All posts by Thaddeus Wert

High school math teacher and fan of all kinds of music, but most of all prog.
Republic of Letters

Hounded by Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love

Hounds of Love

In this post, Tad Wert, Carl Olson, Erik Heter, Kevin McCormick, and Bradley Birzer review that 1985 classic, Hounds of Love, by the inimitable Kate Bush!  She was brilliant then, and she remains brilliant to this day.  We are honored, and humbled, to consider her music as 1980’s perfection.  God bless, the Fairlight!

Brad: Tad, Erik, Kevin, and Carl, so good to talk to you again.  As always, a true pleasure.  Hounds of Love was my introduction to Kate Bush.  I realize that several of her albums had appeared before Hounds of Love, but it was Hounds of Love that awakened my soul to excellent music in 1985.  At the time, I was a senior in high school.   And, I mean this without hyperbole.  I had loved Rush, Yes, Genesis, Thomas Dolby, ABC, and The B-52s prior to discovering Kate Bush, but it really was Hounds of Love that made me realize what music could accomplish.  I really liked side one of the album, but I was deeply in love with side two: “The Ninth Wave.”

The fact that so many outlets gave it a high review suggested to me (then, as well as now) that prog was a delight for all concerned, even if they shunned prog in their formal reviews.  Bush’s Hounds of Love was ultimate prog for those who hate prog!!!

Tad: Brad, thank you for suggesting we discuss this wonderful album! I have fond memories of it as well – for me, 1985 was one of the greatest years for music ever. Just consider some of the albums released that year: Arcadia’s So Red The Rose, Bryan Ferry’s Boys and Girls, Clannad’s Macalla, Cocteau Twins’ ep Aikea-Guinea, The Cure’s The Head On The Door, The Dream Academy’s eponymous debut, Joni Mitchell’s Dog Eat Dog, Marillion’s Misplaced Childhood, New Order’s Low-life, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark’s Crush, Prefab Sprout’s Two Wheels Good, Propaganda’s A Secret Wish, R.E.M.’s Fables of the Reconstruction, Scritti Politti’s Cupid and Psyche ‘85, Simple Minds’ Once Upon a Time, Talking Heads’ Little Creatures, Tears for Fears’ Songs From the Big Chair, The Waterboys’ This Is The Sea, … I could go on and on! It was a watershed year, when it seemed like the sky was the limit when it came to what you could hear on the radio. Warm jangly guitar rock rubbed shoulders with icy British synthpop, while there was a revival of psychedelic rock happening (remember Prince’s Around The World In a Day?) and girl groups like the Bangles were breaking into the bigtime.

And yet, despite the incredibly high bar that was being set by all of these artists, Kate Bush’s Hounds Of Love really stood out as an exceptional work. Like you, Brad, this album was the first time I heard her music. I was working in a record store at the time, and when it came in, our import buyer immediately put it on the store sound system. As those whooping synths that introduce “Running Up That Hill” came blasting out of the speakers followed by her unique voice, I knew this was something special. 

I confess that I was prejudiced against Ms. Bush at the time, due to my copy of The Rolling Stone Record Guide, which I considered the definitive authority on all things rock. I remember it brutally panned her earlier albums, and described her voice as sounding like a “Hoover vacuum cleaner”. I think 1985 was the year I tossed my book in the trash, because its biases against any music with a hint of complexity were too great to ignore! As time has passed, Rolling Stone Magazine’s original critical faves and pans have become simply embarrassing. 

Anyway, rant over! I’m happy to say that “Running Up That Hill” was an immediate cure for my initial anti-Kate Bush prejudice.

Brad: And what a rant it is/was!   Astounding, Tad.   So glad you put her into context: Tears for Fears, Songs from the Big Chair; Brian Ferry, Boys and Girls; New Order, Low Life.  Astounding stuff.  From every direction, astounding stuff.  And, as great as Tears for Fears, Brian Ferry, and New Order, Kate Bush still delivers the best.  Well, I’m not sure that Hounds of Love is better than Songs from the Big Chair, but I can still admit that one is worthy of the other.  What a year 1985 was!  Incredible.

Carl: Yes, great rant! Before getting to Bush and Hounds of Love, I want to give a rousing “Hear, hear!” to this: “Rolling Stone Magazine’s original critical faves and pans have become simply embarrassing.” I clued into that after reading their stupid “reviews” of Queen and Kansas, two of my favorite groups of my late teens (and still on regular rotation, all these years later). Plus, the albums they seemed to laud and drool over were, for me, almost all incredibly boring (and usually overtly leftist politically, which only added to the boredom). C’est la vie!

I graduated from high school in 1987, and didn’t hear anything by Kate Bush until late 1988, when I saw the film “She’s Having a Baby.” The movie itself was so-so overall, but the delivery scene, during which Bush’s song “A Woman’s World”—specifically written and created by Bush for the John Hughes’s film—played, was powerful. I was simply stunned by the song, which was both strikingly ethereal and emotionally raw. It was simply beautiful. And that voice! There was no other voice like that.

I got a copy of The Sensual World album (1988) as soon as it came out–and then bought everything else by Bush, including The Hounds of Love. There simply wasn’t anyone else like Bush; her music was (and is) remarkably unique, idiosyncratic in the very best way. And while I certainly have favorite songs, Bush has always been an Album Artist for me. I’ll say more about a couple of songs later, but here’s my highest praise for Bush: really good artists, even great artists, will create wonderful and memorable albums. But the truly best artists create complete worlds. They transport you somewhere, somehow. And that’s what Bush has always done for me: she demands complete and absolute attention, with characters and narratives that are wild, rich, bewildering, poignant, and always engrossing. 

Tad: Thanks, gentlemen, for affirming my anti-Rolling Stone polemic. Back to the music! Carl, you hit the nail on the head when you assert that Kate Bush creates complete worlds. Hounds of Love sounds like nothing else, and it transcends its time. From those afore-mentioned whooping synths to the spritely melody of “The Morning Fog”, we are invited to explore her world of maternal love, dreaming, cloudbusting, witchhunting, and Celtic dancing, among other things.

As I’m listening to this album again, it’s hard to pick out any individual song for special attention. Every track has its beautiful moments – each one adds to the overall atmosphere of ecstatic joy on side one, and mysterious suspense on side two. Side two is a suite entitled “The Ninth Wave”, and the back cover of the album has the following quote from Tennyson’s “The Coming of Arthur”:

 “Wave after wave, each mightier than the last

‘Til last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame”

If any other artist quoted Alfred, Lord Tennyson, I would consider them unbearably pretentious, but not Ms. Bush. In her hands, it makes perfect sense.

Brad: I remember hearing Kate Bush for the first time–again, Hounds of Love–during the fall semester of my senior year of high school.  Some friends and I, all deeply rooted in progressive rock, were always looking for New Wave music that somehow touched on all things prog.  We found it in some of Thomas Dolby, U2, Wang Chung (To Live and Die in L.A. soundtrack), INXS, and in lots of Rush, post-Gabriel Genesis, and Yes, etc.  

But, we also found side two of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love to be extraordinary.  Bush wasn’t just playing at being progressive, this side of the album, “The Ninth Wave,” as Tad noted above, was nothing but prog–-whole and complete and utterly compelling.  To this day, I never get tired of side two of the album.  

To be certain, I never tire of side one, either, but I’m more drawn to side two.  “Running Up That Hill”–the opening track of the album–has been a Birzer family car mix staple for at least twenty years now.  We, as a family, already loved Stranger Things, but we were completely blown away by Season 4’s gorgeous integration and employment of the song, itself always waiting to be fulfilled by the most noble heroism.

Additionally, my freshman year of college saw the release of Kate Bush’s greatest hits compilation, The Whole Story, and I devoured it.  As it happened, my junior year of college, a good friend, Greg Scheckler, made a mixtape of all pre-Hounds of Love Bush.  Why I’d not already explored her pre-1985 music at that point remains an autobiographical mystery to me.  I still treasure that cassette that Greg made me, and I followed up by buying the complete catalogue of her work.

[To this day, I proudly own all of her CDs–separately and as a part of a comprehensive two-box set, complete with b-sides and live renditions]

Carl, I loved “She’s Having a Baby” when it came out.  I saw it three or four times, believe it or not.  I was a total John Hughes junkie!  And, I loved “The Woman’s Work” from Kate.

Regardless, I despise Rolling Stone–aside from the articles by P.J. O’Rourke–and always have.  Not only is it predictably leftist, but it’s predictably boring.  Its weird hatred of Rush and then love of Rush at the end of the band’s career is nothing short of bizarre.

But, back to “The Ninth Wave.”  Here, Kate Bush is at her absolute best, rivalled only by disk two of her later album, Aerial.  As many times as I’ve listened to “The Ninth Wave,” I’ve never totally understood it.  And, it’s in the mystery of the whole concept that titilates me.  I think if I knew exactly what Kate Bush wanted, I’d be a bit disappointed.  

As it is, it strikes me that a woman is lost, trying to navigate by various means–some supernatural (“Waking the Witch”), some by invoking the weirdest of the Beatles “(Watching You Without Me”), some by folklore (“Jig of Life”), and some by utterly natural means (“Hello, Earth”)–well, with a little German devil thrown in.

Hello earth
Hello earth
With just one hand held up high
I can blot you out
Out of sight
Peek-a-boo,
Peek-a-boo, little earth
With just my heart and my mind
I can be driving
Driving home
And you asleep
On the seat
I get out of my car
Step into the night
And look up at the sky
And there’s something bright
Traveling fast
Look at it go
Look at it go
Hello earth
Hello earth
Watching storms
Start to form
Over America
Can’t do anything
Just watch them swing
With the wind out to sea
All you sailors
(Get out of the waves, get out of the water)
All life-savers,
(Get out of the waves, get out of the water)
All you cruisers,
(Get out of the waves, get out of the water)
All you fishermen
Head for home
Go to sleep, little earth
I was there at the birth
Out of the cloudburst
The head of the tempest
Murderer
Murder of calm
Why did I go?
Why did I go?
Tiefer, tiefer
Irgendwo in der tiefe
Gibt es ein licht
Go to sleep little earth

All of it comes together in the album’s final track, the gentle and harmonious “The Morning Fog.”  All seems well, as the protagonist is “born again” and remembers her unwavering love for her mother, her father, and her brothers.  Indeed, all “loved ones.”  What better way to end the album?  No, not possible.  It is the perfect ending to a perfect album.

That said, I still gravitate toward disc 2 of Aerial. . . .

Erik: Before I start in on the main topic, please let me chime in (pile on?) on the rant again on the vapid, droll, banal, and way-past-its-sell-by-date Rolling Stone, staffed by reviewers that write reviews for other reviewers in the hopes to look cool.  I’d more trust Britney Spears’ opinion on the implications of quantum mechanics before I’d trust a music review from Rolling Stone at this point.  

Now, to the subject proper.  When Brad asked me to participate in this, I had to sheepishly admit that I had never heard Hounds of Love or any Kate Bush album for that matter, risking my credentials in the prog-lovers club.  That turned out to not be entirely true, as once I looked at the track listing for this album, I quickly realized, thanks to the Netflix show Stranger Things and wider cultural echoes it made, that I had heard the first song on this album a number of times.  But alas, that was the only song, so I’m going to be coming at this album from the perspective of a newcomer.  

So far, I’ve only given it one listen (but have more planned tomorrow!).  So for now, I’m going to add a few initial impressions.

To the surprise of exactly nobody, I will first start by saying Kate has an incredibly beautiful voice, with a vocal range that only a few possess.  She can seamlessly transition between soft and subdued to exceptionally powerful and just as easily slide anywhere within that range.  She uses her voice to such great effect as not only a vehicle to deliver her lyrics, but as an instrument in the larger orchestra.  Some of the backing vocal arrangements in this album are simply otherworldly.  I’m always a sucker for innovative vocal arrangements and good harmonies – think Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys, Leave It by Yes, and Seven Bridges Road by The Eagles.  Kate has several tracks on this album with vocal arrangements – all of her own, multi-tracked voice – that stand with the best of any of them.  

Another initial impression of this album is the way many of the songs combine catchy hooks associated with pop songs with the complexity of prog.  The artists that can pull that off are few and far between, but Kate again shows another area in which she shines.  Two tracks where this really hit me were The Big Sky and the album’s closer, The Morning Fog.  The former includes some of the vocal arrangements that I have discussed above, and if I may paraphrase a line from a Eurythmic song, those arrangements have gotten into me like a poison dart.  After even a single listen, I can’t get them out of my head – nor do I want to.  “The Big Sky” also has a nice, thumping bass line that propels the listener along.  With respect to the latter track, there is something about it that draws me in, and I can’t quite place my finger on it.  The Morning Fog is somewhat subdued, but in a way that demands the listener’s attention.  And in a glorious, wonderful contradiction, it sounds very much like something from 1985 while also sounding like nothing at all from 1985.  I absolutely love that.

So there you have it – my very first impression of Hounds of Love – and boy, it’s a good one.  I’m looking forward to digging into this and finding more hidden treasures.  I’ll be sure to tell you about them in my next entry!

Tad: Erik, it is so nice to get the reactions and perspectives of someone who has never heard Hounds Of Love. I tend to have the same taste in music you do – I love a good hook! So, I agree that “The Big Sky” and “The Morning Fog” are exceptionally good tracks. When the chiming opening of “The Morning Fog” bursts out, after following the dense, dark, and mysterious “”Ninth Wave” songs, it is a cathartic moment for me. Brad, I love your characterization of it as a “born again” moment.

I’d like to mention Kate’s use of samples and processed vocals. That was something relatively new in 1985, and I think she does a nice job of employing them judiciously. They all serve the song, and they aren’t included for the sake of novelty. Let’s face it, by the mid-80’s there was an undeniable “sound” of echoing drums, soaring synths, and choppy guitars that, 40 years later, sounds pretty dated. Ms. Bush avoided that pitfall, and as a result Hounds Of Love is timeless in its allure.

Brad, like you, I’m not sure what the core meaning of “The Ninth Wave” is, and I don’t think I want to know. As you so aptly put it, the mystery of the concept is what’s key.

Kevin: One observation if I might sneak in here. I find Kate Bush’s storytelling craft to be most compelling.  While there are many great songwriters over the last sixty years of modern popular music, Kate Bush uniquely approaches her subjects as a narrator walking her audience through wonderful short stories.  If she’s then a songwriter, she’s just as much a screenwriter.  Her albums play like great short films. Her lyrics are frequently dialogues with which she brings her listeners into intimate conversations or moments. What sets her music apart is her ability to lower her guard through her characters engaged in intense exchanges and fleeting moments.  And she is totally invested in revealing that narrative–whatever the subject may be.  It is no surprise that her first success was with the quite unusual (even to this day) and not-so-subtly  literary “Wuthering Heights.” She’s a powerful storyteller and knows how to encase those stories in these extraordinary soundtracks. 

Carl: Always fascinating to hear first impressions of great music (or books, art, film, etc.), Erik, and I enjoyed your observations!

Last night, I revisited the exceptional 2015 biography (nearly 500 pages long!) titled Under the Ivy: The Life & Music of Kate Bush by Graeme Thomson. I highly recommend it for anyone with any interest in Bush. Thomson highlights some aspects of Bush’s work and this album in particular that helped put a few of my final thoughts in perspective. 

He reports (the book is very well sourced, as he talked to many of the musicians who worked with Bush over the years) that Bush writes most songs very quickly—sometimes in just hours or a few days—but that it is the production, playing, and arranging that takes months, even years. And part of that, which is so evident in Hounds of Love, is her ground-breaking use of the Fairlight, electronics, and using eclectic instrumentation and vocals. 

He also emphasizes that Bush is remarkable for her vision of what she wants an album to be sonically, stylistically, etc. That should not be passed over too quickly, as there are many exceptional musical artists who simply don’t possess that quality. For example, the fantastic singer/songer-writer Seal (I’m a huge fan, as Brad knows well), has frankly admitted in recent interviews that he happily turned over song sequencing and related decisions to the legendary producer (and musician) Trevor Horn because he (Seal) simply doesn’t see that as an ability he possesses. Many have emphasized (rightly) that Bush set a new standard for women in “pop/rock” music; I’d say she simply set a new standard, regardless of sex.

Thomson also hits on something I was already going to mention, which is how deeply this album draws upon nature. Water, for example, is referenced throughout; it obviously has a huge role in the second half of the album. This is connected, without doubt, to both Bush’s Catholic upbringing (she no longer considers herself Catholic, but has spoken about Catholicism’s “powerful, beautiful, passionate images”) and her longtime interest in mythology, folklore, the occult, and so forth. Her eclectic musical tastes and styles seems to reflect her quite syncretistic approach to religion and spirituality. 

As a practicing Catholic, I find this quite intriguing and if I ever had a chance to talk to her (completely theoretical, obviously), I would be most interested in her worldview and how that informs her artistry. And that is because she has always struck me as someone whose entire work flows from how she sees reality; that is, she doesn’t write and create music for a certain audience. She just creates—and what she has created has been one of most unique and timeless bodies of “popular” music we’ll ever have the privilege of hearing.

Erik: Carl, Bradley, Kevin, and Tad, thanks for all your kind words – and thanks even more for bringing me into this discussion.  For in doing so, you have introduced me to something that has just blown me away in a way that only the truly great albums are capable of doing.  

Between my last post and this one, I gave Hounds of Love a couple more listens, and did a little research as well.  My initial impressions have only been reinforced, while new ones have come to me to lead to an even deeper appreciation.

For example, while I had read above that this album had (at least in its vinyl incarnation) a pop side and a progressive side, my additional listens made that all the more clear.  While the first five tracks have more of a pop bent (and I don’t mean that in any disparaging sense at all), it’s the last seven tracks where Kate really begins experimenting.  Her voice is positively lovely and mesmerizing in the opening track of this sequence, And Dream of Sheep.  The next track, Under Ice, is haunting, ominous, and … beautiful, beginning with the staccato string section that dominates the song.  Is she dreaming here?  I’m not sure, but the ‘wake up!’ that sets the next track in motion suggests as much.  Waking the Witch might be the most offbeat track on the album, with some interludes that are suggestive of similar ones from Pink Floyd’s Echoes.  Watching You Without Me is another track that draws one in and demands to be listened to, while also having a subdued quality to it.  It’s almost like a whisper.  Kate then does another sharp turn into Celtic-flavored folk on Jig of LIfe – completely unexpected and yet it works so perfectly.  Hello Earth is an incredible track, beginning with Kate in her beautiful, soft voice, and transitioning through different moods.  The inclusion of just a touch of the Celtic folk from the track before and the addition of the choir add flavor to this song.  And as I mentioned above, The Morning Fog that closes the album is a thing of pure beauty.  

One of the things that really jumps out at me is the temporal context in which it was made.  While 1985 produced some excellent music, the kind of music that appears on much of Hounds of Love, especially The Ninth Wave that makes up the second vinyl side was terribly out of fashion.  Yet Kate was obviously undeterred, determined to make the album she wanted to make, to make music on her terms.  Not only did she do it, but she managed to receive commercial success and critical acclaim in doing so at precisely a time few others would have (and I’m not referring to just the nimrods at Rolling Stone).  Artistic integrity and having the courage of one’s convictions are beautiful things in and of themselves, and Kate shows it in spades here.

I was previously unaware that Kate was also the producer of this album.  That really jumped out at me, since in taking on this role she assumed complete responsibility for the finished product.  Many musical artists, even great ones, need the right producer to turn their creative inspiration into a finished product.  To use one example, 90125 from Yes isn’t the same album without Trevor Horn.  Self-producing is fraught with pitfalls.  And yet, here is Kate, not merely avoiding these pitfalls, but taking on the role that bridges the gap between creative inspiration as an input and a masterpiece as an output, and executing flawlessly.  

The producer’s role is even more impressive when you consider the technical innovations that are found on this album from start to finish.  As Tad mentioned above, innovations such as samples and processed vocals were relatively new in 1985, so employing them on a project this ambitious was not without risk, to say the least.  Combining synthesizers, Celtic folk instrumentation, and choral arrangements was equally risky.  And these risks were taken in the context of making music that was unlike anything else contemporary to 1985.  And despite all these risks, the album is a complete artistic triumph, a masterpiece that still reverberates, as evidenced by the resurgence of its leadoff track thanks to Stranger Things (which was insisted upon by one of its stars, 80’s child Winona Ryder, who described herself as “obsessed” with Kate Bush).

So guys, if you were trying to make me a Kate Bush fan, congratulations – mission accomplished.  I’m going to spend more time absorbing this album, but I’ll happily take your recommendations on where to go next.  Thanks again!!

Tad: And with Erik’s ringing endorsement of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love, we’ll bring our symposium to a close. You can purchase a hard copy of this album from our friends at Burning Shed. Buying music from them helps support artists like Ms. Bush.

Here’s the video for “Running Up That Hill”:

Republic of Letters

The Luminous Beauty of Brice Soord’s Luminescence

Luminescence

Brad Birzer, Carl Olson, and Tad Wert are all big fans of Bruce Soord (check out Brad and Tad’s earlier dialog on the deluxe reissue of The Pineapple Thief’s first 7 albums!). Bruce has released his third solo album, Luminescence, and so, of course, we had to share our thoughts on it.

Tad: Brad and Carl, I really enjoy Soord’s solo work; sometimes I think he saves some of his best songs for it! They tend to be more lowkey and relaxed than his music with The Pineapple Thief – more straightforward rock/pop. I’ve been listening to Luminescence quite a bit, and I find it very charming. “Olomouc” is a winner, in my opinion, with its lush string accompaniment. On the other hand, the stripped-down (and aptly titled) “So Simple” is a real gem of acoustic beauty that ends too soon. What are your first impressions?

Carl: Gents! A couple of quick thoughts about Soord’s impressive, beautiful album. I expected it to be “good,” but I’ve become a bit obsessed with it, having now listened to it at least 30 times or more. The songs are subtle, but perfectly constructed. The playing and production are both exceptional: warm, intimate, engaging. There are a lot of layers, but also a lot of space, which is no small feat sonically. I especially like the combination of electronica sounds and beats with acoustic guitar (see “Lie Flat”). Vocally, Soord is both understated and emotive in perfect pitch (both musically and emotionally). Who knew a “prog” guy would create such a remarkably good pop album?

Brad: Tad and Carl, great to be talking with you both!  And, what a beautiful album to discuss.  I only started listening to it about a week ago, but I’ve been listening to it non-stop.  Carl, I will admit, I’m not surprised that Soord–a prog guy–could create such a remarkably good pop album.  The album, for what it’s worth, reminds me very much of mid-period Tears for Fears, especially Raoul and the Kings of Spain.  Soord, like Roland Orzabal, is really a master of mixing beautiful melodies in complex ways.  Tad, I think “charming” is exactly the right word for this album.

Carl: I cannot speak to the Tears for Fears comparison (although I completely believe you!), but will bring up two artists that this album brings to mind, in very positive ways. The first is Charlie Peacock, a very eclectic American singer, songwriter, producer, keyboardist, etc., who is known for his work in contemporary Christian music, but has worked in jazz, country, Americana, and more. He’s a brilliant producer/writer, as can be heard on the 2021 album “Skin and Wind,” which mixes electronic and acoustic instrumentation—including strings—brilliantly, in the service of concise songs filled with longing and questioning, just like Soord’s fabulous album. The other is the better-known Duncan Sheik, especially his first three albums (1996, 1998, and 2002), which were quite successful commercially. Their voices are similar, and songs such as Soord’s “Instant Flash of Light” is very “Sheik-ish,” right down to the really lovely small chamber strings. These comparisons are, in my book, very high compliments. 

Tad: Holy cow, Carl, your evocation of Charlie Peacock brought back some nice memories! I was very much into his music in the early to mid-90s, and now that you mention it, there is a lot of similarity between his style and Soord’s. And, Brad, you also made a connection I hadn’t thought of, but is very true: TFF’s Raoul and the Kings of Spain is a worthy ancestor and  influence of this album. 

Carl, you mentioned Soord’s use of electronica, and I’d like to jump off of that to say a little bit about another song I really, really, like: “Nestle In”. It begins with a police siren wailing, and as it becomes slightly distorted, a gentle wash of electronica begins to pulse. Soord’s vocals are mixed up front, and if you listen on headphones, it’s as if he were singing right at your shoulder. Whoever is playing drums on this track is outstanding – beautiful fills as Soord sings “The storm is approaching/And no one dares to look”. The distorted siren returns, and the song is over. I know my description makes it sound like it is cacophonous and noisy, but it isn’t at all. It’s oddly comforting, as a song entitled “Nestle In” should be.

Brad: Tad, the first time I heard “Nestle In,” I was immediately sure that a police car had just passed by, and I offered up a quick prayer for the person involved in whatever altercation there might be!  

Then, I realized my mistake.

Also, Tad, I should note that I think both Orzabal and Soord share an absolute earnestness in their music.  I especially think the influence is strong with Tears for Fears’ “Falling Down,” arguably the most earnest (the beautiful) song Orzabal has written.

Carl, thanks, too, for such good insights.  I’m not familiar with the artists you mentioned, but it sounds like I should be.

I must admit, as much as I love the entire Soord album, I’m most partial to the album opener, “Dear Life.”  The song just immediately grabs me and wants me/begs me/asks me to listen to the rest of the album.  

I like the lyrics, too:

This sight

Barely changed

Just the shadows cast over our remains

With the wounded leaves

We’re still clinging on for dear life

Don’t wish it away

Don’t wish that it will all be over

In the sweetest blink of an eye

This light

The reddest glow

Barely time to dry those saddest eyes I know

After all we have seen

We’re still clinging on for dear life

For this dear life

They’re not only nice lyrics, but they match the music, perfectly.

Carl: All three of us had a similar experience with “Nestle In”! I live in the country and we never heard police sirens. But when the song first came on, I was out of my chair and opening the door: “What is that…?”

I continued to be really riveted by the combination of intimacy and space in this album. Tad, you highlighted this perfectly in saying it’s like Soord is singing at your shoulder. It would be fascinating to talk to Soord about how he recorded and produced the album. It sounds so incredibly good. 

Every song is excellent, but “Lie Flight” is probably my favorite, at least at the moment. It’s deceptively simple, but with a wonderful drums/bass sound that really locks you in. I tend to like lyrics that allow multi-interpretations/levels, and these certainly fit the bill: 

Finally I’ve made some sense of it all

How could I not have known this all before?

I’m coming home

Is it too late for me?

It plays so differently with one eye on the soul

It could be about a romantic relationship. Or could it be about something more spiritual, pertaining to God and transcendence? “It plays so differently with one eye on the soul” is so good; it’s both simple and very mysterious. And maybe that’s this album’s greatest attribute: it’s immediate and accessible, but really mysterious at the same time. 

Tad: Okay, since we began this discussion, I bought a hard copy of Luminescence (if I find an album I really love, I don’t trust streaming services to keep it always available). I’ve had some time to go over the lyrics, and they seem to be documenting the collapse of a relationship. There is a consistent theme of loss and regret running through every song. However, I like the tack you take, Carl, and I’m going to assume there’s a higher yearning involved here.

Also, that drummer I singled out for praise is Soord himself! The only instruments he doesn’t play are the strings that accompany him on several songs. 

I have one more thing to add to our conversation – I have fallen in love with two songs near the end of the album: “Stranded Here”, and “Read to Me”. To my ears, they go together, because the acoustic guitar line from the former flows seamlessly into the latter. Soord has overdubbed a couple of acoustic guitars in this mini-suite, and their interplay is simply wonderful.

Gentlemen, it looks like this is a good place to wrap things up. Gentle readers, please take our advice and give Bruce Soord’s Luminescence a listen!

Here’s the video for the first single, “Dear Life”:

Republic of Letters

Celebrating A Classic: Spock’s Beard’s V

V

In this crazy post, Tad and Brad think hard and deep about Spock’s Beard’s fifth album, appropriately named V.  Tad and Brad (my gosh, we rhyme) think the world of this album.  As Tad will note, it’s what brought him back to the genre of progressive rock, and Brad will affirm that he loves all things, Spock’s Beard, never having actually left prog rock.  Indeed, if truth be told, Birzer thinks that he first encountered Spock’s Beard, THE LIGHT, sometime in 1994, even though the official literature claims a 1995 release date. . .

Brad.  My gosh, it was 2000, that year of mystery and chaos that saw the release of the fifth Spock’s Beard album, V.  The album, even subconsciously, seems to think that prog needs a new release, a new introduction to the world.  Even the opening track wants to invite all new adherents to all things proggy.

At the end of the day, you’ll be fine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, to be sure, prog was coming into its third phase.  Spock’s Beard, The Flower Kings, and Porcupine Tree had all ushered the genre into its newest phase.

Tad: Brad, it’s hard to believe that V is more than 20 years old! Yes, this one album reintroduced me to the world of prog. I still remember exactly how I discovered it: at the time I read Mojo Magazine regularly, and they had an issue with a Genesis cover story. There was an inset article about “current prog artists to check out”. One of them was Spock’s Beard, so I went to Tower Records (remember when there were record stores?) and, low and behold, there was a copy of V. I popped it into my car’s CD player, and I couldn’t believe the incredible music that poured out!

Up to that point, I was listening to practically every style of music except prog. In high school, I enjoyed Yes, Genesis, ELP, Jethro Tull, Pink Floyd, etc., but once the 80s hit, I quit following that genre. I was flabbergasted to hear a band like Spock’s Beard unapologetically playing progressive rock, but with an updated, contemporary sounding style. 

I think what impressed me the most was Neal Morse’s gift for melody. He obviously loved the Beatles, but he didn’t imitate them. Rather, he incorporated their sense of harmony and melody into massive epics that never seemed overlong. I remember in March of 2021 we went down to Florida for Spring Break, and all I listened to for a week was Spock’s Beard! And from there an entire new world of music opened up for me.

Brad:  Wow, Tad, what a wonderful memory.  Florida and Spock’s Beard!  Very nice.  

In the early 1990s, I remember wondering what had happened to progressive rock and encountering–through Tracks Records in Bloomington, Indiana–a revival of the genre through Spock’s Beard, The Light.  

As I noted above, it seems–at least in memory–to be sometime in 1994.  I was a graduate student at Indiana University, then, and I was quite the customer for Track’s.  I remember the manager telling me about The Light, but I remember it in the fall of 1994.  

For whatever reason, SB remembers the albums as coming out in 1995.  Somewhere–and I don’t know where–there’s a discrepancy.  At the time, I was thrilled with The Light, and I wanted more.   From that point forward, I followed the band.  Except for the embrace of the f-word, I absolutely loved The Light.  

It’s funny, but since the band was so abrupt in its language, Neal Morse has since sent out a warning about the music.  Honestly, though it was his attack on Catholicism–especially through his album Sola Scriptura, that warned me more than his embrace as had the f-word.  I don’t mind my kids hearing the f-word, but it was his attack on Roman Catholicism that really chilled me.

As it was, the band, Spock’s Beard, produced some great prog rock and some real straight-forward rock after 1995.  It was V, however, that really reminded us all that progressive rock was not only alive but thriving.  It was, by far, the most progressive album the band had released since its second release, Beware of Darkness.  Yet, to be sure, V is nothing compared to its successor, Snow, which really embraced not only progressive rock, but the Catholic Church (its priests, in particular) as well.

When V came out, I was blown away,.  Album number 5 from the band was simply brilliant, and I was so glad to have the progressive rock genre come back in full force.  Indeed, when you bring into account the early Flower Kings, it and Spock’s Beard really introduced us to the third wave of progressive rock.  Both, somehow, brought us all into the fold of a whole new take on the classic genre.

Tad: Before we get into discussing the music, I want to give a shoutout to the artwork. At first glance, it looks like a businessman walking in a desert past a traffic sign (a sideways V) telling him to go forward while a forked lightning bolt (making a V) pierces the sky behind him. But on closer inspection, you realize he has two shadows (making a V), he must be on an alien planet! The whole scene is worthy of Hugh Symes’ best work for Rush. I love it!

Brad: Agreed.  The art is excellent and reminiscent of Hugh Symes.  A wonderful comparison.

What surprises me most, however, Tad, is how much of a solo album for Neal Morse this fifth album from Spock’s Beard actually is.  If we take the liner notes seriously–and I have no reason not to–Morse wrote every lyric and every song with the exception of the excellent. THOUGHTS (Part II), the most Morse-like of all the tracks!  Indeed, the original “Thoughts” appeared on the second Spock’s Beard album, Beware of Darkness, and is credited to. . . no surprise. . . Neal Morse!  Indeed, looking over the first six Spock’s Beard’s albums, what is shocking is that all seem to have been written by Neal Morse and Neal Morse almost (not always) solo!

This means, of course, that V really is a Neal Morse album with Spock’s Beard as a mere backing band.  I will admit, I’m rather shocked to realize this.  I had always thought the band contributed much more to Spock’s than this.

As such, Testimony is a Neal Morse album without Spock’s as a backing band!

That said, and attributed, Spock’s Beard V is an astounding album, whether a Morse album or not.  Everything just works perfectly on V.  The art, the lyrics, the music, the sequence of songs.  All of it, just perfect.

And, though Morse wrote all of this, I’m quite happy with the band.  Nick D’Virgilio is especially great at drumming so appropriately for this album.

Tad: Yes, the first six Beard albums were almost entirely Neal Morse projects. I have a DVD, The Making of V, that chronicles his production of V, and it’s very illuminating. It’s clear he has a very specific vision of how he wants every song to sound. He meets with each member of the group to go over their parts. They make minor suggestions, but by and large he is calling all the shots. Even that little woo-wah guitar sound that Alan Morse makes 12 minutes into “At The End of the Day” is due to Neal’s urging.

Speaking of “At the End of the Day”, let’s dive into the songs on this album. “At the End of the Day” is one of my favorite opening tracks, ever. It has it all – driving rock, acoustic passage with soft vocals, and time changes all over the place! At 16:28 in length, it’s not a quick listen, but the time flies – I never get fatigued whenever I listen to it. As with every Morse composition, the catchy melodies fall over themselves as they spill out of my speakers – they are endlessly engaging and captivating. I love this song!

You mentioned “Thoughts (Part II)”, and this song led me to explore the music of classic Gentle Giant, because somewhere I read that the a cappella sections were inspired by that group (I think by “Knots”, off of their Octopus album). I also hear a lot of Kansas in this song. It is another highlight. 

Actually, there isn’t a bad track on V. I skipped over “Revelation”, but it deserves some praise – at first listen, you think it’s a relaxed, soft rock ditty, but then it morphs into some of the heaviest rock Spock’s Beard ever produced. 

Even though V was only released on CD, I’ve always thought of “All On A Sunday” as kicking off “side 2”. This is such a happy, welcoming song for me. Once again, Morse’s gift for a catchy melody really shines here. “Goodbye To Yesterday” is more sombre, but still beautiful. This song is a showcase for the Beard’s knack for gorgeous vocal harmonies. You can hear how good a singer Nick D’Virgilio is here.

I’ve rambled enough – you’re our resident lyrics expert; what do you think of Morse’s words on V?

Brad: Tad, thanks for such good thoughts.  I think your analysis is simply awesome.  Fantastic.  The DVD “The Making of “V”” sounds excellent.  I’ll have to check it out.

I must admit, Tad, when it comes to Neal Morse lyrics, I’m always a bit conflicted.  I love his music–composition, tone, flow, etc.–but I find his lyrics less persuasive as it were.  Some of this is simply poor bias on my part.  I loved the music of The Light, but I was less than taken with the lyrics.  As mentioned above, I just think the “f-word” is totally avoidable in songs.  To me, its employment is always and everywhere a sign of a lack of imagination.  Since then, I’ve been skeptical about his lyrics.  I especially disliked the lyrics of Sola Scriptura.

Specifically, as to V, however, I generally like the lyrics, though I find them–again–unpersuasive.  When I listen to Big Big Train, for example, I always assume my prevailing attitudes and ideas will be challenged.  As I hear V, though, the lyrics are just random words that sound good with the music.  In no way have I been challenged in basic assumptions or ideas.  I’m more moved by the insertion of a dirty organ than I am by the words.

Here’s section III of the “Great Nothing.”

Come up breathing
Up from the water
Man, he was so submerged
Where’s the feeling?

It must be way under
Far from the spoken word

No, no – no corporate ladder
No hometown parade
The fat cats just keep getting fatter
What does it matter
The thing must be played…

One note timeless…

Don’t let the buzz get you down
Don’t lose your memory or you’ll sink fast and drown
But you can’t seem to sleep for the thoughts in your mind
Since you can’t stand to think you have one hell of a time
Hanging with submergers you drink yourself blind
You think it’s fine

You’ve got time…

What is this all about?  I have no idea, and, worse, I’m not that interested in knowing or figuring it out.

Again, Tad, don’t get me wrong.  I really like Morse’s music, I just feel less taken with his lyrics.  An exception to this is his lyrics for Testimony and Testimony 2.  I loved and devoured these lyrics–as they told a story.

Tad: Brad, your points are well taken. As far as the lyrics to “The Great Nothing” go, I believe Morse wrote them as a tribute to his friend and fellow musician, Kevin Gilbert. He was enormously talented, but the music industry never knew how to promote him. He died not too long before V was recorded.

As I’ve mentioned before, I have a hard time paying attention to lyrics , except as they add to the overall sound of a song. It’s a failing of mine – I’m too lazy to get into them! Like you, though, I don’t have a lot of patience for gratuitous profanity when it occurs.

As far as “The Great Nothing” goes, I think, musically, it is one of the greatest songs Spock’s Beard ever recorded. It is one I never tire of listening to, with its various sections of melody. Dave Meros’ bass is outstanding on it, as is Nick D’Virgilio’s drums.

There is one section (the “You missed your calling” one) that sounds like something Paul McCartney could write – it’s that catchy. When I first heard this epic, I had to stop what I was doing and hit “Rewind” on my CD player several times!

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but I get the sense that Morse intended for V to close a chapter in Spock’s Beard’s career. I couldn’t wait for the next album, Snow, but I was very disappointed with it. It sounded so different from anything else they had recorded, and the story kind of creeped me out. Like you, I thought Testimony was a tremendous album – one of Morse’s all-time best. But that’s a topic for another post!

Brad: Thanks so much, Tad.  You have excellent responses, of course, and I had no idea that Morse was referring to the work of Kevin Gilbert.  Next time I listen to V, I’ll keep that in mind.

Tad: It’s always a blast to bounce thoughts and reactions with you, Brad! I hope our readers take some time to listen to V. It is not available on Spotify (apparently Morse doesn’t like their payment structure), but it is on Apple Music. Here is “The Great Nothing”, via YouTube:

 

Republic of Letters

Ultravox’s Rage In Eden, Revisited

Rage In Eden

In this post, Tad and Brad are joined by Kevin, as we assess the brilliance of Ultravox’s 1981 masterpiece, Rage in Eden.  By the way, Tad usually does these intros, so forgive me (Brad!) for making a mess of it.

Brad: Tad and Kevin, so very glad to be doing this review with you.  I have a feeling this will be a long one.  It was, I must admit, Kevin who really introduced me to Ultravox in the fall of 1986, our freshmen year at Notre Dame. I had, of course, heard of “Vienna” as a single, but I knew very little about the band.  

After telling him how much I loved progressive rock (especially Genesis, Kansas, and Yes), Kevin introduced me to Vienna (the album), Rage in Eden, Quartet, and Lament.  I must reveal–I feel deeply in love with all of them, but especially with Rage in Eden and Lament.  

At the time, Kevin mentioned to me that he loved the lyrics so much he hoped, one day, to write an entire book about “The Thin Wall.”  This notion, of course, caught my attention.

But, I must also admit that my love of Ultravox has been deeply personal, too.  I was a huge fan of Quartet, and I was listening to it when my wife and I drove to the hospital to deliver our fifth child way back in 2007.  She (our baby) died in childbirth, and I still can’t listen to that album.  I tried again, recently, and it only brought up terrible memories.  In a weird way, I say this as a compliment to Ultravox, as the music means everything to me.

Relatively recently, though, Steven Wilson has remixed and remastered Midge Ure-era Ultravox: Vienna; Rage in Eden; and Quartet.

Tad and Kevin, what do you guys think of Rage in Eden? 

Tad: Brad, I am looking forward to discussing this classic album with you and Kevin! I had just begun my junior year in college when it was released, and I still remember my jaw dropping when I first heard the urgent synth beat to “The Voice” fading in to full volume. 

By fall of 1981, I was totally immersed in British new wave music, and I loved artists like Thomas Dolby, Gary Numan, The Human League, Depeche Mode, ABC, Howard Jones… well, I could go on forever! Anyway, to my ears there was something that immediately set Ultravox apart, and Rage In Eden became an album that transcended its moment in pop history. I think what struck me the most was the warmth of their music, which arose from three elements: Midge Ure’s powerful baritone vocals, Warren Cann’s excellent drums, and Billy Currie’s violin. 

Other synthpop artists, like Gary Numan or Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, could come up with killer hooks, but they also sounded cold and brittle. Ultravox had awesome synth lines that cracked and boomed, but underneath them was a human presence that lent their music accessibility.

Okay, I’ll stop for now and give Kevin a chance to jump in!

Kevin: Thanks Tad.  So glad to be a part of this discussion. I came a bit later to this Ultravox album.  I was intrigued by the Ultravox when I first caught the video for “Vienna” probably around 1982 or so. Not long after seeing it I found a copy of the album at Hogwild Records in San Antonio.  I was completely taken with the sound.  And shortly after that a musician friend suggested Rage in Eden.  Upon hearing Rage In Eden again today I had the same uncanny sense about it that I was so drawn to so many years ago. 

On the one hand, they are unmistakably a part of the early 1980’s oeuvre.  The synth sounds by themselves place them among the artists you mention, Tad. And I would agree that unlike Numan and OMD, Ultravox had a warmth and a power that was much more appealing. And Midge Ure’s theatrical way of writing really sets their music apart. The textures and the lyrics are very much about establishing a sense of place and story. It’s as if you’ve stepped into the pages of a novel and UV is providing the soundtrack. And his stories and vocal delivery are so compelling that even after so many years the music is remarkably fresh and engaging.

Another thing that struck me when listening to Rage in Eden again, was the guitar work.  The synths are clearly present throughout the mix, but it’s Ure’s guitar that really sets them apart from the schtick of the typical keyboard band. It’s the great blending of his angular phrasing and the sharp tone that shape the overall sonic impression. No doubt he and Edge (U2) were listening to each other, but Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee of Rush were too. Ultravox was breaking new ground.

Brad: I’m in full agreement with you both.  I love the music on Rage in Eden and I also think it’s angular, but I must admit, it’s the lyrics that do the most for me.  Take the lyrics to the title track:

We sit and watch these lifeless forms
Stark and petrified
The high suspense of an empty stage drawing in clutching to its breast
With murmured words we sigh and focus on the main facade

Beyond the hard reluctant windows
News from magazines
We wrote their names on books we’d borrowed as if to bring us closer still
And threw it all away to focus on the main facade
Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence
But no-one could see the end

And they were the new gods
And they shone on high
Their heavy perfume on the night sucked them down in red tide
All is through the looking glass focus on the main facade
Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence
But no-one could see the end

Disciples of the new way
Portraits in the new sand
See when they run their longest mile holding caps in wet hands
Eyes upon them try to focus on the main facade
Rage in Eden jigsaw sequence
But no-one could see the end

These lyrics are simply astounding.  As many times as I’ve listened to this album since 1986, they continue to grab me, wrestle with me, and turn me into something pathetically receptive.

Or, even better, the lyrics for “The Thin Wall,” here with Bovine Grace!

The sound is on the visions move
The image dance starts once again
They shuffle with a bovine grace and glide in syncopation
Just living lines from books we’ve read
With atmospheres of days gone by
With paper smiles
The screenplay calls a message for the nation

And those who sneer will fade and die
And those who laugh will surely fall
And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin wall
The thin wall
Thin wall

Grey men who speak of victory
Shed light upon their stolen life
They drive by night and act as if they’re moved by unheard music
To step in time and play the part
With velvet voices smooth and cold
Their power games a game no more
And long the chance to use it

And those who dance will spin and turn
And those who wait will wait no more
And those talk will hear the word
And those who sneer will fade and die
And those who laugh will surely fall
And those who know will always feel their backs against the thin wall
The thin wall
Thin wall
The thin wall 

And those who dance
The thin wall
And those who talk
The thin wall
And those who sneer
The thin wall
And those who laugh
The thin wall
And those who know
The thin wall
And those who dance
The thin wall
And those who wait
The thin wall
And those who talk

Again, simply astounding.  Words that actually mean something.  Or, again, “Accent on Youth”:

What is this phase that I am going through
O these precious years
Please take my hand and let me breathe again
Young depressive tears

We stumble blindly chasing something new and something sinful
You take my time you live my life for me
What have I done to rate this penalty
You suck me dry
My body cries
We stumble blindly chasing instant thrills and lasting memories

Accent on youth
Attention 
Ascends on you

I scream with frustration and lost control
Open for the blows
My hands fall limp and hang down by my side
Take my soul and go
We stumble blindly chasing dancing lights and others’ wishes

Just let me close my eyes and slip away
Dream a dream alone
You give me just enough rope for the task
Let this man alone
We stumble blindly chasing silhouettes and vacant faces
So well rehearsed our moves once so graceful turn against us

We stalk dark passages, we’re looking for that sweet surrender
Just let me close my eyes and slip away
Dream a dream alone
You give me just enough rope for the task

Let this man alone
We stumble blindly chasing silhouettes and vacant faces
So well rehearsed our moves once so graceful turn against us
We stalk dark passages, we’re looking for that sweet surrender

After thirty-plus years of listening to these words, they still mean everything to me.  If I had to find a comparison, I would say that, at the time, only The Fixx were writing lyrics as beautifully wrought and perfectly written for the angular music they were producing.

Tad: Kevin, now that you point it out, of course Ure must have been influenced by The Edge in his guitar style! His choppy, rhythmic lines are very similar to The Edge’s, yet still original. And his solos are so good – flowing and ascending inexorably to a satisfying conclusion. His solo on “Death in the Afternoon” is breathtaking.

Brad, thank you for sharing the lyrics to these songs. As many times as I’ve listened to this album, I’ve never delved into them very far. To me, they always conjured an overall atmosphere of drive and energy, while sounding somewhat claustrophobic (and I mean that in a good way).

I love the way Rage In Eden is sequenced – for example, after the slow dirge of the title track, “Death in the Afternoon” bursts out with incredible energy. The music of that track is paradoxically life-affirming, given its title. And how about the transition from the album’s longest song, “The Stranger Within” to “Accent on Youth”? The former song is one long, relentless groove with subtle synth accents in the background that hypnotically lulls the listener into a relaxed state, until the rapid beat of “Accent on Youth” ups the energy again with a beautiful melody sung with pure joy by Ure. That transition might be my favorite moment of the album. 

However, I can’t pick a favorite song, because each one hinges on the next to create an organic whole. I think Conny Plank deserves a lot of credit for the frankly beautiful sound of this album. There is a depth to the soundstage that reveals new and delightful details in the mix. At times it is a massive wall of sound (“The Voice”), and at other times it is a wide-open space, (“Your Name Has Slipped My Mind Again”).

One last point I’d like to make – the album art is some of my all-time favorite. Peter Saville, who also worked with New Order and Factory records, came up with a gorgeous art deco style for Rage In Eden that complements the music perfectly. (See above) It looks sleek, modern, ancient, and classical all at the same time. Due to legal issues, his artwork that graced the 1981 vinyl version wasn’t used on a couple of reissues, but Chrysalis has recently reissued a 5 CD/DVD version that has the original art. 

Brad: Tad, you’re most welcome!  Good lyrics mean everything to me.  So glad to know there are good writers out there.  Ultravox is definitely among the best when it comes to words and lyrics.  If, as Kevin said, the guitar is angular, so are the words and images the band presents.

And,Tad,  I agree with you regarding the organic whole.  Every song relies on every other song.  A definite completeness to Rage in Eden.

Kevin, I hadn’t thought about The Edge getting his sound, in part, from Ultravox.  But, as you pointed out, we do know that Rush was influenced by Ultravox.  You can really hear it on “Vital Signs” on Moving Pictures and really all of Signals.

Kevin: I don’t doubt their influence on other bands and songwriters of the time. Ure didn’t invent the chopped chord technique—reggae and ska were everywhere in the English scene—but he brought into it his own colors within the context of the atmospheric keyboard parts.  That blend IS the UV sound.  And he was also working more with minor chords and almost jazzy voicings.  That along with the mostly dry engineering, creates a sort of cubist tapestry.

Which is what makes the final track so striking.  “Your Name Has Slipped My Mind Again” is drenched in reverb, echo, and sustain.  It’s like a freeze frame at the end of an intense film but the credits don’t flow.  Instead, it continues for four-and-a-half  minutes frozen in time. None of the parts are synced until the refrain is sung. And then all you can recall of the lyric is the title line and the passionate “oh ohs.”  

Which brings me back to the dramatic nature of the writing. He places you in a narrative that leaves you wondering, yet there is a clarity to the storyline.  It’s not all smoke and mirrors—or Duran Duran-y drama for drama’s sake.  As it concludes you have the distinct feeling that you’ve arrived somewhere with the narrator: somewhere quite mysterious, yet beautiful.

And this cinematic sensibility (which begins with the arrival of Midge Ure on Vienna (1980)) has Ultravox creating great art and continuing the development of progressive rock.  They pick up where Yes’s Drama (1980) leaves off and take the genre somewhere utterly new.  Though at the time of the release of Rage in Eden Chris Squire and the boys were working on their own new band, Cinema, (which eventually drew in Jon Anderson and morphed into Yes’s 90125) theirs was more of radio-friendly rock. Concurrently Genesis was heading into similar territory with Abacab and Genesis (1983). Ultravox, along with a handful of other like-minded groups, were much more the avant garde creativists and the real inheritors of the progressive rock aesthetic. Less than five years after the release of Ultravox’s Lament, Talk Talk would release their post-rock masterpiece Spirit of Eden.

Which reminds me—I’m glad that you focused in on the lyrics, Brad.  Because there is something so compelling about Ure’s writing and the way he brings his sensibilities to each subject. There is a unique sense of place for each individual track on Rage in Eden. If you examine the tracks carefully in sequence you’ll notice that each one has either a slightly or sometimes greatly differing cadence.  Which leads to another striking element on the album—the variety in the groove.  Even though three of the tracks share a close tempo it’s never in sequence and the other six tunes are quite varied.  

It’s interesting, Tad, that you mentioned the transition between “The Stranger Within” and “Accent on Youth.” Rage in Eden really shines in those transitions—like scene changes. 

And remarkably, despite it being a classic New Wave album, it’s clear that at least the final track was recorded without a click track. The tempo imperceptibly varies a great deal—as much as 7bpm faster and slower and in that ethereal space. Yet Ure’s vocal, the drum, and the keyboard are pretty tightly in sync after the intro. Which makes it likely that at least these main parts were recorded live in the studio and not overdubbed. Coming on the heels of the incredible ascending key modulations at the end of “Accent on Youth” (one of my favorite musical moments on the whole album), into the great violin solo called “The Ascent”, then the cascading piano and the revved-up glissando at its culmination and suddenly…it cuts off into an echoing gunshot.  The variability in the final track’s tempo along with the removal of the rhythmic pulse casts the listener into space—adrift—off a cliff and in descent.  It’s one of the most powerfully visual moments on the whole record. A riveting  conclusion to the whole album.

Tad: Beautiful insights, Kevin! Midge Ure himself would agree with you; he is quoted as saying, “I think ‘Rage in Eden’ was always one of my favourite albums. There’s a starkness about it, an austere, mystical distance, a coldness to it but a coldness that kind of works.”

I think with that, we can bring our celebration of Rage In Eden to a close. Even though it didn’t chart above 144 in the US, it had a huge influence on the New Wave music scene internationally. I hope our conversation has given Spirit of Cecilia readers some incentives to check out this classic work from the early 80s! 

Here is the official video for “The Thin Wall”:

Republic of Letters

Look At The Flower Kings Now!

Flower Kings look

Welcome back, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, Brad Birzer and Tad Wert discuss the new album from the Flower Kings, Look At You Now.

Tad: Brad, I know the Flower Kings are one of your favorite artists in music. They certainly are prolific – when they release an album, it’s usually a double-length one. Look At You Now clocks in at a relatively modest (for them) 67 minutes.

I’m not as big a fan of them as you are, but I certainly respect their talent. That said, I have to say that this album is really attractive to me. It seems more focused and energetic than previous releases. Right off the bat, “Beginner’s Eyes” is a song I bet Yes wishes they could produce these days. It’s majestic and inviting at the same time.

Brad: Dear Tad, you wrote this over a week ago, and I’m just now getting to it.  I’m so sorry, my friend.  It’s been crazily busy here, but not busy enough to warrant such neglect.  

Anyway, I’m so glad you’ve introduced us to the new Flower Kings album, Look at You Now.  I first came to the Flower Kings back in the year 2000.  A student (now a beloved colleague in the philosophy department)  leant me his copy of Flower Power, and I was utterly gobsmacked.  I couldn’t believe how nuanced the album was on disk one (the Flower Kings rarely do anything short), and I loved the “b-sides” of disk two.  From there, I worked backward and found my way through the band’s entire catalog.  

For twenty-three years now, I’ve been fully immersed in everything Roine Stolt (the founder of the band) has done–from the Flower Kings to Kaipa to Transatlantic to The Sea Within to Agents of Mercy.  The guy is astoundingly relentless and talented.  I’ve even tracked down and purchased–for my personal collection–Flower Kings rarities, all of them beautiful.

The latest album, Look at You Now, is much more laid back than I would’ve expected from the band.  If you look at something like Space Revolver (my favorite album from the band), the band is nearly unrestrainable.  But for this new album, the band is confident in its mellow state.  Even its mellowness, though, has a nice intensity to it.

Tad: Brad, I find it interesting that you characterize Look At You Now as laid back – my first impression was that it had more fire than usual! However, I haven’t heard Space Revolver, so I don’t have the same history to compare Look At You Now to that you do. As I mentioned in the intro to this post, I think “Beginner’s Eyes” is a great song that outdoes anything Yes has recorded in years. Stolt’s guitar really stings in his solo. Another song I found immediately appealing is “Scars”, with its gritty, bluesy intro and infectious groove it lays down. Once again, Stolt’s guitar work is outstanding (assuming he’s the lead guitarist here); the entire song reminds me of something Eric Clapton might have produced at his peak. 

I also appreciate the fact that almost all the tracks on this album are relatively short – more than half are under five minutes. Maybe it’s my age, but I’ve lost patience with songs that meander without resolution for more than six or seven minutes. I have a friend who went to a Phish show a couple of nights ago, and he said he had to leave after the first three songs took 45 minutes! Neal Morse is one of the few artists who can hold my interest over a long period of time; most others, not so much. Okay, rant over – as I said, I think the Flower Kings have done a great job paring every song on this album down to its essentials, and I think that makes for a really strong album overall.

Brad: Tad, thanks so much for a great response.  I love the rant.  I must admit, though, I’m a guy who likes meandering in my music.  Phish playing only three songs over forty-five minutes sounds wonderful to me.  I’m guessing I would’ve been immersed in the experience.

As to The Flower Kings, this new album is definitely a surprise, especially given the shortness of the songs.  But, I very much appreciate and like what the band is doing.  I think you’re absolutely right, any band–Yes or The Flower Kings–should be proud of a song like the album opener, “Beginner’s Eyes.”  What a delight it is.

As much as I love the dual vocals with the Flower Kings, I also especially like the instrumental passages, and one of my favorite tracks is “Dr. Ribedeaux.”  Despite the absence of lyrics, I think this song has the most classical Flower Kings feel to it.

I also love that The Flower Kings are willing to wear their influences so openly.  Obviously, “Mother Earth”’s introduction sounds like something Brian May of Queen might have done, and much of the album has a Yes fan–as you were implying above.

And, Tad, before we close this review, I must encourage you to listen to Space Revolver.  It’s most certainly a top 15 prog album for me.  It’s wacky and gorgeous, all at the same time.

Regardless, I’m so glad to have The Flower Kings in the world.  Roine Stolt is my favorite viking hippie!

Tad: Brad, I love “Sr. Ribedeaux” as well! A great instrumental workout. In sum, I think Look At You Now is a worthy addition to the extensive Flower Kings catalog. In my opinion, one of their best, and well worth checking out if someone isn’t familiar with their work. And I promise to give Space Revolver a listen – you have yet to steer me wrong with your music recommendations!

Republic of Letters

Steven Wilson’s The Harmony Codex

Harmony Codex

The always intriguing Steven Wilson has a new album coming out September 29: The Harmony Codex. Brad Birzer and Tad Wert share their thoughts on this new work by one of modern music’s most gifted artists.

Tad: Brad, I think you’ll agree with me that one thing we can expect from Steven Wilson is the unexpected. When he was in No-Man with Tim Bowness, he created an interesting amalgam of ambient/techno/pop that was unique. As the leader of Porcupine Tree, he spearheaded the resurgence of progressive rock in the 2000s that wasn’t afraid to pay homage to the “dinosaurs” of the ‘70s like Pink Floyd, Genesis, Emerson Lake and Palmer, and Yes. His solo career has been a rollercoaster ride – which I have enjoyed – where he has produced music in practically every style. I think he has deliberately worked to escape being pigeonholed as a “Progressive Rock” artist, and he asks his fans to simply appreciate him for his music, whichever mode it happens to be.

Which is my long-winded way of introducing our thoughts on his latest work, The Harmony Codex. The first time I listened to it, I wasn’t particularly struck by any song, as I immediately was with his earlier album, To The Bone. But then I listened again, this time with headphones, and holy cow! This is an amazing album. It really came alive when I heard the songs in the soundstage Wilson has crafted.

Brad: Tad, thanks so much for staring us off on this conversation.  As always, my friend, it’s an honor to talk music with you.  

I have not yet listened to The Harmony Codex with headphones.  What an excellent idea.  Maybe tonight I will do that.

In the meantime, I have listened to the album (so graciously provided by Steven Wilson’s PR firm) numerous times since we received the review copy the other day.  In some weird way, it’s become a part of me this week.

I agree with you that it didn’t do much for me on the first listen.  In fact, I thought it way too overproduced.  Our own Carl Olson has likened it to Kate Bush, but it struck me as far more Tears for Fears, Elemental-period.  I’m not sure I would say this now after so many listens, but I also wouldn’t say at this point that it’s overproduced.  The album has truly grown on me to the point that I absolutely love it.  Again, I couldn’t imagine the past week without it.  I am jealous of those who were able to hear the album in an Atmos-equipped room.  That must’ve been quite the experience.

I guess this takes me back, personally, to my own musical “relationship” with Steven Wilson.  I first heard “Trains” on an album rock radio station while doing some shopping in northern Indiana over two decades ago.  I immediately went to a very good store in Fort Wayne and purchased In Absentia as well as Up the Downstair Case and Signify.  Yes, it was a very good CD shop!  A kind student, finding out my new found-love love, then gifted me with Stars Die: The Delerium Years.  

I fell in love with Wilson and then proceeded to buy everything I could from him–everything from his contribution to OSI, to his No-Man work with Tim Bowness, to his later Blackfield albums.  When his first solo album, Insurgentes, came out I was thrilled.  

I now, twenty-one years later, have a huge Steven Wilson collection.  Everything he has written directly as well as probably 95% of what he’s remixed for other bands.  And, of course, I happily own the deluxe edition of his autobiography, etc.

All of this is a very long way of admitting, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Wilson on this new album.  To me, the absolute height of his profound musical ability can be found in Hand.Cannot.Erase, what I think is my second favorite album of all time.  His lowest point, though, was The Future Bites.  At least to me, though I know there are good things on that album.  Yet, the whole project came off as cynical.

Still, I very much worried that The Harmony Codex would be The Future Bites, Part II.  I am so very thankful that Wilson took his music in a different direction.  While I think The Harmony Codex shares some production values with The Future Bites, it is an album that stands on its own, far closer to, say, Grace for Drowning than to The Future Bites.

Anyway, I eagerly await the deluxe edition of The Harmony Codex I ordered from Burning Shed.

Tad: Brad, my love affair with Wilson’s music followed almost exactly the same path as you – I bought Fear of a Blank Planet, because Alex Lifeson of Rush played on it. I was hooked, and I quickly picked up every album I could find that Wilson was connected to. It didn’t hurt that Snapper/KScope was reissuing all of No-Man and Porcupine Tree at the time. Like you, I was exposed to OSI through Wilson’s vocals on their debut!

As far as The Harmony Codex goes, I wouldn’t say it’s his best, but it is very satisfying to listen to. I would like to know who and what influenced him while he was composing the music for this album. I hear Middle Eastern motifs in the first track, Inclination, classical minimalism in the intro to Impossible Tightrope, which then morphs into a jazz/rock fusion workout that sounds like something Herbie Hancock might do in the early ‘70s. The title track sounds almost baroque in its melody. For me, the weakest song is the single, Rock Bottom, but the other songs have set a very high bar. I think my favorite is the closing track, Staircase: nine and a half minutes of beautiful music that held me riveted from beginning to end. The break that features the bass bursting out of the mix is incredible!

You’ll notice that I haven’t spoken much about the lyrics – as I mentioned in an earlier dialogue of ours, a song’s melody has to attract me before I’ll invest any time in pondering the words. Wilson’s lyrics can be problematic for me, particularly from earlier in his career, because they dwell on some very dark subjects. In Absentia, for all its pleasant melodies, is about a serial rapist/killer. And I agree Hand.Cannot.Erase is an outstanding work of art. However, its subject matter – a young woman who dies alone in her apartment and isn’t missed for months –  is so heartbreaking that I have a hard time listening to it! You’re the lyrics man, so what are your thoughts on Wilson’s words in The Harmony Codex?

Brad: Yeah, Wilson can be really, really creepy when it comes to his lyrics, and he’s previously been obsessed with truly dark subject matter.  On not just one album, but several, he follows killers, drug addicts, and other miscreants.  

Hand.Cannot.Erase works so well for me, because he does have some hope at the end of the album, and I think he nails grief perfectly on that album.

As such, I think the weakest song on the new album is “Actual Brutal Facts.”  I can’t quite make out all the lyrics, but the muffled distorted  voice weirds me out quite a bit.  I like the music to the song, but the lyrics seem chilling.  Maybe I’m wrong on this, as I’ll need to wait until I see the lyric sheet.  As it is, the song tires me out.

And, Tad, I must admit, I’ve not been able to understand all the lyrics on the new album, so I can’t really pass judgment on them.  I will have to wait for the physical album to pass any real judgments.

Wilson employs that same creepy voice on the final track, “Staircase,” but it doesn’t seem as oppressive on this one.  In fact, I agree with you, Tad, this is an excellent track.

Maybe my ultimate answer to you about the lyrics, Tad, is this.  My favorite track on the album is the instrumental, “Impossible Tightrope.”  In an interview, Wilson mentioned that he followed Mark Hollis’s lead (from Spirit of Eden and Laughing Stock) in recording far more than needed and then edited the various pieces and contributions together.  He said the “Impossible Tightrope” on the bonus cd of the deluxe edition will sound very different from the one released on the main album.

Tad: That’s very interesting that Wilson openly talks about late-era Talk Talk being a big influence – I hope he does a surround sound remix of Spirit of Eden. That would be a dream come true for me!

I’ve been listening to The Harmony Codex a lot the past 24 hours, and I have a new favorite track: “What Life Brings”. It’s the shortest one on the album, and it has the prettiest melody Wilson has composed in years. Just when you think it’s going to be a predictable, fairly pedestrian song, he introduces a slight modulation in the key that raises it up to a thing of beauty. Wilson is the master of that.

I agree with you about “Actual Brutal Facts” – it leaves me cold. It sounds like he’s trying his hand at hip hop, and it doesn’t work for me. That said, on the whole I think The Harmony Codex is one of Wilson’s better albums. It has a nice flow overall, while covering quite a few different styles of music. It’s definitely “proggier” than his previous two albums. Personally, I enjoy his explorations into various styles – he’s such a gifted musician, anything he does sounds good!

Brad, as always, it’s a blast to do a dialogue with you – your enthusiasm and brilliant writing raises the bar for me!

Republic of Letters

Frost*: A Million Reasons to Love Milliontown

Milliontown

Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, Brad Birzer and Tad Wert discuss a classic prog rock album that is a mutual favorite of theirs: Frost*’s debut, Milliontown.

Tad: Brad, I have you to thank for making me aware of this wonderful album. I think you mentioned it in some social media post years ago, and I replied, “What’s Frost*?”. You immediately sent me a link to a video of Jem Godfrey and Dec Burke playing an informal duet performance of Hyperventilate, and I was hooked. Fortunately, I was able to snag a copy of Milliontown before it became unavailable. 

So, Brad, to paraphrase John J. Miller, host of The Great Books podcast, “What makes Frost*’s Milliontown a great album?”

Brad: it’s always good to start with John J. Miller, bookmonger extraordinaire and a man possessing excellent taste in music!  He’s also great to have a beer with.  Someday, Tad, we have to get you up to Hillsdale so you can meet your true brothers!

As to what makes Milliontown such a great album–there are, throughout the album, a million things going on at once, and it all could’ve readily have devolved into pure chaos.  But Frost* always holds all things together.  Indeed, it’s the genius of the band.  And, by the time we’re immersed in the opening track, “Hyperventilate,” we’ve been happily flooded with a wall of sound as well as outrageous digressions.  Again, though, it all comes together as a beautiful whole.

I’m really glad I sent you that video of Godfrey and Burke.  To me, that clip captures the essence of Frost*.  Playful yet professional. 


Back to Milliontown as an album.  Strangely, the first time we hear a human voice on the album, it’s a distorted recording that opens track two, “No Me No You,” and then the singer sings with absolute urgency.

Things slow down considerably with “Snowman,” track number three.  This song has almost a ballad feel, something that could’ve been from Genesis’s And Then There Were Three.

Things revive, rather seriously, with track four, “Black Light Machine.”  Yet, the lyrics are dark–about a psychopath.  The lyrics here really get into Steven Wilson territory.  Still, this is probably the poppiest song on the album, even though it’s a little over 10 minutes in length.  Again, a paradox of Frost*–combining the poppiest tunes with the darkest lyrics.

The hyperness of Frost* continues with the penultimate track of the album, “The Other Me,” a funky prog song, sounding a bit like Thomas Dolby and a bit like mid-period Tears for Fears. [the order of these songs, by the way, is different on different releases of the album.  My review, here, reflects the song order as on 13 Winters]

And, of course, this brings us to the greatest track of the album, the magisterial 26-minute, “Milliontown,” Frost*’s equivalent of “Supper’s Ready” by Genesis.

So, Tad, what makes you think this is a great album?  And, what are your thoughts about the individual songs?

Tad: Brad, for me the test of whether an album is great or not is simple: do I listen to it again after my initial experience of it? When I get a new album, I typically enjoy it for a week or so, giving it half a dozen spins. After that, it gets filed away and I’m unlikely to pull it out again. Some albums, though, stand the test of time, and I never tire of them. Genesis’ Abacab, Yes’ Going For The One, Big Big Train’s The Underfall Yard (among other BBT masterpieces), Glass Hammer’s Ode To Echo, Spock’s Beard’s V, Gazpacho’s Night, Steven Wilson’s The Raven That Refused To Sing are all albums that I return to again and again, and I always find something new to delight in. Milliontown also falls into that group.

I think it’s the perfect balance of pop appeal with the – as you so aptly put it – barely controlled chaos that makes this album so compulsively listenable. “The Other Me” is a great example of this – it features a chorus that begs to be sung along to, while underneath all kinds of weird noises are percolating and bursting out at odd times. Atonal, screaming guitars compete with beautiful piano lines, while the vocals veer from a whisper to a scream. It is a raucous, glorious roar of music, and I love it.

“Snowman” is another favorite. As you mentioned, it slows things down, with its very simple, almost childlike melody, but I’m a sucker for a pretty tune, and this is one pretty tune! Jem Godfrey’s production is perfect, keeping things relatively spare and open, which allows the vocals to feel more intimate.

I agree with you that “Black Light Machine” is very poppy, and I love that. It’s just an aural rush of exhilaration, which, of course, belies its dark subject matter. No matter, I enjoy every second of its 10+ minute length. Dec Burke’s guitar solo is outstanding here, as well.

And then there is the epic title track. Wow! Burke’s vocals at the beginning are simply haunting, while Godfrey’s keyboards carry the gorgeous melody. I am in awe of how so many perfect melodies spill out in the course of this one song. Godfrey was definitely plugged into his muse when he composed this song. The time flies by every time I listen to it –  there’s a frantic, swirling climax of everyone hurtling to a final whoosh!, and when you think it’s over, Jem closes things out with a very sweet coda on solo piano.

In his notes to the reissue set of Frost*’s first three albums, he says that he wasn’t happy with the original mix of Milliontown, so he rerecorded some parts and remixed it. I have to agree that as good as the original version was, the new version that was released in 2020 is better. 

Like Glass Hammer, Frost* has featured a rotating cast of members, but the one constant, Jem Godfrey, has meant that there has always been a recognizable Frost* sound. I think the current guitarist/vocalist John Mitchell is a terrific partner for Godfrey, but Burke’s work on Milliontown is superb.

Brad: Wow, Tad, this is an awesome response.  You really nail the genius of Frost*. Thanks for your comments about the individual songs, especially.

And, you’re right, of course, the band really centers around Jem Godfrey and his rotating cast of brilliant musicians.  

Have you had a chance to listen to Island Live yet?  “Milliontown” sounds just as wonderful live as it does in the studio, though the vocals are a bit muted on the recording.

I’m also in complete agreement with you about what makes a great album.  I’m with you–most albums get a few weeks of time on my playlist, then get filed away.  I have shelves as well as boxes of CDs–my favorites displayed in a glass cabinet.  

Certain albums, though–and your list is very close to mine–find themselves in constant rotation, and I come back to them frequently.  I would also put Milliontown in that constant rotation category, though, frankly, every Frost* album fits in this category.  I probably come back to Falling Satellites and Day and Age as often as Milliontown, especially when I’m on not infrequent long car drives.

A few months ago, I posted my top 200 albums–all ones I consider more than mere moments of time.  Frost* featured prominently.

I’m eager to know what the band is doing next.

Tad: Brad, I just finished listening to Island Live, and you are right – it sounds wonderful. The 2-cd/Blu-ray is already sold out, and it just came out in June of this year!

I also listen to Falling Satellites and Day and Age as often as Milliontown – the former is more pop, albeit a far more elegant strain than what passes for “pop” today – while the latter was my favorite album of 2021. Mitchell’s love of classic Police really comes through on that album.

Well, Brad, I think we’ve done Milliontown justice – I hope readers who are unfamiliar with it are moved to check it out!

Republic of Letters

Glass Hammer Takes Off For The Cosmos

Arise

Having just finished posting a discussion of three classic Glass Hammer albums, comes news of the upcoming release of a new album! Arise is the title, and it is a completely new direction – thematically – from the Skallagrim Trilogy that took up their previous three albums.

If there is one constant in the career of Glass Hammer, it is change. I am not aware of any musical group that is always pursuing new directions, both lyrically and musically as Glass Hammer. The miracle of them is the consistent excellence of their output, regardless of the path they take.

Arise is a sci-fi epic, and I mean a true epic. It follows the voyage of an android sent to explore some deep space anomalies. The mission is called Android Research Initiative for Space Exploration. As we travel with our android ARISE, we encounter exoplanets: some beautiful (Arion), and some seemingly malevolent (Proxima Centauri B). There is also a “curious anomaly detected at WASP-12” – a rift in space where mysterious entities bent on destruction are entering our universe.

Communications from ARISE eventually cease, but strangely enough, “inexplicable sightings of the presumed-destroyed spacecraft Deadalus have emerged.” I don’t know if this indicates that the saga of ARISE will continue or not, but it looks like there could be more to come.

Musically, the album is not as heavy as the Skallagrim Trilogy, but it definitely rocks. Wolf 359 features Hannah Pryor on lead vocals again and she sings beautifully over a relentless beat. Arion (18 Delphini b) is a bright, upbeat song featuring Babb and Pryor trading lead vocals. Mare Sirenum is a brief instrumental in the spacey “Tangerine Dream” mode that GH has become so good at producing. Lost begins as a bluesy jam and then transforms into a very ear-friendly tune sung by Pryor. Rift at WASP-12 is my current favorite track – it’s a blistering rocker with a great hook. Proxima Centauri B is slow-burning heavy rocker that has Babb’s terrific bassline mixed up front, and it sounds great. Arise clocks in at 11:44, and it is quite a good epic. It features Pryor’s best vocals on the album. The song slowly builds in intensity and when she sings, “So little time left to say this/So little time is left for anything/There is a light up in heaven/There is a light shining down upon man/See Him, know Him, love Him/See, feel/And know eternal truth” it is a truly cathartic moment. The album closes with a long instrumental jam that holds the listener’s interest from the opening note to the last.

Besides Hannah Pryor, Reese Boyd is back on lead guitar. Randall Williams handles drums, and overseeing the entire project is Glass Hammer’s cofounder, Steve Babb. He outdoes himself here, tackling keyboards, rhythm and lead guitars, bass guitar. percussion, and vocals. Cofounder Fred Schendel plays drums and guitars on WASP-12.

Musically, ARISE is a winner, offering moments of serene beauty as well as ferocious rock. Hannah Pryor really shines on vocals throughout, and Steve Babb is still the most inventive bassist in rock. The concept of the album fascinates me, as well. The hero of the saga, ARISE, is an android – by definition an artificial human. Yet, in every song, he (she/it?) seems capable of perceiving a spiritual reality. In Wolf 359, ARISE sings, “They say that God is watching over me/I’m not sure what He wants or what He hopes to see.” And in Arion (18 Delphini b), “Thank God I found it/Thank God you’re standing here with me.” At the end, even though communication from ARISE seems to have ceased, it appears that he is returning to Earth – perhaps in a resurrected form? Hopefully, this is not the last we hear from this tale. As with every Glass Hammer album, the lyrics provide much food for thought. 

Republic of Letters

Some Glass Hammer, Revisited

1 Comment

Hammer

In this post, Brad Birzer and Tad Wert have a conversation about a trio of classic Glass Hammer albums, Ode To Echo, The Breaking Of The World, and Double Live. Glass Hammer is a progressive rock group whose long career has encompassed many personnel and stylistic changes. The one constant has been the core duo of the group: bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Steve Babb and keyboardist/guitarist/vocalist Fred Schendel. It’s no secret they are among Birzer’s and Wert’s all-time favorite musical artists.

Tad: Okay, Brad, I’m responsible for this topic of conversation. Over the past few days, I have been revisiting some earlier Glass Hammer albums, in particular the ones that feature Carl Groves and Susie Bogdanowicz on lead vocals. In my opinion, these three are a high point in the long career of GH – a career that has many high points! 

I know that many fans love the albums with Jon Davison, and they are excellent, but for some reason, the blend of Groves’ and Bogdanowicz’s voices are very appealing to me. I also appreciate Kamran Alan Shikoh’s outstanding lead guitar on these songs. This was, relatively speaking, a fairly stable configuration, with Aaron Raulston on board with drums. He’s still with them today, and I think his work has lifted them into the premier ranks of prog rock.

Brad:  Tad, I’m so glad you initiated this conversation.  You’re right, I’m a huge fan, and I have been ever since Amy Sturgis (an academic friend) introduced me to Lex Rex while we were at a conference in Princeton many, many years ago.  Crazily, it was also the same moment that I got Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief.  What a bizarre mix!

At the time, she told me about Steve and Fred and said I might like what they were doing.  And, here I thought I was the king of prog rock knowledge, and I didn’t–at the time–know about this seminal American band!  How mistaken I was!

Since then, I’ve happily taken the deep dive into all things Glass Hammer.  I even had the chance to have dinner with Steve Babb several years ago–one of the finest nights of my adult life.  He’s an amazingly nice and creative person!  I’m proud to count him as a friend and ally in this crazy world.  The guy is not just a wizard at bass and composition, but he’s an accomplished novelist, father, husband, and band leader.

For what it’s worth, I even take some considerable time to thank Steve (and Big Big Train as well) as huge inspirations for my book project on Tolkien and the Inklings.  Truly, Glass Hammer and Big Big Train were the essential soundtrack to that book.

Given the long history of Glass Hammer–dating back to 1992!–the albums (all wonderful) you selected are what, I guess, we would call mid-period Glass Hammer.

I’m a huge fan of all three, and I think that Double Live especially showcases everything wonderful and mighty about the band.  Groves and Bogdanowicz are in rarest fine form, and I’ve rather publicly and happily proclaimed Bogdanowicz to have the single finest voice in prog rock next to the late David Longdon’s.  I still think this.  It doesn’t hurt that Susie is also a knock-out.

I know that lots of folks like Jon Davison, but, frankly, he’s just a little too effeminate and fey for my tastes.  I tried recently to listen to the new Yes album, and I couldn’t get past the first song.  Give me Groves and Bogdanowicz any day!

Tad: Brad, I agree with you about Double Live. Most concert DVDs I have I’ll watch once or twice, but rarely more. I have watched Double Live at least half a dozen times, and here’s the interesting thing – there are no flashy special effects, lasers, or smoke machines. It’s just six very gifted musicians at the top of their form, presenting a terrific set of songs. They exude relaxed confidence, and they obviously love playing with and off each other. I wish this lineup had lasted longer!

Okay, here’s another reason I picked these three albums to revisit: I think they contain some of the best lyrics GH has come up with. Let’s face it, even with just Babb and Schendel, they have an embarrassment of riches – both are extremely literate and thoughtful lyricists, who assume their audience has the intellectual capacity to appreciate their work. That said, I think Groves sets a pretty high bar on the songs he co writes, and spurs Babb and Schendel to even greater heights on their lyrics. For example, here’s some of Groves’ lyrics to Garden of Hedon (off of Ode To Echo):

The Garden welcomes you, ma’am

Please sit down and find twice as much as you’ll eat

Cornucopia of desires

Lying there at your feet

The Garden welcomes you, sir

Please relax and find everything you want

Very little of what you need

No bread, no water, no God

Or these from Bandwagon (off of The Breaking of the World):

“We care!” Isn’t that what you said from your ocean-front home?

I know it’s got to make you feel so much nicer

“Go and be warmed.” Oh such warm charity

And these words still with no action will soothe you

Soothe you

If that isn’t a prescient condemnation of our current plague of empty virtue-signaling, I don’t know what is!

Brad: Yeah, Glass Hammer is prog for the intelligent listener, and given that prog is already rock for the intelligent listener, GH is really, really special.  More on that in a moment.  

My only complaint about Double Live is that it’s only available on DVD.  I would love a blu-ray edition, especially given the fact that Steve and Fred are two of our greatest audiophiles.  Can you imagine what the blu-ray sound quality would be like?  Simply excellent.

One of my deepest dreams is to have Glass Hammer play at Hillsdale, especially given how outstanding our music program is.  The band could use our existing choral students.  Oh, this gives me goosebumps even thinking about it.

Back to lyrics.  I’m in absolute agreement with you, Tad.  These albums just exude a powerful confidence.  Babb has such a fictional and mythic quality to his lyrics.  Here, for example, is Babb on “Ozymandias”:

The sculptor ‘neath his gaze

‘Twould be a monument of praise

Thus he enshrined the royal sneer

Of him, this Tyrant-King of Fear

I kneel to wipe away the dust of years

With trembling fingers trace the words

Found etched upon its base

They said, “I am King of Kings

See my works and know despair!”

Yet broken now he lies forgotten!

Let’s turn and leave him there

Nothing remains but this colossal wreck of stone

Round it boundless, bare stretch wide the desert sand

Forgotten, he lies

Here, his legacy dies

On “Mythopoeia,” Babb readily captures the essence of J.R.R. Tolkien’s poem of the same name and the speech given by the grand professor at the University of St. Andrew’s in the late 1930s, “On Fairy Stories.”

Maker of myth with your rhyme you weave

A tapestry of tales untold in recorded time

And though the shadows draw near

He writes as if he sees the world bathed all in sunlight

Can he keep the fеar at bay

In hope of day eternal

Hе’s dreamt of a paradise

Ruled by a thing infernal

Sub-create!

A mortal yet strives in his fallen state

He fills his world with monsters

They hide round each corner

Plotting wickedness, wreck and ruin

He fills his world with monsters

For monsters filled his world

One last thing–at least for now–about Ode to Echo and Breaking of the World.  The art for each is simply gorgeous.  For whatever reason, I didn’t buy the t-shirt for Breaking of the World, but I proudly wear my Ode To Echo t-shirt.  Indeed, over the last couple of years, I noticed I was the only one wearing a Glass Hammer t-shirt at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming and at Yellowstone.

Tad: Brad I’m glad you shared Babb’s lyrics to Ozymandias, which is the perfect ending to Ode to Echo. And yes, the art for both of these albums is some of the best in their career. One last thing I’d like to mention – in Ode to Echo, they include a marvelous cover of Goffin/King’s Porpoise Song, from The Monkees’ Head soundtrack. What a great song from the psychedelic ‘60s, and they improve on the original. In their earlier album, Three Cheers for the Brokenhearted, they covered the Zombies’ classic, A Rose For Emily; it would be great if Babb and Schendel recorded an entire album of their psychedelic favorites!

Well, my friend, hopefully our paean of praise for this brief period of Glass Hammer’s career will spur our readers to investigate these albums. It’s been a blast revisiting them with you!

Republic of Letters

Rhys Marsh Finds Solace In “Towards the West”

Rhys-Marsh--Towards-The-West

Greetings, loyal Spirit of Cecilia readers! Brad Birzer and Tad Wert engage in another music-related discussion, this time focusing on Rhys Marsh’s latest album, Towards The West.

Tad: Brad, thank you for suggesting we do a dialogue on this album. As I listened to it, I was almost overwhelmed with its spare, emotional vulnerability. I visited Marsh’s website, and he explains there that he recorded this music not long after his father passed away. 

Brad: Thanks so much, Tad.  I’ve been a fan of Marsh’s for a while now, ever since I first heard his Karisma release, October After All.  And, I really like his work with Mandala.  

But, I’m in complete agreement with you.  Even the length of Towards the West is intimate–at only 38 minutes long.  The album feels like it could’ve been the funeral service for Marsh’s father.  It has an intimate aspect, but it also has a holy aspect to it.  

You’re absolutely right, I think, to call out its “spare, emotional vulnerability.”  The music strikes me very much as a mix between Mark Hollis’s solo album from 1998 and Kevin McCormick’s acoustic music.  It’s holy, haunting, and ethereal.

I really like the lyrics as well, and I’m glad Marsh decided to let the song lengths be whatever they needed to be.  So, on this album, we have 2 minute tracks and 10 minute tracks.  Every song is exactly what it needs to be.

What do you think of the lyrics, Tad?  I find Marsh one of the best lyricists out there.  Everything he writes is meaningful, and given that this is a tribute to his father, the lyrics are especially meaningful.  Certainly, I’d be honored if one of my kids wrote about me at this level!

Tad: Brad, I’m glad you mentioned the 38 minute length of Towards The West. One of the banes of the compact disc era, in my opinion, was the temptation to fill its 75-minute capacity with music. That’s great for classical music, but for rock – even prog with its epics – 75 minutes listening can be exhausting! So, yes, the relatively short length of Towards The West just adds to its heft. Okay, rant over.

As far as the lyrics go, I agree that Marsh has a true gift. You and I differ in this respect: I am drawn to melody first, then lyrics, whereas I believe you’re the converse of that. Marsh’s vocals here are extremely prominent in the mix, which means the lyrics are front and center. I listened to the album through headphones, and it was almost as if he were whispering in my ear. 

There are many gems to be treasured here. I particularly like “Your words will never fade/Our love will always stay”, from It’s Like You Always Said. That song also includes a cassette recording of Marsh’s father speaking. Another lyric is “We think of you and all the years we spent together/The things you’d say, and how we’d laugh…You picked me up when I was down and you helped me to see/The things that matter and those that don’t”, from We’ll See You Again. It sounds mundane, but it’s really profoundly touching when Marsh sings it. My own father loved nothing better than to crack a joke and make those around him laugh, so I could immediately connect with Marsh there.

Brad: Despite being a father to seven kids, I never knew my dad.  I was only two months old when he died.  My older brothers were age 8 and 5 when he passed away.  So, I love stories of dads!  I love hearing that your dad always wanted folks to laugh.  And, I really appreciate Marsh’s tribute to his father.  The album truly is moving, and the more I listen to it, the more taken I am with it.  It really does grab the listener from the opening notes and carries him/her through to the very end.  

I think my favorite part is toward the middle and end of “Cauterise” as the music builds up so perfectly, so beautifully.  By this point in the album, Marsh has earned the right to give us a wall of sound.  Especially after how spare the earlier parts of the album are.  It really is an amazing buildup.

And, again, this takes me back to an earlier point (made above).  This is truly an album.  Not just a collection of songs, but a coherent and cohesive concept album, a work of art from beginning to end.

I also really love the spiritual quality of “We’ll See You Again.”

Anyway, Tad, Towards the West  is truly one of my favorite releases of the year.  I’m not exactly sure what Marsh means by the title of the album, but it has a Tolkienian feel to me–Frodo, Bilbo, and Gandalf departing for the Blessed Realm.

Tad: Yes! Towards the West is an album, not a random collection of songs. Before we close, I’d like to single out Marsh’s choice of instrumentation for some appreciation. It’s primarily acoustic, with a lot of piano. Most of the time, things are relatively hushed and intimate; which, given the subject matter, makes sense. When Marsh introduces electric guitar and bass, it’s always in service to the overall sound already established. I love the rawness of the music in this album. These could be demos, in a way – very well-produced ones, at least.

Okay, Brad, I think we’ve done Mr. Marsh’s new opus justice. Those interested in purchasing a hard copy can do so at Burning Shed, linked here.