiki is to be believed, my first introduction to shoegaze. Hmm. Well, I can definitely say that I'm impressed. Having realised they weren't really what I would think of as my normal prog rock band, I was still interested and attracted enough not to discount them, and their music continued on my playlist as I got more and more into the album.

So, who are School of Seven Bells? Well, they're a three-piece consisting of two identical sisters, Alejandra and Claudia Dehaza, and Benjamin Curtis, who met while in other bands and decided to leave their various projects and form School of Seven Bells. Though only together since 2007 they've already released four albums, two this year, of which this is the first. After the first two, however, Claudia left for personal reasons, reducing SSB to a duo, which is how the last two albums were recorded. Rather surprisingly, considering the type of music we're talking about here, I don't see any credits for keyboards, and indeed the only instruments mentioned are guitar and drums, though Curtis is shown also as “mixing”, so perhaps that involves some samples/synthwork? Can't see any evidence of such on the album though.

There are only nine tracks on the album, and no real epics, with the longest being the closer, coming in at just over eight and a half minutes, so the question has to be asked: is the album good value for money? On the strength of what I hear here (hear, hear!) I would have to say yes, it is, because each track is great and there are no real low points at all, rather rare on any album, although given this is my first --- albeit unwitting --- step into what's termed shoegaze territory, perhaps that's standard for the subgenre? I don't know, but this is certainly impressive.

The first thing that hits you is some pretty cool guitar, then the drums kick in and riding along a jaunty bassline the vocals of Alejandra are wispy, ethereal, almost elemental, like mist rising off a moor, a spirit in search of her former life. They drive everything about School of Seven Bells, and it's rather amazing really to think that this whole thing is created by just three people. The soundscape is certainly full, as “The night” opens proceedings with a big, bouncy, almost rocky beat, some clangy guitar reminiscent of the Police with a pounding drumbeat from Chris Colley that stops short of hammering into your head, and some great little tricks on the guitar that I definitely would have attributed to a synth.

The track ends on Alejandra's almost acapella vocals, then “Love play” opens on another sharp guitar line, augmented by thick bass and percussion, much slower and almost broody, showing the versatility of the singer, that she can handle slow, almost downbeat vocals with as much aplomb as she does the more uptempo material, and sounds quite comfortable in either sphere. However Ben Curtis's massive contribution to the music should not be overlooked; after all, without him Alejandra would be singing acapella, or at least, with only percussion as backup. It's really impressive how expansive he makes his guitar melodies sound, and you really do have to remind yourself that this is his only instrument.

Like I said, if this is what shoegaze is all about I think I may like it. “Lafaye” edges more into trance territory, with big, heavy, thumping drumbeats and low bass, and it sounds as if Curtis is adding his vocal in here too, the net effect reminding me of The Eurythmics at times. Turning things a bit more on the industrial side is “Low times”, one of the longer tracks, with sharp, almost metallic drumming and a soft yet powerful vocal which for the first time almost --- how can I put this? --- solidifies. If we go back to my analogy of Alejandra as a disembodied spirit, her voice floating like a ghost, this is the first time she takes corporeal form and you hear a little more of the punch in her vocal. It's quite a boppy number, shades of New Order's “Blue Monday” maybe --- I don't know; I'm not that familiar with this sort of music. But there's definitely a part in the middle that mirrors that famous isolated drumming during that iconic song. Curtis's guitar is almost a heartbeat running through the music, simple but very effective. I don't really see him as being the kind of guy who does much shredding, or even rips off that many solos. He's more a workmanlike guitarist, concentrating on making it sound the best he can rather than showing off or being clever. There's a point near the end of the track however where I find it hard to believe he's not using a synth, but if that's the case then he's damn innovative. I can only go on what I've found about SSB, and no keyboards of any kind are mentioned.

Everything goes right down then for “Reappear”, with virtually no percussion and a very laidback, moody guitar line and sweeping soundscapes, Alejandra's vocal slow and dreamy, reflective and melancholic. Very ambient, and definitely the most downtempo on the album thus far. Some nice sliding bass accompanies the main melody, which is very ethereal, and then we're into “Show me love”, which fades in on a squeaky guitar line allied to a hard, churning guitar after which the drumbeat joins the melody and finally Alejandra's voice, ghostly and echoing, drifts across the music, painting her own little brushstrokes on the tune as the percussion gets a bit heavier and some sequenced voices come in and it definitely sounds like there's a keyboard in there. Hey, sue me if not. Or give Ben Curtis proper respect.

The tension in the melody builds up nicely right to the end, then “Scavenger” comes in on a driving drumbeat again somewhat reminscent of New Order, or what I've heard of them, which isn't much. Perhaps Depeche Mode. Something in that line. I'm not quite in my wheelhouse here, as they seem to be saying these days. Kind of reminds me of The The, now that I listen to it develop. Good uptempo track and again Alejandra's vocals are a little more back on earth and not quite so ethereal, with Curtis's guitar verging into Big Country/U2 territory. Time-delayed backing multi-tracked vocals add to the lady's already powerful and hypnotic vocal delivery, and there's a definite sense of OMD hidden away there in the melody.

One thing that really impresses me about this album is that really nothing drags. None of the songs are that overlong, to be fair, but every one seems to go by without any low points or bad ideas, and I doubt I'd skip a single track here. True, there are only nine tracks, but damned if they aren't all close to perfect. “White wind” rides on a recurring rocky guitar phrase from Ben Curtis, with again Alejandra's voice fuller, less ethereal, more grounded, and either some very fast basswork, or else it has to be a synthesiser. Very catchy anyway; I'm sure this would be great music to dance to. Or get stoned to.

School of Seven Bells have, however, saved the very best to last, and the standout comes in as also the longest track. Eight and a half minutes long, “When you sing” is a true triumph and really encapsulates what this band are all about. It starts on what surely must be strings, or at least a synth, then slow growling guitar slides in with spiralling soundscapes, some feedback and then a jangly guitar melody before everything stops for half a second, starts back up and the tempo rises. We don't hear any vocals till about two minutes in, and it's Alejandra at her ghostly, ethereal best, rising above the music, looking down and smiling upon it but subtly disconnected from it, a living spirit who can't touch the ground but can use her singing as her only communication, which is answered by Ben Curtis and drummer Chris Colley, the three meshing as one entity to produce something really special.

It's pure expressionism through music, ambient to the max, and yet with a rocky touch and some new-wave influences that really brings the song together into one cohesive whole. All through the album I've found it hard to make out the vocals, and really that would normally be a minus, but somehow with SSB this hasn't mattered to me as much as I would have thought it would. The pure, ambient, almost organic nature of the music makes it such that really, Alejandra could sing the telephone book or instructions for setting up Sky Plus on my TV and I'd still listen to her. She just has that sort of power, that magnetism in her voice that does, as I said before, really hypnotise you and you just want to listen to her sing. It doesn't matter what she's singing, you just want to hear her. And so this closing track is very appropriate, because Alejandra Dehaza, when you sing, I listen. And I enjoy.

TRACKLISTING

1. The night
2. Love play
3. Lafaye
4. Low times
5. Reappear
6. Show me love
7. Scavenger
8. White wind
9. When you sing

Sometimes there are happy accidents, and I would classify this as just such. Had this music not been quoted as being progressive rock, it's unlikely I would have got this album --- though I do tend often to be drawn to intriguing band names or album titles --- and I'm really glad I did. I'm not saying that I'm automatically going to like everything they do, or that I'm going to become a shoegaze aficionado (if this is indeed shoegaze), but I definitely want to hear more of this band's material.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Trollheart

It's not always an unlucky number...
On the thirteenth day --- Magnum --- 2012 (SPV/Steamhammer)


What a joy it is to hear an album like this! Yeah, so prepare for a real nasty review, picking apart this sub-par load of ... no, seriously, this is one excellent album. I can't pick out a single track I don't like, and even then it's hard to tie down just one standout. It's a real triumph, and shows that the boys from Brum are still going as strong as ever, almost thirty-five years later. How bands who have been in the business that long can still manage to churn out releases of this quality is both amazing and uplifting. There's no sign of weariness, tension or even complacency as Magnum launch into what is now their sixteenth album, and their sixth since the reformation of the band in 2002.

It opens with the sound of synth and thunder, building slowly under the familiar humming vocal of Bob Catley until it all explodes into life and “All the dreamers” gets us underway with the screaming guitar of Tony Clarkin and the pounding drumbeats of Harry James, augmented by the instantly recognisable keys of Mark Stanway. I hear elements of the title track to “Brand new morning” in parts of the melody, and it strides along on cocky, confident lines showing a band with nothing to prove, just in it for the pure joy of making music. A great guitar section by Clarkin in the final minute really ramps up the power and tension before the end, then “Blood red laughter” is a punch to the face with a big churning guitar opening but dropping back quickly into an AOR-style melody, Catley's vocals less raw and gruff and Stanway's piano keeping a nice line behind him, the whole song possessing a sort of progressive rock vibe.

A violin-like keyboard melody opens “Didn't like you anyway”, stop-start with guitar backing it up, and it rides along a bouncing beat with Catley's vocals again dark and rough, the song ending as it began on those stabbing strings keyboards of Stanway's and then segueing directly into the title track, a big heavy AOR monster with driving guitar and that familiar Magnum sound, some great vocal harmonies between Catley and Clarkin, and a great guitar solo from the latter which shows he is certainly one of the most underappreciated guitarists in rock today. Nice piano intro into “So let it rain”, then it becomes a real anthemic pounder with a great hook and surely must be a contender for one of the singles from the album?

Much heavier, with grinding guitar and bassy piano, almost metal is “Dance of the black tattoo”, with another excellent hook delivered by Bob Catley's powerful drawl alongside Tony Clarkin's machine-gun guitar attack. This is a song that sticks in your head long after it's over, with elements of Ten and Dio in it, and a heavy enough effect to satisfy even the most discerning of headbangers. A rippling, jaunty piano line drives “Shadow town” in the finest of AOR melodies, with Catley's vocal pulled right back in just the way he knows how to do, toning down the growl but without losing the passion and power that characterises his singing. There are enough hooks in this album to outfit a tackle shop, and “Shadow town” is no exception as it drives along on a rollicking drumbeat and the bright, happy piano of Mark Stanway.

A big strings-heavy synth opens “Putting things in place”, the ballad on the album and again Catley is able to reduce the power in his voice to deliver a tender, passionate vocal as Stanway's piano takes the lead, some more great vocal harmonies courtesy of Clarkin and indeed Al Barrow on bass. It's another of Magnum's special power ballads, and really would be worth the price of purchase on its own, but there's so much on this album that you almost feel like you should be paying more for it. If you paid for it, that is. Quite country-influenced piano, reminds me of the best of Bob Seger, very emotional and very dramatic, then we're into “Broken promises”, with a big expansive guitar opening, leading into a real rocker riding on the twin rails of Clarkin's guitar and Stanway's organ work. Another big rocker then in “See how they fall”, very anthemic, lots of energy and the album then ends on a slower but no less heavy “From within”, a very worthy closer.

TRACKLISTING

1. All the dreamers
2. Blood red laughter
3. Didn't like you anyway
4. On the thirteenth day
5. So let it rain
6. Dance of the black tattoo
7. Shadow town
8. Putting things in place
9. Broken promises
10. See how they fall
11. From within

As I said at the beginning, a great album from a great band who have been going for almost three and a half decades now, and every time seem to pull a rabbit out of the hat. Since they reformed in 2002 Magnum seem to have found a new purpose, a new energy and a new determination to produce the very best music they're capable of. They've certainly succeeded in creating here an album that will go down on the shortlist for my best of 2012. Who'd bet against their fortieth anniversary concert?

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018