CROSSOVER PROG

Wilson had commented that he currently does not feel inspired when playing guitar, and his continued gravitation toward synthesizers is evident on The Future Bites. I have to give him kudos for following his musical heart and not kowtowing to prog traditionalists demanding another Deadwing or Hand. Cannot. Erase. I really respect him for broadening his horizons and playing what he wants to play. I wish more artists had that sort of integrity and adventurous spirit.

However, a good attitude will only get you so far. You still need to write good, engaging music. Ulver is the clearest parallel to Wilson's career trajectory. After starting out as raw, kvlt black metal, that Norwegian duo shifted to making some top-notch electronica and synthpop. Unlike Ulver, Steven Wilson's chops as a pop songwriter are iffy, at best.

Many of the songs on this album have sparse arrangements which put his vocals front-and-center. Wilson has a nice voice, but it's more suited to rock or contemplative folk than pop. He lacks the power and oomph you need for something as bombastic as some of these disco-inspired tracks. He heavily leans on falsetto delivery on TFB, and his falsetto simply is not that good.

The lyrical content is something of a continuation of what was on Fear of a Blank Planet: wariness surrounding technology and a fear that people are growing too isolated. While that's a good subject to tackle, it's tough to do well without coming off like some hackneyed boomer-humor-type "phone bad" commentary. Plus, Steven, don't you think it's a bit hypocritical to put out an anti-consumerism album and then turn around and offer expensive limited-edition box sets?

TFB continues to demonstrate his skill as a producer, though. Divorced from the quality of the songwriting, the sounds themselves are very nice and work well together. The volume and textures are balanced.

After a brief, lonely-sounding intro track, "Self" isn't a bad way to kick things off. It's not particularly good, but it's not bad. The verses sound like something that was scrapped during the Deadwing sessions; it bears similarities to "Halo" off that record. The chorus, though, fails to grab any attention, and the melody's not memorable.

"King Ghost", on the other hand, is bad. The moody opening synths again feel like a Deadwing outtake, and this is the first time we hear Wilson deploy his falsetto on this record. Everything comes off as thin and strained, and the musical backing is too light. It's fluff upon fluff, which results in auditory cotton candy.

The next song?"12 Things I Forgot"?might be the worst goddamn thing Steven Wilson has ever recorded. This is one of only a couple songs to feature prominent guitar, and perhaps not coincidentally, it sounds deeply uninspired. This falls somewhere between Christian rock and Roger Waters's solo material. Generic is the best descriptor I can give this song.

The music video for "Eminent Sleaze" showcases Wilson's shallow, latter-season-Black-Mirror-style commentary, and the music doesn't do much to improve upon it. Parts of this sound like a weaker version of "Have a Cigar", and the Middle Eastern-inspired strings and percussion feel incongruous against Western instrumentation and beats. On the plus side, it has an interesting jagged, halting guitar solo that I like a lot.

"Man of the People" continues with its allusions to Roger Waters's work, this time "Welcome to the Machine". Though the allusion is brief, there is a momentary jab of dark, pulsing synth paired alongside acoustic guitar, which feels almost like a rip-off. Beyond that, most of this song is dull, acoustic soft rock that uses too much falsetto.

The nearly-10-minute "Personal Shopper" features some of the most driving, engaging, and fun music on all of TFB, but this is also one of the most maddeningly repetitious things I've heard in a long time. The dark, pulsing synths of the opening lead into a segment which reminds me of Ozric Tentacles' recent electronic experiments. Wilson again over-relies on his falsetto during the verses, but the chorus has good impact. However, this verse-chorus structure quickly wears itself out, and by about four minutes in, I was looking at my watch. After a bit of ambience and narration (provided by Elton John), there's an unnecessary reprise of the chorus, but Wilson delivers another notably odd guitar solo full of squealing, atonal stutters.

"Follower" is probably my favorite song on the album, and even that is a mixed bag. The opening percussion sounds like a minimalist post-punk composition, but the sparse arrangement once more emphasizes how un-robust Wilson's voice is. It's not weak, but he can't really belt it out or command the listener's attention. After about two minutes of unimpressive power-pop, though, the song improves markedly. Warm synths and piano tones remind me of Klaatu, and I really enjoy the diversity of this song's second half.

The Future Bites ends on "Count of Unease", a weak retread of some of his past gentle piano pieces. "Collapse the Light into Earth" is the clearest comparison, but this song suffers from severe aimlessness. Aside from some dramatic piano chords in the middle, this track is too wispy and ethereal.

TFB is about what I expected. It's the logical culmination of Steven Wilson's recent proclivities, and I can't say I love it. I admire him for steadfastly doing what he, as an artist, wants to do. But the result is half-baked, shallow, and unremarkable.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2021/02/08/album-review-steven-wilson-the-future-bites/

The eleven songs on Meer's sophomore album, Playing House, show intense structural ambition. The music is densely layered, and the band utilizes dynamics to great effect.

The album opens with "Picking Up the Pieces". It begins unassumingly enough, with piano acting as the lead, until guitar and strings burst forth. The drama is balanced with more delicate passages led by pizzicato strings and gentle vocals. This piece often begins to feel hopeful as the music swells, only to have it undercut by an unexpected chord change. The closing instrumental barrage is a fantastic ending; this track sets the tone for the rest of Playing House.

"Beehive" immediately brings strings to the forefront. Groaning cellos provide an anxious backdrop to the verses. Swelling synths in the pre-chorus and an infectious melody make this a standout track. The tension between restraint and bombast is utilized wonderfully.

"All At Sea" dials down the intensity, leaning into the band's chamber music and classical influences. Chamber music isn't really my thing, but if you're a fan of Russian duo iamthemorning, you'll probably like this. This track verges on skippable, but it closes strong. "Song Of Us" is more rock-oriented, but it's another cut I'm less than wild about. It borders on feeling churchy.

The plucking strings which open "Child" have a fitting playfulness about them, and the folky vocal melody meshes quite well with them. This song has a very gradual build, but it doesn't feel drawn out. It's a slow ascent which feels earned and rewarding.

Empty space gets its turn as a musical tool in "You Were a Drum". Vocals are contrasted against minimalistic instrumentation, giving the words room to breathe. The hurried delivery and skittering percussion offer a sense of anxiousness which contrasts against the flowing string lines.

Sequenced synths give "Honey" a striking opening. Though promising, it takes a little too long to get going. The piano, guitar, and drums should have been brought in about 30 seconds earlier. The synthwave touches on this track are a welcome surprise amid Meer's usual pop, rock, and chamber backbone, but the second half drags on a bit longer than it needs to. This is followed by what is likely my least favorite track on the album. I can't put my finger on it, but there's just something about "Across the Ocean" which doesn't quite click with me. There's nothing egregious about it, but it just doesn't quite land.

Playing House has a strong closing stretch, though. "She Goes" is a bombastic, huge-sounding piece that features the band's best use of dynamic contrast. The quiet, subdued verses explode into piano-led glory during the chorus. In contrast, "Where Do We Go From Here" is a quiet, contemplative piece which acts as a nice counterbalance.

The album ends on its longest song, "Lay It Down". The piano-led verses swell dramatically toward the chorus, buoyed by ascendant synthesizers and strings. The chorus soars triumphantly, and it's one of the strongest moments on all of Playing House.

Overall, Playing House is a strong, varied record of highly-accessible prog-pop-rock. The band utilizes its eight-person membership well; it takes a lot of effort to sound as big as Meer do. Though the record does sag a bit in the middle, the stronger moments more than make up for it.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2021/03/15/album-review-meer-playing-house/

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2020/12/07/odds-ends-december-7-2020/

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2020/09/14/odds-ends-september-14-2020/

The songs on Deleted Scenes are more focused than on OAFB's self-titled, much to this record's benefit. Rich electric pianos and synthesizer tones take center stage for most of the album, and vocalist Joel Robinow has just the right tone and timbre to complement it.

"Andromeda" opens the record with unpretentious piano chords and guitar embellishments. The song skillfully shifts themes, and the many ideas feel unrushed. The second half of the song features a wonderfully jazzy, Patrick Moraz-esque synth solo that builds to a gratifying climax. In contrast to this energetic opening, the second song, "Automatic Air", maintains a slow pace. The multilayered vocals contribute to this song's airy feel, along with the glimmering piano.

"Problem Addict" begins with some clavinet and electric guitar lines that sound like they're right out of Alan Parsons's debut album. It has a downcast feel, but OAFB's inherent warmth seeps through. This warmth can also clearly be heard in the country-tinged, Beatlesesque "Freaks".

The instrumental "Several Bullets in My Head" is the first point on the album where I felt a song overstayed its welcome, but it wasn't by much. It helps that the song's second half is stronger than its first. "Mr. G", another instrumental, has some fun funk vibes and deft soloing.

The album's title track is slightly slower than most other songs, but it maintains a strong sense of urgency. "Airplane" is the simplest song on the album. Its relatively spare, acoustic arrangement serves as a refreshing contrast to all the preceding dense layers of keyboards.

Deleted Scenes closes on its strongest song, the nine-minute instrumental "The End and the Beginning". Opening with plain piano, it gradually builds in grandeur with the addition of jazzy percussion, wordless vocals, and gentle brass arrangements. The drumming is fantastic throughout this whole album, but it's especially noteworthy here. Some of the darker, heavier moments in this song give vague echoes of Van der Graaf Generator and Magma.

Deleted Scenes is exactly the sort of album I was hoping for out of OAFB. They took the upbeat, prog-pop of their debut, stripped away most of the bloat, and added in some more adventurous elements.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2020/06/08/album-review-once-and-future-band-deleted-scenes/

The opening track, "The Film", lacks traditional rock arrangement altogether. It's a quiet, bittersweet instrumental led by piano with lush string backing. This flowing composition serves as a strong introduction to this record's overall tone.

"In Search of the Invisible Thin Line" follows with some sinister interweaving of rock and classical elements. Despite the darkness of the opening moments, the chorus of this song is surprisingly sweet. (I understand the prosodic reason for saying "Invisible Thin" versus "Thin Invisible", but the phrasing does strike the ear a little oddly.) Often when artists incorporate strings into their music, it can sound tacked-on, but the integration in Jargon's music is seamless and complementary. "Dance of the Framed Words" segues smoothly from the closing moments of "In Search of the Invisible Thin Line" and artfully plays demonic piano, violin, and guitar lines against quieter moments subtly suffused with jazz touches.

The album's title track features some particularly David Gilmour-esque guitar lines in its first few minutes. Around the three-minute point though, a sudden shift occurs, and a quiet, palm-muted riff takes center stage, topped with electric piano that sounds straight out of a Porcupine Tree song. The song's climax is one of this album's highest points. This intense song is followed by the airy instrumental "Light", which, much like the opening "The Film", features no rock arrangements.

"Time Is Running Out" channels some A Passion Play vibes in its bouncy, yet dark rhythm. The guitar solo is a bit schmaltzy for my taste, but it's a forgivable sin in this context. "How Can I?" features more echoes of Steven Wilson's work, with the opening being especially reminiscent of "Raider II". Once the song moves past its intro section, though, Jargon reasserts his own unique sound. Heavy effects are applied to the piano at moments, and it contributes to the sinister, downward-spiraling feel.

Despite its apocalyptic title, "The Last Temptation" remains fairly light through most of its runtime. The final two minutes see the intensity cranked up, however. The Fading Thought closes on "A Window to the World", one of the most consistently-heavy pieces on the album.

The Fading Thought is a strong debut effort, and my initial impression is that it is considerably more enjoyable than Jargon's work with Verbal Delirium. The blend of artsy piano-rock, chamber music, and menacing heavy prog comes together brilliantly.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2020/06/15/album-review-jargon-the-fading-thought/

This Quebecois quintet is not wrapped entirely in the past, though. On Parmi les arbres (Among the Trees), modern touches of indie rock are present. These influences make the music feel like a vibrant descendent of '60s psychedelia, rather than a rehash.

"Hier ne saura jamais" ("Yesterday will never know") opens with a simple but lively guitar line, backed with astral keyboard tones. This song, like much of this album, is brimming with space-age synth tones and lush Mellotron. "Istanbul", meanwhile, is rooted in a vaguely Asiatic riff and a somewhat sparser arrangement.

A more openly poppy angle is taken on "Enracinés" ("Rooted"). The rhythm is bouncy, and the twin melody of the guitar and the organ are reminiscent of some of Pink Floyd's earliest releases, like "Arnold Layne" or "See Emily Play".

However, most of the tracks on this first half of the album possess detectable weaknesses. Most of the songs are about a minute too long, and "Le tombeaux d'Atuan" ("The Tombs of Atuan") never really manages to get going and borders on being soporific.

The album's second half is noticeably stronger than its first. "La nuit des faunes" ("The Night of the Fauns") has a slow-moving first half that gives way to a fun, energetic extended instrumental period. Guitar and organ prance around in a nearly-folky melody before evolving into a Yes-like series of guitar exercises. "Contreplongée" is a gentle, acoustic piece which only serves to strengthen comparisons to early Pink Floyd. It's a bit longer than it needs to be, but its placement on the album makes sense.

Parmi les arbres closes on its epic title track. The opening is slow and moody, built upon simple guitar strumming and light percussion. Mellotron flutes eventually are given a brief moment in the spotlight, adding to the dark folk character of this song's first part. The second half is mostly instrumental and centered around an extended synthesizer solo. In a somewhat rare occurrence, the pitch bend knob is used a great deal, twisting notes in ways usually reserved for guitar solos. This gives way to the song's finale: a menacing synth line is repeated over a dark, driving rhythm which eventually resolves with a brief return to the song's folky opening theme.

Perséide's second full-length album, particularly its second half, is a shining example of how sounds from decades past can be married with modern trends and sensibilities to yield impressive music. Not only do they draw from late '60s psych and modern indie rock, but they also channel the unique sounds of Francophone prog, such as fellow Quebeckers Vos Voisins and the French act Ange.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2019/12/08/album-review-perseide-parmi-les-arbres/

Different Light aren't just aping that old sound; they were formed in 1994, but they disbanded after just one album. They re-formed in 2008, and Binary Suns is their third album since that reunion. The overall sound on Binary Suns is lighter and lusher than most acts in the contemporary scene. Piano is the dominant instrument, and synth pads tie everything together.

The album opens on a bombastic note, with the bright piano chords and dramatic guitar lines of "Amphibians". The melodies are strong overall, though there are moments where I'm not wild about some of the sonic choices. This song (and most of the album at large) is more major-key than what I usually listen to, but I acclimated to that environment eventually.

In an unusual sequencing decision, a 21-minute suite is the third song on this album. "Spectres and Permanent Apparitions" is the strongest song on the album. It opens with an energetic passage underpinned by some crunchy rhythm guitar that reminds me of a non-metallic Dream Theater. The suite's slower moments give flashes of Marillion, and the more somber tone suits the band very well.

Next is "The Answer", the shortest track on the album, and also one of the most enjoyable. There's a surprising amount of structural and sonic diversity for a song that doesn't even crack four minutes. "On the Borderline" closes the album on a fairly strong note. It could have been tightened up a bit, but the meandering doesn't detract too much.

There are some glaring weaknesses here, though. "Faith" is a straightforward song with some good ideas. However, some of the vocal lines are a bit too sunny and light for my taste. And the ballad "Two Faces", Binary Suns' penultimate track, is an eight-minute slog. It reminds me of Styx. And not fun, goofy Styx, like "Mr. Roboto" or "Fooling Yourself", but schmaltzy, soft rock Styx, like "Babe".

On a broader level, the album is also hampered by a limited sound palette. Piano, nondescript synth pads, and one distorted guitar tone can only get you so far, especially when stretched out across the span of an hour. I may also just be too much of a Debbie Downer to enjoy those gentle, uplifting choruses, but they had a same-y-ness that did get old by the album's end.

Binary Suns feels like an artifact of the mid-1990s progressive rock world. It demonstrates many of the ways that era framed the genre. Different Light mostly succeeded at bringing those sounds together to make something enjoyable. If you like the gentler side of rock music, this would probably be right up your alley, but many moments felt toothless to me.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2020/01/27/album-review-different-light-binary-suns-part-1-operant-condition/

To the Bone isn't the flaming trainwreck I'd feared it would be (though the same can't be said of its artwork; whose idea was this album cover?), but it isn't particularly interesting. It doesn't offer much for those of us who most enjoy Porcupine Tree's late '90s and '00s material. Wilson has proven he can write interesting music with good pop hooks and conventional structures, but when he writes a whole album exclusively in that style, he seems to run thin on material. I acknowledge I am an outlier in the intensity of my distaste for this album. I'd never thought I'd use the word anodyne to describe Wilson's music, but that descriptor applies to an awful lot of the tracks here.

Wilson's pop album isn't all bad. There are a few good songs on it, but it should be noted that there are no really good songs on it. "The Same Asylum as Before" has some interesting moments, despite passages that remind one of churchy acoustic guitar music. "Permanating" is my favorite track on the album, partially because it's the place where Wilson most thoroughly dropped his pretension and made a straight pop-rock cut. He didn't try to pull any of his aren't-I-clever(-and-sad) moves and put out a direct piece of piano-pop. "People Who Eat Darkness" and "Detonation" are the most reminiscent of his past output and as such, are other highlights for me.

Most songs on To the Bone, though, follow the mold of songs like "Pariah", "Song of Unborn", and "Refuge". They're slow, bland ballads that take far too long to get going, if they do so at all.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2019/11/24/deep-dive-porcupine-tree-steven-wilson/

"Three Years Older", the second song on the album (following a brief instrumental intro), is my favorite here. It draws heavy-handed inspiration from Yes and is enjoyable overall. But where "Luminol", another very Yes-ish song, had significant dashes of Steven Wilson's unique style, this cut lacks it almost entirely.

Following this track are the two lead singles off the album. They're also the two worst songs on the album by a wide margin. The title track is bland power pop, and "Perfect Life" is dull-as-dirt trip hop topped with flat narration in its first half and underwhelming vocals from Wilson in its second half.

"Routine" is enjoyable as I listen to it, but I struggle to remember specifics about it once it's done. Except for guest vocalist Ninet Tayeb, though that's mostly because I don't like her voice. "Home Invasion" is one of the stronger songs on the album. It's one of few tracks that sounds uniquely Wilsonian, with its mad, jazzy electric piano and biting guitar lines.

"Ancestral" is another highlight. Wilson's use of electronics and violin in the opening lend it distinct character. Some instrumental moments come off as overwrought, rather than genuinely dramatic, but it's an overall effective suite that sees Steven Wilson veer into metal for the first time since The Incident.

Review originally posted here: theeliteextremophile.com/2019/11/24/deep-dive-porcupine-tree-steven-wilson/