Please forgive the brevity of this review. Maybe we could call it a micro-review. I’ve been a huge Tim Bowness fan ever since first encountering him through his extraordinary work in No-Man. Indeed, it was about 23 years ago that I first encountered him, finding him because of his association with Steven Wilson. Again, I’ve been a huge fan ever since. If anyone inherited the mantle of Mark Hollis, it’s either Tim Bowness or Kevin McCormick. Everything Bowness touches is just achingly beautiful. Gifted with a very handsome voice, he brings a certain longing to all his vocals. I should also note, like Hollis (Bowness has a better voice than Hollis, but I will never fault Hollis for that—he gave everything he had), Bowness understands the sheer importance of meaningful lyrics to music. Writing all of this right now, reminds me that I would love to write a long article on the many excellences of Tim Bowness. He deserves so much more than this micro-review. Sadly (or brilliantly actually), I’m in between big writing projects on the Declaration of Independence as well as on sociologist Robert Nisbet and on writer Ray Bradbury. That stated, my afternoon sound track has been Bowness’ s first album, My Hotel Year, originally released in 2004. I was surprised to find Bowness’s own negative recollection and assessment of the album on his personal website. “Along with Wild Opera, My Hotel Year is the least loved album I’ve ever made and, in some ways, it’s the album of mine I love least as well,” Bowness confesses. “Although 2003-2004 wasn’t a particularly bad time for me, the resulting album seemed lyrically sad and musically monochromatic. No matter what was done to sonically soften the blows, the album had an innate bleakness that seemed to dictate itself.” There’s no doubt that the album is lyrically sad, but it’s incredibly and movingly authentic. And, I would never call the music monochromatic. Rather, I would say that the music is presented in a rather cohesive fashion. That is, it’s an album rather than a collection of eleven songs. Every song bleeds into every other song, regardless of the silence between thetracks. While I like Bowness’s other albums better, I would encourage anyone and everyone to go back to this foundational album, My Hotel Year. For what it’s worth, I think it’s glorious, and it certainly inspired my other writing this afternoon. For that, I’m deeply grateful.
To order My Hotel Year, always buy from my favorite on-line retailer, The Burning Shed.
Greetings, music lovers and readers of Spirit of Cecilia! 2024 is fast coming to a close, and the SoC crew would like to share their favorite albums of the year. There was a lot of great new music, terrific deluxe reissues, and releases from old favorites. Hopefully, our lists will lead to some albums you will love as well.
Brad: Tad, thanks for starting us off and inviting everyone to participate. Always great to write with you! I’ll just start with an alphabetical listing of my favorite releases of 2024:
“Dogs” by Pink Floyd, as done by Tim Bowness and Giancarlo Erra
Airbag, The Century of the Self
BBT, Flare on the Lens
BBT, The Likes of Us
Bruce Soord, Caught in the Hum
David Gilmour, Luck and Strange
Frost*, Life in the Wires
IZZ, Collapse the Wave
Tears for Fears, Songs for a Nervous Planet
The Bardic Depths, What We Really Like in Stories
The Cure, Songs of a Lost World
The Pineapple Thief, It Leads to This
The Pineapple Thief, Last to Run EP
The Tangent, To Follow Polaris
Tim Bowness, Powder Dry
And, I’m not even including vital re-releases such as the deluxe edition of Synchronicity by the Police; Fear of a Blank Planet by Porcupine Tree; Spectrum ‘97 by Phish; Lament by Ultravox; Bursting Out by Jethro Tull; or This Strange Engine by Marillion.
If I go just by my playlist numbers, I’d have to list “Dogs”, Frost*, IZZ, and, especially, The Cure. In fact, since The Cure first arrived, I’ve listened to almost nothing else. But, I went through such phases with Frost* and IZZ, too. And, really, I can’t recommend the single of “Dogs” highly enough. Bowness and Erra give it just the right beauty and creepiness that a proper Pink Floyd remake so desperately needs.
I must admit, though, I’m totally against the lyrical content of “Dogs.” I can’t believe our entrepreneurs are so bloodthirsty as this. Like or despise Elon Musk, for example, as you will, but he’s not bloodthirsty. In fact, if anything, I think he’d hate to “be dragged down by the stone.” And, he would hate to drag anyone else down by the stone. He definitely wants to win, but he wants to win fairly, by the rules established by society (unless all of society is corrupt, but let’s hope that Pink Floyd isn’t so Marxian as this). Maybe I’m wrong, however. Perhaps, I’m deaf, dumb, and blind, and that I keep pretending. . . Is this how Roger Waters saw his friendship/adversarial relationship with David Gilmour? If so, so very sad. For my money, give me Phish’s “Bouncing Around the Room” as the touchstone song dealing with entrepreneurship.
To be certain, though, I’m also a bit biased on the whole The Bardic Depths release. Given that I wrote the lyrics for it, I’m quite taken with it. Dave Bandanna did an amazing job in composing the music. So brilliant, so beautiful, so mystical, so joyful. Dave brings every song to life, and I’m always stunned to hear my own words given form and made manifest.
And, then, what’s not to love about the new David Gilmour? In fact, when he sings with his daughter, Romany, I’m completely taken. So much better than Dogs, co-written with Roger Waters.. Especially if you listen to something as glorious as “Between Two Points.” I would give anything to have such a relationship with my daughter that I could write something so gorgeous with her. Romany over Roger any day.
And, seriously, this brings me to all the incredible re-releases of 2024. Oh, to be “Prince Caspian” and float upon the waves. Oh, to be Prince Caspian. Dang, Phish was simply brilliant when they were.
I also want to single out Airbag. I don’t know their politics, but it strikes me that with this release, especially, they’re trying to combat conformism and cancel culture. I could be wrong, but I’m willing to take a chance that this is a brilliant counter-cultural masterpiece. One that shakes the conformists of the world to their very foundations. And, who wouldn’t love that bass playing and interplay with the drums? Genius. Thank God for the non-conformists of the world. Airbag sounds like Pink Floyd, in terms of legacy, but they are completely their own band.
If Airbag sounds anti-political, Robert Smith on the new Cure album, sounds confessional. Bless me, Father, I, Robert Smith, have sinned, and something wicked this way comes. Truly, the latest The Cure album is a masterpiece, a true sequel to Pornography and Disintegration. My love and respect for Smith only grows with age.
If Airbag is countering the world and Smith is confessing for us all, then IZZ is proclaiming the inherent goodness of each one of us. I’m not sure what the lyrics are all about on Collapse the Wave, but I feel that John Galgano and Laura Meade are asking us to look at our best selves. Rather than be dour, they find wonder. As far as I can tell, IZZ has been reading a lot of T.S. Eliot and a lot of John Paul II.
Tad: What a great list, Brad! Yours and mine overlap quite a bit, since we are often of like mind when it comes to music. Here is mine, based on how often I listened to each album:
8. Kyros – Mannequin
7. IZZ – Collapse the Wave
6. Jeff Johnson/Phil Keaggy – Spinning On a Cosmic Dime
5. Tears For Fears – Songs For a Nervous Planet
4. Airbag – The Century of the Self
3. Bardic Depths – What We Really Like In Stories
2. The Cure – Songs of a Lost World
1. Frost* – Life In the Wires
I’ve been a fan of Kyros’ music for several years now. They wed 80s sensibilities to 2020s expertise. Mannequin is another great collection of pop/prog.
Like you, I admire IZZ enormously. As far as I can tell, the lyrics to the title track are about quantum physics and faith. Who else but the Galgano brothers could pull off such an ambitious song? They definitely succeed.
Jeff Johnson and Phil Keaggy have collaborated several times before, and Spinning On a Cosmic Dime is the most lighthearted and fun of their albums. Johnson is a master of all keyboards – acoustic and electronic, while Keaggy is one of the finest guitarists alive today. When they get together, magic happens.
The Tears For Fears is primarily a live album, but the five new studio tracks are some of the best songs they’ve ever recorded.
You’ve already said everything I could want to say about the Airbag album. They continue to impress me with their social commentary, and their instrumental chops are outstanding. Their previous album, A Day At the Beach, is still my favorite, but The Century of Self is really, really satisfying.
The Bardic Depths’ new one is also a great album. Listening to it is like having a beer with C.S. Lewis, Tolkien, and the other Inklings. To my ears, it’s the most musically ambitious set of songs from TBD, and I have thoroughly enjoyed listening to it throughout 2024.
The Cure’s album came out of nowhere as far as I was concerned, and I approached it with some trepidation – there’s nothing worse than an old favorite trying to recapture the spark and failing miserably. Robert Smith et al. came up with a fantastic album that easily holds its own with their previous best. Amazing!
Frost*’s Life In the Wires is far and away the most-played album of 2024 for me. I have yet to tire of it, and every time I listen to it I find some new and delightful detail. Jem Godfrey sings all of the vocals on this one, and he is terrific. The beautiful melodies pouring out of my speakers are such a bountiful feast for my ears. The story is fascinating as well – a young man rebels against a world run by AI when he hears a pirate radio broadcast. After tracking it down to its source, it turns out to be an automated program. But then things get weird – he seems to sacrifice himself to become the new source of the radio broadcasts and spark an awakening of humanity. At least that’s how I read it.
So that’s what I spent my time listening to this past year. I also loved the Ultravox Lament box set and the Talk box set by Yes. It’s nice to have this often overlooked album get the treatment it deserves.
Brad: Yes, Tad, thanks for the reminder about Yes’s 30th anniversary edition of Talk. The last of the Trevor Rabin-Yes era albums, it’s simply beautiful. Clearly, the band was going for a progressive AOR sound at the time, but the production is so very clean. I love the packaging as well for it. Not overblown, but a solid release in terms of presentation. Don’t get me wrong, I love big box sets like Lament by Ultravox, but sometimes the smaller packaging works just as well. For me, Marillion’s and Jethro Tull’s releases–in terms of packaging–hit the sweet spot. Basically small books that fit perfectly on a book shelf.
Thanks, too, for the story about the new Frost*. I’ve listened to it numerous times, but I’d not figured out the lyrics. What a great story! Now, I’ll listen to it with different ears.
I’m so glad we agree on The Cure, on Airbag, and on Frost*. Three essentials of the year.
As it turns out, The Cure also released their brand new album as a live release–Songs from a Live World–as well. Gorgeous. Seriously, what else can Robert Smith do? He simply captures the mood of every era in which he finds himself. And, I, for one, am so fortunate to be alive when Robert Smith is alive.
I would also note that 2024 is an important anniversary date. Kevin McCormick’s gorgeous Squall came out in 1999, a mere 25 years ago! Even the rather snobbish All-Music recognized the brilliance of Squall. As far as I understand it, McCormick is working on a follow-up CD.
It’s also the ten-year anniversary of the genius Scorch by the Tin Spirits. A favorite album. Also, ten years ago, appeared the brilliant Demon by Gazpacho and Anathema’s mediocre to good Distant Satellites.
But, Holy Moses, it’s not just about Tin Spirits. If we go back to the twentieth anniversary of releases, 2004, we get to The Pineapple Thief, Variations on a Dream; Glass Hammer’s Shadowlands; Proto-Kaw, Before Came After; The Tangent, The World We Drive Through; Ayreon, The Human Equation; and Marillion, Marbles. Sheesh, what else do you want?
Carl: Full and necessary confession: 2024 turned out to be year in which I listened to little new prog rock, or rock of any kind. Not for any lack of new and worthy rock music, but 2024 also turned out to be the year in which I fell quite a ways down The Vinyl Rabbit Hole. I’ll likely say more about that in a separate post on my favorite jazz of 2024, but suffice to say that I’ve been haunting various thrift and record stores.
My most listened album of the year was released 30 years ago: Seal’s second album (1994), titled, inconveniently enough, Seal—just like his 1991 debut. A deluxe edition was released, with a remastered version of the album (fantastic), as well as alternative versions of the songs (also wonderful). I listened to this album countless times when it first came out, and I have never tired of it (or of his first or third, titled Human Being). Why has it resonated so strongly with me? I’m not entirely sure, but for me it is a perfect pop/rock album, and it sits squarely in the middle of a trio of albums that I continue to think is one of the finest three-in-a-row rock/pop album families you’ll ever hear.
I enjoyed the new albums by Frost* and Pineapple Thief and if I listened more closely, I’m confident that I would really like them. Both bands have consistently produced accessible, intelligent prog rock of the highest order, so I plan to revisit them in the weeks to come.
Caligula’s Horse’s Charcoal Grace is mysteriously but aptly titled, as the music has a dusky, burnt quality that also shines with many moments of delicate beauty. This Aussie band has been a longtime favorite, and this album adds to a discography rich with ridiculous chops and vocals at the service of exquisitely crafted songs. A keeper.
Keep Me Fed by The Warning, the talented sister trio out of Mexico, is (as they say) a banger. Or a series of bangers, the sort of swaggering, catchy hard rock—with sublime harmonies—that has been sorely missed in recent years. For my money, I prefer their live versions a bit more; they are dynamic performers whose young ages (20 to 25) defy (even bely) the band’s evident maturity and exuberant zest.
Speaking of all female bands, a somewhat guilty pleasure this year has been watching videos of the mind-melting Japanese metal band Lovebites. They have been compared to Iron Maiden and similar metal bands, which makes it all the more strange as I have never cared that particular genre. All five of these ladies are virtuosos, and Miyako Watanabe, one of the two guitarists, was a classical pianist until her late teens, when she picked up electric guitar for the first time. The live album Memorial For The Warrior Souls (2024) and the studio album Judgment Day (2023) are unrelentingly fast, in-your-face, melodic, and—yes—tremendous fun. Check them out live on YouTube and prepare to be amazed.
Myles Kennedy might just be the hardest working and (by all accounts) nicest rocker out there today, and his third solo album The Art of Letting Go is classic Kennedy—powerful, assured, dynamic, moving—with some nice little twists. His is one of the finest rock voices of the past couple of decades, but his guitar playing and song writing are just as polished, varied, and inviting.
The Smile is like Radiohead if it didn’t have all of its members–and if it released albums more quickly. Which is what it is, with Thom Yorke (vocals, guitar, bass, keys) and Jonny Greenwood (guitar, bass, keys) joined by Tom Skinner (drums). Wall of Eyes (released in January) and Cutouts (same session, released in October) are quirky, dark, strangely fun, often weird, always melodic, and never, ever boring. Yorke’s voice is timeless and Greenwood’s playing, which is always so distinctive, is a revelation. And this album comes across to me as even more jazz influenced than their debut—but never in a direct, obvious way. Great stuff!
One of my favorite country artists, Dwight Yoakam, is back with his first new album in almost a decade. Brighter Days finds the Bakersfield legend firing on all cylinders, apparently reenergized by marriage and a young son. Dwight sounds half his age (68) and his band, no surprise, is tight and razor sharp. Every cut is worth the price, with the deceptively simple “I Spell Love” getting a nod from this fan.
Speaking of artists aging well, Van Morrison continues his remarkable output, with three albums: Beyond Words, New Arrangements and Duets, and Live at Orangefield. The first is all instrumental and is enjoyable, with some unexpected quirks. The second is a solid collection, featuring collaborations with Kurk Elling, Joss Stone, and Willie Nelson, all to good effect. But the live album, recorded a few years ago, is a revelation, captures a mid-70s Morrison at the top of his powers, featuring (as usual) a crack band and some other-worldly backing vocals. It rewards repeated listens and is a notable testament to Morrison’s brilliance as both a singer and songwriter.
Brad: Carl, excellent choices. I, too, like The Smile, and I, too, (thanks to you) listened to a lot of Seal II as well! I also bought Trevor Horn’s memoir, but I have yet to read it.
Well, folks, this pretty much wraps up 2024 for us. We have a lot to look forward to in 2025. It looks like The Cure will be releasing more music, there’s a new and final season of Stranger Things, and we’ll be celebrating the 50th anniversary of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway by Genesis. Not only is there a 50th anniversary edition of The Lamb coming out, but the brilliant Dave Kerzner has re-recorded the entire album and is offering it as a 3-cd set plus hi-res download for only $49.99, plus shipping.
Big Big Train will be touring the U.S, and IZZ will be performing some stripped down shows–maybe even in Hillsdale!
I’m sure we’ll continue to give our hard-earned money to The Burning Shed and Rita Kay Drew’s The Band Wagon USA. I highly recommend supporting both of these truly excellent business enterprises. Amazingly enough, each is competitive with Amazon, even with overseas shipping costs.
Tad, Carl, Kevin, Erik, and I wish you all a Merry Christmas (remember, we’re only on day three of twelve), a Happy Hanukkah (remember, we’re also only on day three!), and Happy New Year, everyone!
Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia music lovers! In this post, Brad Birzer and Tad Wert revisit a classic No-Man album, Schoolyard Ghosts, from 2008.
Tad: Brad, I’m so glad you suggested we discuss this album. I picked it up when it first came out. I had just discovered Steven Wilson’s Porcupine Tree, and I was snapping up anything I could find that he was involved in. No-Man is certainly different from Porcupine Tree, but Wilson and Tim Bowness make beautiful music in their own way.
As I listened to this album once again, I was struck by how calming it is (with the exception of that raucous opening to “Pigeon Drummer”). For me, “Truenorth” is the standout track. When I first got Schoolyard Ghosts, I didn’t take the time to appreciate how great a song it is. It slowly unfolds for nearly 13 minutes, but it never lags. Tim’s vocals are so hushed and warm, while Steven’s acoustic guitar accompaniment is perfect.
Brad: Tad, thanks so much for such a brilliant opening to this dialogue. I think you nailed it all very perceptively. And, I’m with you on all of this.
The best way to describe the music is, as you so aptly put it, “hushed and warm.” Delicate and lush also come to mind as descriptives as well, though delicate might be taken as derogatory by some readers. I certainly mean it in only the most positive sense.
This was my first No-man album, and, at the time it came out, I was buying basically everything that the label Kscope was producing. I had already been a Steven Wilson fan–since 2002–but I’d not delved into No-man for some reason. Porcupine Tree, yes. Blackfield, yes. But, bewilderingly, not No-man. This, of course, all changed with Schoolyard Ghosts.
Indeed, Schoolyard Ghosts rather blew me away in 2008, and it continues to do so over a decade and a half later. I never grow tired of this album. I love the lilt of the instruments, Bowness’s plaintively gorgeous vocals, and the fine production of the music. I also love the vocal harmonies that Bowness and Wilson create.
I can state now, in 2024, that I’m as much a fan of Tim Bowness as I am of Steven Wilson–which is saying a lot for anyone who knows me.
Since 2008, I’ve pretty much devoured everything that Bowness has written and released. I’ve come to the conclusion that he’s our generation’s Mark Hollis. He was definitely influenced by Hollis and Talk Talk. One can hear it in his phrasing and in his lyrics. It’s clear that Bowness is in love with words as much as he is with music.
Bowness also reminds me very much of our own Kevin McCormick. What an incredible team they would make.
Tad: Yes, Brad, the ghost of Mark Hollis is definitely present here! I find it interesting that Schoolyard Ghosts was your first introduction to No-Man. Mine was 1994’s Flowermouth, which was the only No-Man title available at my local used record store. It’s very poppy – almost like Pet Shop Boys – and as I completed my No-Man collection, it became clear that every album had its own unique identity. Initially, I was disappointed that Bowness and Wilson didn’t sound more like Porcupine Tree, but why should they? Wilson has always been a lover of many different genres, and No-Man was a completely different entity for him than PT. As a matter of fact, No-Man was more popular, sales-wise, than PT, which, at the time, was more of a side project.
Okay! Back to the topic at hand. I’ve been listening to the 5.1 surround mix of Schoolyard Ghosts, and it is really good. There are no obvious “whooshes” from front speakers to back and left to right, but rather various sounds pop up and fade away behind me, like the static that closes out “All Sweet Things”, the steel guitar in “Song of the Surf”, or some gentle beeps in “Streaming”. The percussion in the middle section of “Truenorth” has enhanced echo, which is nice.
Speaking of “Truenorth”, I have to say again that this is a near-perfect song! The 12:48 album version puts the single version to shame. I love the “Sweet surrender to the night” section that closes it out – it brings the song to such a melodically satisfying conclusion.
The only – literally – jarring song on the album for me is “Pigeon Drummer”. In the right context, I can appreciate raucous dissonance, but “Pigeon Drummer” feels out of place on this album. Based on Wilson’s and Bowness’s delightful podcast, The Album Years, I know they both love avant-garde music and musique concrete. However, I think that song messes with the overall flow of the album. Tell me why I’m wrong, Brad!
Brad: Tad, I’m really impressed that you go all the way back to 1994’s Flowermouth. Do you remember how you came to it? I’d love to read that story.
I don’t want to make too much of the Talk Talk connection, but I really feel that “Pigeon Drummer” is No-man’s take on “Desire” from Spirit of Eden. In that context, to me at least, the song makes perfect sense as a necessary break in an otherwise very delicate and haunting flow. It’s intentionally jarring, thus making the rest of the album even more beautiful. In fact, one of the many things I love about this album is the intensity of the overall flow.
I’m in complete agreement with you regarding “Truenorth.” It is a stunning piece of music, perhaps perfect, even. It builds so well. I must admit, it reminds me of an updated Traffic tune. Not as jazzy as Traffic, of course, but still in a Steve Winwood/Dave Mason vein. And, I love the lyrics:
You survived another winter You survived where nothing grew
The days felt cold and never changing So you just slept the whole way through
When you think about the future It’s like the past, but hard and small
An old idea you stole from someone A borrowed dream that’s born to fall
Take a taxi through the snow Tell them you love them – Don’t let go
Through the tunnel moving slow Tonight’s there’s nowhere You won’t go
You survived yourself You survived inside the lost world The dreams of love
And, to be sure, I really love the lyrics to the opening track, “All Sweet Things”:
The run-down streets, the civil wars You don’t go there anymore – It’s how you used to live
The trampled hopes, the made-up laws The itchy feet, the pub quiz bores – It’s so hard to forgive
Weekend slimmers count their chains Still wanting someone else to blame You watch them come and go
Empty nightclub escapades They tell you more than words can say – That open doors get closed
The empty rooms, the empty house Someday soon, you’ll work it out – Still finding the way back home
The schoolyard ghosts, the playtime fears You take your pills, they disappear – The people that you’ve known
I’m curious who wrote these, Bowness or Wilson. Either way, they’re fantastic.
Tad: Brad, Flowermouth was my introduction to No-Man, because it was the only No-Man album I could find at the record store, and I couldn’t wait for it to be delivered from an online dealer!
Thank you for sharing the lyrics to “Truenorth” and “All Sweet Things”. I think Bowness must have written the ones to “Truenorth” at least, because there is a sweetness (for lack of a better word) to them that I can’t see Wilson pulling off. His lyrics are usually much darker, which is why he might have had a hand in “All Sweet Things”.
“All Sweet Things” is my second-favorite song on Schoolyard Ghosts. It’s a nice opening track, because it sets the mood for the entire album. It has a beautiful melody which slowly unfolds. The mostly acoustic instrumentation is very warm (there’s that adjective again!) and inviting.
I’ll concede your point in defending “Pigeon Drummer”. Without the tension it adds to the overall mix, the album would probably suffer from a sameness in style and atmosphere. You can’t appreciate calm beauty without a little harshness to get through!
Brad: Tad, thanks for such a great dialogue. I was really happy to revisit Schoolyard Ghosts, and it’s always excellent “talking” music with you. As you’ve pointed out here and elsewhere, modern music simply would not be where it is without Bowness and Wilson. Each have contributed so much–as creative talents and as analysts. The current issue of PROG magazine has an excellent article on early No-man. As Wilson notes, the two would rather talk Spirit of Eden than hit the club scene. Amen.
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