Review by Shawn Perry
On the road behind his 2015 release Hand. Cannot. Erase., Steven Wilson and his band gave Anaheim over two hours of visceral, cerebral modern-day ‘prog’ delivered with grade-A musicianship, captivating visuals and a sense of savvy decorum to soften the mystique, perhaps what Wilson himself referred to as “miserable music.” Be that as it may, I wasn’t about to let the imposing images of cityscapes and sounds of children playing deter the pastoral beauty of Wilson’s music. This remains one of the great dichotomies of progressive rock.
And with that, the show began straightaway with the first five tracks — “First Regret,” “3 Years Older,” “Hand Cannot Erase,” “Perfect Life” and “Routine” — from Hand. Cannot. Erase., a conceptual piece considerably at odds in tone and flavor from its predecessor, the allegorically rich The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). Here is a story of a young woman, lost and forgotten in a sea of humanity. Throughout the night, video featuring a young woman with more than a passing resemblance to Kate Bush (who apparently had a hand in inspiring Wilson) is seemingly caught in a painful state of loneliness, disenchantment and confusion in the big city.
How ever which way the songs weave the story, there is little question about the power of the music and the players bringing it life. For tonight’s performance, Wilson was joined by bassist Nick Beggs and keyboardist Adam Holzman, both of whom appear on Hand. Cannot. Erase., along with drummer Craig Blundell and guitarist David Kilminster, fresh from his three-year whirlwind run with Roger Waters’ The Wall shows. It’s likely a cache of snobbish, hardcore fans would have preferred to see guitarist Guthrie Govan and drummer Marco Minnemann recreate their parts from Hand. Cannot. Erase., but Blundell and Kilminster are top-notch pros who know how to come in, play the songs as close to their studio counterparts as possible, and enhance when and where they can. On all counts, they lived up to the standards of the music.
Part leader and part emcee, Wilson hands the big solos off to his band as he straddles the middle section of the stage, barefoot and at ease, switching from guitar, bass and keyboards, feeding the music with energy and subtle magnetism. He spoke to the audience at long intervals. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been in this room,” he mused at one point. “I have a confession to make,” he announced later. “Miserable music makes me happy and happy music makes me miserable.”
He showed off his new signature guitar, talked about other bands like the Cure, the Smiths, Tears for Fears, Kajagoogoo (Beggs was an original member), and Kate Bush, and referenced “shoegazer music” before “Harmony Korine” from Wilson’s first solo album, 2009’s Insurgentes. Three more from Hand. Cannot. Erase. — “Home Invasion” And “Regret #9” — carried the tale forward with an ill-defined prognosis before things got proggier with a slice of Porcupine Tree’s “Lazarus.” The last three songs from Hand. Cannot. Erase., “Ancestral,” “Happy Returns” and “Ascendant Here On…” finished out the main set.
For the encore, the transparent curtain and eerie video that accompanied “The Watchmaker,” followed by another Porcupine Tree song, “Sleep Together” from 2007’s Fear Of A Blank Planet, supplied some long-awaited suspense. A second encore centered on “The Raven That Refused To Sing,” on which Wilson himself provided a sweeping Les Paul-driven crescendo during the home stretch, brought the show to a dramatic conclusion. When he’s not writing, recording and touring behind his own music, Steven Wilson sonically restores and sweetens classic recordings by prog masters like Jethro Tull, Yes and Gentle Giant. For some, that alone validates his stature as heir to the prog rock throne. It’s only when you see and hear him up close that you realize Steven Wilson’s music, vision and entire approach transcend the genre to new and wondrous heights.
