Progressive rock has been a hit-and-miss affair since its so-called resurgence of the 1990s. Bands like Dream Theater, Spock’s Beard and Porcupine Tree each made significant strides in simultaneously carrying the torch and adding modern twists and turns, but they fell short of capturing the intensity and grand pretentiousness of their 70s forefathers. The “prog rock” genre itself has since splintered into a myriad of sub-genres, much of it just as grandiose — some ambient and orchestral, some psychedelic and spacey, some heavier and thunderous. Perhaps progressive rock hasn’t progressed so much as it has redefined itself on various fronts. Then there’s Steven Wilson’s The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories), which just about covers it all and then some.
Steven Wilson and Porcupine Tree have been pretty much one and the same since 1987. It wasn’t until he needed an actual band that Wilson recruited other players to be part of Porcupine Tree. Various other projects like No-Man and Bass Communion suggest Wilson doesn’t necessarily want to be pigeonholed as a progger. More recently, however, he’s been recording progressive rock solo albums of his own, while remixing classic albums by King Crimson, Jethro Tull and Emerson, Lake & Palmer. The experience has apparently rubbed off because The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) resonates with a classic progressive rock vibe, teeming with literary themes and ghostly apparitions. Moreover, Wilson digs deep into realms of psychedelia and jazz-fusion, recasting old-school prog rock notions with a charged dynamo of emotion and musicality to create a record that’s truly progressive.
It’s as if each of the six tunes comprising the disc carries its own set of rules and guidelines to be broken and reassembled. “Luminol” is the 12-minute opener that builds off a ripping bass pattern set in motion by Nick Beggs. Brace yourself as a roustabout of Mellotrons, woodwinds, guitars and vocal harmonies convalesce into this luminous vamp that drifts into a pastoral tale before morphing into an epic of regal proportions. This is definitely the kind of terrain Genesis, Yes and King Crimson mined in their prime.
For “Drive Home,” the gears shift into a calm, sweeping second as Wilson coasts through a sublime passage of lost love and redemption. A soothing combination of a Mellotron (the original King Crimson MKII model), clarinet and guitar line underscores the sentiment. “The Holy Drinker,” who challenges the devil to a drinking contest, loops together this same mix with the added punch of a Fender Rhodes, a little flute work here and the gallop of a Hammond organ there, a major wind-down then the roar of a grand finale — all in one 10-minute track. Only your senses can keep up.
“The Pin Drop,” with its rolling acoustical framework and lush harmonies, highlighted by more magnificent clarinet from Theo Travis, functions as the gateway to “The Watchmaker.” Echoing a Genesis-flavored beginning, the song is, according to its author, about a watchmaker married to the same woman for 50 years without any real love between them. He decides to murder her ala Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” and she returns to haunt him from the floorboards from where her remains lay. Thankfully, the lyrics aren’t anywhere as gruesome as the story behind them, but the arrangements in support are the stuff of prog legends as a barrage of Beach Boys-style vocals caress a wondering piano line, lifted to the heavens by a flood of flutes blooming with vitality and hope. The sonicfest that follows puts Beggs back into the spotlight, and a tumble of drums and the Mellotron move in for the kill.
Which leaves the title track, another ghost story based on the writings of Edgar Allen Poe, in this case his famous poem “The Raven,” although the “official” animated music video of the song tells a much different story with the protagonist’s sister emerging from the shadows. Could it be Lenore? We may never know, but the song’s haunting refrain emotes a quality of beauty and simplicity that makes you wonder why people aren’t standing in line, waiting for this kind of music to come along and motivate them. OK, so it sort of conjures up images of Radiohead and people are standing in line for this kind of music. But the climactic flurry of instrumentation is textbook prog of the highest order, far removed the raw assault of Jonny Greenwood’s histrionics.
Due to its high production value, courtesy of famed engineer Alan Parsons, The Raven That Refused to Sing (And Other Stories) has been mixed by Wilson in 5.1 (DTS 96/24 5.1 surround & Dolby AC3 5.1 surround, to be precise) for Blu-ray Disc. The Blu-ray also has instrumental versions of each track, including a smooth “lounge” take of “Drive Home,” plus photos and a 23-minute studio documentary. For the hardcores, there’s a limited four-disc deluxe edition (Blu-ray, DVD and two CDs) packaged in a 128-page hardback book with lyrics, short stories by Wilson, and illustrations by Hajo Mueller. Previously nominated for a Grammy twice for Best Surround Sound Album, Wilson is a true architect of sound, as well as a gifted songwriter, musician and storyteller, applying the tenets of prog rock on The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories) and introducing a new level of sophistication and musical inventiveness. Whatever comes next from the world of Steven Wilson promises to challenge the senses, mind and body.
~ Shawn Perry
