Trollheart's Fortress of Prog

[Trollheart]

I don't think I've ever come across an artist before whom I both love and hate, which is to say, some of their music I really enjoy and some I really am turned off by. There's Lana Lane, whose album Lady Macbeth made me want to buy all her music, none of which has been as good as that album, and Yes of course, whose 80s output I love but whose work in the 70s leaves me cold. But one way or the other, I can say I like, or don't like, both of those artists. This guy, I don't know. He can write the most heartfelt and moving ballads, multi-layered, almost orchestral compositions on the one hand, and on the other has tracks that are spoken word, or just him literally (it seems to me) screaming against a pounding guitar. You probably know by now who I'm referring to, so welcome, and step, if you dare, over the threshold and into


When I say he has songs I love and hate, I don't mean there are albums I love and albums I hate. I'm talking about these two opposing forces being on the same albums. So there's no point in me trying to pick out a, for want of a better word, good Devin album or a bad one; each has its pluses and minuses, and there's really no way to separate most, if not all, of them into such easy categories. The only method, then, that remains to me is to throw all his music into a blender, so to speak, mix it up, choose one at random and see how it goes.


Title: "Kawai"
Year: 2011
Released under: Devin Townsend Project
Style: Gentle acoustic ballad
From: Unplugged (Originally from Ghost)

Given the title of the album (EP) you would imagine this to be on the softer side of the Townsend spectrum, yes? Can't really scream and shred on an acoustic, can you? Can you? God I hope not. Well no, my fears appear to be unfounded: it's an acoustic (obviously) ballad which showcases that side of Townsend I like, his softer, more gentle, more emotional side, the side of him that allows him to pen ballads of this quality. If only all his material was like this. But it ain't, which is why I've started this section. A good start though.

Rating: 8/10

Title: "Red Tomorrow"
Year: 1999
Released under: Devin Townsend
Style: Powerful, noisy and abrasive mid-paced rocker
From: Ass-sordid Demos I

This, on the other hand, is more what I like to think of as being from the dark side of Devin. Loud, squealing guitars, banging drums and the man himself screeching and roaring over the music, such as it is. Anyone who claims Townsend is not metal needs to listen to this. It's not as bad as I thought it was going to be, to be fair: a lot of sort of industrial noises in there, and while it's much rawer, it has the full sound of the likes of Epicloud and Accelerated Evolution, so certainly listenable if a little raucous.

Rating: 7/10

Title: "Devlab XIV"
Year: 2004
Released under: Devin Townsend
Style: Mechanical/Industrial sounds with a little ambient and the barest of vocal
From: Devlab

This, and certain other albums by him, chill my blood. When Devin Townsend experiments, he doesn't seem to recognise any barriers or impediments, and frankly, some of the music that comes out of these experiments is, to me, little better than noise. Each track on this album is entitled the same as its parent, just numbered I-XV, so they may mostly be the same, I don't know. All I do know is that this one starts off as sort of machine noise, like someone running a generator, and you can just about hear him shouting in the background. Not quite "Welcome to the Machine", more like "Who's got the shutoff code for this goddamn thing?" It settles down to some sort of spacey synth and some feedback effects, but they quickly fade out and we're back to listening to someone running a big photocopier or something. I think he's muttering "wake up" in the background, but basically the machine noise swells and grows in volume till it just blocks everything out. Pointless.

Rating: 2/10

And that's our first trip into the very strange world inhabited, created and produced by Devin Townsend. Even on these three tracks, you can see how different his music is, sometimes great, sometimes just grating on the nerves. One thing is for sure: you never know what you're going to get when you cross over into his world, and it's never predictable.

[Trollheart]

A Tower of Silence - Anubis - 2011

Anubis are a thrash metal band from L.A., but this is not them. Well, to be fair, you'd hardly expect to find extreme metal in this thread now would you? Far from the bright lights of the Sunset Strip, this Anubis are one of the first Australian prog acts I've heard, to my knowledge but if this is what they're all like then I need to think seriously about going Antipodean! This, their second album, is truly a stunner, and again it's from the patented Trollheart "Might as well" stable. In other words, I was looking for something to listen to on my Zen (shut up) and this was one of the only albums I hadn't already heard*, as I am at heart quite lazy even if transferring music to Creative's cool little MP3 player is a thousand times faster, easier and more enoyable than wrestling with Jobs' collossus.

But I was really glad I decided to give this a go, as it impressed me from the start and has not been off my virtual turntable for at least a week now*. Every time I think I should move on and listen to something new my fingers just keep drifting to the "play" button and I say to myself "Ah sure one more listen can't hurt!" And it never does. Except that one more listen becomes two more listens, then three, and so on. It's like that with albums I really get into, I'm sure some of you are the same.

So who are Anubis? Well, if you were to ask me who was Anubis, or what, I'd tell you pompously that Anubis was the guardian of the dead in Egyptian mythology, stylised with the head of a dog and so often known as "The Dog of the Dead", or even "The Guard Dog of the Dead". Always thought he looked cute, myself. Anubis the band? Well they were formed in 2004 and their first album was apparently written in tribute to and remembrance of a friend who has passed on, which may possibly explain the recurring motif of death, the afterlife, religion and the soul used here on songs like "This Final Resting Place" and "And I Wait For My World to End". I didn't think it was a concept album, but after reading some other reviews I see it is, and is based around the idea of a child who has been left to die in a Victorian mental asylum, and her quest for release and spiritual enlightenment as her ghost wanders the halls of that huge echoing dark edifice: a tower of silence, indeed! There are definite themes of loss, death, loneliness, hopelessness fear and an inability to understand why this has happened running through the album, with the opener, "The Passing Bell", setting the scene and an angelic chorus ending "All That is", two of the longest tracks, that bookend this fine album.

The vocals are just beautiful on this record. Unusually, just about everyone in the five-piece has a hand in singing, whether they sing lead, harmony or backing, and some members of Anubis are also multi-instrumentalists, smart gits. Sorry. The music varies between soft symphonic prog and harder what I would term "normal" prog, though most will probably term it neo-prog: I'm not too fond of that term. Always think of neo-Nazis and neocons. The guitar work is at times hard and heavy but a lot of it is very laidback and introspective, often both in the one track.

It's hard to pick out favourite tracks here, as just about everything is great. I honestly can't point to a bad song on the album, and every time I listen to it the whole just gets so much better than the sum of its parts: yeah, A Tower of Silence is one of those albums that's best appreciated when listened to in one sitting, as one piece of music or suite. Tolling bells become something of a recurring motif throughout, not surprisingly given the mostly death/afterlife inspired lyrics, and in this way, lyrically only not musically, I see parallels with both Arena's and Kamelot's last* albums, though I did mention that I found the latter's Silverthorn to be one of the saddest and bleakest albums I have ever heard. Antlers' Hospice was certainly among the saddest, but I don't feel it's bleak, somehow leaving you with a sense of hope or even rebirth, unlike the prog metal outfit. Anubis somehow manage to avoid the trap of being too down, too morose, which is quite a feat given the fact that they're talking here about a child dying alone and unloved.

But the music is uplifting and powerful, and if you choose to look beyond or ignore the lyrics, if you're the sort of person that can do that (I can't) then you have one incredible album of symphonic prog music that shows a band who are barely known even though they've been together almost ten years now, and who surely have a hell of a bright future ahead of them, if only someone will give them their big break.

I hear a lot of Arena here, especially in the faster sections of the songs, a definite Supertramp influence circa Crime of the Century, and even nineties Genesis at times, and yet Anubis are not just ripping off the old masters or the new pretenders: they have a sound all their own that really has to be heard to be appreciated and is hard to compare. Listen to the starkly beautiful piano passage in the twelfth minute of the seventeen-minute opener, or the close vocal harmonies on "This Final Resting Place", or indeed the glockenspiel and harpsichord melody on the short but gorgeous "Weeping Willow". Oh, and let's not forget the incandescent sax solo that leads out "The Holy Innocent", where the (uncredited) sax player gives John Helliwell of Supertramp a run for his money. You can't help but be impressed. The band are also somewhat unique in having not one, not two, but three guitar players, something that can happen in metal bands but seldom occurs in prog ones. It certainly adds a whole new layer of sound to the music, though it does make it hard for a poor reviewer like me to give credit where credit is due, as there's no way to know who exactly is playing that great solo or passage.

The Arena sound comes through quite strongly in the abovementioned "This Final Resting Place", which in parts reminds me of their "Purgatory Road" off the Pepper's Ghost album, with some eerie sound effect closing it out that brings to mind instrumental prog metal combo Caves of Glass, or Marillion spinoff Edison's Children. If I had to pick a highlight (don't make me! Oh well if I must...) it would probably be between the ten-minute title track, with another beautifully stark piano line driving it and mournful backing vocals against a sumptuous synth and guitar melody,  closer "All That is" or the wonderful "The Holy Innocent". There: told you not to make me choose! It's just impossible.

Just as impossible as it is to stop playing this album once you've heard it. Oh hell: one more spin can't hurt, can it?

Track listing

1. The Passing Bell (Part I-VI)
2. Archway of Tears
3. This Final Resting Place
4. A Tower of Silence
5. Weeping Willow
6. And I Wait for my World to End
7. The Holy Innocent
8. All That Is (i) Light of Change (ii) The Limbo of Infants (iii) Endless Opportunity

[Trollheart]

The Man Left in Space - Cosmograf - 2013

The first thing that surprised me about this was that the band were not German. Maybe it was the -graf in their name, but I just assumed they were from there. Turns out not only are they not German, they're not even a they. Not really. Cosmograf is the brainchild and project of one Robin Armstrong, who hails from Portsmouth in the UK. Like his contemporaries, Willowglass and The Minstrel's Ghost, he's a multi-instrumentalist, composer and even producer. He does however haul in some stellar talent to help him out on this, his fourth album under the Cosmograf name, including half of Spock's Beard and half of Big Big Train, as well as members of Also Eden and The Tangent, so he's obviously well respected in prog circles.

The album is a concept and seems to be built loosely around the idea of a mission to space, possibly colonisation, certainly mentions saving Mankind, but which goes terribly awry, hence the album title. Themes such as (unsurprisingly) loneliness, isolation, despair, the future, sacrifice and loss are all explored through the nine tracks on this opus, and while space travel/getting lost or stuck in space is nothing new - Bowie was doing that over thirty years before this album with "Space Oddity", and he's namechecked here - in the end the concept of the album does not matter so much because it's so beautifully played and constructed musically.

Starting off with a man asking "How did I get here?" against spacey sound effects, the opening track of the same name is a short one, atmospherically dark and grindy, and seems to be a record of a man who went into space to "help millions" in the year 2053, but the mission went badly wrong. Against an unanswered request from ground control for a "com check", we head into "Aspire, Achieve", the longest track on the album at just over ten minutes, the astronaut in question, who seems to go by the name of Sam, relating his tale against generally acoustic style guitar in a fairly mid-to-uptempo beat. Suddenly some pretty heavy guitar and organ cuts in, taking the thing in a more boogie/metal direction, with some fine drumming from Nick D'Virgilio, who has of course played with both Spock's Beard and Big Big Train. Nice cutback about halfway through to single strummed guitar notes and tiny handclap drumbeats. Some great progressive rock guitar and keys then take the song, and above all rides the clear, commanding voice of Robin Armstrong himself, who in addition to being a talented composer and excellent musician is also a fine and worthy singer.

Rather oddly, two instrumentals follow then on the heels of each other. The first, "The Good Earth Behind Me", runs under some poetry I feel I should know, but don't, with Gilmouresque guitar work and lush keyboards, which in about the third minute kick into a real Tony Banks style as the thing really "progs-up", the tempo quite slow as it heads towards its end with unmistakable undertones of seventies Genesis. "The Vacuum That I Fly Through" then is more introspective, with almost John Williams style guitar driving it in a slow path that certainly gives you the impression of drifting through space, soft synth underlying the melody until D'Virgilio's percussion stamps its identity on the track and it becomes a little heavier, though still slow with now definite touches of twenty-first century Marillion in there.

Although at first I thought it a bad idea to have two instrumentals one after the other, I kind of see the idea now. It's an attempt, perhaps, at conveying the loneliness and the vastness of space, and the impression of being just carried along unable to do very much as you head out of the solar system comes through quite strongly: the sense of isolation and lack of control over one's destiny, the idea of being a tiny speck against the overwhelming expanse of space is demonstrated very well through these two tracks.

"The Naked Endeavour", then, is carried on soft rippling yet lonely and almost melancholic piano while behind it plays recordings of Nixon's phone call to the Apollo 11 mission on the Moon, as well as Kennedy's speech at his inauguration. Guitars and drums crash in strongly then as Armstrong comes back in with the vocal, and there's a strong sense of Floyd circa The Wall here, with powerful keyboards and dark guitar. We then hear the voice of the AI aboard Sam's ship as he seems to be slipping away, lost, if you'll pardon the term, in space, as "We Disconnect" begins. He reminisces about his wife left behind, about taking on the mission and what he hoped to achieve, though it's not really made clear what that mission is. Armstrong does his best Roger Waters here, angry bitter and a little manic. Great guitar solo joins a fine one on the keys, and the only reason I'm not giving credit to individual players is that, apart from D'Virgilio, I don't know who is playing what part. There are several guitarists guesting, and then Armstrong plays most of the instruments himself too, so it makes it hard to keep up with who's doing what.

This is a dark piece as Armstrong sings "The light behind me getting smaller all the time; My memories of you are too." He realises he's probably going to die out here in space, and while not quite resigned to that fate, he knows there's nothing he can do to prevent it. Some super guitar here and then we're into what is probably my least favourite track on the album, "Beautiful Treadmill". Something about it just doesn't do anything for me. Armstrong uses the old Waters device where his vocal is metallised, sort of as if it's recorded in mono, and the music is heavy and powerful with some really striking melodies, almost heavy metal (progressive metal I guess you'd have to say) at times. Interesting vocal harmonies, and it's a good track but definitely for me the weakest on the album. At times the fretwork here reminds me of the very best of John Mitchell with Arena, and there's a lot of power and energy in the track, but I just can't make myself like it.

The final two tracks are just shy of ten minutes each, and the title cut is the penultimate one, wherein some Knopfleresque electric guitar complements soft acoustic as Sam reflects on the decisions and circumstances that conspired to bring him to this place. He does however point out that his problems are bigger than those of most, as he remarks "Spare a thought for the man they left in space: he lost the human race." Sort of puts in all in perspective. He does however reflect that if you don't take risks you miss the big opportunities in your life, and even though he's out here floating in space, waiting to die, he doesn't seem too despondent. At least he has tried, he has made the effort even if he failed. There aren't any ballads on the album, but this is probably the closest Cosmograf come here to one.

There will be no happy ending though, no last-minute rescue, and this will not prove to be a dream, as closing track "When the Air Runs Out" amply shows. With a sense of descending further into despair, panic and then acceptance, Sam begins to contemplate his imminent death and the failure of the mission as his craft falls towards the sun. A stark piano line very reminscent of Steven Wilson's work with No-Man and Memories of Machines takes us in, then the Floydian comparisons come back as Armstrong channels Waters on "Empty Spaces" and also Bowie rather obviously on "Space Oddity". There's a sort of guitar or keyboard motif running through this, a phase that sounds like "WOOP!WOOP!WOOP!" and may be meant to signify a warning, an alert as the ship's orbit begins to decay, or, indeed, his air begins to run out.

Powerful and desperate the song allows us to look into Sam's last moments before death, as he asks "What should we do when the air runs out? When this ship spins out? When this life runs out?" More voiceovers of names of people who died before their time, or were brought low by addictions, then a superbly proggy keyboard runaway solo that would make Mark Kelly green with envy as the song powers towards its conclusion. In the fifth minute it slides into a slow, Russian-folk-style melody as Sam begins to accept death is inevitable. Again the old Floyd trck of using a phased vocal that's put through some sort of mono effect is used, then a rolling piano melody brings in more of those names, spoken off a list and then melancholy guitar joins in as the AI says "Please respond, Sam." A final crashing bass piano note ends the song, then there is a further minute and a half as a radio announcer talks about a book written by Doctor Sam Harrison, a "self-confessed overachiever, alcoholic and manic depressive", and says they will be talking to the doctor, presumably before his flight into space and his subsequent death there, then the sound of a needle getting stuck in the groove of a record (yay for us oldies! We know what they mean!) and the last words "Be a curse" repeat until the sound of a stylus scratching indicates the needle was lifted, and the album comes to a final conclusion.

TRACK LISTING

1. How Did I Get Here?
2. Aspire, Achieve
3. The Good Earth Behind Me
4. The Vacuum That I Fly Through
5. This Naked Encounter
6. We Disconnect
7. Beautiful Treadmill
8. The Man Left in Space
9. When the Air Runs Out

I know I said at the beginning that the concept was not too important, and yet it is this which links all the tracks together into one cohesive whole, so I've tried to understand it. It seems to me that this is about a man, selected as the only one from his race, to go into space and do ... something, I don't know what ... to save humanity. It's set forty years in the future, so it could be colonisation, except we're talking about one man. It could be to stop an asteroid hitting the earth, but again, a crew of one? I really don't know, but whatever he's supposed to do something goes terribly wrong and he's left hanging in space, waiting for his orbit to decay and his ship to plunge into the sun. So maybe it was something to do with the sun?

Anyway he failed and now he's left waiting to die. As he does, he thinks about the decisions that led him to this place and whether or not he would have done different had he known? It's a very dark album, with a somewhat bitter message and yet although the title character is not saved at the end, we're left with some sort of vague impression of hope. Maybe he did save Earth, but just was unable to return home? Perhaps he made the ultimate sacrifice, ensuring the continuation of his species in the process? Again, I don't know, and the end bit spoken on the final track confuses me even more. Here's what it says, in the style of a radio accouncement:

(Sound of the pips telling us the hour has struck, as used to happen on radio) "It's ten o'clock. Good afternoon. (Note: why does the announcer say this? If it's 10am it should be good morning and if it's 10pm surely good evening?) This is For the Arts.  In his controversial book, The man left in space, Doctor Samuel Harrison examines the psychology of achievement. Harrison presents a compelling theory that overachievement is a "quick-fix" for wounded self-esteem, and that chronically overachieving people don't realise that unrecognised needs are driving them from the healing conditions necessary for fulfilled lives. Does achievement beyond expectation in any field lead to obsession, dysfunction and, ultimately, an inability to perform? The reward for success, it seems, is sometimes to be destroyed by failure. In the first of two programmes, we will be talking to Dr. Harrison, a sel-confessed overachiever, alcoholic and manic depressive and asking him if success can really be a curse?"

I think - and I'm just guessing here now - that this interview was made before Harrison went into space, rather obviously, unless the whole idea is a mere allegory and never actually happened, except perhaps in his mind. It shows Harrison as the type of man he was then. Perhaps after that he got the chance to sign up for the mission, was accepted and finally achieved the ultimate overachievement, saving the Earth, albeit at the cost of his own life?

I guess you could argue the meaning behind the lyrics forever, but as I said they're not as important as the album taken as a whole. I find once again that every multi-instrumentalist I have encountered - particularly in the field of progressive rock, where they seem to really thrive and towards which they appear to gravitate - has impressed me almost beyond words. Steve Thorne. The Minstrel's Ghost. Willowglass. And now I need to add Cosmograf to that shortlist.

* At time of writing

[Trollheart]

Returning Jesus - No-Man - 2001

I can't honestly say I'm a huge fan of Steven Wilson. I'm still deciding whether or not I like Porcupine Tree - generally, I find I dislike them more than I like them - and his own solo stuff can be very hit and miss, though I readily admit I have only listened to a few albums. But where he shines, for me, is when he teams up with other artists, such as Aviv Geffen in Blackfield, or here, with one of my favourite prog singers, Tim Bowness.

 I've loved Tim Bowness's work on Memories of Machines, and his own solo stuff as well as NoSound and White Willow, and I find he and Wilson work well together. The thing about a No-Man album is you usually can't predict what you're going to get.

Here, we have a beautiful aching cello-driven ballad opening the album, with Bowness's unique soulful vocal seeming to almost bleed emotion all over "Only Rain" - oh, okay: sounded very like cello but none is shown in the credits, so I guess it must be synthesised - then there's brass, hard electric guitar, the bulk of the seven-minutes plus the song runs for instrumental, quite ambient, while "No Defence" sounds like Marillion's "Born to Run" from Radiation with a lovely lazy slow blues rhythm and what sounds like slide guitar and some truly awesome smoky sax. Tribal drums then opens "Close Your Eyes", soft and sort of breathy in their way, deep organ almost in the background, while it's piano that drives "Carolina Skeletons", with an almost folky/country feel to it, and "Outside the Machine" has indeed a kind of metallic, electronic, mechanical sound.

Still, you'll never or at least hardly ever hear No-Man rocking out; Bowness is a gentle, relaxed singer and I don't think I've ever heard him break a sweat, so to speak. Ah. Little confused now. The track should be the title one, and is shown as such, but the lyric is "Slow it All Down", which is supposed to be the next track. Could they have become somehow transposed? This one at any rate lives up to its name, a sound like someone tapping on metal pipes the only real percussion I can hear, soft guitar and synth and the soothing sound of Bowness's voice, and, well if that is "Returning Jesus" I can't say, as it's an instrumental on mostly brass, but I guess given the lyric of the other one they must somehow have got it arse-about-face on Spotify. Two very good songs nevertheless.

That brings us to "Lighthouse", and at this point I'm not at all surprised to find it's another slow track, strong organ underpinning the tune, with a very seventies Genesis feel, and then a kind of reprise of the melody from "No Defence" as we end on "All That You Are", some powerful warbling keyboard and a really nice guitar motif, passionate vocal from Tim, a fitting closer.

Track Listing:

Only Rain
No Defence
Close Your Eyes
Carolina Skeletons
Outside the Machine
Returning Jesus
Slow it All Down
Lighthouse
All That You Are


I tend to view No-Man more as a Bowness than a Wilson vehicle, but as I said they work well together, and this is just another example of two men at the top of their respective games teaming up to record something that is more than the sum of their parts. Highly recommended.