2013: The Year in Prog Albums - Phase 2: Numbers 7-5

Continued from Part One (due to getting a bit overexcited and typing an entire thesis on why prog is still, like, awesome...)

7. Mr. So & So: Truth, Lies and Half Lies 

Rock, rock, rock. RAWWWWK. There are times when you just want your music to get down and dirty, and not to sound like either Yes or Porcupine Tree – and it’s at such times that you need to catch Mr. So & So live, like I did, and rejoice in their straight ahead, no-nonsense approach to creating great, enjoyable music. Built around obvious frontpeople Dave Foster and Charlotte Evans, they’re almost a less metal version of Touchstone, with (dare I say it?) better tunes. Throughout, there are gigantic riffs, proper choruses and great male/female harmony vocals which is always a plus in my book – plus there are proper, old-fashioned rock and roll guitar solos out the wazoo.

And just when you’re thinking this all sounds incredibly dumb and heartless, there’s the touching ‘Looking Glass’, in which Charlotte shows a rather raw and vulnerable side, and the gut-wrenching ‘You’re Coming Home’ which caused even hardened proggers  at the gig to come over a little unnecessary and “have something in their eye”.

Also, ‘Apophis’ sounds absolutely brilliant when you’re taking off in a plane (thanks BA for enabling me to find that out.)

Key tracks: Paperchase / Apophis / You’re Coming Home


6. Riverside: Shine of New Generation Slaves

Poland is a pretty grim and depressing place, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve never been there, but I have all the Riverside albums, so I’m just assuming, given how unremittingly minor key and bleak of outlook their songs are. Still, sometimes you’re just in the mood to wallow in self-pity like an emo teenager, even when you’re on the wrong side of 34, so for that reason it’s always nice to have Riverside back.

Again, I’ve not really studied the lyrics in any great depth, but there’s a picture of what looks like Canary Wharf tube station on the front, with hollow-eyed people going down an escalator  (or perhaps up, backwards), so I’m going to assume it’s a concept album about mean old city people, the evils of money, and the drudgery of being a corporate drone (popular theme this year…).

If The Tangent’s soundtrack to corporate drudgery is a cacophony of Stravinsky-esque mind-buggery, Riverside’s sticks with the tried and tested formula of being a bit like Porcupine Tree, with acoustic guitar dark-strummy ballads like ‘The Depth of Self Delusion’ which is this year’s ‘Conceiving You’ (and nearly as good), and catchy metal riffs like ‘Celebrity Touch’, which is hopefully about Moby’s favourite party game, and confirms the old adage that what makes a riff 73% more awesome is to play it on an additional guitar the second time around. They also go for the old “Pink Floyd Rulez” tack on ‘Escalator Shine’, something which is taken to extremes on the bonus disc of spacey instrumentals which is well worth an extra few quid of anyone’s money.

But, just when you think they’ve got nothing new to say, along comes ‘Feel Like Falling’, which is basically a really excellent pop song. And it’s in a major key. And Mariusz yalls “C’mon!” before the guitar solo. Maybe there’s a chink of light in that Polish sky after all…

Key tracks: Celebrity Touch / Feel Like Falling / Escalator Shrine


5. Big Big Train - English Electric Part 2 

GF: Greg, David, is that your final answer?
BBT: Erm, hang on…


Oh, alright then... 5. Sound of Contact: Dimensionaut

Oh lord, another concept album for me to not understand. Now, I have to admit that I was somewhat unfair to Sound of Contact when I saw them live earlier this year – my main impression being that Simon Collins was trying a bit too hard to be his dad, and that they weren’t as much fun to watch as Beardfish. But then again, Cirque de Soleil aren’t as much fun to watch as Beardfish.

Anyway, I picked up this album with trepidation, and blow me, if it doesn’t turn out to be one of the finest things released in a long time. So, just how much does it sound like a Genesis album, then? Well, there’s no getting away from the fact that Simon’s voice is exceptionally similar to his dad’s - which is hopefully natural and not an affectation - and Sound of Contact / Cosmic Distance, with its rolling toms, is probably the track I accused of ripping off Duke’s Travels at the gig, but it’s a stonkingly good album opening when it kicks into the first real song ‘Pale Blue Dot’, just the first of many “proper” songs with tunes and choruses, but definite prog sensibilities, like ‘Remote View’ and ‘Omega Point’. Admittedly, it does drag a little in the latter stages with some less interesting ballads like ‘Closer to You’, but it’s rescued at the end by closer ‘Mobius Slip’ which is probably the darkest, heaviest thing on the album and factually the longest.

So, yeah, pretty much exactly like a post-Duke Genesis album then – in fact I sometimes like to try to imagine that it is their new album, as I sit, friendless and alone at home with my copy of Armando Gallo’s ‘I Know What I Like’. Some of the songs are easier to do this with than others; Phil-led Genesis were never as heavy as some of the sections of ‘Mobius Slip’, for instance, but just imagine if they could get back together and produce something of this quality. It’d easily be their best for, ooh, 17 years.

Key Tracks:  Cosmic Distance…Pale Blue Dot / Omega Point / Mobius Slip

Next time: Some more albums. In some sort of order. 

7th May 2013: Spock's Beard / Sound of Contact / Beardfish - Garage, London

There comes a time in every music blogger’s life when he has to man up. Yes, it’s all very well to just pretend that whole sets you don’t enjoy very much never actually happened, and only review the support band, but at some point you have to find a way to review something you found about as exciting as the M25.

It’s all good fun to take the piss properly when you’re dealing with a super-megastar like Mr. Sumner who’s never going to read his character assassination in a million years, but the prog world is pretty small. People know people. And they know people. Facebook’s a surprisingly small place sometimes.

Anyway, my “almost-week” (what would you call that, a “wee”?) of prog (which culminates with Celebr8.2) begins on Tuesday, when the merchboy and production legend Tim “Mouse” Lawrie turns up to crash at ours, and we head off together on a delightful man-date to see a potentially very exciting triple-header of modern progressive rock at the Garage in Highbury. Note the use of the word “potentially”.

The queue outside is like a veritable family reunion, as various people greet each other like long lost relatives, especially fellow blogger Alison Henderson, who officially knows everyone in the world, including a lady who’s just arrived off the plane from Australia and come straight to tonight’s gig. I wonder how long she stays awake. Oh, and there are Twang and Geoff doing yet more last minute flyering for Celebr8.2. Hold up, chaps, I think there’s a tramp across the street who doesn't yet have one… oh no wait, he does. Makes a delightful hat.

Once inside, Tim and I decide to head right for the front, as there’s no way we’re missing any of…

Beardfish

… who begin their all-too-short set with a lengthy number from the ‘Mammoth’ album, appropriately enough, given their own wooliness in the face department. Keyboard player and vocalist Rickard Sjöblom (awww, it means 'Lake flower') has shorn his locks somewhat to restore the follicular balance, although what he does still have is tied up in a neat little pineapple on top of his head. It’s perhaps to get it out of his way when he starts freaking out on his organ, hammering the keys and darting up and down the board like a man possessed – not that we’re complaining, as we both agree afterwards that they’re the most energetic band tonight and all the better for it.

Bass player Robert Hansen pummels his frets whilst looking distinctly like a caveman (although less so than earlier in the week where he also removed his shirt, apparently), drummer Magnus Östgren plays with precision and flair, and guitarist David Zackrisson is just too cool for school over on stage right, with his closely cropped hair, checked shirt, and rocking riffs, ranging from Deep Purple esque blues-rock to crunching metal.

The fun that the band has playing live makes up for any shortcomings of performance, not that there really are any, at least not from the perspective of the very front row, from where everything can be heard nicely and the beards can be observed all too well. Tim’s favourite instrumental 'Seventeen Again' is a highlight of the set, and they finish up with opening track from ‘The Void’, 'Voluntary Slavery', which seems to get the non-faithful in the crowd going just in time for them to thank us all and leave the stage all too soon. More please! How about a headline London gig sometime soon, chaps?

We decide to stay in place for…

Sound of Contact

… who, if you don’t know, are a band fronted by Simon Collins, who is not one of the Canadian Peter Gabriel impersonators I mentioned the other day, but rather the actual Canadian Phil Collins. Yes, you’d only have to look at him to figure out whence his Genesis (ha, see what I accidentally did there?), with his-circa Seconds Out Phil Collins hair, his moderately less impressive beard, and his all-too-familiar forehead.

However, in case you hadn't worked out that he was Phil Collins’ son, he also comes out on stage, plays drums in the style of Duke-era Phil for the first instrumental number, then jumps to the microphone to sing for most of the rest of the gig, picking up a tambourine for the choruses and leaving an actually superior touring drummer to play most of the songs. The vocal stylings aren't really that similar tonight, but he does have a good powerful voice, which is enjoyable to listen to, even though the somewhat AOR material is probably a bit more slow-burning than I expected.

Anyway, enough about Collins Jr, there’s a bona fide legend up on stage in the form of John Wesley of Porcupine Tree. It’s always a pleasure to watch Wes doing his thing, although sadly he doesn't get much chance to shine on this material, adding textures and harmony vocals for the most part, only being allowed to let rip on a few solos here and there. As with Beardfish, I’d like to see Wes back soon doing some more of his own stuff. Maybe they could do a double headliner. He does have his own beard, so it might work.

Lastly, but not leastly, there’s the rest of the band, consisting of a bass player in giant aviator shades which distract me completely from what he’s playing, and keyboard player Dave “Squidz” Kerzner, who played with Kevin Gilbert and Nick D’Virgilio in Giraffe, but this evening impresses me chiefly by managing to be pretty much the opposite of Rickard from Beardfish, as his hands move about smoothly and almost imperceptibly, but the rest of his body is almost completely stock still throughout. I wouldn't even have thought it possible.

The set’s enjoyable enough, and doesn't outstay its welcome – even when Simon decides we might have forgotten that he’s Phil Collins’ son, so hops back on the drums to play ‘Duke’s Travels’ to close the set. Well, it’s not actually that, but it might as well be. It’s fun and enjoyable and finishes things off on a high note.
At this point, I’m feeling old and Tim wants to go and find Beardfish, so I go up to the back near the bar and wait for…

Spock’s Beard

… who, I should say, are one of my favourite prog bands, in all incarnations, and whose new album is actually excellent, but tonight is just not their night, let's say.

Things start well as they arrive onstage to a great big roar, but then they start playing, and as Tim points out, it seems like someone’s turned the PA off. There’s a weedy sound in the middle of the room which is about as powerful as a pensioner trying to bench press a rhinoceros, and it translates into a complete lack of energy coming off the stage, with everyone looking like they’re playing the right stuff and having fun, but sounding anything but.

A couple of songs from the new album start the set, and go down pretty well, although new frontman Ted Leonard seems to be struggling a tiny bit with his vocals. They’re good songs, but somehow I just can’t get into them. A few more pass, including ‘Crack the Big Sky’, an overlooked classic from the ‘Day for Night’ album, which prompts the following reaction in my tired brain:

Oh, they’re playing that song.

I like that song.

I think I’ll go and get a drink.

In the end, the combination of exhaustion and, I’m sorry to say, boredom lead me to head outside, where I find several people smoking, and expressing the same opinions.  I spend a while outside, and come back just in time for ‘Distance to the Sun’, another great song, but there are some tuning issues in the trademark Spock’s harmonies tonight, and it’s unfortunately not a great rendition.

On the basis of wanting to give Spock’s Beard the benefit of the doubt, I decide to leave it there, and Tim and I head off into the night, just in time to wave at John Wesley and Richard Barbieri through a pub window on our way back to the station.  On record, Spock’s Beard are still great, and Ted Leonard is an excellent singer, but tonight just doesn't work for me.

Hang on a minute – nobody in Spock’s Beard has a beard. Mystery solved.