Music Review - Porcupine Tree - Deadwing

Once again I'm trying to find a sequel to the amazing in absentia and being disappointed.

With its dark, brooding sound full of massive riffs, wispy vocal harmonies, and transient Floyd-esque space rock, the last Porcupine Tree album, in absentia, absolutely knocked me on my flabby white buttocks. It was as accessible and commercial as it was creative, a very rare commodity. But that was three years ago.

With Deadwing the tenured band returns for more of the same ... and some of the old. While not nearly as dark or heavy or creepy as the last album, Deadwing sounds like a cross between in absentia and their previous albums, which were just as adventurous but lacked the crunch of heavy guitars. It’s almost as if this album should have come between their prior work and in absentia, somehow getting lost in the shuffle of time and being released five years after its inception.

The ambitious 10-minute title track is a compelling mix of prog, alternative and crushing metal, with guest Adrian Belew adding a quirky signature guitar solo. “Shallow” is easily the heaviest song the band has ever recorded, with fierce guitars grunting to a poppy chorus melody. In the words of author Steve Wilson, it’s “the equivalent of a big, dumb rock song, but in the way that people who are not dumb would do.” A similar song is “Open Car,” where muscular riffs in the verse contrast with spooky, clean vocals in the bridge, taking on the guise of a straight-forward rocker. Atmospheric, acoustic, and melodic, “Lazarus” is a gorgeous pop tune, a throwback to their earlier albums and a nice respite from the distortion.

“Halo” picks things back up with a full, round bass driving this groove-laden fest of frenzied guitar, symphonic rock, NIN-influenced industrial, and funk. The dreamy “Mellotron Scratch, “ in which acoustic guitars bash with electronic explosions, will appeal to Pink Floyd fans, as will “Glass Arm Shattering,” which features haunting washed-out vocals over Gilmour guitars and spacey keyboards.

The most ambitious track is the 12-minute “Arriving Somewhere But Not Here.” Skillfully jumping through a variety of styles, the band manages to pull it all together, creating a pastiche of dapples of light and dark, heavy shadows that pay tribute to Rush, Black Sabbath, Radiohead, early Genesis and even a bit of Zeppelin. Although Wilson intones “Never look for the truth in your mother”s eyes,” few would deny the truth that this song packs a very satisfying emotional wallop.

While it”s difficult to follow the perfect 10 of in absentia, Deadwing is a very respectable nine, mixing various shades of metal with art rock and atmospheric Floyd in a way that few can match. It’s heavy, it’s light, it’s proggy, it’s poppy, it’s just a big ol’ hootenanny for the ears.

Originally published 2005 in WhatzUp.

Music Review - Porcupine Tree - In Absentia

I sure do love me the contrasts on this album, how the crushing metal guitars collide with walls of cotton candy pop vocal harmonies and melt into acoustic instruments. Some of the lyrics give me the creeps now as they can be mighty dark and icky.
Twenty-two seconds into my first listen of this album my ears perked up. “What’s this? A mysterious intro followed by angular metal riffing? Now there’s a relaxed acoustic guitar topped with melodic verse vocals (real singing) and … no … a catchy chorus complete with rich harmonies, similar in feel to that first album by Asia … now more metal and …” I was hooked.

Although relatively new to the states, Porcupine Tree have been around since 1987, exploring various avenues of musical creativity, earning the moniker “What Pink Floyd would sound like if Pink Floyd were making good albums.” On In Absentia these talented veterans lean toward metal and modern rock, drawing many comparisons to Radiohead and, as evidenced from their video, Tool. Given the luxury of full artistic control on this outing, they have created 12 works of contrast, mixing a slightly dark edge in with the metal and rock, brightening the pot with shimmers of pop and a slice of progressive.

“Trains” strikes this delicate balance often evident in these songs, starting with plaintiff, fragile vocals and acoustic guitar akin to Zeppelin’s acoustic work. An instrumental section near the end incorporates both banjo and handclaps before jumping back into a heavier fray of guitars, all without breaking stride or feeling disjointed. Although written with a 7/4 time signature in the verse, “The Sound of Muzak” is one infectious hook aching to show radio what real music sounds like. The video song, “Strip the Soul”, is a creepy number about a man who bumps off his family, clocking in at a mere seven-plus minutes. While the verse and chorus are appropriately moody, it’s the inventive instrumental section that wins my vote. Aggressively played acoustic guitar with a Fripp-like solo (all in 3/4 time) the song goes into a 5/2 instrumental buildup that dissolves into a bare, chilling cello before the band crashes back in with heavy guitars. Another lengthy track is the 6:33 instrumental “Wedding Nails” wherein, like King Crimson’s “Red,” the crunchy guitars career along at breakneck speed throughout, only stopping for a brief period to explore some chunky rhythm ideas midway through while accompanied by stimulating guitar sounds. “The Creator Has A Mastertape” is a nervous drum and bass song that spookily intones the story of a man who “captured and collected things” and “raised a proper family / So he could tie them to a bed”.

More contrast is found in the relaxed “Prodigal” where leader Steve Wilson sings “I tried the capsule and I tried the smoke / I tried to aid escape like normal folk / But I never seem to get the joke” while surrounded with Crosby, Stills and Nash vocal harmonies. “Lips of Ashes” is reminiscent of Floyd’s “A Pillow of Winds” with ethereal, spacey sounds. Former XTC member Dave Gregory provides lush string arrangements for the minimalist “3” and the delicate “Collapse The Light Into Earth” which is simple piano, floating vocals, reedy organ and strings, an appropriately haunting album closer.

Porcupine Tree expertly manage to mix pounding rhythms, spacey sounds, acoustic journeys, pop-tinged harmonies, menacing guitars and thoughtful lyrics into a thoroughly engaging album that continues to reveal more of itself with each listen, haunting your subconscious with it’s imagery and sounds. As a music freak, you hope to find three or four albums per year as good as this. A nearly perfect album!

Originally published in 2003 in WhatzUp

Music Review - Porcupine Tree - Fear of a Blank Planet

I need to revisit this one. I recall that it was enjoyable but perhaps a bit less aggressive than I had expected, which threw me.

       Steve Wilson and Porcupine Tree are back with Fear of a Blank Planet, a six-song collection of dark, moody songs dealing with the bleak future of children raised on MTV, X-Boxes and the Internet. The whole package runs about an hour, exploring murky ambient territory with a healthy dose of big metal guitars and melancholic vocals, dredging up atmosphere at every turn. While Wilson is incapable of putting out a weak album, he unfortunately isn't really breaking any new ground this time out.

       Which isn't to say that the album lacks substance. Compared to most of what's out there it ranks a very well. Take, for instance, the title track which opens with an insistent acoustic guitar part that unnervingly picks away at your sense of ease before a solid rock beat invades. The music itself is quite invigorating at times, but it's the lyrics that suffer, a usual Wilson reliance on cliche that is almost embarrassing compared to the intricate music. One example: "My friend says he wants to die / He's in a band / They sound like Pearl Jam / The clothes are all black / The music is crap." Not exactly poetry. Telling the story of a boy struggling to overcome messed-up parents, "My Ashes" is more tranquil with dripping synths and pulsing tones, raising the lyrical bar as well with "And my ashes find a way beyond the fog / And return to save the child that I forgot." "Sentimental" is likewise soothing, almost bringing hope to the album with a piano backed by a cathartic vocal melody which realizes "that you can't blame your parents anymore," eventually leading up to an emotional breakdown that borrows a bit from In Absentia's excellent "Trains."

       "Way Out Here" plays with dynamics, starting with a New Age soundscape compliments of King Crimson's Robert Fripp before seamlessly building to a psychedelic metal jam sure to satisfy the black leather-wearin' crowd. The creepy "Sleep Together" closes the album, incorporating industrial elements from the best of Nine Inch Nails and orchestral strings that lift the song to a climatic finale. But the strongest song is the 17-minute "Anesthetize," which opens with a moody Pink Floyd passage that heats up with growling guitars and echoing keyboards to a massive syncopated riff that plays with stereo perception, leading up to an exceptional guitar solo by Rush's Alex Lifeson. The song deftly continues through many changes and moods, rarely staying on any section long enough for boredom to grow, fully exploring an alternative realm where thrashing guitars peacefully coexist with spacey keyboards and lush vocal harmonies.

       IÕm wanting to get excited about Fear of a Blank Planet, the latest album by Porcupine Tree, but something fails to move me. On the surface it has all the same characteristics of 2002's In Absentia, a landmark album that hit me hard, showcasing Wilson's ability to perfectly merge metal, industrial, goth, pop and prog. The follow-up, Deadwing, was good, but failed to hit the bulls eye. Fear of a Blank Planet is unfortunately even farther off the mark, sharing more with Porcupine Tree's earlier, more ambient albums. While some may prefer that style, I personally find it a bit sterile and remote. While the album deals with disconnected youth, I doubt it's what Wilson had in mind.

       But then again, maybe it's all a matter of having spent too many years on this warm globe to feel the alienation that is required to fully appreciate Fear of a Blank Planet. (Jason Hoffman)

Originally published in 2007 in WhatzUp.

Music Review - Porcupine Tree - Signify

Sometimes you love an album and dig back into their catalog and find gold. Other times the music just sits there lit congealed gravy. Totally loved In Absentia... still do! This one, though, is just meh.

After drooling profusely over Porcupine Tree’s recent In Absentia, an album I highly recommend for everyone who would not be caught dead with a Jimmy Buffet record, I decided to do a bit of disco-graphic backtracking. Fortunately, their 1996 album, Signify, has just been re-released, thus allowing for my purchase to be counted as an expense against my vast whatzup earnings!

Signify signifies (sorry about that) a change from Porcupine Tree being a lone fellow, Steve Wilson, to a real, full, working band. While I can’t tell you about the solo years, this release clearly shows the potential and direction of a band that would one day release the darkly disturbed In Absentia.

The album opens with a 50s-sounding sample (which are used sparingly throughout between and within tracks), inviting the listener to “kick your shoes off … and join us in enjoying some very quiet and relaxing music.” The energetic instrumental title track then commences with a restrained metal-proggish guitar riff and lots of strange solos made by torturing unknown instruments with God-forsaken devices. The intoxicatingly depressing “Sleep of No Dreaming” begins with tenuous organs and the lyrics “At the age of sixteen / I grew out of hope.” The song further opens into a nostalgic psych-rock song with instant appeal. “Intermediate Jesus” is another spacey instrumental with a mesmerizing Barrett-era-Pink Floyd wash of guitar tones centered around a repeating bass line that had me thinking “Careful With That Axe, Eugene.” “Light Mass Prayers” is indeed a voiceless mass, but its dark, ambient, creepy moanings are anything but light.

Both “Darkmatter” and “Every Home Is Wired” are comatose songs, the former with airy and emotional guitar leads, the latter with spooky slide guitar parts destined to haunt your head. “Sever” is heavy and dark, nearly atonal, sounding almost like a warning from the grave to the living with frightening vocal effects and experimental overdubs cascading in from the great beyond. My personal favorite track is “Waiting phase one,” a prodding yet mellow song based on an achingly fragile vocal melody that blossoms with harmonies as the song progresses. The lead solo on this song easily equals David Gilmour in his prime.

By borrowing from the stylings of ambient, classic rock, trance, psychedelic, metal, and prog, Porcupine Tree created a dark, experimental, spacey sequel to Floyd’s Wish You Were Here. The multi-dimensional production and skilled song-crafting make this an album that grows with each listen, quickly making it clear why this unknown classic was re-released in the hopes of it finding a wider audience.

Originally published 2003 in WhatzUp.