Label: K-Scope Records
Year of release: 2013
Production: Steven Wilson and Alan Parsons
Album length: 53.03
Genre: Progressive Rock / Art Rock
Steven Wilson, the ultimate workaholic of the progressive rock scene and, when he’s not busy with his solo career, the boss of cult British band Porcupine Tree, a producer and a participant in plenty of interesting side projects, is back with a new solo album. This almost legendary multi-instrumentalist and singer, a major patron of modern progressive rock and a huge fan of old-school prog heritage too, has thrown himself completely into his solo path in recent years and shunted his work with Porcupine Tree onto the back burner for now. »The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories)« is the title of his third studio album and the successor to the masterpiece »Grace for Drowning« (2011). On it, Wilson has teamed up very successfully in the production seat with legendary sound engineer and musician Alan Parsons, who, besides once leading the art rock band The Alan Parsons Project, is also known as the sound engineer on Pink Floyd’s masterpiece »Dark Side of the Moon« (1973) and an important contributor to the making of The Beatles classics »Abbey Road« (1969) and »Let It Be« (1970).
And that’s far from the end of the list of prestigious guests who worked with Mr. Wilson on this album, which is no surprise, since the Porcupine Tree chief has built up a whole pile of big connections in recent years, as you could already hear and see on his previous studio effort. Former Asia guitarist Guthrie Govan took on the role of lead guitarist, while Nick Beggs (Kajagoogoo, Steve Hackett) guests on bass, backing vocals and chapman stick. Theo Travis, longtime member of Canterbury legends Soft Machine and Gong, stepped in on flute, saxophone and clarinet as the woodwind man. Guitarist and singer Jakko Jakszyk (ex-Level 42, The Tangent, 21st Century Schizoid Band) chipped in with backing vocals here and there.
»The Raven That Refused to Sing« first began to take shape during the »Grace for Drowning« tour, when Wilson, back in the studio, started kneading together new compositions that were originally meant for a future Porcupine Tree album. Later he changed his mind and decided he’d rather keep going with his increasingly successful solo career, which stylistically draws many parallels with what Wilson usually creates with Porcupine Tree. Compared with its intensely personal predecessor, which was above all a turbulent, unpredictable ride through different emotional states, »The Raven That Refused to Sing«, which also leans a touch more toward jazz fusion, is a collection of songs telling individual life stories. Wilson’s lyrics, ruled this time by ‘ghosts of the past’, are once again intelligent, nostalgic, pretty deep and perceptive, and above all very ‘true to life’, and they give the listener plenty to chew on. The excellent cover art, which is somewhat reminiscent of the Crimson King on the inner sleeve of the legendary King Crimson debut, is really a vivid reflection of the lyrics about ghosts that dominate »The Raven That Refused to Sing«.
The epic opening treat »Luminol« is a gorgeous hybrid of modern art rock and classic seventies progressive rock, something that has always been close to the heart of Wilson, who has worked on reissues of numerous prog classics in recent years. The melancholic yet fiery sound of the electric guitar is unmistakably tied to Steven’s trademark compositional and instrumental style, while waves of mellotron, wild Hammond organ variations from Adam Holzman and Travis’s flute keep bringing an ‘antique’, at times almost pastoral ambience to this restless composition. The ethereal ambient waves in between, in which Steven’s melodic vocal is nicely backed by hypnotic harmonies, also contain some seriously tasteful symphonic piano arrangements. The dramatic waves of mellotron at times recall the golden days of classic King Crimson, one of Wilson’s favorite bands. Marco Minnemann, meanwhile, has a drumming approach that’s quite similar in its jazzy feel to that of original King Crimson drummer Michael Giles. The lyrics are about a poor street musician who, despite his musical talent, performs on the street from dawn till dusk in all kinds of weather, while passersby long ago forgot that this person even exists, and over time he has become a kind of ghost, vanishing and reappearing. Like many of Wilson’s lyrics, »Luminol« was partly inspired by a real experience, namely an encounter with a street musician.
»Drive Home« is a melancholic and deeply ethereal ballad that tells, through its lyrics and in a phantasmagorical way, the story of lost love: a man is driving his car one evening when he suddenly realizes that his partner, whom he was talking to just a few minutes earlier, has vanished. Then her ghost appears again and warns the driver that she will ‘always remind him of what happened that night’. The trauma of losing his partner is simply too much, so the protagonist has simply blocked the tragic event out of his memory, as if the woman had never existed. So the words are about a female ghost and a tragic car crash, which fits perfectly with the sad atmosphere, in the middle of which Wilson’s vocal, especially during the symphonically arranged chorus, once again does a great job as a subtle storyteller. Individual acoustic-orchestral arrangements help build the harrowing mood, while Govan’s closing guitar solo is a real balm for body and soul.
»The Holy Drinker« is a very successful blend of symphonic prog rock, prog metal and jazz fusion. It’s an extremely complex piece whose lyrics revolve around hypocrisy, especially the everyday sanctimony of fake moralists led by priests and politicians, who keep lecturing ‘ordinary’ people instead of sweeping in front of their own door first. Travis really shines here with wild clarinet improvisations, while the ‘metal’ guitar passages bring the necessary rage and edge, radiating from the helplessness of seeing our society run by hypocritical crooks of every stripe. Brutal guitar passages build massive walls of sound together with the layered vocals, while the rhythm section moves deftly between jazzy and metal rhythmic shades. Wilson’s singing is also fully dramatized and angry this time, which is hardly usual for him. The keyboard textures, led by mellotron and piano, are once again as colorful as can be and contain plenty of witty improvisational flourishes. The same goes for Travis’s flute experiments and the bristling layer of Hammond organ that crashes with full force through the raging rhythms. After a short lull in the last part of the song comes a brutal and totally uncompromising instrumental finish.
»The Pin Drop« also has phantasmagorical lyrics and atmosphere, this time grappling with the, sadly, all too topical problem of an empty relationship that someone stays in only for the sake of feeling safe and socially validated. Here the culprit is a man who killed his partner and got rid of her body in a river, while now, from beyond, her ghost speaks to him through his madness. It’s another deeply complex masterpiece of many ambient shades, where the mood practically never stops shifting thanks to numerous time changes and ethereal multi-voiced choruses. Overall, the atmosphere keeps swinging between nostalgia and anxiety. Travis’s sax improvisations add jazz-fusion experimentation, while the guitar passages are razor-sharp and fit perfectly with the rich mellotron waves. The pastoral middle section, with its ‘Victorian’ vibe, is a bit reminiscent of classic Genesis, while the guitar lines and ethereal vocal harmonies are totally their own thing and come closest to the usual Porcupine Tree sound.
»The Watchmaker«, yet another ghost story, has a gentle opening section played on acoustic guitar that suits Wilson’s deeply melancholic voice perfectly. This time the lyrics are about an old watchmaker for whom his work meant everything, and who, unable to show emotion, completely neglected his wife, with whom he lived for over fifty years. In fact he never loved her and treated her as a mere necessary appendage. In the end, when he’d had more than enough of her, he killed her and hid her body in the cellar under his workshop. But after fifty years together, his wife isn’t about to leave him just like that, so after a while her ghost returns from beyond and takes the hellish watchmaker with her. Here too, both in the lyrics and in the acoustic opening section, you could talk about certain atmospheric parallels with classic Genesis and King Crimson, who were especially fond of this kind of phantasmagorical tale in the early seventies (say, the songs »The Musical Box« and »The Letters«). The pastoral intro is followed by an orchestrally arranged instrumental section laced with flute passages, in which Govan especially shines with wild guitar improvisations, though his virtuoso bandmates give him some serious competition. Melodramatic piano touches and ethereal harmonies successfully crank up the tense, mysterious and anxious mood, which means Mr. Wilson and his cohorts reach a new level of arranging brilliance. The closing section, in which Nick Beggs especially stands out with his rattling bass lines, is a pure jazz fusion freakout and a build-up of an ever more chilling atmosphere as the wife’s ghost returns from beyond to settle accounts with her ‘dear’ husband.
The album closes with the title track, »The Raven That Refused to Sing«, another epic masterpiece with a ghost-themed lyric. It’s markedly contemplative compared to the other lyrics on the album and even leaves a ray of optimistic light at the end. Once again the main protagonist is an old man, but this time a person of a positive nature. This old fellow is a real nostalgic, his thoughts constantly drifting back to childhood, when he spent the best days of his life. Back then he played with his sister, who meant the most to him in life and who died very young. After her death his life became spiritually miserable and empty. One day the old man suddenly spots a mysterious raven in the garden and recognizes it as the physical manifestation of his own sister’s ghost, returned from beyond after many years. He becomes convinced that if he can somehow teach the raven to sing, he’ll hear his sister’s voice again, and the two of them will be able to fly off together into the beyond. Fittingly, the atmosphere of this lyrically deep song is strongly melancholic, but over time, after a successful build-up on fragile piano, somewhat more optimistic and cheerful, almost epic orchestral shades start to take over, led by flute and mellotron. With its deeply contemplative nature, Wilson’s vocal once again has the wonderful ability to shake even a potentially hard-hearted listener and awaken in them many almost forgotten higher emotions.
»The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories)« is Wilson’s best solo album to date and yet another in an unbroken string of modern progressive rock masterpieces, with which this versatile musician and producer has once again confirmed his status as the current top hero of experimental forms of rock music. This multilayered product, which besides its brilliant musical content is also marked by phenomenal production that deserves a deep bow, simply can’t be praised enough, and it’s almost certain it will soon rank among the greatest classics in the history of progressive rock. »The Raven That Refused to Sing« is already, at the start of the year, the leading candidate for the best progressive rock album of 2013. A very demanding task awaits Steven in the future: keeping up and continuing his incredibly successful run of studio masterpieces that set new standards for modern prog rock. But from such a master you can always expect surprises of the nicest kind.
author: Peter Podbrežnik
rating: 10 / 10
Track list:
1. Luminol
2. Drive Home
3. The Holy Drinker
4. The Pin Drop
5. The Watchmaker
6. The Raven That Refused to Sing
Lineup:
Steven Wilson – vocals, mellotron, keyboards, guitar, bass guitar on “The Holy Drinker”
Guthrie Govan – lead guitar
Nick Beggs – bass guitar, Cheapman stick on “The Holy Drinker”, backing vocals
Adam Holzman – keyboards, Hammond organ, piano, minimoog
Marco Minnemann – drums, percussion
Theo Travis – flute, saxophone, clarinet
GUEST MUSICIANS:
Jakko Jakszyk – backing vocals on “Luminol” and “The Watchmaker”
Alan Parsons – guitar solo on “The Holy Drinker”
Orchestral arrangements by Dave Stewart, performed by a London session orchestra
