What a busy guy Steven Wilson is, eh? In addition to helming Pocrupine Tree, collaborating with Aviv Geffen in Blackfield, not to mention No-Man and Storm Corrosion, he's remixed the entire King Crimson catalogue for release, and also somehow found time to record and unleash upon us his second solo album, “Grace for drowning”. And even then, it's a
double album, clocking in at a total of 83 minutes for the standard version, or over 125 minutes if you shell out for the deluxe, 3-CD unreleased material set. Any way you look at it, that's a hell of a lot of work! When does this guy sleep?
Grace for drowning --- Steven Wilson --- 2011 (Kscope)
The standard album is a two-disc set, featuring seven tracks on disc one and five on disc two, with one of the latter being a 23-minute composition. It opens with the title track, lovely lazy piano and a sound that reminds me of the summer days of my youth, great vocals and backing vocals adding to the seventies feel on this short track. It's almost ethereal, so soft and lulling that when it's very quickly over, you wonder did you hear it at all? Then we're into “Sectarian”, a much longer track at just over seven minutes, just as restrained though with easy keys and guitar, soft percussion which after a minute ramps up to allow the song expand and stretch itself, becoming more a prog-rock sound with warbly keyboard runs, dramatic filmscore-type music and somewhat discordant sax and horns, with choral vocals. Halfway though it all slows down for some nice piano and guitar, then deep horns and heavy percussion signal yet another change, and the song is only four minutes old.
Speaking of time, we're now nine minutes into the album as a whole, and other than the choral vocals and the kind of Beach Boys-esque humming on the title track, we've yet to hear any vocals. Very jazzy piano improvisations coming up next, as the song settles down a little, and it ends as it began, quietly and softly, but still no-one has sung a word. “Deform to form a star” is a completely apt PT-style title, and like the previous track it starts out almost inaudibly until Wilson's beautiful piano line introduces the song proper, and finally we have singing!
Wilson is now such a respected --- almost revered --- figure in the rock world, especially the progressive rock sphere --- that being asked to perform on one of his albums must seem more like an honour than a favour, so both Tony Levin and the great Steve Hackett must have considered themselves blessed indeed to be allowed to participate. Wilson also uses many musicians well-known from the world of jazz, like Ben Castle, son of the late Roy, and Theo Travis, while he also enlists the help of King Crimson's Trey Gunn and Dream Theater's Jordan Rudess.
As the first vocal song, “Deform to form a star” is a lovely little ballad, with gorgeous guitar work and sublime piano, and Wilson's voice lending the whole thing a real air of majesty and power. “No part of me” starts off with tinkling keys reminscent of the work of Vangelis, joined by more solid piano while guitar moans in the background, then Wilson's voice comes in again, perfectly complementing the music, riding along it like a sufer riding a wave, certain in his confidence that it will bear him up and carry him where he wishes to go. String section swells behind him, the London Session Orchestra adding to his musical safety net as he travels on, a soul in flight. Guitars then get a bit sharper, a bit more insistent as the wave begins to break and Wilson heads towards shore, the roar of surf in his ears as the music bears him up. He no longer needs to sing: now he is a part of the music, playing it, involved in it, lost in it as the wave starts to dissolve and he falls forward into the raging sea, but still he knows he's safe, and continues on till he finally finds himself deposited gently on the shore by soft synth, and “Postcard” helps him to his feet.
Another great little ballad, carried on guitar and piano, with delightful violin and cello joined by the rest of the orchestra, it's an aching, tender song with great yearning and desperation in the music. It's also the first single to be released from the album. There's a beautiful backing here from a choir, apparently called “Synergy Vocals”, and they do a fantastic job of punching you right in the heart, just at the right moment. Then it all drops away to piano and a single, lonely voice and in a moment it's over, leaving you with an sense of loss and wanting more.
“Raider II”, which is on the second disc, is that 23-minute composition I spoke of in the introduction, and here we have a two-minute prelude, after which the curiously-titled “Remainder the black dog” closes the first disc. A nine-minute monster, this track opens with Genesisesque piano circa “The lamb”, which is quickly joined by Wilson's vocoder-enhanced vocal, then a little later the guitars break in, courtesy of ex-Genesis man Steve Hackett, and another jazz/fusion jam results as the horns and the piano go to work, keyboards and guitar fighting it out as the song runs on. Like a lot of Wilson's work on this album there's not that much in the way of vocals, the voice being more just an onlooker or sometimes a conductor to marshall the various and varied instruments at his disposal, and ensure they're all in a harmony of direction.
And so closes disc one, and we open the second disc with “Belle de jour”, very like the love theme from a movie, with all instruments played by Wilson, his only other accompaniment the London Session Orchestra again. It's a bittersweet little melody, with not surprisingly a very French feel, the autoharp in particular adding an almost spiritual aura to the song. It's a short song, just shy of three minutes, with guitar and piano both vying for top billing, then we're into “Index”, which starts off with an ominous, dramatic line on guitar and drum machines keeping almost a rolling beat as Wilson sings like a somewhat unhinged enthusiast, reminding me of Marillion's “A collection”:
”I'm a collector and I've always been misunderstood/ I love the things others seem to overlook.” Chilling, and the somewhat dissonant music adds to this sense of unease. Probably the most disturbing song of “collectors” I've heard since Arena's “The butterfly man”.
“Track one” --- odd, coming as it does three tracks into disc two and so essentially being the tenth track on the album --- is a pastoral ballad in the style of the Moody Blues or even the Beatles --- oh, wait, no it's not! Just became hard-edged guitar, spooky synth and powerful dramatic drums. Then that fades away almost to silence, before being replaced by acoustic and electric guitar to its fade. One thing you can be sure of with a Steven Wilson track, is that you can't ever be sure of anything. It may start one way, but turn suddenly and veer off on a totally different track, and if you consider yourself a hunter of song styles, it'll lead you a merry dance before --- if ever --- you catch it.
And so to “Raider II”, twenty-three minutes and more than half of disc two. Opening on bassy piano with cello and violin, the vocal comes up almost as an afterthought, like someone slowly climbing out of a pit, then suddenly the music bursts out like a prog-rock prelude, something out of the back catalogue of Yes or King Crimson, and Wilson's vocal is clearer, stronger and more persistent, taking the lion's share of your attention. Flute and clarinet from Theo Travis adds a folky/jazz feel to the song, then fades out as the piano and guitar take the track in a new direction. Again. Nice piano solo from Dream Theater's Jordan Rudess, while the enigmatically-named Sand Snowman keeps a great line in acoustic guitar.
Things evolve then into something of another jazz jam, with clarinet, sax, piano and flute all having their say, till it all calms down around the twelve-minute mark (still only halfway through!) and there's a period of slow, low, relaxed instrumental that takes us towards the next peak, choral voices and humming synth driving us slowly, like sheep on the way home, to our destination as the piano chimes out in the background, lonely flute and harmonium beckoning us on. Surprisingly, it's vocals that greet us at the sixteen-minute mark, not heard for so long now that it's easy to have slipped into the belief that this was an instrumental, but Wilson reminds us this is not so. It's only a brief few words, but it's enough to remind us that Steven Wilson the singer is still around, watching Steven Wilson the multi-instrumentalist and waiting for his chance to get back in on the action.
Things power up and get all dramatic again at the nineteen-minute point, and it seems like this is all building to something, as the piece is now coming towards its eventual conclusion. But in fact it all builds to a crescendo and then slowly, very slowly, with feedback guitar leading the way, fades away, leaving a single bass to mark the time left, joined then by a classical guitar, some violin and some low, slow percussion to finish off this monster masterpiece.
And he's not finished yet! You would think after an opus like that Wilson would have left it and called it a day, but there's another eight-minute song to come. “Like dust I have cleared from my eye” is a guitar-led ballad, Wilson's vocals the strongest and clearest they've been since disc one's “Deform to form a star”, and a joy to hear. Gorgeous guitar workout and a return to the seventies style of the opener, which seems an age ago now (it is: the album has now been running for almost an hour and a half!), simple but very effective melodies directed by the master and becoming much more than the sum of their parts. The closing three minutes of the track is soft, ambient keyboard and programmed sounds, leading us full circle to how it began, and ending an album that certainly lives up to its promise.
There's no doubt there's a huge amount to work through here, a lot to get your musical head around. If you're not familiar with the work of Porcupine Tree (and I'm not that well-versed in their music), and further, you know little of Steven Wilson's styles, this is going to be a hard one to pin down, there are so many different influences and sounds on it: rock, pop, jazz, blues, ambient, electronic, acoustic, film music … it really needs to be listened to with all your attention in order to be able to appreciate it. I suppose I should have waited to hear it a few more times before giving my verdict, but time is not on my side, so I've had to judge this album before I've had a chance to really sink down into it and properly experience it.
But it's a big high-five from me. “Grace for drowning” may only be Steven Wilson's second solo album, but it's clear he has honed his craft through years of playing with Porcupine Tree, as well as Blackfield, No-Man and his many other projects, to a point where he knows exactly what sort of sound he wants, and how to get it. He knows who to call in for help, and he knows also when to just let his own creative juices and immense musical talent take the floor on its own. “Grace for drowning” is a personal triumph for Steven Wilson, and we can only sit and wonder what the guy is going to come up with next?
TRACKLISTING
Disc one: Deform to form a star
1. Grace for drowning
2. Sectarian
3. Deform to form a star
4. No part of me
5. Postcard
6. Raider prelude
7. Remainder the black dog
Disc two: Like dust I have cleared from my eye
8. Belle de jour
9. Index
10. Track one
11. Raider II
12. Like dust I have cleared from my eye