Saturday night is all right for rambling (and for the Rat Pack to catch up) about:
Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence - yep, the whole “let's pull a 2112 structure with a kinda Dark Side of the Moon concept” she-bang, starting with just the first four slices because bosk isn't paying overtime:
I.Overture:
Not now. First off, overtures are fully enjoyed only after listening to the actual movements they're preluding to, and I already knew it was going to be beautiful, symphonic … and wrong (I will elaborate on the whole thing at suite's end, enjoy the cliffhanger). A funnier use for this paragraph would rather be sharing with you fine gents and miladies where yours truly was at the time of this hearing*: I got the job I wanted, i.e. Musical theater performer (soon to be director), mostly on the comedic spectrum, aka the only possible way I can function in the current multiverse. The implications are quite significant:
1. The only way I could make a living in this world and sleep at night (or day) was bringing music and laughter to people, with no possibilty of hurting/exploiting a living soul. I'm not judging, just stating the way I'm wired.
Maybe it stems by being the offspring of a critical catholic artist dude and a fervent communist professor lady, I don't know.
2. It gave me an audience, an outlet for my attention whoring, and a strong appreciation of my private sphere, hence saving me from the (dawning at the time) social network epidemic, also known as The Fifth Horseman of Apocalypse: The On Getting The Job Done.
3. It gave me the gift of the Tour Bus, that is free hours upon free hours dedicated to listening to / philosophising about music and other amenities (cue the Black Bitch, among others). Heck, 85% of this thread has been written on a bus or a plane/airport.
*I know I promised the Black Bitch, but let's save the dark flawed enchantress for the dark flawed album.
Alright, it was a long-winded enough Overture. Let's get to
II. About to Crash:
0:00 – 0:24: This is the perfect warm welcoming piano to lubricate my attention into this suite. The perfect balance between cunning sophistication and salt of the earth familiarity. It's a piano lick standing between Billy Joel and the Cheers opening theme.
0:24 – 0:34: And this, for my wimpy pussy ears, is the perfect amount of operational distortion for DT music, no matter the style they're playing with. Clarity and grace.
0:34 – 0:56: Jordan winking at the prog classics, chapter 46: the Lucky Man moog. I love where this is going.
0:56 – 1:18: It takes a village to write cool and jumpy rock riffs, or DT with their most criminally overlooked habit. Plus, when the ship is sailing on the hard rock sea, and not capsizing on the metal waves, correct use of James occurs. Coincidence?
1:18 – 1:50: Criminally overlooked DT habit, part deux: the ability to write great choruses without easy hooks. Sadly, the boys' songwriting prowess will always be overshadowed by their technical proficiency. They're the MJ of prog: all the buckets and records make you forget he's been the best defender in the game south of Bill Russell.
1:50 – 2:01: Van Hagar riffage, circa For Unknown Carnal Knowledge? Fascinating.
2:01 – 2:23: Mike Portnoy literally Walking on the Moon
2:23 – 2:45: I don't care Jordan Rudess is the best keyboardist in the world, he should be tied to a Steinway and forced to fill every song with piano goodness. So good. You can hire Sherinian back for synths and organs for all I care, but Jordan stays on the piano. Ok, with a minimoog on his lap.
2:45 – 2:56: Holy Brian May, Johnny P! Actually there's a May wink in every DT album. Last time was on One Last Time.
2:56 – 3:22: Repetition, hence considerations: I will repeat this until I turn blue or until every album stops confirming it: DT is at its best north of Queen, south of Iron Maiden, west of Yes, east of Journey. The compass is clear, boundaries should never be crossed, there's room enough to experiment inside.
3:22 – 3:35: There is odd time, instinctive odd time, and odd time to show off. This is odd time with storytelling purpose. 5/8 is the harshest odd time feeling you can get (the missing beat is extremely close in ear memory to the leading one), the signature whispering to every listener, no matter education, that “something ain't working properly”. In this song there could not be a better way to suggest the other shoe is going to drop.
3:35 – 3:53: Let's everybody celebrate the birth of Prog Rock Tango
3:53 – 4:19: As usual, when DT respects The Compass, Big James is focking on like a don.
4:19 – 4:49: Not note for note, but feel for feel, this is Voices solo sans wah. I hope it makes sense.
4:49 – 5:51: As close to Gilmour as you can get before burning your wings, and absolutely the best bunch of bars of the album so far.
III. War Inside My Head:
0:00 – 0:15: Fock-a-Spock, almost failed a heart attack saving throw here. Sure, last tune had a nice outro and this one's got a nice intro, but you definitely need transitions between intros and outros too.
0:15 – 0:42: According to The Compass (almost trademarked at this point) this is a quintessential on the border DT metal feel. Approved. See? It works.
0:42 – 0:56: Nonetheless, James will never, ever, be a metal singer. On a sidenote, nice sped up For Whom the Bell Tolls riff, everybody.
0:56 - 1:25: … And just to screw with the paragraph above, that was a bonafide Awake scream. Whaddafock do I know?
1:25 – 2:08: Repetition, hence considerations: I understand and appreciate the need for some speed and weight at this point – hell, I like it even – but this song is so blatantly rushed and skimmed through that it feels (as Overture analysis will partially reveal) like something that “had to be there” rather than an organically sowed & reaped piece of music.
IV: The Test That Stumped Them All:
0:00 – 0:25: Again, really? Sure, last tune had a nice transition and this one's got a nice transition, but you definitely need transitions between transitions and …. well, transitions. I told ya, rushed. Probably in fear to piss off the cool heavy metal kids.
0:25 – 0:45: A little bit thrashy, but still inside The Compass, therefore …
0:45 – 1:05: … James holds his focking own, my friends.
1:05 – 1:26: More than holding his own, he performs some vintage Caught in a Web muscular belting. Impressive. Oh, and before I forget … Darkness, imprisoning me, all I can see, absolute horror … Sorry, couldn't help it.
1:26 – 1:40: As close to The Wall as you can get before burning your The Trial.
1:40 – 2:55: Repetition, hence considerations: never good when repetition/considerations occur for a whole focking minute and in consecutive songs. There is a saving grace though: Portnoy echoing the machine gun riff at first with Portnoy cymbals, then with Portnoy toms. Genius simplicity.
2:55 – 3:59: The most formulaic and uninspired solos in Johhy P's and Jordan's career. Just speed up and down a scale. This whole song ( as Overture analysis will partially reveal) screams filler.
3:59 – 5:03: Nice War Pigs slow section mood ruined by a keyboard fat fly buzzing around. WIMH referenced Bell Tolls, here we have One and War Pigs. Nice, too bad while rushing they forgot between songs the theme has shifted from war to mental institutionalisation.
I only wanted my Pepsi.
Coming Next: well, the rest.
Topic: Scenes From My Memory v. Honor Thy Father (Read 137309 times)
