Author: Peter Podbrežnik
Artist: Arena
Label: Verglas Records
Release: 2005
Length: 52:27
Rating: 5/5
‘The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’ was the kind of comic that only the English could dream up, or that could only be born in the twisty brain of a comics oddball like the famous writer Alan Moore, who, in his typical, socially critical and slightly eccentric way, also breathed some soul into a few beloved heroes of American comics. The eternal critic of the American comics giant DC grabbed the classic idea of superheroes, dropped it into the gloomy age of Victorian England and cast literary (anti)heroes from classic British novels in the lead roles: the charismatic Captain Nemo, the vain immortal Dorian Gray, the schizophrenic Doctor Jekyll/Mister Hyde, the grizzled old hunter Allan Quatermain, the passionate vampiress Mina Harker and the unlucky Invisible Man Hawley Griffin. These were characters with tragic and anything but heroic pasts, who met every situation with a heap of black humor and self-irony. Against them he pitted classic literary villains like Fu Manchu and Professor Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes’ old ‘acquaintance’.
Seasoned Arena and Pendragon keyboardist Clive Nolan was obviously an avid reader of ‘The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen’, because that’s where he found the inspiration for the concept of Arena’s sixth album, »Pepper’s Ghost«. In some of the lyrics, and also through a special comic drawn just for this record, the band members turned into a team of Victorian superheroes called the ‘Knights of the London Fog’, whose main purpose was to shield London from attacks by all the dregs of society under the command of the demonic Lucius. The album title, on the other hand, was tied to the invention of the scientist John Henry Pepper, who in the 19th century devised a special illusion technique. Using a light projector and mirrors, he managed to create a strange effect that made the actors on stage look like some kind of immaterial ghosts. Going to see his shows became a popular pastime in wealthy Victorian circles.
That concept shows you won’t easily find a more typically English neo-prog band than Arena, and yet »Pepper’s Ghost« logically continued a run of conceptual masterpieces like »The Visitor« (1998) and »Contagion« (2003). Together with the excellent »Immortal« (2000), they all set enviable songwriting standards for how to make a modern prog album with a deep message, so it’s no surprise that fans’ expectations ahead of the new Arena album were pretty high. After an achievement as complex as »Contagion«, a somewhat more relaxed and, let’s call it, simple concept about unconventional superheroes in the guise of the band members suited »Pepper’s Ghost« perfectly, and there’s plenty of self-irony to be found in it. Most of the songs on the album, apart from the opening and closing pieces, which serve as the intro and the epic finale, tell the origin stories of the individual members of the ‘Knights of the London Fog’ through music and lyrics (the lyrics are far more complex than they seem at first glance and, as is typical of Nolan, contain a ton of allegories that have nothing to do with the comic).
Mood-wise, »Pepper’s Ghost« is a touch less dark than its predecessor, but the individual arrangements sound even more Victorian and epic, so in that respect too it stands out in their discography so far. On top of that, the band, mostly thanks to guitarist/backing vocalist John Mitchell with his multi-part harmonies and blazing runs, plus some wild fills and even the occasional use of the double bass pedal from drummer Mick Pointer, got closer to prog metal than ever before, even though certain metallic tendencies had already been noticeable on some earlier releases. Luckily, they never veer too far into metal territory, and for that we can thank maestro Nolan, one of the best ‘students’ of the legendary Rick Wakeman (ex-Yes), whose keyboard wizardry diligently keeps the symphonic balance in check the whole time. Singer Rob Sowden, for whom »Pepper’s Ghost« turned out, sadly, to be his last studio outing with Arena (the same goes for bassist Ian Salmon, whose melodic bass lines formed a superb rhythmic counterweight to Pointer’s vehement drum kit assault), surely left behind the best vocal performance of his career, thanks to the way he threw himself into the characters of the concept.
»Pepper’s Ghost« opens with »Bedlam Fayre«, a complex energy catalyst that, after a short intro of carnival sounds, builds on dramatic guitar passages and sacred synth escapades, backed by killer drum fills, and morphs into an epic account of goings-on in Victorian London, where a bloodied knife lurks in every shadow and where the mere presence of the aforementioned heroes drives back the oppressive fog and the gloom in people’s hearts. Rob Sowden’s emotional vocal performance is laced with Nolan’s sacred-flavored symphonic artistry, while Mitchell’s guitar lines are a unique mix of sophistication and punch, and together they conjure up, incredibly successfully, the dark atmosphere of an apathetic, fog-wrapped and morally warped London, which in many ways is what it still is today. »Smoke And Mirrors«, whose chorus stands out in particular, as if made to liven up Arena’s live shows, is marked by epic symphonic arrangements and ‘weeping’ guitar passages, while Sowden superbly tells the story of the birth and rise of ‘his’ character, the mysterious Count, who, despite being born an albino, was gifted with supernatural virtues and so came into possession of an extraordinary sword.
»The Shattered Room«, the story of the tragedy and ‘rebirth’ of Samuel Gunn (Mick Pointer), a former Union soldier and the only survivor of an attack by Native Americans, who ends up learning their wisdom through rituals, clocks in at almost 10 minutes and is one of the two most complex pieces on the album, with no shortage of dramatic tempo shifts and sudden changes of atmosphere. The ethereal intro quickly turns into a punchy, complex instrumental section, out of which an uplifting arrangement is born, and in the middle of it Sowden abruptly changes his vocal color and once again conjures up an unforgettable mood. The Victorian keyboard arrangements strongly recall the ones the legendary Tony Banks (Genesis) was creating in the seventies, which is yet another compliment to Nolan’s virtuosic skills. In the closing stretch, after a short ‘psychedelic’ section, comes a dramatic switch into a ‘metal’ section with a rumbling drum bed and high notes on the mini moog, while Mitchell never stops thrilling us with his guitar improvisation.
»The Eyes of Lara Moon«, one of the most vivid pieces on »Pepper’s Ghost«, is the track where the listener finds out how Mr. Parish (Clive Nolan) came by his mystical powers, after he faced off against the vengeful ghost of Lara Moon in an abandoned house, and he’s been fighting an eternal inner battle with her ever since. The mysterious, pastoral intro is marked by the chords of Mitchell’s acoustic guitar and Sowden’s piercing vocal approach, while Nolan quickly brings melodramatic grandeur with his symphonic textures, announcing the arrival of the cursed, restless soul of the late Lara Moon. Mitchell’s epic guitar harmonies neatly help build the central, ceremonial motif.
Of all the compositions on the album, »Tantalus« is surely the most tragic, both musically and lyrically. The lyrics feature Michael Tempus (John Mitchell), condemned to eternal Tantalean torment and, besides Parish, surely the most sympathetic character: a man who, despite having invented a way to manipulate time, can’t change his fate in any way. Tempus has built a time machine that can wind time back into the past, but only by a few seconds, which deepens his personal tragedy when he discovers that Jack the Ripper killed his fiancée just before the invention was tested. Despite repeated attempts to go back through time, he can’t stop the tragic event, and so he’s doomed to eternal suffering. Musically, too, »Tantalus« isn’t just one of the best pieces on the album but of Arena’s whole career, and it gives Mitchell tons of room to maneuver for his guitar wizardry. The fragile, piano-driven and thoroughly melancholic intro, carried by a mighty vocal performance, gradually turns into an epic section where punchy guitar passages and layered synth textures dictate the rhythm. The rhythm section keeps a lovely balance throughout between punch and subtlety, which are constantly fighting for ambient supremacy, while Sowden is usually at his best exactly when he has to mediate between clashing emotions. Near the end of the track, Mitchell doesn’t forget to thrill all the guitar gourmets with a phenomenal solo.
Of all the character backstories, the least interesting is the origin story of Mr. Katana (Ian Salmon), vividly told on the otherwise excellent »Purgatory Road«, since it’s a pretty worn-out tale of an English orphan boy who gets adopted by Nepalese Buddhist monks somewhere in Asia, and as an adult, once he’s become their best warrior, has to choose his own destiny. Here Arena allow themselves quite a few unexpected and not exactly obvious experimental feats, like the guitar improvisation right at the start, while keeping the dominant melodic component going the whole time, radiating mostly from the central symphonic arrangement, which sounds truly majestic. The mighty chorus is also built amid vivid ambient flourishes, with the backing vocal harmonies from Nolan and Mitchell clearly audible.
Arena wouldn’t be Arena if they didn’t close the album with a fantastic composition of epic proportions: the 13-minute masterpiece »Opera Fanatica«, which is even a serious contender for the best thing they’ve ever done. The epic sacred opening alone, with mighty male-female operatic vocals, still sends shivers through your whole body after countless listens, and then comes an unexpected switch into an ultra-dramatic and slightly brutal prog metal section with double bass pedal hammering and ceremonial orchestral arrangements. In time, Mitchell’s subtle guitar improvisations join in and raise the atmosphere another notch, while the entrance of Sowden’s vocals ‘onto the scene’ finally conjures up the image of the final showdown between the Victorian heroes and Lucius, after he turns into a demon in the middle of an opera performance and gets a bullet right between the eyes ‘as a reward’. The opera house burns to the ground after the demonic maniac’s death, but after the successful mission there’s no trace left of the ‘Knights of the London Fog’. The numerous orchestral, sacred-spiced interludes neatly lift the drama, and the same goes for the fiery guitar and keyboard improvisations in the complex middle section, which further underline the epic finale. It finally blossoms in a ceremonial chorus into which Sowden, helped by the backing vocals, poured all of his singing talent.
The concept piece »Pepper’s Ghost« was clear proof that Arena still had plenty of fuel left for forging new masterpieces, and that the lineup formed in 1998 had developed incredible chemistry by then. That’s exactly what made it such a shame that after »Pepper’s Ghost« they were creatively drained for years and preferred to take a longer break, so this incarnation of the band fell apart before they could record the next studio album. The Sowden era, which peaked with »Pepper’s Ghost« (followed after its release by a tour marking the band’s tenth anniversary), will justifiably go down as the most successful and stable in their career for quite some time, and it’s a big question whether they’ll ever top it.
Lineup
Rob Sowden – vocals
Clive Nolan – keyboards, backing vocals
Mick Pointer – drums
John Mitchell – guitar, backing vocals
Ian Salmon – bass guitar, acoustic guitar
Production
Clive Nolan & John Mitchell
Tracklist
1. Bedlam Fayre (6:08)
2. Smoke and Mirrors (4:42)
3. The Shattered Room (9:45
4. The Eyes Of Lara Moon (4:30)
5. Tantalus (6:51)
6. Purgatory Road (7:25)
7. Opera Fanatica (13:06)
