Spectral Mornings 2015

There are certain songs and tunes that stay with you throughout your life: music which has a certain timeless quality to it. For me Steve Hackett's 'Spectral Mornings', the instrumental title track of his 1979 third solo album, is one of those works - something that can lift the soul and brighten any day. I remember it being a high point when I first saw Steve and his band in concert back in July 1980, and it has stayed as a part of my musical 'inner furniture' ever since.

So when, 36 years after its initial release, I heard that lyrics had been written, my interest was raised. Musically Spectral Mornings has always been a 'lyrical' tune: would words enhance or hinder that quality? I needn't have worried.

The new version of the song (well, 4 new versions actually) has been conceived as a fund-raiser for research into Parkinson's disease, and pulls together a stellar collection of musicians from the current progressive rock scene, under the guiding hand of Rob Reed (Magenta). The lyrics have been written by David Longdon (Big Big Train), who provides the vocals alongside Christina Booth (Magenta) - and what a duo they prove to be, playing to and off each other's strengths with spine-tingling emotion and power. The backing comes form Rob Reed on keys, Nick Beggs (Steven Wilson band etc) on bass, Nick D'Virgilio (BBT) on drums, Peter Jones (Tiger Moth Tales) on recorders, and of course Steve Hackett on guitars.

The four different mixes each bring their own particular slant to the song, from a quiet piano on the acoustic mix, to an almost Celtic feel in the opening section of the instrumental mix. The 'Classic' Mix is probably the nearest to the original, musically speaking, but the vocals simply take it to another level. I didn't think it was possible to improve on the original version, but I think it might just have happened! But judge for yourselves... and then buy this CD!

New horizons (Brighter skies)

Spectral mornings

The sunset (A new sunrise)

New horizons (Brighter skies)

Spectral mornings

The human soul, letting go

May each new dawn always be yours.

© David Longdon 2015. Used with permission

111 years of worship & mission

Last evening I attended a service at one of our local churches which is due to close next week. The congregation of Horizon Methodist Church, situated in Hunter's Bar on the west side of Sheffield, had taken the decision, after much heart-searching, to call time on the life of worship, service & mission in that place.

It was, some might think strangely, a joyous occasion. A congregation had gathered from across the city and packed the church to capacity, and the opening word from the Minister, Rev Gareth Jones, summed up the emotion evident in the place - "Wow!"

We sang; we reflected; we gave thanks and confessed; we looked back, let go and moved on. And the occasion had a certain poignancy for me, as I had not only preached in this church on a few occasions but, for a brief time back in 1987 when I lived in the YMCA that was situated just up the road from the church, I had myself been a member of the church (it was known as Endcliffe Methodist Church then) - the second of only 3 churches of which I have formally been a member. The first (my home church, Grove Road Methodist in Harrogate) closed sadly in 2009: now Endcliffe/ Horizon is closing, and with it another part of my past.

Yet we move on, praising God for all that is past, and trusting God for all that's to come.

A high point on Low Sunday

For most of the 20-odd years I've been in ministry I've taken the Sunday after Easter (traditionally known as Low Sunday) off. How I fill that day has varied from year to year, but this year, for the first time, I spent it at a gig.

The Robin 2 in Bilston, Wolverhampton, is renowned for hosting an excellent roster of bands, including a considerably large proportion from the broad Progressive genre. Today's fayre were two bands: London-based 'The Gift', and Sweden's 'Änglagård'.

The Gift have been around for about 10 years, on and off, and have released two albums, 2006's 'Awake & Dreaming' (re-released in 2014) and 2014's 'Land of Shadows', and have an accessible sound that reminds me in places of Genesis and Fish-era Marillion. In a short (30-35 minute) support set, the band gave us material from both albums played with aplomb and enthusiasm, ably led by front-man Mike Morton who engaged naturally with the appreciative crowd. These are talented musicians, who should be more widely known.

 

After a short break for refreshment both of the punters and of the stage, the floor seemed to become noticeably fuller as Änglagård took the stage. Änglagård have been around since the early 1990s, and released albums in 1992 & 1994 before a hiatus which lasted (after a brief return in 2002-03) until 2009, with a third studio recording appearing in 2012. Their 90 minute set drew from the full range of their material, most of which comprises long-form, complex compositions, and which takes its inspiration from Progressive rock, jazz and pastoral folk. How you actually describe their style of music is difficult to say: emotive, full of energy, ranging from quiet & lyrical to experimental and atonal; always surprising and engaging and at times quite wondrous and awe-inspiring. I've not seen many bands who count party blowers and balloons in their instrumental repertoire!



The musicianship throughout was of the highest order, with everyone displaying a natural virtuosity. That said, this is not 'easy' music. Back in my school days there were certain albums that were sometimes described as 'difficult to get into', and Änglagård's material would certainly fall into that category. My wife, Jude, who accompanied me to the gig, came away unconvinced, and maybe they will always be a kind of 'Marmite' band (she was sold on Moon Safari & Lazuli last year!). But if you like your music with an edge, Änglagård are a band to look out for, if you don't know them already. For me they, along with The Gift, were certainly a high point on Low Sunday.

Hand. Cannot. Erase.

I've been a fan of Steven Wilson's music for a number of years now, ever since I discovered the Porcupine Tree album 'Fear of a Blank Planet'. Wilson is at the forefront (many would say) of the current wave of Progressive Rock music that is steadily growing in influence and interest, and is in much demand not only as a writer and performer but also as an engineer, producer and re-mixer. Albums from the 'classic' era of Prog, by such luminaries as Yes, Jethro Tull & King Crimson, have recently benefited from his ear and expertise.

Wilson's music does not suit everyone. His sombre, melancholic air in many of his compositions has earned him the ironic sobriquet of 'Chuckletrousers'. That air is certainly present in his latest offering, the fourth under his own name, "Hand. Cannot. Erase", which explores themes of loss, love and depression in the imagined life of a woman Wilson read about, who had been found dead in her flat and whom no-one had noticed for months, even years. Lyrically it carries the usual pathos that one has come to expect from Wilson, and musically it rises to harsh crescendi and falls to soft, almost lilting harmonies, giving echoes of not only his solo material so far but also his earlier work with Porcupine Tree. As an album, it is possibly the best thing that he has released, and after the quality of 'The Raven that Refused to Sing' that takes some doing.

As a live show, however - WOW! I had the immense privilege last night of spending the evening in the Bridgewater Hall in Manchester, where Wilson and his band were on the third leg of their tour. It was the first time I'd seen the man play live, and can honestly say I was completely blown away by the whole experience. Wilson has assembled a group of musicians with a virtuosity and flair  it is difficult to find the equal of anywhere else at the moment. Wilson, a consummate multi-instrumentalist himself, was supported by the keyboard skills of Adam Holzman, the powerhouse and subtle drumming of Marco Minnemann, the dexterity of the almost ubiquitous Nick Beggs on bass and Chapman Stick, and the awe-inspiring Guthrie Govan on guitar.

The show combined the music with a visual experience second to none. Stage lighting was used creatively, and an LED screen showed video and animation to bring new life to the songs. I was particularly moved by the stop-motion animation used during 'Routine'. Towards the end, as the band played a couple of songs from 'The Raven...' (The Watchmaker and the title track) a veil was lowered between the audience and the band, on which more animation was projected. Very effective.

The set included all of the current album, interspersed with material from the earlier solo albums and from the vast Porcupine Tree back-catalogue, including 'Let's Sleep Together' and 'Lazarus'. Where I was seated (third row, centre circle) the sound quality was superb. All in all a totally absorbing, immersive experience of contemporary Progressive music at its best.

Tiger Moth Tales - Cocoon

One of the problems with compiling Year-end lists of albums is that as soon as you've drawn up said list another great album comes along and throws everything up in the air. Had I come across this album before the end of December, my top 30, even my top 10, probably my top 3, would have been quite different.

Tiger Moth Tales is the project of one man, Peter Jones - a fact that I needed to keep reminding myself of as I listened to this album, because the musical variety, dexterity and virtuosity on the full range of instruments is simply astonishing, as is the production. Drawing his musical influences from the classic era of Progressive rock but also from more contemporary acts, Jones has given birth to a collection of songs of stunning grandeur that will, I hope, come to be seen as a classic of the genre.

The central theme (the concept?) of the album is childhood, and Jones structures his 69 minute essay around the four seasons of the year. After an instrumental Overture which sets the scene with soaring keyboards, guitars and sax vying for attention over powerful drumming, we have the first of four vignettes which use mainly sound effects to evoke the mood of the seasons: Spring comes with birdsong and gambolling lambs; Summer with an ice dream van and a pebbly beach; Autumn with fireworks, a brass band (perhaps at a Cenotaph memorial, or in a park), migrating geese and scrunching leaves; and Winter with carols and trudging through snow.

Between these flags are the main songs. 'The Isle of Witches' begins with the words familiar to a generation of children: "Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin." - the start of Listen with Mother - and goes on to tell the story of a group of three witches who lived on a remote island and their battle with a group of wizards who coveted their island. The music is brash - almost death-metal in places, with a certain Arjen Lucasen bombast about it, loud church organ chords and at times a kind of Middle Eastern feel. 'Tigers in the Butter' is a song about the ease with which children use (or used to use) their imagination in play, where forts are constructed from suitcases and bathtubs become the Seven Seas. "We lived our lives in fantasy", he sings, and "Anything can happen in this place: the doors are open wide; take a step inside." It begins, perhaps naturally, with an Indian feel, with sitar and tablas, before guitars take over and Steve Hackett's influence on Jones is clearly seen. There were echoes for me of Lifesigns too, and vocally of Paul Carrack.

'The First Lament' is a stirring instrumental piece which begins with a low drone and pipes of some kind which carry a haunting, Celtic ambiance. After two minutes piano and guitars come into the mix, and the song builds in pace and volume with the guitar motif becoming increasingly complex and heavier. With a minute to go it then drops back to the simple theme on guitar and piano, with the pipes returning at the end. Quite magnificent!

Autumn (where we have reached) is the most eclectic season, with two contrasting songs of whimsy and delight. 'The Merry Vicar' (a song close to my heart!) is a playful tune with a strong. driving rhythm on drums and guitars leading to syncopated keyboards, a jazzy piano section and time signatures all over the place. Lyrically it almost has the English eccentric whimsy of Vivian Stanshall or Noel Coward, as Jones makes 'cassock' rhyme with 'wazzock', and sings of this man who's "doing a lot of good for God, he's giving the church a bit of a prod" - which is why I warm to him so much! In contrast 'A Visit to Chigwick' is much more elegiac, channelling the golden years of children's TV and in particular shows like Trumpton, Camberwick Green & Chigley, and evoking a bygone age (did such a time really exist? A question the song poses towards the end) in a way that perhaps Big Big Train do to such great effect, but this time using sounds from 60s & 70s TV. The Genesis influence shows itself again in the keyboards towards the end.

The final song, 'Don't Let Go, Feels Alright' draws the album to a fitting climax, The piano arpeggios give way to the guitar picking up the theme from 'The First Lament', the sax returns, and we consider the loss of childhood innocence, a hankering for those days, but also a need/ desire to move on with life. These things have made us who we are, but we must move on and become who we can be. The song ends with birdsong: we are back in Spring, the circle continues, but we move on. And that sense of movement is there for me in the seasonal passages, as we walk along the beach, through the fallen leaves and through the snow.

This is an album that yields more and more with every listen. If you've not heard it, get yourself a copy! You can find it digitally on Bandcamp, or get a physical copy through the website.