Rollerball – Two Feathers

Listening to the 15th studio album by the avant-garde gurus in Rollerball only confirms the weirdness hinted at in their backstory. Here we have a band that has successfully toured Europe five times in its fifteen-year run – and allegedly become the toast of Italy and Slovenia in the process – yet has failed to build any sizeable domestic following beyond its Portland, Oregon roots. Equally puzzling is the visual aesthetic of Two Feathers, where vaguely Egyptian artwork and a practically hieroglyphic font suggests that the group might be steeped in the exotic, centuries-old music of the Middle East. Song titles like “Aquapipe Netaris” and “Cellophane Wing” suggest more of a progressive influence however, on par with something Omar Rodriguez Lopez might conjure for the next Mars Volta Album.

Hailing from the same region that, as of late, has become the epicenter of a burgeoning indie rock scene that includes the likes of The Decemberists, Fleet Foxes, and Blitzen Trapper, you might be expecting Rollerball’s music to at least possess some of the same pastoral reveries as their Pacific Northwest brethren. Ironically, the end result is neither indicative of mystical world music or summery folk, but rather a disaffecting hybrid of jabbering electronica, murky funk, and abrasive experimentalism. Though admittedly an intriguing blend of influences, your patience will surely be tested throughout the LP’s 11 tracks and 55 minutes.

“Aquapipe Netaris” kicks things off on a tentative note with two minutes of rattling percussion, sultry tones from Amanda Mason Wiles’ saxophone, and brooding chord voicings on the keyboard. The moodiness eventually subsides, giving way to a dissonant groove that is more prog-rock than it is jazz; the chorus in particular is awash in drum noise, droning harmonies, and a pulsing bass line. Though vocalist Mae Starr was clearly blessed with a great set of pipes, she rarely pushes her range, choosing instead to let her voice blend right in with the melismatic lines of the saxophone. “Osicles” finds the band venturing into territory already owned by The Dresden Dolls, where the song’s skeleton is built around the intensity and rhythmic interplay of the piano and drums. The lyrics are appropriately gloomy (“My heart’s in the darkest part of the blue sky again”) and insubordinate (“Don’t let the rulers tell you what’s right”). The music is not difficult to digest, but there’s little substance to be found that would warrant repeated listens of either song.

It’s not until the homage to Pink Floyd’s recently deceased keyboardist kicks in – the prosaically titled “Rick Wright” – that things get uncommonly bizarre. Coming off as a deranged send up of “On the Run,” the tune is saturated with unsettled electronics, creepy falsetto vocals, and diminished chords. The album’s closing trilogy trolls in equally disturbed waters. “Horrible Madness” is exactly as it suggests, with the saxophones of Wiles and guest Scott Rosenberg dueling it out in a skronkfest of abrasive harmonies. “Cellophane Wing” is a study in dichotomy, with Animal Collective-style psychedelic vocals and wispy piano lines pitted against harsh drones and white noise. Two Feathers comes to a close with the seven-minute “Spool,” an obnoxious stew of squeals, endless thrum, and anxious percussion.

The album does succeed in a couple of places, notably on “Split Pea” and “The Sac.” The former exudes a minimalist influence with repetitively pulsing piano chords that might be the LP’s easiest point of entry, while the latter sounds like the hypnotic incidental music to a scene where Indiana Jones is walking into some sacred shrine. Despite these encouraging signs, Rollerball seems to be lacking any genuine verve on their latest release. At least they’ve got Italy.

Omar Rodriguez Lopez – Xenophanes

To call Omar Rodriguez Lopez’s musical output prolific – both as a solo artist and as a founding member of bands like At the Drive-In and the Mars Volta – might very well be an understatement; few if any guitarists can lay claim to having made appearances on more than two dozen recording projects in the past ten years, much less those with the astounding technical ability of Rodriguez Lopez. To some, the Puerto Rico native’s highly cerebral blend of avant-garde prog-rock and improvised psychedelia is nothing short of genius. To others, Lopez’s consistent urge to commit every little bit of guitar skronk to tape and release it on an album – five separate records planned for 2009 alone – smacks of self-indulgence.

Admittedly, much of Rodriguez Lopez’s solo output has sounded uncannily similar to his day job with the Mars Volta: ear-splitting dissonances, interminable passages of brooding ambience, and startling blasts of furious guitar riffage. It’s no wonder then, that there was little hype in the build up to the release of his newest (and also 12th) record, Xenophanes (so named for the great Greek philosopher and social critic). After all, why should we expect this concept album about life, death, and re-birth to distinguish itself from the other myriad releases the man has put out since 2004?

If you’ve devotedly followed this 21st century guitar virtuoso up to this point, then your patience is to be rewarded; Xenophanes might be the most concise statement Rodriguez Lopez has ever made (11 tracks in 45 minutes), and its tidiness is evident from the (mostly) taut song structures, urgent pacing, shortened solos, and singable melodies. That’s right, melodies. And for the first time, they’re sung in a sultry Spanish tongue by Rodriguez Lopez himself.

On album opener “Azoemia,” things feel deceptively trite: a couple minutes of instrumental noodling that include abrasive synth drones, heavy breathing, and the fragments of a melody that sound as if they’re being played on steel drums run over by a Mack truck. After the tentative feedback bursts and drones have subsided, the explosive guitar bombast of “Mundo de Ciegos” is bound to catch those listeners unfamiliar with Mars Volta-style catharsis off their guard. Quickly, Juan Alderete de la Peña (bass) and Thomas Pridgen (drums) set up a vicious groove that is so disjunct and erratic, it’s hard to tell that we’re still in 4/4 time. Less freakish and theatrical than his Mars Volta counterpart, Rodriguez Lopez’s voice blends surprisingly well with the track’s jazzy piano riffs and Ximena Sariñana’s supporting vocals. Throw in the catchy chorus melody and a scorching guitar solo, and you’ve got yourself a formidable single.

“Ojo al Cristo de Plata” stands out as being one of the album’s most uncharacteristically mellow tunes. Featuring sustained harmonies, layers of texture, and a simplistic drumbeat that keeps things at an unnervingly slow pace, the sudden eruption into RHCP-esque psychedelic funk at the halfway point feels like a needed release. Our guitar hero does some dances around the fretboard, showing off his trademark acerbic tonal quality and dissonant melodies. Only the unwarranted (and thankfully brief) presence of some Darth Vader vocal noises tampers with the song’s momentum.

Other album highlights include the space rock of “Desarraigo,” the strobe light rhythms of “Perder el Arte de la Razón Sin Mover un Sólo Dedo,” and Marcel Rodriguez-Lopez’s (Omar’s little bro) commanding keyboard work on “Asco Que Conmueve los Puntos Erógenos.” “Desarraigo” shows the band in the throes of psychedelia, with vocals processed through a phaser, guitar chords darting back and forth across the stereo mix, and some intense perfect 5th harmonies in the bass that give the low end some added heft. Much like “Ojo al Cristo de Plata,” the song does a U-turn at the midway point, this time into a scathing 7/8 jam.

A few of the song titles may be pure prog rock goofiness – English translations include “Bleeding From Behind the Eyes” and “Sickness Moving the Erogenous Areas” – but Xenophanes still finds Omar Rodriguez Lopez at his most accessible. Get a taste before he returns to the Mars Volta and writes a companion piece for “Day of the Baphomets.”

Porcupine Tree – The Incident

Over the last twenty years, Porcupine Tree has proven to be quite the unique and eclectic band. They can do anything from catchy pop to prog jams to ominous metal. In a world where artists are either high skilled musicians or simple but great songwriters, Porcupine Tree excel at both, creating some extremely complex music as well as some of the greatest songwriting I’ve ever heard. With their new record, The Incident, they’ve become more ambitious than ever by constructing an hour long piece, broken into fourteen parts (with a bonus disc of four more tracks). It’s an incredible ride of lush production, music that is both fierce and lull, and more affective melodies. But, it is also nothing really new for the band, continuing a sound they’ve perfected over the last decade. Hell, I would even call it Deadwing Pt. 2, but that’s perfectly fine for diehard fans like me.

The band was born as a mockery by singer/songwriter/guitarist/pianist/genius Steven Wilson in 1987. He recorded solo but released/promoted it as “Porcupine Tree.” With 1995’s Signify, he finally found his permanent band members (with the exception of having a new drummer since 2002’s In Absentia). Currently joining him to flesh out his ideas are Richard Barbieri (keyboards), Colin Edwin (bass) and Gavin Harrison (drums). Since In Absentia, Wilson has gradually become more interested in exploring a heavier, metal side for his band, perhaps due to his involvement and friendship with Opeth (he produced and collaborated on three albums). This is no more evident than on The Incident, which features some extremely heavy parts while never venturing into pure noise. On the contrary, and as usual, the album also features some wonderfully soft moments. It’s an epic masterwork of segueing music sure to astound.

The brief opener, “Occam’s Razor,” consists of a periodic loud riff and crashing symbol interspersed with acoustic guitar chords. It’s a short, instrumental prologue with ghostly tape loops which lead directly into “The Blind House.” This track follows their template of heavy riffing in between a light verse melody and declarative chorus. And it’s an awesome way to start the album (would you expect anything less?). It grabs you instantly with its dynamics, slowing down in the middle before jolting back to assault you again. The acoustic guitar based “Great Expectations,” (a ninety second odyssey) recalls their poppy side, and the heartbreaking piano segue into “Kneel and Disconnect” (another brief section) is beautiful, as is the track itself. It’s a remorseful melody with haunting harmonies as only Wilson can produce and perform. However, these last couple tracks are only a build up to “Drawing The Line,” which enteres the piece with a eerie piano arpeggio that will stay with you forever. Wilson uses his falsetto for the verse, which is quite arresting. Unfortunately, the chorus undermines the sensitivity by being a bit too angry and straightforward. It’s still a great moment of “The Incident” (the piece that is), but one feels that the track should’ve culminated in a sadder fashion given how crushing it began.

The title track takes over from “Drawing The Line” like an monster silencing a baby. From the devilish repeating voice that blankets Wilson’s many odd overdubbed vocals while the band creates catastrophe, “The Incident” is certainly one of the band’s most evil tracks. Think of it as “The Creator Had A Mastertape” on steroids. If you’ve never heard the band, don’t get the impression that it’s death metal though, as there is no growling and eventually there are great high pitched harmonies. Suddenly we have another brilliant segue of acoustic guitar with “Your Unpleasant Family.” Like “Great Expectations,” its psychedelic energy and optimistic tone would’ve fit on Lightbulb Sun. Crashing cymbals open the door for “The Yellow Windows Of The Evening Train,” one of the most moving pieces Porcupine Tree has ever done (and it’s almost all prerecorded).

I suppose this track serves as an intermission. The scratching of a record encompasses light woodwinds and piano as female vocal loops repeat a few choice notes. It’s a track that’s impossible to accurately describe, but take my word that it will completely distract you with its beauty. “Time Flies” breaks the hypnosis with more acoustic guitar, and at over ten minutes long, it’s clearly the centerpiece of the album. It’s common knowledge by now to all interested parties that this track pays homage to Pink Floyd’s 1977 classic Animals, and it’s easy to hear. From the strumming patterns off the verse to the ominous spacey bass of the middle jam to the high pitched guitar of the finale, Pink Floyd are definitely present. So, you may ask, why is this not out and out plagiarism? Because Wilson is simply too damn creative and clever as he masks these obvious trademarks behind totally original melodies and production (all of which are fantastic). Nothing is taken verbatim and it’s more of an overall aesthetic presence than any deliberate copying. He borrows these aspects with such subtlety and intertwines them with his own freshness so even if you can tell what was taken from Animals, it only makes you smile with admiration at how well it was pulled off. This is one of the catchiest parts of “The Incident” (again, the piece).

A reprise of “Occam’s Razor” comes with “Degree Zero of Liberty,” only this time the chords between the riffs are different, and actually remind us of “Mellotron Scratch” from Deadwing. I for one love conceptual continuity and think this brief reprise really makes it feel like one self contained masterpiece, recalling what came before while suggesting with the new chords that it’s not over yet. As it fades out, “Octane Twisted” begins. The haunting guitar arpeggio and overlapping falsetto vocals (similar to the end of “Mellotron Scratch”) are like hearing the desperate cries of a ghost. The band next ventures into a heavier jam, complete with more peculiar sound effects complements of Barbieri. This long prog rock out slows things down near the end to showcase Gavin Harrison’s unmatchable skill of syncopation. It immediately reprises the same beginning arpeggio for “The Séance,” and after a new, superb verse melody, we go a reprise of the overdubs from “Octane Twisted.” This is simply genius. As it nears the end, the acoustic guitar begins rocking out, and we know that its segue into “Circle of Manias” will kick ass. And indeed it does. If “The Incident” is at all about death intruding on the living, this final instrumental is it happening. Over more heaviness, Barbieri allows ghosts to swarm, and it’s another fantastic collaboration between the rhythm section.

Wilson, above all else, is an incredible songwriter, and the final chapter, “I Drive The Hearse,” showcases this. This is the latest entry into Porcupine Tree’s list of astoundingly great songs that any musician (like me) wishes they could’ve written. While not quite on the same level as classics like “Collapse The Light Into Earth” or “Heartattack In A Layby,” (two of the greatest, most emotionally draining and beautifully produced songs ever written), it’s close. It has a simple verse melody with gut wrenching guitar accompaniment, a more direct but very catchy bridge and final, single lined chorus of “When I’m down I drive the hearse,” complete with more affective harmonies. Wilson is incredibly skilled at combining simple melodies with poignant, specific lyrics to bring listeners to tears, and if there is any single moment on The Incident to hear, it’s how the guitar works with the line “Given time I’ll fix the roof.” Yes, that single line is worthy of a few sentences because, like all of the lyrics for “Heartattack” and many other songs, it illustrates an extremely personal and clear thing the speaker will miss. Rather than token love lyrics, Wilson always shows us how the most mundane, everyday things like fixing a roof or “Lighting up a smoke. I’ve got this feeling inside me. Don’t feel too good…I could do with some fresh air. Can’t breathe too well” are at the heart of losing someone. Like so many songs he’s written, this one can be repeated endlessly without wearing out its welcome.

Moving on to disc two, we have four songs. “Flicker” is a slow, trippy song with nice harmonies and vocal effects, and it recalls Signify with its atmosphere. “Bonnie The Cat” is another heavy song with Wilson doing his intimidating whispering trick. It stands out at having odd rhythms and some of the best drumming in recent memory; Gavin Harrison is the master of syncopation. The ending jamming first recalls Riverside’s “Reality Dream” instrumentals before almost borrowing directly a riff from Opeth’s “The Grand Conjuration.” “Black Dahlia” uses a weird echo on the vocals. It’s another slow ballad (which isn’t inherently bad, mind you) and it’s a pleasant listen. It’s not one of Wilson’s best ballads, but it’s still a hell of a lot better than contemporaries. The best track on this second disc is the closer, “Remember Me Lover.” It stealthily builds from a sparse guitar notes to a full fledged production. The bridge is captivating and the chorus, like a lot of their choruses, has great harmonies. There is a lot of momentum here and it would’ve fit perfectly on In Absentia. Overall the second disc has some great moments, but obviously it’s the hour long first disc that truly warrants listens.

If there is anything to find fault with on The Incident, it’s the familiarity. For so long, the band progressed musically, and it seems like they’ve stopped a bit. Going in consecutive order, Signify, Stupid Dream, Lightbulb Sun, and In Absentia all sound quite different, and the material predating Signify was way different. But since Deadwing, Porcupine Tree has been exploring this metal side, and honestly, it’s beginning to get formulaic and redundant. While The Incident is still an amazing accomplishment and is full of fantastic material in every aspect (musically, lyrically, melodically, vocally), it also sounds like it’s been done already.

When the Decemberists released the album long suite The Hazards Of Love, it seemed to be the clear winner for best album long suite of the year (I mean, who many bands do this type of thing anymore?). But now with The Incident, we have a clear contender. Where it stands in the catalogue of Porcupine Tree is entirely up to opinion (In Absentia will always be their true masterpiece though) but rest assured that it is just as magnificent as fans expect. If you’ve never heard Porcupine Tree, I would start with some earlier works dating from 1999 onward to hear the progression, and if there’s only one album to hear, I’ve just mentioned it. Regardless of how it compares to their other albums or how familiar it sounds, The Incident is a work of art standing high above the commercial garbage on the radio and VMA awards. As I’ve said before, go out and discover some of the good music being made today; music with ambition, with ideas, with musicianship, with songwriting ability. The Incident is an incident in music that must be acknowledged.

Arms Exploding – Ruminari

Let’s cut straight to the point: the dudes in Arms Exploding sound better and rock harder than anyone has since At the Drive-in tragically splintered in 2001, the results of which left rock music in a sad and sorry state. Until now. On Ruminari, the band’s debut album, this Midwestern five-piece eschew any sense of traditional song structure and instead move from riff to pummeling riff with all the trademark impatience and abandon of the punk leaders of old.

The most interesting thing about Ruminari is how the band takes all the hallmarks of punk music (buzzsaw guitars, urgent vocals, propulsive drumming) and situates them into the seemingly opposite prog-rock genre. Here is a punk band unafraid of 6 minute running times and passages which focus on prowess just as much as raw emotion. Opener “Dancing Lepers” demonstrates the genius of the formula: the track sounds like a collection of 2 minute punk songs proper, piled one on top of the other, so that the song takes on all the unpredictability and recklessness of a progressive piece. As an added bonus, it all kicks an incredible amount of ass.

A chief concern with a band of this kind is whether or not they can sustain a full-blown assault for the breadth of an LP; Arms Exploding is that rare caliber of band that can. “Cross-Border Tunnels” has all the trappings of a hit single; the ratio of clean to screaming vocals tips precariously closer, and still the band never allows the song, or its music, to become watered down or boring. Even the closest thing to a ballad here, the 6 minute opus “Cupertino,” only spends about two minutes languishing in the down-tempo doldrums before it builds into an explosion of cascading drums, guitar blasts, steady bass and vocal histrionics. It’s damn powerful stuff from a damn powerful band. Recommended.

Phratry Records

The Mars Volta – Octahedron

When El Paso buddies Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar Rodriguez-Lopez dismantled the increasingly successful At The Drive In in 2001 to form the Mars Volta, it touched off what would become a firestorm of activity for their new project. By embracing a robust yet nebulous form of musical experimentalism and eschewing nearly all precepts for mainstream acceptance, the new band had laid down the blueprint for several albums worth of head spinning metal freakouts, made even edgier with nearly unpronounceable song titles and song structures that were occasionally bookended by exhausting stretches of brooding ambience. 2007’s The Bedlam In Goliath saw the extremes pushed even further, thanks to an alleged Ouija board spirit whose spectral presence nearly turned the entire creative process into turmoil.

The Mars Volta had indeed reached new heights of intense complexity on Goliath, and it was soon thereafter that Rodriguez-Lopez began making implications of a more acoustic-based Mars Volta sound. With the band’s cerebral and anxious style of music making neatly codified into four hastily released albums, the timing was certainly right for a shift in direction.

The latest offering from the twisted pair that brought you cathartic blasts of progressive metal with songs like “Vermicide” and “Wax Simulacra” finds itself in the unusual position of being shockingly accessible. Featuring some of the band’s most formulaic song structures and least esoteric themes yet, Octahedron doesn’t demand repeated listens for your enjoyment. The most devoted fans need not fret, however; not even the existence of an acoustic guitar (used liberally on only two of the eight tracks) or the absence of any 20-minute song cycles can completely derail the WTF-moments for which diehard Mars Volta purists live.

Bixler-Zavala’s helium-styled vocals in the psychedelic “Teflon” are cringe inducing when he sings, “Let the wheels burn / let the wheels burn / stack the tires to the neck / with the body inside.” The tune also features reverb soaked howls from Rodriguez-Lopez’s guitar and odd time signatures that keep the chorus from ever truly achieving balance. “Cotopaxi” is a metal barnburner in 11/8 time with a terrific bridge of pummeling drums and bass. For the impatient, the song is even less than four minutes in length. Pitted against some seismic drumming and FX-treated guitars, “Halo Of Nembutals” has some of the most disturbing imagery of all: “They sent in the necrophiliacs / carcinogen tar / turns to smoldering asp.” Yikes.

In the end, though, the true instances of sublime beauty on Octahedron are found in those songs that emphasize simplicity over volatility. “With Twilight As My Guide” is the album’s finest moment, all awash in lush acoustic guitar arpeggios, ghostly harmonized vocals, and background atmospherics that make for a chilling walk through the forest. The bridge alone will give you goosebumps. Album opener “Since We’ve Been Wrong,” is a slowburner that employs the acoustic guitar in a similar fashion as the previously mentioned song; the mammoth drums (which don’t even enter until the 5:00 mark) and piercing guitar leads come close to shattering the tune’s fragile sense of darkened beauty, but to no avail.

At the other end of the album are “Copernicus” and “Luciforms,” two epics for two modern day guitar heroes. The former allows Rodriguez-Lopez and semi-permanent Chili Pepper collaborator John Frusciante to show off their signature tones and textures, while the latter, in expectedly drawn out fashion, devolves into an unhinged facemelter of a solo from Rodriguez-Lopez.

Octahedron is most certainly not a wish for Top 40 stardom, but compared to past efforts by this collective, it’s probably the surest means of attracting a larger batch of casual listeners without completely rejecting the heady desires of Mars Volta obsessives. No matter where you fall in the spectrum, it’s worth your time and money.

themarsvolta.com

IQ – Frequency

When the term “Neo-Prog” is attached to a present day band, it usually infers that the group is relatively new and plays music largely influenced by the first wave of UK acts. Spock’s Beard and The Flower Kings are two examples; they place a modern day rock aesthetic over the symphonic sound of Genesis, Yes and Pink Floyd. But IQ is different. Not only will the group be celebrating a thirty year anniversary soon, but their sound is far from retro. In fact, Frequency contains a substantial dosage of futuristic synthesizers and otherworldly effects, showcasing a band that certainly hasn’t regressed to a commercial sound.

Presently, IQ consists of Michael Holmes on guitar, Peter Nicholls on lead vocals, Mark Westworth on keyboards, John Jowitt on bass, and Andy Edwards on drums. It’s a standard five piece prog band, and of course all members excel at their instruments. What’s exciting about Frequency (and what keeps it from being just another entry into an oversaturated market) is how new and mysterious it sounds. There is only some of the Canterbury/Folk template Caravan, Genesis and Jethro Tull laid out (granted, some of the best music ever made, but we don’t need new bands imitating them). Instead, there is a similarity to Rush’s 2112, contemporary act Marillion and just about everything Ayreon has even done (it’s likely that creative mastermind Arjen Lucassen listened to a lot of IQ growing up).

The title track begins with compiled radio broadcasts about Hiroshima and static noise before the heavy riffs and cascading synthesizer begins. These aspects combined with Nicholls’ pure vocals, spacey timbres and an electric piano loop create a marooned feeling. It’s like a less experimental and weird narrative from an Ayreon album. Melodically, it’s nothing special, but Nicholls’ voice keeps us interested enough. And of course, any implementation of power chords into prog rock relates back to pioneers King Crimson. “Life Support” begins as a simple piano ballad with vocals that unfortunately don’t carry the range or emotion necessary (which isn’t knocking Nicholls, but perhaps another singer would put more into what they’re singing). The rest of the track is a jam of glossy guitar solos and fast, wacky keyboard flair. Again, the unique timbres keep it interesting (I love high pitched trumpet freak outs).

“Stronger Than Friction” is kind of poppy, but it’s pretty catchy too, and the guitar mimics the vocals nicely. There are nice key changes. A third of the way though, things wind down to a peaceful and dreamy bridge before the reprise with nice synthesizer accompaniment. With four minutes left, time signatures change and the tension is heightened, recalling the most ominous Genesis sections. The track ends with more instrumental wizardry, almost as a coda, before fading into “One Fatal Mistake.” Here, a nice piano melody is complemented with an acoustic guitar and Nicholls’ optimistic tone. It’s another poppy song with a nice melody and sufficient technique. The track uses a choir effect similar to that of Genesis’ “Dancing With The Moonlit Knight” from Selling England… to segue into the next piece.

There is a nostalgic, soft quality to how “Riker Skies” opens, but it is quickly replaced with a thumping bass and evil guitar solo. The narrator’s welcome uses an electronic, computerized effect identical to the speakers of Ayreon’s masterpieces, and the keyboard tones are alike (which isn’t to cite any plagiarism; I just want to suggest that both bands like the same sounds). The guitar has a warm quality in the context of the isolation the rest of the music promotes. There is gloominess here, as if Riker Skies is a place for the refugees of the future, but there is also a beauty to the reconstruction of civilization hinted at.

“The Province,” at over fourteen minutes, is the epic piece of Frequency (since every prog album must have one). The first section has an elegant melody and the classical guitar arpeggio of Steven Hackett. Soon, things get scary as an evil voice (also similar to Ayreon) creates a heavy symphonic chase sequence before the soft opening is brought back. This happens again, leading to a second section with a cool organ motif and biting guitar riff on the offbeat. Soon, things get even more intense and Nicholls’ prophecies blanket a roaring symphony of futuristic chaos. The finale carries the necessary sound of aftermath, complete with a sorrowful guitar solo and piano chord progression. With so many sections combined so fluently, it’s overall the best track here.

The closer, not so cleverly titled “Closer,” has a hint of the dreary apathy present on A Natural Disaster by Anathema. Like so many closing pieces to an album with a bleak theme, the outlook becomes brighter and hopeful as the music builds and Nicholls’ intensity grows. His melody reminds one of latter day Dream Theater ballads, but with a more straightforward and humane quality. The echo of his voice, combined with beautiful piano playing and various other instrumental cameos, allows the album to successfully conclude on an encouraging note.

Frequency is not a revolutionary release for the genre, but for a band nearing the thirty year mark, it’s still pretty damn original and interesting. It’s impossible for present day prog bands to not borrow from their forefathers, but at least on this release (and probably their entire discography), IQ do it a lot less than others. They consciously use uncommon effects to make genre trademarks like keyboard virtuosity and rapid rhythm changes stirring. There aren’t enough bands utilizing the ability to be futuristic as well as traditional, and who knows how many could do it as well as IQ.

The Decemberists – The Hazards of Love

The Decemberists has always been ambitious. While mostly, and without any rivals, implanted in the realm of Folk/Canterbury revival, the group has also been known to include Prog Rock into its foray. The members have already created gems exceeding ten minutes, including the eighteen-minute masterpiece “The Tain”, but with their new work, The Hazards of Love, they’ve reached a new level. Ideally viewed as an hour long piece broken into seventeen parts, it’s clearly their most sprawling, grand project yet. The group continues their fantastic, totally unique song structures, lyrics and instrumentation, resulting in the next evolution of a Decemberists album, and it does not disappoint.

The Portland-based quintet consists of mastermind Colin Meloy and his troop of Chris Funk, Jenny Conlee, Nate Query and John Moen. Meloy’s background in English folklore and unabashed, relentless interest in telling tales of love, murder and betrayal (usual concerning the sea) make of one of the most inventive songwriters of this generation. While undeniably influenced by Jethro Tull, Fairport Convention and more Proggy acts of the 70s, there has never been a band like The Decemberists.

Meloy got the idea for the album after discovering Anne Briggs’s 1966 EP, titled The Hazards of Love (which contained no such song). Somehow from that, he concocted this expansive suite. It focuses on Margaret and her lover, William, shape shifting animals, forest queens, and a lascivious rake. As with most of Meloy’s tales, there is treachery, heartache and violence. The Hazards of Love contains the classic elements such as unique male/female harmonies, brilliant contrasts between tension and peace, and a combination of uncommon string and synthesizer colors that gives the feeling of being lost at sea in a plot straight out of vintage Literary fiction. It’s a complete success.

“Prelude,” is a very simple, ominous and angst ridden combination of strings, keyboards and harmonies. It lets you know that you’re about to be told a sorrowful tale, and it segues into “The Hazards of Love 1.” With its clean, full acoustic arpeggio sound and instantly recognizable Meloy vocals (one of the coolest singers around), it’s still the same Decemberists. It would be an easy choice for a radio cut. “A Bower Cut” is a more rocking, antagonistic section, and it pumps up the adrenaline like only The Decemberists can. “Won’t Want For Love” opens with Margaret discussing her love for Will. It features their trademark trudging rhythm, as if an army is marching along. Meloy answers as William in a nice bridge using an echo effect on his voice.

“The Hazards of Love 2” is a beautiful, reflective summary in the sense of “The Crane Wife 1&2.” It features Meloy belting out his emotion with wonderful melody and accompaniment. “The Queen’s Approach” is a banjo-centered segue into “Isn’t It a Lovely Night?” It’s among the most directly, lyrically romantic songs they’ve done, as Meloy and Jenny Conlee serenade each other. Featuring an accordion and pedal steel guitar, it’s the musical version of countless film scenes, but a necessarily moment in The Hazards of Love. It’s the first time the band has gone beyond the sound of 60s and 70s folk prog, capturing the American Dream type of love represented in many musicals, like Oklahoma! It’s a short glimpse at happiness in the story before the despair and anger begins.

In a extraordinary contrast, the previous track melts into “The Wanting Comes In Waves/Repaid.” It’s the equivalent of seeing a death in a play immediately following a scene of immense joy. The harpsichord and Meloy’s vocals sing a melody that’s both haunting and almost effortless. It’s a sparse track before building up (as the band does expertly) to several harmonies and instruments, creating a lush, sound that makes the entire world seem bright. Then a stabbing, surprising electric guitar riff introduces an antagonist, like the evil witch in Snow White. It then fades back into the original duo of Meloy and harpsichord. The rest of the track follows this pattern, and it’s an epic on to itself.

“An Interlude” is a very warm, comforting piece using acoustic guitar, banjo and pedal steel, and it mixes optimism and loss amazingly for how simple it is. “The Rake’s Song” showcases Meloy with an angry and betrayed melody. The drums pound as the bass sounds thick as a tree. It also features children in the background (whom appear later, so perhaps it’s foreshadowing). This is The Decemberists at the most hard rocking and just plain ballsy. “The Abduction of Margaret” reprises a musical theme from “Hazards 1,” which brings a brilliant continuity and feeling that yes, this is an hour long piece. It also features amazing dynamics, as the verse gathers momentum softly to a crushingly fierce bridge, complete with a time change. “The Queen’s Rebuke/ The Crossing” is a direct continuation, as it keeps the same sharp guitar. The middle has heavy metal (yes, heavy metal on a Decemberists record) solo. The “Crossing” closing section features their more technical side, as the keyboards and guitar remind one of Tull’s A Passion Play.

And with yet another segue, “Anna Water” begins. It is simply one of Meloy’s most engaging, affective and memorable melodies yet in their career. The strumming guitar chords and wavering ambiance let us know that something substantial has just happened. The Decemberists have always been incredible at capturing emotion with simplicity, and they certainly do it here. With the bridge, the organ flails as several vocals pile up to create a great moment of peace. This track with stay with you long after it fades into “Margaret in Captivity,” which is another acoustic focused track, and it reprises a section from “Won’t Want For Love.”

“The Hazards of Love 3” opens with a much more grandiose, rocking version of the melody of “The Wanting Comes…” before centering on a waltz time version of “Hazards 1,” but instead of Meloy singing it, it is a children’s choir (brought back from “The Rake’s Song”). “The Wanting Comes In Waves” opens exactly as the last track did, but afterwards, it’s basically a faster, more layered version of the first incarnation. Finally, “The Hazards of Love 4” is an epilogue. It begins slowly paced with piano and pedal steel guitar as Meloy and Conlee serenade again. The chorus is textures with gorgeous, high pitched harmonies and strings. You can’t help but feel sorrow as the album ends, knowing that the character’s fates cannot be changed or elaborated on. The emotional journey is over.

The Hazards of Love is a masterpiece; it is art in its most honest and complex form. It is the Decemberists’ Thick As A Brick, their Mei, their Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence. While Picaresque will always be their near flawless collection of unrelated songs, this album must be judged differently, as it far more striving in telling a larger tale. While no track features melodies as catchy and intricate as most on Picaresque, nor does the band showcase their love for prog like they did with “The Tain” or “The Island” from The Crane Wife, this album, it is own way, is the band’s greatest achievement. Its amazing usage of continuity, contrasts in intensity and emotion, signature sound and overall spectacular, extended story make this a phenomenal album. The Decemberists are a band everyone should be listening to today, and The Hazards of Love, for taking the band into a new direction and level of ambition, is one of the finest records they’ll ever cut.

Sound&Shape – The Love Electric EP

In the 1960s and 70s, the term “progressive-rock” to define artists that were elevating rock music, putting aside the typical verse-chorus-verse structure and typical rock riffage for something more intricate and disparate, drawing from classical, jazz, and world music. Bands like Yes, King Crimson, Pink Floyd, Rush, and Emerson, Lake, & Palmer are some of the more familiar prog-rock bands of the era. At the time, the style was groundbreaking, creating some truly unique and lofty music.

“Progressive” is defined as making use of new ideas, moving forward or onward. So the idea of a band making progressive-rock in 2008 that cops the style of its 1970s forbearers is almost ludicrous. Sound&Shape make prog-rock, plain and simple, and it bores me to tears.

The title track opens this EP with ripping guitar and singer Ryan Caudle’s lofty vocals. And it’s done before I even notice the last fret-climbing guitar solo has passed. “The Space Between” is a tad less progressive because of more emphasis on singing, until those echoey guitar solos come back in, but it’s no better. The EP’s true saving grace is the instrumental “And the Clouds Begin to Part,” which really does suck me in due to its more creative pace, and I’m inclined to overlook the “oooo” vocals that adorn it and the echoed guitar. The vocals are better on “And We Began as Two,” but it’s back to prog-rock and melodramatic lyrics like “You and I we are the sun / You cut me and we bleed love.” There’s some saxophone here, though, that is a nice touch. Unfortunately, it leads back into “The Solitary Journey,” another prog-rock song that’s tight as hell but completely unremarkable.

There’s no doubt that these three musicians are incredibly talented. The guitar is incredibly tight, the rhythm intricate and involved. And Caudle’s voice reminds me a bit of Elliott’s Chris Higdog, possessing a rich and soaring style. It’s just that the style is so played out. Even a friend who still listens to his Floyd and ELP albums regularly found this release boring. When your “progressive” is another person’s “retro,” it’s time to rethink your approach.