Me, browsing the new releases.
Shrinkwrap sticker: “Limited edition with bonus DVD.”
Me: “But of course.”
Yoink!
Aren’t record companies clever these days, with their strategies to get us to buy their product? Well, they are. They’ve sure seen me coming lately.
Here are a couple recent purchases with audio/visual bonuses.
Mogwai—Mr. Beast
It comes in a nice hardbound case displaying Emily Carr grad Amanda Church’s art in its jizz-splattered glory. It's a great album—heavy metal mood music and ominous post-rock jamming in 3 1/2 to 5 1/2 minute bursts. I’ve never been disappointed by a Mogwai album, though I admit I don’t revisit them often after the new-purchase honeymoon. The bonus 40-minute DVD is a fractured document of the album’s recording whose main aim seems to be demystification. Band members take turns answering questions (What’s the worst part about being in a band? “Trying to make up music. That’s hard”), lounging around on couches playing with their laptops, and laying down tracks. Brief and underwhelming live clips interrupt the studio footage. I pride myself on being able to decipher all varieties of accented English, but I’ll admit I wished for subtitles to clarify the Scottish mumbling at certain points. This special edition was worth the extra few bucks, as it’s saved me the $25 that I’d have spent on a ticket to their upcoming gig if I hadn’t watched this DVD first.
The Devin Townsend Band—Synchestra
Having received two promo copies of this marvelous album, I felt duty-bound to buy the fanciest legitimate copy I could. This one comes with a live-in-the-studio DVD featuring the guys running through the DTB back catalogue, augmented visually with a lot of split-screen effects and what looks like the iTunes visualizer fading in and out of the picture. Low budget, for sure, but the execution is in medium-to-good taste. The studio set lasts about an hour. The sound is pristine, and the band rock out mightily, proving that Devin’s multi-layered orchestrations are very reproducible live. Drummer Ryan Van Poederooyen in particular puts on a clinic. It must have been nerve-wracking for the band to subject themselves to such an up-close, multi-camera shoot. There’s also a video for the song “Storm” off Accelerated Evolution, a Devin-guided tour around Armoury Studios (where the live set was shot), and a DTB-on-tour segment. Professional and impressive, this is well worth the extra 10 or so bucks if you’re a fan.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
I delivered fancylady to a baby shower out in Maple Ridge this morning. We listened to Rock 101's "Guitar Gods Weekend" for an hour in the truck. Rock 101, being the big classic rock station in town, is usually a reliable option for a drive—some Creedence for her, a little Floyd for me, and they'll inevitably get the Led out to make us both happy. It being "Guitar Gods Weekend," we figured our trip out to the burbs would rock pretty hard.
It was a letdown. Instead of getting Hendrix, Trower, Page, etc. as promised by 101's promo spots, we hit a block of music that strung together Peter Gabriel, The Band, U2, and The Beach Boys. When The Tragically Hip came on as we approached our destination, fancylady said, "God, it's gonna be great when they have 'Drum Gods Weekend' and they play lots of Def Leppard."
It was a letdown. Instead of getting Hendrix, Trower, Page, etc. as promised by 101's promo spots, we hit a block of music that strung together Peter Gabriel, The Band, U2, and The Beach Boys. When The Tragically Hip came on as we approached our destination, fancylady said, "God, it's gonna be great when they have 'Drum Gods Weekend' and they play lots of Def Leppard."
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Woods of Ypres — Against the Seasons (Krankenhaus Records)
The five-song EP Against the Seasons was Woods of Ypres’ first foray into their world of summer black metal, a theme established by the subtitle, “Cold Winter Songs from the Dead Summer Heat.” Recorded in 2002 and released the following year, it’s now undergone a remix from producer (and current WoY bassist) Dan Hulse, who did such a great job on Wetwork’s album last year, along with classy new artwork. The music on this 30-minute EP shows a raw-yet-focused approach that formed the basis for the refinements and diversification of their superb Pursuit of the Sun and Allure of the Earth album from last year. Extremity abounds, emphasizing the blast and the rasp, while still leaving room for acoustic passages, melodic vocals and tempo shifts, sombre arpeggios mingling with fierce blasting (executed with more enthusiasm than perfection, admittedly)—the elements the band fully realized in the more varied songs on the follow-up album. The black metal influence is more pronounced here, recalling Satyricon, Immortal and Primordial—particularly the latter band’s fondness for triplet-feel tempos. I like the symmetrical running order of the tracks, with two shorter songs framing three epics. "A Meeting Place and Time" stands out for its memorable clean-sung passages, as does "Awaiting the Inevitable," which features some terrific riffs in its doomy intro and mid-song death-metal breakdown, complete with a patented Tom G. Warrior death-grunt! Great stuff. Considering that two-thirds of the band on this EP didn’t appear on Pursuit…, the sound and approach between the two releases are remarkably consistent. This is probably down to drummer/songwriter David Gold’s vision…a uniquely Canadian vision, I should add, tied intimately to our geography and the correlation between climate and emotion. (If ever a metal band could be diagnosed with S.A.D., WoY would be it.) The recording-in-progress reports for WoY III indicate that its musical direction follows this EP more closely than Pursuit…, making Against the Seasons not a curio of juvenilia like many debut releases, but a key work in the band’s young discography.
The five-song EP Against the Seasons was Woods of Ypres’ first foray into their world of summer black metal, a theme established by the subtitle, “Cold Winter Songs from the Dead Summer Heat.” Recorded in 2002 and released the following year, it’s now undergone a remix from producer (and current WoY bassist) Dan Hulse, who did such a great job on Wetwork’s album last year, along with classy new artwork. The music on this 30-minute EP shows a raw-yet-focused approach that formed the basis for the refinements and diversification of their superb Pursuit of the Sun and Allure of the Earth album from last year. Extremity abounds, emphasizing the blast and the rasp, while still leaving room for acoustic passages, melodic vocals and tempo shifts, sombre arpeggios mingling with fierce blasting (executed with more enthusiasm than perfection, admittedly)—the elements the band fully realized in the more varied songs on the follow-up album. The black metal influence is more pronounced here, recalling Satyricon, Immortal and Primordial—particularly the latter band’s fondness for triplet-feel tempos. I like the symmetrical running order of the tracks, with two shorter songs framing three epics. "A Meeting Place and Time" stands out for its memorable clean-sung passages, as does "Awaiting the Inevitable," which features some terrific riffs in its doomy intro and mid-song death-metal breakdown, complete with a patented Tom G. Warrior death-grunt! Great stuff. Considering that two-thirds of the band on this EP didn’t appear on Pursuit…, the sound and approach between the two releases are remarkably consistent. This is probably down to drummer/songwriter David Gold’s vision…a uniquely Canadian vision, I should add, tied intimately to our geography and the correlation between climate and emotion. (If ever a metal band could be diagnosed with S.A.D., WoY would be it.) The recording-in-progress reports for WoY III indicate that its musical direction follows this EP more closely than Pursuit…, making Against the Seasons not a curio of juvenilia like many debut releases, but a key work in the band’s young discography.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Turbulence
I’ve probably done twice as much flying in the last few years as I did in the previous 20, now that I have friends and other connections east of the Rockies. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the ways of the modern air traveller. These people have powers of interpretation that I’ll never be able to fathom, much less ever adapt.
For example, in the departure lounge, when they announce pre-boarding for families with children and passengers who may need assistance boarding the aircraft, I’ve never understood that that is my signal to grab my things and jostle for position at the counter. I usually assume that there’ll be another boarding announcement for regular passengers like myself.
Similarly, when the plane lands and the flight attendant asks everyone to remain seated while we taxi to the terminal, I don’t take that as a cue to stand up and start pulling my stuff from the overhead bins. The seasoned traveller knows better, though. Having been flown to his destination at 550 MPH, he's now determined to shave time off his journey. It’s up to him. Every second counts. Some other a-hole out there might hail all the taxis!
I’ve probably done twice as much flying in the last few years as I did in the previous 20, now that I have friends and other connections east of the Rockies. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the ways of the modern air traveller. These people have powers of interpretation that I’ll never be able to fathom, much less ever adapt.
For example, in the departure lounge, when they announce pre-boarding for families with children and passengers who may need assistance boarding the aircraft, I’ve never understood that that is my signal to grab my things and jostle for position at the counter. I usually assume that there’ll be another boarding announcement for regular passengers like myself.
Similarly, when the plane lands and the flight attendant asks everyone to remain seated while we taxi to the terminal, I don’t take that as a cue to stand up and start pulling my stuff from the overhead bins. The seasoned traveller knows better, though. Having been flown to his destination at 550 MPH, he's now determined to shave time off his journey. It’s up to him. Every second counts. Some other a-hole out there might hail all the taxis!
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
I’ll hold off sharing the meat and potatoes of my Montreal trip—the specifics on new Voivod album and my interviews with the band—for now. I'll post a link to the Unrestrained! Web site once my write up is done. What follows are some general observations of the events leading up to the main event.
I arrived on Tuesday evening, and took a cab to the hotel. Adrian from The End Records and U! had set up his PR command post in our room, with receipts, forms, and Blackberry spread out on the desk. Not only was he setting up two days of Voivod listening sessions in Montreal and New York, but The Gathering (another band on The End) are also due shortly in North America, and mini-crises abounded. He came out for something to eat with me, though he had to watch the time carefully. Jason Newsted (who joined Voivod shortly after leaving Metallica) was due at our hotel in a couple hours. I’d never seen the Energizer so nervous or quiet. Jasonic operates on a different plane of fame and fortune than the usual metallers he and I deal with. Adrian wanted damn sure to be there when he arrived.
After dinner I met up with the gang from Toronto, who were noshing at another restaurant a few blocks down Ste. Catherine. I’d talked or otherwise been in touch with both Martin Popoff and Chris Bruni in the past, so it was good to finally meet them in person. Richard from Caustic Truths, Laura from Exclaim and BW&BK’s David Perri were there as well. Their food had just arrived so I sat and had a beer while they noshed. After we’d settled the bill we checked out Archambault Music and the magazine store across from the hotel. I was pleased to finally be able to find an issue of Signal to Noise (Dirty Three on the cover), a magazine that I first read about on Brandon's blog at Ground and Sky a while back.
We split up after that, with Bruni, Richard and I heading to a pub for a few beers. I had a couple pints of Guinness then went back to the hotel where I found a very relieved and chilled-out Adrian. Newsted had arrived and all was good. He and Away (Voivod's drummer) were listening to the final mix of the new album up in his room. Away came down and I shook his hand—I may have even involuntarily bowed a few times—followed by Jasonic a few minutes later. I’d had enough brushes with greatness for an evening, so I went up to my room.
After the complimentary breakfast Wednesday morning (superb overall, though few things are more upsetting than buffet eggs) I went for a walk to scope out the neighbourhood. My West Coast candy-ass nearly froze to death after being out for 90 minutes. I retreated to the hotel, where Bruni and Adrian were about ready to pack up banners and t-shirts for the listening party that afternoon. The venue was the upstairs 200-capacity room at Metropolis, an awesome concert hall on Ste. Catherine. We got a tour of the main floor, which features a 2500-capacity hall, which I can only describe as a cross between Vancouver’s Commodore Ballroom and the Orpheum, if you can imagine such a thing. Just a beautiful place. Dream Theater are playing there later this month.
We hung up some Voivod banners, organized a reception table and sorted the commemorative t-shirts by size, and waited for the 30-odd invitees to arrive. Snake was the first band member to show up, followed by Away and Jasonic.
At 2:00 Jason introduced the album on behalf of the band, urging us all to stay quiet for the duration as a mark of respect for Piggy, their guitarist who passed away late last summer. Like I said earlier, I’ll save all the musical details for my upcoming piece for the U! Web site. I will say that the new Voivod album lacks nothing in terms of mystique, atmosphere and surprise.
Adrian organized the post-album interviews for everyone who wanted to talk to the band. I talked to Away first, mainly about how he saw the new album in terms of their past albums. The fanboy in me took over at various points, and we talked about Magma, his artwork, the Voivod character, and my favourite Voivod album, Angel Rat, which I’d conveniently brought a copy of for him to sign. Away’s one of the nicest guys you could ever meet, so amazingly modest and self-effacing. I’m looking forward to arranging a follow-up phone interview with him closer to the album release date (June).
(I actually wish Away had been a little more self-promoting, because on my last afternoon in Montreal I picked up a free local entertainment paper and learned, upon opening it up at the airport, that he had an art show on right then, featuring the original paintings of the first four Voivod album covers. I’m still bummed out about missing that.)
What I remember of my interview with Jason was his incandescent passion for Voivod. He’s the guy who’s going to see Snake and Away through these dark days and make sure nobody forgets about their band. And according to what Away told me, the next couple years will be busy ones. It sounds awful and wrong for me to say this, but it’s going to be a good time to be a Voivod fan. Hang in there, because the band certainly will.
After the event, the Toronto gang got back in the van and headed out. Only Richard was planning to stay on. He and I went out for dinner and compared notes. After a day of being repeatedly knocked on my ass, Richard floored me again by mentioning, of his own accord, the Laser Voivod concept, which is a long-running fantasy my friend Smash and I have nurtured. He had an interesting twist on the idea that I can’t mention here.
On the way back to the hotel, we wandered through the main HMV downtown, where I got a good chuckle out of one of their displays. It was something you’d only see in Quebec—Gentle Giant topping the music DVD chart with their Giant on the Box release.
I arrived on Tuesday evening, and took a cab to the hotel. Adrian from The End Records and U! had set up his PR command post in our room, with receipts, forms, and Blackberry spread out on the desk. Not only was he setting up two days of Voivod listening sessions in Montreal and New York, but The Gathering (another band on The End) are also due shortly in North America, and mini-crises abounded. He came out for something to eat with me, though he had to watch the time carefully. Jason Newsted (who joined Voivod shortly after leaving Metallica) was due at our hotel in a couple hours. I’d never seen the Energizer so nervous or quiet. Jasonic operates on a different plane of fame and fortune than the usual metallers he and I deal with. Adrian wanted damn sure to be there when he arrived.
After dinner I met up with the gang from Toronto, who were noshing at another restaurant a few blocks down Ste. Catherine. I’d talked or otherwise been in touch with both Martin Popoff and Chris Bruni in the past, so it was good to finally meet them in person. Richard from Caustic Truths, Laura from Exclaim and BW&BK’s David Perri were there as well. Their food had just arrived so I sat and had a beer while they noshed. After we’d settled the bill we checked out Archambault Music and the magazine store across from the hotel. I was pleased to finally be able to find an issue of Signal to Noise (Dirty Three on the cover), a magazine that I first read about on Brandon's blog at Ground and Sky a while back.
We split up after that, with Bruni, Richard and I heading to a pub for a few beers. I had a couple pints of Guinness then went back to the hotel where I found a very relieved and chilled-out Adrian. Newsted had arrived and all was good. He and Away (Voivod's drummer) were listening to the final mix of the new album up in his room. Away came down and I shook his hand—I may have even involuntarily bowed a few times—followed by Jasonic a few minutes later. I’d had enough brushes with greatness for an evening, so I went up to my room.
After the complimentary breakfast Wednesday morning (superb overall, though few things are more upsetting than buffet eggs) I went for a walk to scope out the neighbourhood. My West Coast candy-ass nearly froze to death after being out for 90 minutes. I retreated to the hotel, where Bruni and Adrian were about ready to pack up banners and t-shirts for the listening party that afternoon. The venue was the upstairs 200-capacity room at Metropolis, an awesome concert hall on Ste. Catherine. We got a tour of the main floor, which features a 2500-capacity hall, which I can only describe as a cross between Vancouver’s Commodore Ballroom and the Orpheum, if you can imagine such a thing. Just a beautiful place. Dream Theater are playing there later this month.
We hung up some Voivod banners, organized a reception table and sorted the commemorative t-shirts by size, and waited for the 30-odd invitees to arrive. Snake was the first band member to show up, followed by Away and Jasonic.
At 2:00 Jason introduced the album on behalf of the band, urging us all to stay quiet for the duration as a mark of respect for Piggy, their guitarist who passed away late last summer. Like I said earlier, I’ll save all the musical details for my upcoming piece for the U! Web site. I will say that the new Voivod album lacks nothing in terms of mystique, atmosphere and surprise.
Adrian organized the post-album interviews for everyone who wanted to talk to the band. I talked to Away first, mainly about how he saw the new album in terms of their past albums. The fanboy in me took over at various points, and we talked about Magma, his artwork, the Voivod character, and my favourite Voivod album, Angel Rat, which I’d conveniently brought a copy of for him to sign. Away’s one of the nicest guys you could ever meet, so amazingly modest and self-effacing. I’m looking forward to arranging a follow-up phone interview with him closer to the album release date (June).
(I actually wish Away had been a little more self-promoting, because on my last afternoon in Montreal I picked up a free local entertainment paper and learned, upon opening it up at the airport, that he had an art show on right then, featuring the original paintings of the first four Voivod album covers. I’m still bummed out about missing that.)
What I remember of my interview with Jason was his incandescent passion for Voivod. He’s the guy who’s going to see Snake and Away through these dark days and make sure nobody forgets about their band. And according to what Away told me, the next couple years will be busy ones. It sounds awful and wrong for me to say this, but it’s going to be a good time to be a Voivod fan. Hang in there, because the band certainly will.
After the event, the Toronto gang got back in the van and headed out. Only Richard was planning to stay on. He and I went out for dinner and compared notes. After a day of being repeatedly knocked on my ass, Richard floored me again by mentioning, of his own accord, the Laser Voivod concept, which is a long-running fantasy my friend Smash and I have nurtured. He had an interesting twist on the idea that I can’t mention here.
On the way back to the hotel, we wandered through the main HMV downtown, where I got a good chuckle out of one of their displays. It was something you’d only see in Quebec—Gentle Giant topping the music DVD chart with their Giant on the Box release.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I just got back from Montreal, where I got to hear Katorz, the new Voivod album, and interview Jasonic and Away for an upcoming issue of Unrestrained! More details about the trip later.
It was pissing rain in Montreal today, and out my window tonight I can see Vancouver-style snow (i.e., chunky precipitation) in the street-lights' glare. It's a "Meteorological Inversion," which is not a Voivod song title, but should be.
It was pissing rain in Montreal today, and out my window tonight I can see Vancouver-style snow (i.e., chunky precipitation) in the street-lights' glare. It's a "Meteorological Inversion," which is not a Voivod song title, but should be.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Someone once said of Louis Armstrong, "He was put on this Earth to make people happy." I feel the same way about the Kids of Widney High, whom a coworker introduced me to this week. I knew of them after reading an article in Answer Me! more than 10 years ago, but I'd never heard their work. I'll admit that it wasn't something I felt like seeking out. The sole purpose of "outing" this music seemed to be so that stoners could laugh at it.
Spinning Special Music From Special Kids (1989), Let's Get Busy (1999), and Act Your Age (2003) all day left me in a daze. The first album's hit me so hard that I needed prodding from my coworker to listen to it again and truly discover the raw, unflinching, devastating tunes it contains. I was interested (and my psyche was a little grateful) to hear that the follow-up albums are much more polished (almost as if Widney High had been auditioning students before deeming them eligible to enroll), and feature some undeniably kick-ass material: "Pretty Girls," "Christmas is the Time," and the unbelievably great "Life Without the Cow" [MP3]. It's as good as anything They Might Be Giants has ever done.
Of course, I got home last night and mentioned the Kids to fancylady, who launched into renditions of all the hits from Special Music.... Guess I'm late to the party on this one.
Spinning Special Music From Special Kids (1989), Let's Get Busy (1999), and Act Your Age (2003) all day left me in a daze. The first album's hit me so hard that I needed prodding from my coworker to listen to it again and truly discover the raw, unflinching, devastating tunes it contains. I was interested (and my psyche was a little grateful) to hear that the follow-up albums are much more polished (almost as if Widney High had been auditioning students before deeming them eligible to enroll), and feature some undeniably kick-ass material: "Pretty Girls," "Christmas is the Time," and the unbelievably great "Life Without the Cow" [MP3]. It's as good as anything They Might Be Giants has ever done.
Of course, I got home last night and mentioned the Kids to fancylady, who launched into renditions of all the hits from Special Music.... Guess I'm late to the party on this one.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
To see ourselves as others see us...
Nick Terry reviewing The Devin Townsend Band's Synchestra in the new issue of Decibel:
"Apologies to any of our readers in Vancouver, but whatever they put in the water up there, you guys are fucked."
After watching our city's contribution to the Turin Olympics closing ceremonies, I couldn't agree more. That was supremely embarrassing.
BTW, Terry gave the record an 8/10, calling it "the perfect '80s Rush album."
Nick Terry reviewing The Devin Townsend Band's Synchestra in the new issue of Decibel:
"Apologies to any of our readers in Vancouver, but whatever they put in the water up there, you guys are fucked."
After watching our city's contribution to the Turin Olympics closing ceremonies, I couldn't agree more. That was supremely embarrassing.
BTW, Terry gave the record an 8/10, calling it "the perfect '80s Rush album."
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Retrogressive Progressive Obsessive
Inspired by a thread at Doomed To Rock, I decided to pick some of my favourite progressive rock albums from the ’90s to the present. A lot of my choices reflect a time when I was discovering a lot of new bands and labels—the same time, funnily enough, that I first got on the Web. It was 1997. The "progressive revival" of the early '80s hadn't left me with anything but a few treasured Marillion and IQ albums. I'd become pissed off with indie rock's apathetic lack of craft and was enthusiastically catching up with the metal scene. Then, prompted by a few magazine articles and the much-maligned Billboard Guide to Progressive Music, I found a whole new vein of underground music... I got out my credit card and began clicking "Confirm Your Order." I got up to date in no time, and was overjoyed to hear that progressive rock was thriving, free from major label tyranny and the notion of having a "hit" that killed the '70s and '80s bands. The new bands were making music for all the right reasons.
For this list, I decided to stay within the boundaries of what I consider the classic prog sound, so a lot of these albums are unabashedly retro (I don’t want to get into the retrogressive progressive rock debate—I'll just say that the issue doesn’t keep me awake at night). Other albums on the list might push the boundaries a little more. As a general rule, I steered clear of heavy metal, which is often the most complex, progressive music in existence. Progressive metal albums like Gorguts’ Obscura and River of Corticone by Sacramentary Abolishment might have to wait for another list to get their fair dues.
In chronological order, then…
1. Landberk – Lonely Land (Laser’s Edge, 1992)
Right before Anglagard’s epoch-making debut album, Landberk arrived, a very different but no less remarkable band who released three studio albums then tragically vanished. Lonely Land is the English-language version of their debut album (some say they prefer the original Swedish version, which I’ve never heard). There’s nothing off-puttingly indulgent about their music, in fact it rocks in a gently headbangable way. Landberk prefer to groove rather than slam you around the room with dozens of rapid-fire changes. They’re accessible in the same way a band like Katatonia is. Their overwhelming melancholy is their own worst enemy—or most valuable asset, depending on your POV. Landberk’s sound revolves around Stefan Dimle’s barbed-wire bass, a swathe of Mellotron, and the stürm and twang of Reine Fiske’s guitar, whose seething tone I find so compelling I’ve sought out a number of his recordings, from the amazing Morte Macabre album, to the debut EP from Paatos, to his current contributions to the ultra-hip psyche band Dungen.
2. IQ – Ever (Giant Electric Pea, 1993)
After an abortive two-album major label foray, IQ added new bassist John Jowitt and old singer Peter Nicholls, and returned stronger than ever with…Ever. While their contemporaries Marillion fought to distance themselves from the progressive rock genre, IQ embraced it, favouring their audience with a string of quality releases up to the present day. As a result, they’ve found themselves the flagbearers of “neo-prog” a virtually meaningless, often pejorative, label that’s become common use in the years after Ever. I have a real soft spot for these guys, and Ever remains (ever-so-slightly) the best of their post-80s output—stately, confident, and dramatic.
3. Anglagard – Epilog (Private label, 1994)
These Swedes sent shock waves through the community (such as it was in 1992) when their debut Hybris was released. Much as Metallica took earlier metal influences and ramped them up to new levels of mania, Anglagard took the “good bits” of '70s progressive rock and built a better beast. The turn-on-a-dime epic instrumentals on Epilog are marvels of tight, intricate playing, dynamics, and melodic exploration. And the band's rich, organic sound—heavy on the flute, Mellotron and Hammond—must have been a revelation to ears longing for relief from the blocky, overblown production that ruled the '80s. They released only two studio albums, but their influence lives on in bands like Norway’s Wobbler. The crack cocaine of progressive rock, Epilog still delivers a satisfying jolt.
4. White Willow – Ignis Fatuus (Laser’s Edge, 1995)
This Norwegian collective’s debut album has a very pastoral feel, heavy on the acoustic guitars, flute, soothing Moog tones, and female vocals. Amazingly White Willow have kept it together enough to release three more albums, each with an increasingly extreme light/heavy dynamic. Ignis Fatuus has its aggressive moments, as heard on the fiery keyboard solo in “Lord of Night” and the powerful doom-crunch of “Cryptomenysis.” Elaborate madrigals like “The Withering of the Boughs” and “Now In These Fairy Lands” (quiet in the back, please) dominate the album, though, making for a pleasant (though never bland), listen located somewhere between Harmonium and Jethro Tull, suffused with melancholy that colours a lot of Scandinavian music. Don’t be deceived by the fiercely subtle nature of this album. Leader Jacob Holm-Lupo is down with the black metal, so he’s in touch with the dark side.
5. Spock’s Beard – Beware of Darkness (Radiant, 1996)
The Beard are loved and loathed equally, with “fanboy” and “progsnob” the discussion board epithets of choice whenever their music is debated. Whatever—they did a lot to rejuvenate interest in the genre in the '90s. Neal Morse is an ace songwriter, able to stir The Beatles, Yes, and Gentle Giant into an infectiously catchy prog soup. Sure, they’re sometimes sappy, and they’re not taking the music anywhere new, but when I want to hear something to pick up my mood, I put on the Beard. BoD gets the nod over debut album The Light (1992) and V (2000) for the presence of "The Doorway" and “Time Has Come,” my all-time favourite Beard epic.
6. Happy Family – Toscco (1997, Cuneiform)
Zeuhl-inspired instrumental madness from this Japanese quartet, who beat the tar out of their instruments for the length of this album. With songs like "The Sushi Bar (with bad face, bad manners, and bad taste)" and "He is Coming at Tokyo Station," the music really captures the feeling of a frenetic urban existence. I find it a lot more palatable than Ruins (the widely accepted benchmark for Japanese avant-rock craziness) because there’s more space in the music, more grooving, and more drama. This album flat-out rocks.
7. Present – Certitudes (Cuneiform, 1998)
Dark and twisted nightmare music from Belgians with ties to legendary chamber rock outfit Univers Zero. Present are far more guitar-centric than Univers Zero, with a sound approaching Voivod performing Philip Glass compositions.
8. Anathema – Alternative 4 (Peaceville, 1998)
Anathema went from being an okay doom metal band to an excellent hard-driving progressive rock band with this breakthrough album. The emotional overload and sense of continuity of these songs reminds me a lot of Marillion’s Clutching at Straws, and Vincent Cavanaugh’s vocal delivery recalls Roger Waters. My friend Smash and I logged a good many hours with this album when it came out, and it's never grown old.
9. Porcupine Tree – Stupid Dream (1999, Snapper)
Band leader Steve Wilson would probably have an aneurysm if he saw his band sharing space with certain others on this list, but what roundup of progressive rock from the last decade and a half could omit Porcupine Tree? Stupid Dream is just one of a string of excellent releases from these guys, probably the one that set the standard until their latest masterpiece, Deadwing. From orchestral pop songs to epic Floydian excursions, P. Tree has it covered. Wilson’s musical and lyrical depth is constantly amazing, and from a production standpoint, he makes some of the best-sounding records you’ll ever hear these days.
10. Kevin Gilbert – The Shaming of the True (2000, KMG)
Kevin Gilbert was an LA-based songwriter/musician and a member of the Tuesday Night Music Club, the songwriting workshop that unleashed Sheryl Crow upon the world. I would guess that the circumstances behind Crow’s rise to fame generated a lot of the bitterness that fuelled The Shaming of the True, Gilbert’s concept album about the dark side of the music business. (Gilbert passed away before the album was finished. Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard and others assembled the album from demos, live recordings and other sources—not that you can tell.) The story follows a promising young artist, Johnny Virgil, as he’s chewed up and spat out by the industry. The genius of this album lies in its songs. They're actually very commercial and radio friendly, ironically reflecting the hit-factory mentality that the album rails against. They’re a diverse lot, at times recalling Peter Gabriel's rhythm-based style (Gilbert once staged a full-length live version of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway). And check out the incredible vocal tapestry of "Suit Fugue (Dance of the A&R Men") and the scathing "Fun," which includes a memorable verse about a certain “Sheryl”. It’s an inspiring album—a labour of love and an incandescent purging of spite.
Shortlisted:
Morte Macabre, Symphonic Holocaust; Guapo, Black Oni; Anekdoten, From Within; Tiamat, Wildhoney; Djam Karet, Live at Orion
For this list, I decided to stay within the boundaries of what I consider the classic prog sound, so a lot of these albums are unabashedly retro (I don’t want to get into the retrogressive progressive rock debate—I'll just say that the issue doesn’t keep me awake at night). Other albums on the list might push the boundaries a little more. As a general rule, I steered clear of heavy metal, which is often the most complex, progressive music in existence. Progressive metal albums like Gorguts’ Obscura and River of Corticone by Sacramentary Abolishment might have to wait for another list to get their fair dues.
In chronological order, then…
1. Landberk – Lonely Land (Laser’s Edge, 1992)
Right before Anglagard’s epoch-making debut album, Landberk arrived, a very different but no less remarkable band who released three studio albums then tragically vanished. Lonely Land is the English-language version of their debut album (some say they prefer the original Swedish version, which I’ve never heard). There’s nothing off-puttingly indulgent about their music, in fact it rocks in a gently headbangable way. Landberk prefer to groove rather than slam you around the room with dozens of rapid-fire changes. They’re accessible in the same way a band like Katatonia is. Their overwhelming melancholy is their own worst enemy—or most valuable asset, depending on your POV. Landberk’s sound revolves around Stefan Dimle’s barbed-wire bass, a swathe of Mellotron, and the stürm and twang of Reine Fiske’s guitar, whose seething tone I find so compelling I’ve sought out a number of his recordings, from the amazing Morte Macabre album, to the debut EP from Paatos, to his current contributions to the ultra-hip psyche band Dungen.
2. IQ – Ever (Giant Electric Pea, 1993)
After an abortive two-album major label foray, IQ added new bassist John Jowitt and old singer Peter Nicholls, and returned stronger than ever with…Ever. While their contemporaries Marillion fought to distance themselves from the progressive rock genre, IQ embraced it, favouring their audience with a string of quality releases up to the present day. As a result, they’ve found themselves the flagbearers of “neo-prog” a virtually meaningless, often pejorative, label that’s become common use in the years after Ever. I have a real soft spot for these guys, and Ever remains (ever-so-slightly) the best of their post-80s output—stately, confident, and dramatic.
3. Anglagard – Epilog (Private label, 1994)
These Swedes sent shock waves through the community (such as it was in 1992) when their debut Hybris was released. Much as Metallica took earlier metal influences and ramped them up to new levels of mania, Anglagard took the “good bits” of '70s progressive rock and built a better beast. The turn-on-a-dime epic instrumentals on Epilog are marvels of tight, intricate playing, dynamics, and melodic exploration. And the band's rich, organic sound—heavy on the flute, Mellotron and Hammond—must have been a revelation to ears longing for relief from the blocky, overblown production that ruled the '80s. They released only two studio albums, but their influence lives on in bands like Norway’s Wobbler. The crack cocaine of progressive rock, Epilog still delivers a satisfying jolt.
4. White Willow – Ignis Fatuus (Laser’s Edge, 1995)
This Norwegian collective’s debut album has a very pastoral feel, heavy on the acoustic guitars, flute, soothing Moog tones, and female vocals. Amazingly White Willow have kept it together enough to release three more albums, each with an increasingly extreme light/heavy dynamic. Ignis Fatuus has its aggressive moments, as heard on the fiery keyboard solo in “Lord of Night” and the powerful doom-crunch of “Cryptomenysis.” Elaborate madrigals like “The Withering of the Boughs” and “Now In These Fairy Lands” (quiet in the back, please) dominate the album, though, making for a pleasant (though never bland), listen located somewhere between Harmonium and Jethro Tull, suffused with melancholy that colours a lot of Scandinavian music. Don’t be deceived by the fiercely subtle nature of this album. Leader Jacob Holm-Lupo is down with the black metal, so he’s in touch with the dark side.
5. Spock’s Beard – Beware of Darkness (Radiant, 1996)
The Beard are loved and loathed equally, with “fanboy” and “progsnob” the discussion board epithets of choice whenever their music is debated. Whatever—they did a lot to rejuvenate interest in the genre in the '90s. Neal Morse is an ace songwriter, able to stir The Beatles, Yes, and Gentle Giant into an infectiously catchy prog soup. Sure, they’re sometimes sappy, and they’re not taking the music anywhere new, but when I want to hear something to pick up my mood, I put on the Beard. BoD gets the nod over debut album The Light (1992) and V (2000) for the presence of "The Doorway" and “Time Has Come,” my all-time favourite Beard epic.
6. Happy Family – Toscco (1997, Cuneiform)
Zeuhl-inspired instrumental madness from this Japanese quartet, who beat the tar out of their instruments for the length of this album. With songs like "The Sushi Bar (with bad face, bad manners, and bad taste)" and "He is Coming at Tokyo Station," the music really captures the feeling of a frenetic urban existence. I find it a lot more palatable than Ruins (the widely accepted benchmark for Japanese avant-rock craziness) because there’s more space in the music, more grooving, and more drama. This album flat-out rocks.
7. Present – Certitudes (Cuneiform, 1998)
Dark and twisted nightmare music from Belgians with ties to legendary chamber rock outfit Univers Zero. Present are far more guitar-centric than Univers Zero, with a sound approaching Voivod performing Philip Glass compositions.
8. Anathema – Alternative 4 (Peaceville, 1998)
Anathema went from being an okay doom metal band to an excellent hard-driving progressive rock band with this breakthrough album. The emotional overload and sense of continuity of these songs reminds me a lot of Marillion’s Clutching at Straws, and Vincent Cavanaugh’s vocal delivery recalls Roger Waters. My friend Smash and I logged a good many hours with this album when it came out, and it's never grown old.
9. Porcupine Tree – Stupid Dream (1999, Snapper)
Band leader Steve Wilson would probably have an aneurysm if he saw his band sharing space with certain others on this list, but what roundup of progressive rock from the last decade and a half could omit Porcupine Tree? Stupid Dream is just one of a string of excellent releases from these guys, probably the one that set the standard until their latest masterpiece, Deadwing. From orchestral pop songs to epic Floydian excursions, P. Tree has it covered. Wilson’s musical and lyrical depth is constantly amazing, and from a production standpoint, he makes some of the best-sounding records you’ll ever hear these days.
10. Kevin Gilbert – The Shaming of the True (2000, KMG)
Kevin Gilbert was an LA-based songwriter/musician and a member of the Tuesday Night Music Club, the songwriting workshop that unleashed Sheryl Crow upon the world. I would guess that the circumstances behind Crow’s rise to fame generated a lot of the bitterness that fuelled The Shaming of the True, Gilbert’s concept album about the dark side of the music business. (Gilbert passed away before the album was finished. Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard and others assembled the album from demos, live recordings and other sources—not that you can tell.) The story follows a promising young artist, Johnny Virgil, as he’s chewed up and spat out by the industry. The genius of this album lies in its songs. They're actually very commercial and radio friendly, ironically reflecting the hit-factory mentality that the album rails against. They’re a diverse lot, at times recalling Peter Gabriel's rhythm-based style (Gilbert once staged a full-length live version of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway). And check out the incredible vocal tapestry of "Suit Fugue (Dance of the A&R Men") and the scathing "Fun," which includes a memorable verse about a certain “Sheryl”. It’s an inspiring album—a labour of love and an incandescent purging of spite.
Shortlisted:
Morte Macabre, Symphonic Holocaust; Guapo, Black Oni; Anekdoten, From Within; Tiamat, Wildhoney; Djam Karet, Live at Orion
Monday, February 13, 2006
I finished work on the new issue of Unrestrained! last week. I still feel like I'm coming up for air, as the last few days of every issue get pretty intense. I talked to Norway's Green Carnation, Toronto's Martin Popoff, and Maple Ridge's Devin Townsend for this edition, so I'll try to post some interview leftovers in the coming weeks.
I'll start with Devin Townsend, who's just released one of his finest albums ever, Synchestra, with the Devin Townsend Band. It's a homespun yet epic record, full of surprises and nonchalant genius. He's a great guy to talk to, and I regret that I couldn't include the full scope of our conversation in my U! piece, which ended up being a sort of guided tour through the songs on the new album.
I asked Devin about the guests he had on Synchestra—guests like Steve Vai, who gave Townsend one of his first big breaks as vocalist on Vai's Sex and Religion album in 1993.
You’ve got Steve Vai playing a solo on the song "Triumph." You've mentioned before that it was sort of a renewal of your creative relationship.
"Yeah, and also closing the door on a 12-year cycle. It was 12 years ago that I did that Vai thing, which kind of launched me in some peculiar directions personally and professionally. I think I spent quite a few of those years in a combination of ruing it and blaming him. I think it took me 12 years to get past that and realize the opportunity that it actually was and realizing the friend that I’ve actually got in that guy. While a lot of people had the opportunity to go to music university to learn their craft, I had the opportunity to go to 'Steve School' and learn lots about the practical application of the music, like the touring and the management end of it and the production and obviously guitar and vocals...as far into it as videos and band dynamic and all this kind of shit. Being able to apply that to my own works has shaped me in a way that it’s hard to picture myself without [all that] at this point. So having Steve perform on a song lke 'Triumph' I think lets bygones be bygones. I mean, personally Steve and I have been fine since the second year after that, but professionally I’ve just been going down so many weird paths for so long that to get out of that cycle by having him appear on the record is really therapeutic."
Did you have any specific instructions for him on the song or did you just say "Go ahead and do your thing"?
"Yeah, the only specific instruction I had was 'Here’s the file—rock it.'"
There’s a female vocalist on the album too. Who is that?
"Well, Nick Tyzio is our sound man. He’s been our sound guy for Strapping Young Lad for a while now, and he’s a really good sound man and a really good guy. Because Synchestra has a pretty family-oriented theme to it I tried to find people who were within our circle, and Deborah is Nick’s wife. She’s got a really good voice and she’s got a lot of things that she’ll be doing in the future. She’s really talented, so it was good to be able to utilize her voice for this."
I'll start with Devin Townsend, who's just released one of his finest albums ever, Synchestra, with the Devin Townsend Band. It's a homespun yet epic record, full of surprises and nonchalant genius. He's a great guy to talk to, and I regret that I couldn't include the full scope of our conversation in my U! piece, which ended up being a sort of guided tour through the songs on the new album.
I asked Devin about the guests he had on Synchestra—guests like Steve Vai, who gave Townsend one of his first big breaks as vocalist on Vai's Sex and Religion album in 1993.
You’ve got Steve Vai playing a solo on the song "Triumph." You've mentioned before that it was sort of a renewal of your creative relationship.
"Yeah, and also closing the door on a 12-year cycle. It was 12 years ago that I did that Vai thing, which kind of launched me in some peculiar directions personally and professionally. I think I spent quite a few of those years in a combination of ruing it and blaming him. I think it took me 12 years to get past that and realize the opportunity that it actually was and realizing the friend that I’ve actually got in that guy. While a lot of people had the opportunity to go to music university to learn their craft, I had the opportunity to go to 'Steve School' and learn lots about the practical application of the music, like the touring and the management end of it and the production and obviously guitar and vocals...as far into it as videos and band dynamic and all this kind of shit. Being able to apply that to my own works has shaped me in a way that it’s hard to picture myself without [all that] at this point. So having Steve perform on a song lke 'Triumph' I think lets bygones be bygones. I mean, personally Steve and I have been fine since the second year after that, but professionally I’ve just been going down so many weird paths for so long that to get out of that cycle by having him appear on the record is really therapeutic."
Did you have any specific instructions for him on the song or did you just say "Go ahead and do your thing"?
"Yeah, the only specific instruction I had was 'Here’s the file—rock it.'"
There’s a female vocalist on the album too. Who is that?
"Well, Nick Tyzio is our sound man. He’s been our sound guy for Strapping Young Lad for a while now, and he’s a really good sound man and a really good guy. Because Synchestra has a pretty family-oriented theme to it I tried to find people who were within our circle, and Deborah is Nick’s wife. She’s got a really good voice and she’s got a lot of things that she’ll be doing in the future. She’s really talented, so it was good to be able to utilize her voice for this."
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Oh boy, a trip to the post office to pick up stuff from The End Records.
Circulus—The Lick on the Tip of an Envelope That's Yet to be Sent
What the what is going on here? Surely it bears further investigation. Blackmore's Night, I challenge thee to a joust.
Canvas Solaris—Penumbra Diffuse
Instrumental tech-metal's where it's at for me these days. It's so seldom that I hear a metal vocalist who really contributes anything to the music, so do away with them, I say. Shrink-wrap sticker: "Fans of Spiral Architect, King Crimson, and Don Caballero will be challenged from the opening notes." I'm up for a bit of that.
Jesu—Jesu
Justin Broadrick's new thing.
The Gathering—A Sound Relief DVD
Shrink-wrap sticker: "...a must for any fan of Portishead [cool], Mogwai [righteous], Evanescence [D-OHH!], etc."
Circulus—The Lick on the Tip of an Envelope That's Yet to be Sent
What the what is going on here? Surely it bears further investigation. Blackmore's Night, I challenge thee to a joust.
Canvas Solaris—Penumbra Diffuse
Instrumental tech-metal's where it's at for me these days. It's so seldom that I hear a metal vocalist who really contributes anything to the music, so do away with them, I say. Shrink-wrap sticker: "Fans of Spiral Architect, King Crimson, and Don Caballero will be challenged from the opening notes." I'm up for a bit of that.
Jesu—Jesu
Justin Broadrick's new thing.
The Gathering—A Sound Relief DVD
Shrink-wrap sticker: "...a must for any fan of Portishead [cool], Mogwai [righteous], Evanescence [D-OHH!], etc."
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
I’m still jamming on Sundays at the Sox house, where I’ve been bashing away for at least 15 years now. The jam room is the same as ever, a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling tangle of patch cables, pedal boards, mike stands and cobwebs presided over by brittle posters of Geddy, Ozzy and Lemmy. Only the refreshments have changed. The days of homebrew and homegrown are over. Instead we’re downing Chai and bottled water and fresh fruit and cheese strings, all supplied by mother Sox, whom I’m sure is delighted by the straight-edge Sunday philosophy. We’re like friggin’ Aerosmith these days. Last time I was over, we had the Monk/Coltrane live album playing on the stereo as we passed the teapot around, and I heard Scum mutter, “God, what a bunch of nellies.”
We still play bloody loud, though, and, in the grand Sox tradition, we record everything. Getting a good room mix onto tape (or hard drive) wasn’t so difficult when we were a trio-plus-vocalist, but now that twin guitars have become such a big part of our “sound,” the huge swirl of frequencies has really muddied the recordings. I think turning down would help, but the guys love their Marshall stacks too much to do that. We’ve been using noise gates on the drum mikes to stop the guitars bleeding through. They definitely help, but I really dislike the resulting sound. Not only is every drum hit clipped a tiny bit, but the elements of the kit that don’t pack a huge wallop—like the high hat and ride cymbal—end up not triggering the gates and are inaudible on the recordings. Forget about playing grace notes or cross-sticking on the snare…it simply won’t register. Kick, snare, toms—boom-boom-tap—are about all that makes it through the gates.
So I worry, I complain, I bear with it. It’s not my room, it’s not my equipment, and I’m just the guy who gets to hang around with musicians…you know the joke. But as of last week, I feel better about the situation. Each issue of Decibel magazine features a lengthy piece about a “Hall of Fame” album, an extensive revisitation of some classic record that rounds up fresh interviews with band members talking about the good old days and how they really had no idea they were making a classic at the time, etc.
The Decibel folks have displayed good taste in their picks thus far, and I’m all over each issue like white on rice. In the latest issue, they consecrate Cathedral’s Forest of Equilibrium, a fantastically miserable album made by, it turns out, fantastically miserable young men. And what did Mike Smail, an American drummer who went to England to play on Cathedral’s legendary debut album, think of the end result?
“Well, I was kinda disappointed that there were absolutely no cymbals on that recording…”
We still play bloody loud, though, and, in the grand Sox tradition, we record everything. Getting a good room mix onto tape (or hard drive) wasn’t so difficult when we were a trio-plus-vocalist, but now that twin guitars have become such a big part of our “sound,” the huge swirl of frequencies has really muddied the recordings. I think turning down would help, but the guys love their Marshall stacks too much to do that. We’ve been using noise gates on the drum mikes to stop the guitars bleeding through. They definitely help, but I really dislike the resulting sound. Not only is every drum hit clipped a tiny bit, but the elements of the kit that don’t pack a huge wallop—like the high hat and ride cymbal—end up not triggering the gates and are inaudible on the recordings. Forget about playing grace notes or cross-sticking on the snare…it simply won’t register. Kick, snare, toms—boom-boom-tap—are about all that makes it through the gates.
So I worry, I complain, I bear with it. It’s not my room, it’s not my equipment, and I’m just the guy who gets to hang around with musicians…you know the joke. But as of last week, I feel better about the situation. Each issue of Decibel magazine features a lengthy piece about a “Hall of Fame” album, an extensive revisitation of some classic record that rounds up fresh interviews with band members talking about the good old days and how they really had no idea they were making a classic at the time, etc.
The Decibel folks have displayed good taste in their picks thus far, and I’m all over each issue like white on rice. In the latest issue, they consecrate Cathedral’s Forest of Equilibrium, a fantastically miserable album made by, it turns out, fantastically miserable young men. And what did Mike Smail, an American drummer who went to England to play on Cathedral’s legendary debut album, think of the end result?
“Well, I was kinda disappointed that there were absolutely no cymbals on that recording…”
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Interior Design – Interior Design 03 (Canada Lynx Records)
Interior Design is Shockk’s solo project. He plays guitar in Mongoose and the on-again, off-again Roadbed, and is one of the most ridiculously talented musicians I’ve ever seen, much less hung out with. If he weren’t such a nice, modest guy, he’d probably be famous. With Interior Design, he applies his dexterous fingers to ambient music. I think this is his first CD, after releasing a handful of tapes over the years. It comes packaged in a DVD case with a hyper-elegant sleeve designed by SN Ratio (Simian of Supersimian—see below—who’s becoming Vancouver’s answer to Vaughn Oliver or Storm Thorgerson). Shockk deploys his mastery of beatboxes, effects and jazz licks on music that is a companion unobtrusive. At times this album sounds like Pat Metheny jamming with Boards of Canada. With the exception of “abrasion test,” featuring a touch of trumpet from Roger Dean Young, the music you hear is just the Shockker, his guitar, and machines. The rhythm tracks alone make for a fascinating listen (Shockk’s pretty handy behind a drum set and carries this over when programming beats), never mind his stunning guitar playing overtop—too well-placed and appropriate of tone to qualify as mere noodling. The songs are of a piece while maintaining their separate identities, and several of the longer tracks take some interesting directions. Track 10, “opaque,” nods to Roadbed in the form of samples of between-song banter from Roadbed gigs (if you listen carefully, this blog gets a mention). The distortion drone of “geometric” works as a soothing musical sorbet for a mid-album ear cleansing before the next piece gets going. While some might scoff at the idea that this kind of Ikea-core might be anything but sonic wallpaper, Shockk’s ear for detail makes the music work as both an active and passive listening experience. Bung it on whilst entertaining, or hunker down under the headphones, close your eyes, and start editing together your own private Koyaanisqatsi. A highly recommended accessory for good living.
Interior Design is Shockk’s solo project. He plays guitar in Mongoose and the on-again, off-again Roadbed, and is one of the most ridiculously talented musicians I’ve ever seen, much less hung out with. If he weren’t such a nice, modest guy, he’d probably be famous. With Interior Design, he applies his dexterous fingers to ambient music. I think this is his first CD, after releasing a handful of tapes over the years. It comes packaged in a DVD case with a hyper-elegant sleeve designed by SN Ratio (Simian of Supersimian—see below—who’s becoming Vancouver’s answer to Vaughn Oliver or Storm Thorgerson). Shockk deploys his mastery of beatboxes, effects and jazz licks on music that is a companion unobtrusive. At times this album sounds like Pat Metheny jamming with Boards of Canada. With the exception of “abrasion test,” featuring a touch of trumpet from Roger Dean Young, the music you hear is just the Shockker, his guitar, and machines. The rhythm tracks alone make for a fascinating listen (Shockk’s pretty handy behind a drum set and carries this over when programming beats), never mind his stunning guitar playing overtop—too well-placed and appropriate of tone to qualify as mere noodling. The songs are of a piece while maintaining their separate identities, and several of the longer tracks take some interesting directions. Track 10, “opaque,” nods to Roadbed in the form of samples of between-song banter from Roadbed gigs (if you listen carefully, this blog gets a mention). The distortion drone of “geometric” works as a soothing musical sorbet for a mid-album ear cleansing before the next piece gets going. While some might scoff at the idea that this kind of Ikea-core might be anything but sonic wallpaper, Shockk’s ear for detail makes the music work as both an active and passive listening experience. Bung it on whilst entertaining, or hunker down under the headphones, close your eyes, and start editing together your own private Koyaanisqatsi. A highly recommended accessory for good living.
Monday, January 16, 2006
These are the people in my neighbourhood, Pt. 2.
How the Tiger Got Lionized is the first album from the team of Super Robertson (scene kingpin and Supper Show impresario) and Simian Special (whom I know as Roadbed’s last drummer, but is a man of many musical projects), who’ve merged their talents to form SUPERSIMIAN! A couple of good Canadian guys making good Canadian music with a lineage from Neil Young to the Rheostatics and beyond. And, because my Canada is in the Commonwealth, I’d throw XTC into the cluster of references too. How the Tiger… is an aimable, spontaneous (spontamiable?) record, loaded with detailed arrangements and variation ’tween songs. There are a lot of vocals on this album—neither of these chaps is afraid of a microphone—which lends it a density that took me a few listens to penetrate and appreciate what was going on. Fortunately their vocal talents are more than a match for their extroversion. Sim’s a huge talent, with a voice that ranges from a direct, folksy tone to a falsetto that soars into the big sky. Super’s the king of rhythm and feel, able to wrest music from the most mundane phrase…not that the lyrics of SUPERSIMIAN are in any way banal. They’re rather brilliant, actually—filled with character sketches, natural phenomena, and local references. There’s even a tune about hockey for the ultimate toque ’n’ block-heater appeal. Favourite songs would be the Crazy Horse charge of “Bill Von Bacon Tell,” the barely contained abandon of “70s Rock at the Railway” (I’d like to hear this bashed out live sometime), and the amazing “Provincial,” a song I remember from the last few Roadbed gigs I saw, captured on this album in a live recording that trades a few duff notes for an incredible atmosphere. Magic. In fact, the band lineup on this song includes guitarist Shockk (whose latest release I will write about soon), making it a Roadbed reunion of sorts. The inclusion of a version of “Sun Rises,” last heard on Roadbed’s Last Dance at the Shock Centre, re-emphasizes the connection to Super and Sim’s previous band. Graced by Sim’s fantastic graphic design, How the Tiger Got Lionized captures some harmonious heroism from a pair of unstoppable characters.
How the Tiger Got Lionized is the first album from the team of Super Robertson (scene kingpin and Supper Show impresario) and Simian Special (whom I know as Roadbed’s last drummer, but is a man of many musical projects), who’ve merged their talents to form SUPERSIMIAN! A couple of good Canadian guys making good Canadian music with a lineage from Neil Young to the Rheostatics and beyond. And, because my Canada is in the Commonwealth, I’d throw XTC into the cluster of references too. How the Tiger… is an aimable, spontaneous (spontamiable?) record, loaded with detailed arrangements and variation ’tween songs. There are a lot of vocals on this album—neither of these chaps is afraid of a microphone—which lends it a density that took me a few listens to penetrate and appreciate what was going on. Fortunately their vocal talents are more than a match for their extroversion. Sim’s a huge talent, with a voice that ranges from a direct, folksy tone to a falsetto that soars into the big sky. Super’s the king of rhythm and feel, able to wrest music from the most mundane phrase…not that the lyrics of SUPERSIMIAN are in any way banal. They’re rather brilliant, actually—filled with character sketches, natural phenomena, and local references. There’s even a tune about hockey for the ultimate toque ’n’ block-heater appeal. Favourite songs would be the Crazy Horse charge of “Bill Von Bacon Tell,” the barely contained abandon of “70s Rock at the Railway” (I’d like to hear this bashed out live sometime), and the amazing “Provincial,” a song I remember from the last few Roadbed gigs I saw, captured on this album in a live recording that trades a few duff notes for an incredible atmosphere. Magic. In fact, the band lineup on this song includes guitarist Shockk (whose latest release I will write about soon), making it a Roadbed reunion of sorts. The inclusion of a version of “Sun Rises,” last heard on Roadbed’s Last Dance at the Shock Centre, re-emphasizes the connection to Super and Sim’s previous band. Graced by Sim’s fantastic graphic design, How the Tiger Got Lionized captures some harmonious heroism from a pair of unstoppable characters.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
I celebrated my 40th birthday last weekend with Fancy and friends, a lot of cake and a lot of beer. I've been reeling from the fun and the assault of complex sugars on my system ever since. I can't say I'm worrying too much about the age milestone. That stuff is for people who have regrets and amends to make. I mainly worry about how long my stretch as the luckiest person alive is going to last.
Super Robertson recently called me a fucking son of a bitch (I was being a smartass in his blog comments), and that's okay, although I'd like to amend his slur to fucking lucky son of a bitch.
I got lots of birthday presents; everyone's way too nice to me. I got some Tetley's beer glasses, gift certificates to Happy Bats Cinema and A&B Sound (I sense a haul coming on), the Mist King Urth LP by Lifeguards (Pollard and Gillard from GBV), the Criterion Withnail and I DVD (Fancy rolls her eyes), and season 2 of Reno 911.
And from Fancy, the little belter that she is... How do I describe this? She took my stash of concert ticket stubs (99 of them) and had them arranged and mounted inside a shadow box. It's beautiful. From Scorpions/Iron Maiden/Girlschool in July 1982 to Judas Priest last October, there's my goddamn life. Not a lot of personal and aesthetic growth there, but I've enjoyed it.
Super Robertson recently called me a fucking son of a bitch (I was being a smartass in his blog comments), and that's okay, although I'd like to amend his slur to fucking lucky son of a bitch.
I got lots of birthday presents; everyone's way too nice to me. I got some Tetley's beer glasses, gift certificates to Happy Bats Cinema and A&B Sound (I sense a haul coming on), the Mist King Urth LP by Lifeguards (Pollard and Gillard from GBV), the Criterion Withnail and I DVD (Fancy rolls her eyes), and season 2 of Reno 911.
And from Fancy, the little belter that she is... How do I describe this? She took my stash of concert ticket stubs (99 of them) and had them arranged and mounted inside a shadow box. It's beautiful. From Scorpions/Iron Maiden/Girlschool in July 1982 to Judas Priest last October, there's my goddamn life. Not a lot of personal and aesthetic growth there, but I've enjoyed it.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
I have a lot of talented friends with new music out right now. First up...
Ross Vegas features my pals Smash on bass and Alec Macaulay guesting on lead guitar. The band itself is led by Tim “Hey Rock” Bourchier on guitar/vocals, whom I’ve known slightly ever since his old band, Rubicon, gigged with Roadbed and Stoke a few years ago. To be absolutely honest, Ross Vegas don’t play a style of music I actively seek out. Their album Flow is full of unabashedly commercial mid-tempo rock mainly based around guitar grooves and easy-to-grasp chord changes that’s designed to get people out on the dance floor. It's not my scene, but I can appreciate the talent and craft that went into the album. Tim has a versatile, soulful voice that’s neither boy-band vulnerable nor ridden with empty post-grunge angst. Every element fits perfectly, from the pristine recording and production by Jonathan Fluevog, to the assorted talents that Tim’s assembled here. Besides Alec’s tasteful string bending and Smash’s spot-on bass work, Rick Maksymiw (keyboards) and Sam Cartwright (drums) deliver like studio pros with performances that more than demonstrate their respective expertise. You know when you hear someone playing with impeccable taste and restraint in service of The Song, yet you know they could unleash a holocaust of shred if given the opportunity? That's the feeling I get listening to this band. Though, as I said, Ross Vegas aren’t my thing, the music on Flow is comfortable with itself, and that's a pleasure to hear.
Next up: How the Tiger Got Lionized by SUPERSIMIAN.
Ross Vegas features my pals Smash on bass and Alec Macaulay guesting on lead guitar. The band itself is led by Tim “Hey Rock” Bourchier on guitar/vocals, whom I’ve known slightly ever since his old band, Rubicon, gigged with Roadbed and Stoke a few years ago. To be absolutely honest, Ross Vegas don’t play a style of music I actively seek out. Their album Flow is full of unabashedly commercial mid-tempo rock mainly based around guitar grooves and easy-to-grasp chord changes that’s designed to get people out on the dance floor. It's not my scene, but I can appreciate the talent and craft that went into the album. Tim has a versatile, soulful voice that’s neither boy-band vulnerable nor ridden with empty post-grunge angst. Every element fits perfectly, from the pristine recording and production by Jonathan Fluevog, to the assorted talents that Tim’s assembled here. Besides Alec’s tasteful string bending and Smash’s spot-on bass work, Rick Maksymiw (keyboards) and Sam Cartwright (drums) deliver like studio pros with performances that more than demonstrate their respective expertise. You know when you hear someone playing with impeccable taste and restraint in service of The Song, yet you know they could unleash a holocaust of shred if given the opportunity? That's the feeling I get listening to this band. Though, as I said, Ross Vegas aren’t my thing, the music on Flow is comfortable with itself, and that's a pleasure to hear.
Next up: How the Tiger Got Lionized by SUPERSIMIAN.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Think of the Children
As you might guess, I’ve made a few trips to A&B Sound for pre- and post-Christmas shopping. Lately they’ve set up big displays that follow
you all the way to the cashier, flaunting impulse buys for every age and taste. One of these shelves is marked “For Mom” and features the Bon Jovi box set, the new Brian Wilson album, and other mom-friendly audio/visual treats. Next to that display are racks of stuff “For Dad”—Sin City, the AC/DC catalogue, and the recent reissue/remaster of Van der Graaf Generator’s The Least We Can Do is Wave to Each Other. You mean people like me actually breed? If you know anyone whose dad asked for that in his stocking, call social services.
The VdGG remasters are actually pretty keen, and if I didn’t already own multiple copies of these albums I’d be snapping them up. The only reissue I’ve bought on sight is their third album, H to He Who Am the Only One (1970). I now own four copies of this record, sorry to say. But the new one has bonus tracks…spectacular ones! The first addition is worth the price alone—“Squid I/Squid II/Octopus” live and unhinged in the studio during the Pawn Hearts sessions in 1971. This is a 15-minute medley of early songs that formed a big chunk of VdGG’s live set up to the band’s implosion in 1972. It’s glorious to hear the band in full blow, just like you might have on the Six-Bob Tour. Listen to mad boffin Hugh Banton’s organ sing to the heavens then puke its guts out, or marvel at how he summons the heaviest sound in the universe for the rush to the song’s end. Reel from the unrelenting Guy Evans at the drum kit, almost willing the whole enterprise to fly apart while shouldering his rhythm section responsibilities with ease. Hammill in manic young man mode screams into the din, but for most of the track he backs off and lets his band do their thing. It’s thrilling to hear them play live in such a high-fidelity environment. Their BBC sessions captured some of the group’s raw energy, but lacked this recording’s ripped-to-the-tits spontaneity, and no bootleg from this era comes close sonically. The last song is an earlier take of H to He’s third track, “The Emperor in his War Room,” a gruesome, spiteful treatise on tyranny where a warmongering politician is visited by the ghosts of those he’s sent to death (“In the night they steal your eye from its socket/and the ball hangs fallen on your cheek”). Other than its spectacular lyrics and “War Pigs” worthy imagery (I think H to He is by far the most Sabbatherian VdGG album), this track is most famous for Robert Fripp’s guest appearance, sitting in on guitar. Although Fripp isn’t on this version, Jaxon lays down some extra flute where the guitar solo eventually appeared, marking this take as a carefully measured run-through for the heavier version that made it onto the album. Not something that’ll make you re-evaluate the larger work, but as an archival curiosity for fans, it’s gold. Keep it in mind for Father’s Day in case the old man really digs that copy of The Least We Can Do…
As you might guess, I’ve made a few trips to A&B Sound for pre- and post-Christmas shopping. Lately they’ve set up big displays that follow
you all the way to the cashier, flaunting impulse buys for every age and taste. One of these shelves is marked “For Mom” and features the Bon Jovi box set, the new Brian Wilson album, and other mom-friendly audio/visual treats. Next to that display are racks of stuff “For Dad”—Sin City, the AC/DC catalogue, and the recent reissue/remaster of Van der Graaf Generator’s The Least We Can Do is Wave to Each Other. You mean people like me actually breed? If you know anyone whose dad asked for that in his stocking, call social services.
The VdGG remasters are actually pretty keen, and if I didn’t already own multiple copies of these albums I’d be snapping them up. The only reissue I’ve bought on sight is their third album, H to He Who Am the Only One (1970). I now own four copies of this record, sorry to say. But the new one has bonus tracks…spectacular ones! The first addition is worth the price alone—“Squid I/Squid II/Octopus” live and unhinged in the studio during the Pawn Hearts sessions in 1971. This is a 15-minute medley of early songs that formed a big chunk of VdGG’s live set up to the band’s implosion in 1972. It’s glorious to hear the band in full blow, just like you might have on the Six-Bob Tour. Listen to mad boffin Hugh Banton’s organ sing to the heavens then puke its guts out, or marvel at how he summons the heaviest sound in the universe for the rush to the song’s end. Reel from the unrelenting Guy Evans at the drum kit, almost willing the whole enterprise to fly apart while shouldering his rhythm section responsibilities with ease. Hammill in manic young man mode screams into the din, but for most of the track he backs off and lets his band do their thing. It’s thrilling to hear them play live in such a high-fidelity environment. Their BBC sessions captured some of the group’s raw energy, but lacked this recording’s ripped-to-the-tits spontaneity, and no bootleg from this era comes close sonically. The last song is an earlier take of H to He’s third track, “The Emperor in his War Room,” a gruesome, spiteful treatise on tyranny where a warmongering politician is visited by the ghosts of those he’s sent to death (“In the night they steal your eye from its socket/and the ball hangs fallen on your cheek”). Other than its spectacular lyrics and “War Pigs” worthy imagery (I think H to He is by far the most Sabbatherian VdGG album), this track is most famous for Robert Fripp’s guest appearance, sitting in on guitar. Although Fripp isn’t on this version, Jaxon lays down some extra flute where the guitar solo eventually appeared, marking this take as a carefully measured run-through for the heavier version that made it onto the album. Not something that’ll make you re-evaluate the larger work, but as an archival curiosity for fans, it’s gold. Keep it in mind for Father’s Day in case the old man really digs that copy of The Least We Can Do…
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Angels of Light—The Angels of Light Sing “Other People” (Young God)
This is an uneasy listen. Michael Gira’s voice demands that you pay attention. He sings/speaks these 12 songs/stories right into your ear. I can’t play this record in the background. It feels rude, like walking out of the room in the middle of a conversation. The “other people” of the album’s title are the subjects of each song—“friends, heroes, and various other entities beyond my control,” says Gira in the liner notes. The people include “My Friend Thor” with his disturbing drawings (one of which lurks behind the CD tray) and alarming sex drive, and Jackie, “dissolving a dream of a world that’s too small for the secrets he keeps,” and, most alarmingly, the apocalyptic spectre of Michael Jackson in “Michael’s White Hands” where Gira rails like a preacher: “Michael bring the truth denied/Michael kill that child inside.” Gira’s backing band here is Akron/Family, a recording act in their own right, who provide consistently surprising arrangements using traditional/folk elements such as mandolin, violin, banjo, slide guitar, handclaps, whistling—and barely any drums at all. Paired with Gira’s acoustic guitar strumming, the music almost steals attention away from the vocals, a third party joining a conversation that gets more rewarding each time I put this album on.
This is an uneasy listen. Michael Gira’s voice demands that you pay attention. He sings/speaks these 12 songs/stories right into your ear. I can’t play this record in the background. It feels rude, like walking out of the room in the middle of a conversation. The “other people” of the album’s title are the subjects of each song—“friends, heroes, and various other entities beyond my control,” says Gira in the liner notes. The people include “My Friend Thor” with his disturbing drawings (one of which lurks behind the CD tray) and alarming sex drive, and Jackie, “dissolving a dream of a world that’s too small for the secrets he keeps,” and, most alarmingly, the apocalyptic spectre of Michael Jackson in “Michael’s White Hands” where Gira rails like a preacher: “Michael bring the truth denied/Michael kill that child inside.” Gira’s backing band here is Akron/Family, a recording act in their own right, who provide consistently surprising arrangements using traditional/folk elements such as mandolin, violin, banjo, slide guitar, handclaps, whistling—and barely any drums at all. Paired with Gira’s acoustic guitar strumming, the music almost steals attention away from the vocals, a third party joining a conversation that gets more rewarding each time I put this album on.
Monday, November 28, 2005
I’ve probably mentioned this before, but a lot of the new bands I like are the musical equivalent of those societies for creative anachronism…you know, where librarians and computer programmers trade recipes for mead, don homemade chain mail vests, and have a bit of a joust on the weekend. Certain musicians take a similar approach to music, buying up old equipment and recording in analog to achieve their own vision of rock’s medieval period (i.e. 1974). Go to it, I say.
Norway's Wobbler are definitely of this ilk—a band desperate to be not of their time. As far as I can gather, lead guy and keyboardist Lars Fredrik Frøislie was born in 1982, for chrissake (the year that marked the official death of progressive rock with the release of the first Asia album), yet he’s buying up barnfuls of vintage keyboards and writing florid-yet-menacing 27-minute epics like the post-hippy brave new world is at hand. The songwriting on their Laser’s Edge debut Hinterland is wild and wooly for sure—reflecting more of an influence from the restless Italian bands than the more stately British prog originators—with only differing elapsed time to distinguish the three main tracks on the album. Despite that lack of discipline, I’ve gotten a huge kick out of Hinterland, probably because I was around in 1982, head in hands as “Heat of the Moment” oozed from the radio. Having survived that experience, I’ll always have time for the Wobblers of the world.
When I did an email interview with Frøislie for the next Unrestrained!, I had to ask him about his arsenal of vintage gear. Which keyboard is his prize possession?
“I guess it would be my first Mellotron M400, serial number 1652 from 1976. It has never let me down to this day. I got it from the national radio in Bulgaria along with about a dozen other vintage keyboards. I basically bought the old prog band Formation Studio Balkanton’s studio. It was converting into a folk rock studio, so the keyboards were just in the way.”
Whereas a lot of keyboard players chicken out and use digital keyboards with patches and samples on stage, Lars goes for the full Rick Wakeman, bolstered perhaps by one of those backbraces favoured by Home Depot employees.
“On the last concerts I’ve had a Hammond C3 with Leslie 122, two Mellotrons, MiniMoog, Arp Pro Soloist, Roland Ep-10, Clavinet and Rhodes. It was hell lifting and setting up, and we used my father’s truck without any roof (thank God it didn’t rain), since it was the only one large enough.”
So do Wobbler and White Willow (whom Froislie also plays with) have the Norwegian prog scene all to themselves, or are there any other bands we should know about?
“It has been growing over the last few years. Prog rock has almost been accepted in the media in Norway, so it’s not as uncool as when we started up. There are not that many symphonic prog bands like us, but there’s Anti-Depressive Delivery (heavy rock/metal prog), Circles End (Canterbury/pop), Panzerpappa (RIO) and Gargamel (retro).”
Norway's Wobbler are definitely of this ilk—a band desperate to be not of their time. As far as I can gather, lead guy and keyboardist Lars Fredrik Frøislie was born in 1982, for chrissake (the year that marked the official death of progressive rock with the release of the first Asia album), yet he’s buying up barnfuls of vintage keyboards and writing florid-yet-menacing 27-minute epics like the post-hippy brave new world is at hand. The songwriting on their Laser’s Edge debut Hinterland is wild and wooly for sure—reflecting more of an influence from the restless Italian bands than the more stately British prog originators—with only differing elapsed time to distinguish the three main tracks on the album. Despite that lack of discipline, I’ve gotten a huge kick out of Hinterland, probably because I was around in 1982, head in hands as “Heat of the Moment” oozed from the radio. Having survived that experience, I’ll always have time for the Wobblers of the world.
When I did an email interview with Frøislie for the next Unrestrained!, I had to ask him about his arsenal of vintage gear. Which keyboard is his prize possession?
“I guess it would be my first Mellotron M400, serial number 1652 from 1976. It has never let me down to this day. I got it from the national radio in Bulgaria along with about a dozen other vintage keyboards. I basically bought the old prog band Formation Studio Balkanton’s studio. It was converting into a folk rock studio, so the keyboards were just in the way.”
Whereas a lot of keyboard players chicken out and use digital keyboards with patches and samples on stage, Lars goes for the full Rick Wakeman, bolstered perhaps by one of those backbraces favoured by Home Depot employees.
“On the last concerts I’ve had a Hammond C3 with Leslie 122, two Mellotrons, MiniMoog, Arp Pro Soloist, Roland Ep-10, Clavinet and Rhodes. It was hell lifting and setting up, and we used my father’s truck without any roof (thank God it didn’t rain), since it was the only one large enough.”
So do Wobbler and White Willow (whom Froislie also plays with) have the Norwegian prog scene all to themselves, or are there any other bands we should know about?
“It has been growing over the last few years. Prog rock has almost been accepted in the media in Norway, so it’s not as uncool as when we started up. There are not that many symphonic prog bands like us, but there’s Anti-Depressive Delivery (heavy rock/metal prog), Circles End (Canterbury/pop), Panzerpappa (RIO) and Gargamel (retro).”
Friday, November 25, 2005
Live: Opeth, Gov't Mule, Suffocation
What's with all these great shows coming to town? Maybe the strong CDN dollar is making the trip across the border less painful for bands, or maybe local promoters are getting hip to the fact that bands with no airplay can still fill a room. All I know for sure is I've been to so many shows lately that there's been no time to report on all of them in any detail. Here's a typical week at the Commodore last month...
Opeth, October 14. I was all set to fly to Toronto for Day of the Equinox on the 14th when they announced Opeth would be playing Vancouver the same day. Their drummer would again be a no-show (making him 0 for 3 in Vancouver), but they had a guy in place who could play a whole set...sounded promising. With Ghost Reveries confirmed as my favourite album of 2005, I decided to stay in town and finally take in a full-length Opeth set. I’m glad I did. After opening sets from STREETS and Fireball Ministry, Opeth came out with the one song I wanted to hear that night, “The Baying of the Hounds”—I swear, it was one of the high points of my life. The set was packed with monster epics, save for the one selection from Damnation, “In My Time of Need.” The biggest surprise for me was “The Grand Conjuration,” which I’ve always considered one of the least interesting songs on the new album. Since Opeth previewed it at the Sounds of the Underground fest last summer, it’s become a vast, shuddering cathedral of sound. Forget the album version, or the “single” edit with video, the live version is the one to experience. A couple of other minor revelations: A) Michael Akerfeldt is a brilliant yet down-to-earth guy who was put on this planet to become a huge rock star, and watching it happen these past few years has been a real pleasure...and B) Vancouver’s relationship to heavy metal has undergone a big shift from its long history of dismissal and mockery. Not only was the Commodore absolutely packed, but the Georgia Straight actually ran a respectful, expertly informed gig review (by Lucas Aykroyd) the following week.
Govt Mule & moe, October 16. All the advertising for this gig led me to believe that moe would be opening, not alternating the headline spot with Govt Mule during the tour. Unfortunately, the Mule was already on stage when we walked into the Commodore. Their set was punchier than the last time they came through town, with an emphasis on their shorter, more rocking songs—“Blind Man in the Dark,” “Bad Little Doggie,” etc. A point of comparison might be their chosen cover song for the evening. Last year it was a sprawling “No Quarter”; this time they performed a fairly straight reading of “I’m So Tired” by The Beatles. Moe countered with Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” (the percussionist replicated that song’s backwards cymbal effect quite nicely) early in their set to get the classic rock fans on their side. They didn’t have much else, unfortunately, besides crack musicianship and ease on stage.
Suffocation, with Cryptopsy, Despised Icon, and Aborted, Oct. 18. Back to the Commodore, an optimistically large venue for an uncompromising bill of brutal death metal. Belgium’s Aborted rocked hard in a nasty but accessible way. The kids in Despised Icon stuck out with their short hair and non-trad approach, although their tunes were as blast-happy as their tour mates. Their dual vocals lineup (two dudes pacing the stage screaming almost identically) struck me as a load of nonsense, but I don’t think Despised Icon earned the hatred that was expressed on the discussion boards after the show. Cryptopsy were back again with vocalist Lord Worm, who didn’t impress me last time when they played at the Brickyard. After seeing this show, I’ve come around to his whole deal. Lord Worm is not one to whip up the crowd; he’s got a low-key, subtly macabre vibe that takes some getting used to. While I better understand the ways of the Worm, I’m now less blown away by the material the rest of the band played. The whole set seemed to skitter by in a riffless maelstrom, with hyperactive speed canceling out the heaviness. Suffocation, pioneers in this whole brutal DM business, were the best band of the night. Terrance Hobbs is probably the best death metal guitarist I’ve ever seen, and vocalist Frank Mullen brought a certain New Yawk street-level charm to the event, along with some interesting stage moves, like some Al Jolsonesque hand gesturing during the blastbeat sections. Ha-cha-cha! Most importantly, the band were heavy in a way that Cryptopsy only flirted with, exemplified by songs, like “Pierced From Within” and “Liege of Inveracity,” that pick their moments to carefully grind a boot in yer face.
Opeth, October 14. I was all set to fly to Toronto for Day of the Equinox on the 14th when they announced Opeth would be playing Vancouver the same day. Their drummer would again be a no-show (making him 0 for 3 in Vancouver), but they had a guy in place who could play a whole set...sounded promising. With Ghost Reveries confirmed as my favourite album of 2005, I decided to stay in town and finally take in a full-length Opeth set. I’m glad I did. After opening sets from STREETS and Fireball Ministry, Opeth came out with the one song I wanted to hear that night, “The Baying of the Hounds”—I swear, it was one of the high points of my life. The set was packed with monster epics, save for the one selection from Damnation, “In My Time of Need.” The biggest surprise for me was “The Grand Conjuration,” which I’ve always considered one of the least interesting songs on the new album. Since Opeth previewed it at the Sounds of the Underground fest last summer, it’s become a vast, shuddering cathedral of sound. Forget the album version, or the “single” edit with video, the live version is the one to experience. A couple of other minor revelations: A) Michael Akerfeldt is a brilliant yet down-to-earth guy who was put on this planet to become a huge rock star, and watching it happen these past few years has been a real pleasure...and B) Vancouver’s relationship to heavy metal has undergone a big shift from its long history of dismissal and mockery. Not only was the Commodore absolutely packed, but the Georgia Straight actually ran a respectful, expertly informed gig review (by Lucas Aykroyd) the following week.
Govt Mule & moe, October 16. All the advertising for this gig led me to believe that moe would be opening, not alternating the headline spot with Govt Mule during the tour. Unfortunately, the Mule was already on stage when we walked into the Commodore. Their set was punchier than the last time they came through town, with an emphasis on their shorter, more rocking songs—“Blind Man in the Dark,” “Bad Little Doggie,” etc. A point of comparison might be their chosen cover song for the evening. Last year it was a sprawling “No Quarter”; this time they performed a fairly straight reading of “I’m So Tired” by The Beatles. Moe countered with Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion” (the percussionist replicated that song’s backwards cymbal effect quite nicely) early in their set to get the classic rock fans on their side. They didn’t have much else, unfortunately, besides crack musicianship and ease on stage.
Suffocation, with Cryptopsy, Despised Icon, and Aborted, Oct. 18. Back to the Commodore, an optimistically large venue for an uncompromising bill of brutal death metal. Belgium’s Aborted rocked hard in a nasty but accessible way. The kids in Despised Icon stuck out with their short hair and non-trad approach, although their tunes were as blast-happy as their tour mates. Their dual vocals lineup (two dudes pacing the stage screaming almost identically) struck me as a load of nonsense, but I don’t think Despised Icon earned the hatred that was expressed on the discussion boards after the show. Cryptopsy were back again with vocalist Lord Worm, who didn’t impress me last time when they played at the Brickyard. After seeing this show, I’ve come around to his whole deal. Lord Worm is not one to whip up the crowd; he’s got a low-key, subtly macabre vibe that takes some getting used to. While I better understand the ways of the Worm, I’m now less blown away by the material the rest of the band played. The whole set seemed to skitter by in a riffless maelstrom, with hyperactive speed canceling out the heaviness. Suffocation, pioneers in this whole brutal DM business, were the best band of the night. Terrance Hobbs is probably the best death metal guitarist I’ve ever seen, and vocalist Frank Mullen brought a certain New Yawk street-level charm to the event, along with some interesting stage moves, like some Al Jolsonesque hand gesturing during the blastbeat sections. Ha-cha-cha! Most importantly, the band were heavy in a way that Cryptopsy only flirted with, exemplified by songs, like “Pierced From Within” and “Liege of Inveracity,” that pick their moments to carefully grind a boot in yer face.
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