Ephemeral Epipsychidions

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Mention the word ‘prog’ to a roomful of a hundred music fans, and most will be scrambling for the exit (though anyone who wanted to lecture such fans about the power of progressive music is likely to have locked the door well before opening their mouths).  In all honesty, though, the genre has not enjoyed the best reputation, despite bands such as Flaming Lips, The Mars Volta and even Elbow building huge followings with albums heavily influenced by progressive rock.  It’s a huge shame, then, that bands such as Texan trio Secret Machines are often too easily dismissed out-of-hand for favouring lengthy solos and effects-laden interludes, particularly when they are capable of producing records of magical majesty, like 2006’s brilliant Ten Silver Drops. While the average music fan would indeed point to Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin as the band’s primary influences, Ten Silver Drops is so much more than a nod to the past – it’s a thrilling and hugely emotional tour de force that skitters between paranoia, infatuation and quiet despair.

In my previous post on Feeder’s Comfort in Sound, I spoke about how the band created a set of variations on themes of anger and sadness, never losing their focus on raw emotion but allowing the music to wrap around the core of the record’s meaning – loss and coping with loss.  Ten Silver Drops employs a similar modus operandi, but the main theme is rejection.  Its opening track, Alone, Jealous and Stoned (one of 2006’s best singles), vocalist Brandon Curtis is “a boy waiting by the phone…thinking that you would call” – a horrifically real portrayal of a man who is the only person unaware of how he has been cast aside by the one he loves.  Josh Garza’s hypnotic drum patterns, slow and weighted until 3’20”, pound reality into Curtis’ reverie, and in the duelling guitar section that follows, you can feel the Curtis’ brothers desperately trying to fight off the overwhelming sense of loss.  All At Once (It’s Not Important) is Brandon’s response to the situation – again, Garza’s metronomic percussion underpins the furious cries of “all those things you never said, they don’t mean much”.  It’s thrilling stuff, but it’s not yet prog – yes, it borrows the concept, as it were, of the concept album, but all the listener has so far is a brooding dissection of heartbreak in just under eleven minutes.

Naturally the progressive elements come more to the fore as the album progresses.  Daddy’s in the Doldrums is the record’s centrepiece, a sprawling eight-minute trawl of the depths of despair that had been only hinted at in the album’s first half.  I Hate Pretending begins and ends with what the prog naysayer might term ‘jazz noodlings’ but at its heart is a surprisingly portrayal of the fear and dread that comes to those who are facing the consequences of becoming somebody they really aren’t. More importantly, the track kicks off the second half of Ten Silver Drops, or more accurately, the return leg of a journey that reached its apotheosis with the funereal Daddy’s in the Doldrums, a journey that becomes almost unbearably poignant in its final one-two punches – I Want To Know If It’s Still Possible, and 1000 Seconds.

Writing on their website before the release of the record, the band noted that they wished to crystallise the feeling that envelops you when, buried deep in an argument with the one you love, you say something that you immediately wish you could take back, but you know that you can’t.  That feeling is explored most intimately in these final two tracks.  I Want To Know… starts ironically with the most melodic of the record’s themes, its chorus melting beautifully into an accordion solo that’s sonically treated so heavily it sound like something from another planet.  It’s a truly gorgeous song, all the more affecting coming from the wreaths of despair from Daddy’s in the Doldrums and I Hate Pretending.  1000 Seconds, though, stops the listener in their tracks. Here the band channel Pink Floyd most obviously, the knelling piano coming straight from Richard Wright’s demo tapes, and the Curtis brothers’ gentle harmonies beautifully aping Dave Gilmour and Richard Wright circa-Meddle era.  What’s most powerful about this closing track is not the music, however, but its keenly felt lyrics.  “Did you think that I had planned it all along, hoping not to be alone…did you leave because you thought that I would stay…I won’t ever know what you’re afraid of…”. It’s at times so intimate you feel you’re a fly on the wall witnessing a breakdown that has long since lost all meaning.

I urge to you to seek this gem of a record out and listen to it all the way through at least twice.  In 45 minutes, three Texans take you from melancholy despair to blistering anger to desolate, yearning desire for forgiveness. The fact that they choose to use some rather overt progressive elements just adds to the overall package.

Author’s note: This is the first post in an extremely unoriginal series documenting the five albums that I love the most. Not the best five albums. Not the five albums that changed the world. My favourites ones. They are not intended as reviews in the strictest sense, but are commentaries on what these records mean to me and how I relate to them. Bear with me while I get back into writing again, and then maybe I’ll do something slightly more exciting.

In January 2002, Jon Lee, drummer for Feeder, committed suicide in Miami. Nine months later, the band released ‘Comfort In Sound’, and it still ranks in my record collection as one of the most powerfully cathartic responses to the death of a close friend I have ever heard. It is a studied, multi-dimensional dissection of coming to terms with absence in its purest form, and it makes me feel fragile and melancholic and simultaneously joyously uplifted.  It speaks eloquently of loss and absence, but its magic stems far more from its message of experiencing life to the fullest, whilst acknowledging the despair that arises from having that life snatched all too soon from those you love.

It is best to think of the album to think of variations on two themes. The first is anger, and at times Comfort In Sound is extremely angry. “Godzilla” is certainly not the album’s subtlest two minutes, all feedback and fuzz and furious drums, but its message - “live life in overdrive, lost love in suicide” - is clear as day. For the briefest of moments, singer Grant Nicholson rails directly at his friend, screaming his utter disbelief at Lee’s decision to willingly end his life. It’s direct, certainly, but it’s far from the best expression of anger.  That accolade is taken by the track before, the heartbreaking “Summer’s Gone”, and in particular its chorus’ embodiment of anthemic despair. “Come Back Around” and “Helium” have their moments too, particularly the latter’s scuzzy, disjointed introduction.

These four tracks appear in pairs, bursting amongst the rest of the album’s wave upon wave of quiet, elegiac melancholy. Herein lies the core of Comfort In Sound’s power - Nicholson’s tortured musings on the nature of death and living with death. ”Quick Fade” is the most personal, openly dedicated to Lee and doubly affecting as it follows on the heels of the sonic onslaught of “Godzilla”.  “Forget About Tomorrow” is the most epic, soaring on waves of gushing guitars and strings that climb to the skies.  But it is not until the final two tracks - “Love Pollution” and “Moonshine” that the singer’s pain is made fully manifest.  “I can’t go on, I can’t go on this way”, Nicholson cries in the former as the same descending three-note motif repeats again and again over a mournful cello line. That three-note motif appears faster and more urgent in “Moonshine”, but this time paired with swelling guitars.  It’s a hugely affecting closure - affirming both Nicholson’s constant pain, and his admission that life goes on with or without those who mean the most to you.

I’ve probably made this record sound far better than it really is, but that’s only because every time I listen I become more impressed that such conflicting feelings can be encapsulated so perfectly in twelve songs. Feeder’s follow-up Pushing the Senses was nowhere near this quality, too overt in its despair and too unsure of the direction it needed to take.  But in 2002, they created a record that will resonate with anybody who has lost somebody important to them.

Key tracks: “Just the Way I’m Feeling”, “Helium”, “Forget About Tomorrow”, “Summer’s Gone”, “Love Pollution”, “Moonshine”

Until last weekend, Radiohead had never played Prague before, perhaps unsurprising given the band’s penchant for eschewing larger venues in favour of the lesser known outposts of Europe (last years’s gig in the amphitheatre of Nimes being one excellent example).  Whilst cynics may consider the current European tour dates as little more than an extended warm up for Leeds and Reading festivals, it was clear that the Czech capital had no intention of being considered a second-rate destination, with queues forming fully twelve hours before the doors were due to open, and despite some issues with tickets scanners and a woefully primitive inadequate queueing system at the venue in Vystaviste, Radiohead’s performance ensured that the loyal Eastern European fans will be baying for the return of a band at the height of their not inconsiderable powers.

Since the release of In Rainbows, Radiohead have never seemed more comfortable, particularly given previous record Hail to the Thief’s schizophrenia meant no-one could be certain what would come next.  The sonic indecision that has characterised their middle period now infiltrates their live setlists, but where on Hail to the Thief raging guitars and skittish electronica sat uneasily side by side, Radiohead’s performance in Prague was an organic multi-hued whole, exhibiting the same confidence that embodies In Rainbows with the same subtleties and the same spine-tingling moments.

The personification of that confidence is frontman Thom Yorke, who is less a vocalist and more a ringmaster of his own personal circus. During ‘A Wolf at the Door’, one of four tracks from Hail to the Thief, Yorke was ranging, hopping from foot to foot and swinging his microphone like a deranged lunatic, but for ‘All I Need’ and ’Videotape’, he was stock-still, a near-silent crowd reliving the singer’s visions of unrequited, and unbounded, love. Where Radiohead’s live power is most manifest, however, is in the ability to turn songs that sound alienating and forbidding in the studio, and make them positively embracing.  ‘Idioteque’ was a joyous explosion of dance and paranoia in equal measures, ‘The Gloaming’ was surprisingly tender for a pure piece of electronica, and ‘Pyramid Song’ floated gracefully over the night air, aided by some sumptiuous Ebowing from guitarist Jonny Greenwood.

Naturally, the crowd’s largest cheers were reserved for the old favourites from the band’s late 90s period, and they did not disappoint.  ‘Lucky’ soared to the stratosphere, ‘(Nice Dream)’ was a welcome glimpse of the band’s guitar roots, and ‘Exit Music (For a Film)’, timed to start just as dusk descended upon Vystaviste, was spellbindingly, heartbreakingly affecting.  It’s hugely gratifying to see that far from eschewing the songs that made them, Radiohead are returning to them with an enthusiasm that suggests they are rediscovering their earlier music as much as the crowd are.

Where the band go next is anyone’s guess. Prague were treated to one new song, ‘These Are My Twisted Words’, whose moody arpeggios and chromatic changes sounded more like an In Rainbows B-side, but needless to say the band have still some distance left to run.  Snap up a ticket for Leeds or Reading if you don’t have on yet - this European tour is more evidence that Radiohead remain a world-class live act.

Whilst a full review of the gig is currently in preparation, I’m keen to at least get the setlist up.  It certainly had a few surprises - for every track that didn’t get an airing (no Paranoid Android, no Karma Police) there were a few gems thrown in (A Wolf at the Door, (Nice Dream)) that meant the gig kept the newer fans happy whilst appealing to those who have been following the quintet for years.

Anyway, setlist below. Review to follow shortly!

15 Step / There There / Weird Fishes / All I Need / Lucky / Nude / Morning Bell / 2 + 2 = 5 / A Wolf at the Door / Videotape / (Nice Dream) / The Gloaming / Reckoner / Exit Music (For a Film) / Bangers and Mash / Bodysnatchers / Idioteque

Pyramid Song / These Are My Twisted Words / Airbag / The National Anthem / How to Disappear Completely

The Bends / True Love Waits - Everything In Its Right Place

Boy do we need Bell to come up with something here. #Ashes

Am sorely tempted to study a Maths course. English and Music is in my heart, but Maths has always had my brain. Any course recommendations?

New Mew album on #Spotify - woo-hoo! RT @spotify: Spotify Premium UK, Tricks Of The Trade http://bit.ly/LJxJC

At some point today I’ll actually collect and update my todo list with the things I need to. Until then I’ll just floundering around.