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.

Methodist Stationing - some reflections (part 3)

In a break from my tradition over the last 4 years of penning my own posts on this blog, the following comes from the pen of my wife, Jude.

Those familiar with the Methodist Church's system for deploying ministers will know something of the strain that it places on those ministers, and on the churches that are searching for the right person to lead them on the next stage of their journey. But what about the minister's spouse/ partner/ significant other? How does this affect them?

What follows below is a very personal, and at times painful, reflection on the events of the past few months. It is raw at times, but it is real and, I firmly believe, needs to be said and to be heard. I hope its sentiments strike a chord with those involved in the process - however they are involved. Do feel free to comment below.


Stationing – from the other side
I was recently told by the person charged with offering me pastoral care during the stationing process that if I wasn't prepared to go wherever God led my husband, then I shouldn't have married him. Yes, really; I kid you not. I start this guest blog with that little anecdote not so that I can get your sympathy from the outset, but because the idea behind it highlights the difficulty of the position that I find myself in just now.

I wondered whether 'from the other side' was the right title to use, as there is within those words enormous potential for misinterpretation. Amongst other things, it could be seen as implying a taking of sides, opposition, maybe even outright conflict, and the possibility of deep and inextricable entrenchment, and I don't think that's really the idea that I want to convey. On the other hand, I saw a Star Trek meme on Facebook the other day. There stands a smiling Captain Jean Luc Picard, finger pointing to the future, saying "Don't just hope for a great 2015, make it so!" – a sentiment that fits with the current belief that if you dream hard enough, or believe hard enough, or even at a pinch actually work hard enough, you can do, be, get, achieve, anything at all. Personally I think that's a load of bollocks, and a dangerous load of bollocks at that. But I digress. The point is, the difficulty for me is that at this moment in time, the only way I can see of making 2015 a great year for me is by leaving my husband.

As you'll know if you've read John's previous blogs on the subject, this summer John's appointment in Sheffield comes to an end, and in September he takes up a new role in Kendal, Cumbria. And here's the problem: I don't want to go. Don't misunderstand me. There's nothing wrong with Kendal. It seems a nice place, with good people. Our new house is lovely. And I know that it's the right place and the right appointment for John, a new role and a new challenge in his life and ministry. There's nothing wrong with Kendal – except that it's not Sheffield.

I love Sheffield. I have friends here, and family. I have a role (several actually), I have things to do, things I want to do here. Here, I like to think that I serve a purpose, that I'm useful, that I make a difference. Not being here means leaving all that behind. My friends can't come with me, so no more talking over coffee or lunch about the things we hold dear together. My children aren't coming with me, so no more being there and being mom. The roles and purposes I fulfil here will stay here, so no more doing what I've enjoyed doing here. Forgive me if I seem overly dramatic at this point, but it feels to me that here I am something, but moving away means losing everything, and becoming nothing.

And forgive me if I'm wrong, but I assume you're already formulating a response. Let me stop you right there. (Unless you're thinking of sending commiserative chocolates and flowers. In which case, carry on. But forget the flowers.)

Seriously. Please don't tell me that I'll soon make new friends, that I'll always be mom, that I'll soon feel at home, that I can always find a new job, a new role, a new purpose, a new whatever. The only thing I hear in those words is "It doesn't matter." Never mind, you can always get a new one, like a broken watch or a lost hat. It does matter, and I do mind. I don't want a new anything. I want the relationships, the places, the things I have now, that I've found and built and nurtured over the last ten years. I don't want to have to start all over again.

And for God's sake please don't tell me that God has something wonderful in store, or that it's all in God's hands, or that all things work together for good, because you don't know that any more than I do. Don't tell me that God cares, or that I simply ('simply'?) need to trust in God, because right now it feels like God doesn't give a damn any more than anyone else. And do you really think that reminding me that I lack the faith that everyone else apparently has is going to make me feel better?

In the next week or two a large number of Methodist churches will hold their annual Covenant Service, using the Methodist Covenant Prayer:
          Christ has many services to be done;
          in some we may please Christ and please ourselves;
          in others we cannot please Christ except by denying ourselves.
to which the response is:
          I am no longer my own but yours…
          I willingly offer all I have and am to serve you,
          as and where you choose.

This year I think I shall forego the Covenant Service. I was always told not to make promises that I couldn't keep, and I'm just not prepared even to mutter the words (either stubbornly or hopefully) through gritted teeth when I know that I don't mean them.

I've never considered or felt myself called to be 'the minister's wife'; I feel called to be John's wife, and he just happens to be a minister. (I suppose I should be grateful that our pastoral friend stopped short of suggesting divorce, though I admit I have considered the option. Once. Briefly.) To return to the pastoral sentiment with which I began: on this occasion, I'm not prepared to traipse around the country after my husband. I don't want to deny myself just to keep everyone else happy, and I'm not 'willing' to do so, either to please Christ or to please John. That doesn't mean I won't do it, though, because let's face it, what other option is there? When it comes to the stationing process, the 'significant other' of the minister has little choice in the matter, despite what the Methodist Church says. (Actually, what the Methodist Church said in my case was, "What you want is very important, we must take your needs into consideration too." "OK, I want to stay in Sheffield." "You can't, there are no appointments in Sheffield." Yes, really.) There's also the minor detail that the house comes with John's appointment, and Sheffield City Council don't allow tents in the park.

The upshot of all this, then, is that in September it will be time for John to move on, and I shall just move on by default. But still, I want. I want, I want, I want… I know, it's whiney and selfish and manipulative, and I can only suppose it makes John feel bad. (Which, just for good measure, makes me a rubbish wife too, because a good wife is supportive and sacrificial, isn't she? So yes, let's add that to the list of stuff I feel really crap about at the moment.)

I notice I keep saying 'at the moment', or 'just now'. Maybe I am clinging after all to the possibility that something might change. But it won't be John's calling that changes, or the ending of this appointment, or the beginning of the new appointment. And I suspect that Sheffield and all it holds is unlikely to move any closer to Cumbria any time soon. So… yep – once again, it's ME that has to do all the changing to accommodate everyone else. Well, that sucks!

Actually that sums up where I am (at the moment) – it sucks. So if – when – we meet, and you ask how I am, and I say I'm fine, please understand that I'm not lying or fobbing you off. I'm not in denial, and I'm not resigned to the situation or getting used to the idea. It's just that there's nothing you can say right now, and nothing I want to hear, that will make my 'I'm fine' more than what it is.

Jude

Anything Goes!

As part of our 'seeing-out' of the old year, my wife Jude & I spent the afternoon of New Year's Eve in the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield for Daniel Evans' latest musical creation, 'Anything Goes!' Over the last few years Evans has garnered much critical acclaim (and rightly so) for his winter musicals, and having greatly enjoyed his productions of 'Oliver!' and 'My Fair Lady', we went in great anticipation of another great show. We were not disappointed!

The show played to a more or less full house, and delighted with rousing renditions of some of Cole Porter's greatest hits - 'I Get a Kick Out of You', 'It's De-lovely', Blow, Gabriel, Blow', 'You're the Top' and of course 'Anything Goes!' - weaved together into a pretty contrived plot, it has to be said, involving gangsters, showgirls, stock brokers and an English lord among others, all taking place aboard 1930s cruise ship the SS America. That PG Wodehouse had a hand in the original story came as little surprise, though it bordered on Whitehall farce at times.

But this was, at heart, an all-singing, all-dancing celebration of some of the best music of its generation. The performances of the principals were exemplary, particularly Matt Rawle as Billy Crocker, hopelessly in love with Hope Harcourt, played by Zoe Rainey, who is engaged to the foppish, flirtatious and somewhat awkward Lord Evelyn Oakleigh, played with understated delight by Stephen Matthews. But the star of the show, and holding it all together, is Debbie Kurup as delicious, vampy showgirl Reno Sweeney, the real object of Lord Oakleigh's affections. She shines through the big numbers, singing with power and emotion, dancing with energy, and engaging the audience with her enormous personality.

Mention must be made of Alistair David's choreography which was at all times vibrant and evocative, even including a tribute to Busby Berkley at one point.

The show runs until 17th January in Sheffield, and then sets off on tour. If you get a chance, do get to see this show: it is truly de-lightful!

Music of 2014

Another year-end, another year-end list. 2014 has been a busy year for me, music-wise, and producing a 'best-of' selection has once again proved to be a challenge, due mainly to the quality of the music out there.

According to my iTunes library I've got around 160 albums with a 2014 release date, and sorting out the cream from the crowd has been quite the head-scratcher, as there have been so many offerings that deserve a mention. I could've managed to whittle things down to at least 60 stand-out albums, but in the end I decided to be ruthless, and draw up a Top 30. Over the course of writing this post the order and content has changed, and I'm sure I will leave some excellent material 'on the cutting room floor'.

Before I get to the main list, though, here's my thoughts in my 'other' categories, as I look back on this magical musical year.

Gigs of the Year
3= Rick Wakeman: Journey to the Centre of the Earth - Sheffield City Hall
3= Peter Gabriel: Back to Front - Sheffield Motorpoint Arena
2   Yes: 3 Album Tour - Sheffield City Hall
1   Lazuli/ Moon Safari - Sound Control, Manchester

Live Album of the Year
After much deliberation, a tie between
  Sanguine Hum - Live in America
  Moon Safari - Live in Mexico

Discoveries of the Year
Charlotte Church's EP 'Four' (and the previous 3) - the one-time choirgirl and enfante terrible can do Prog!
A Formal Horse - eponymous debut EP is a revelation. Ones to watch in the coming years
Cheeto's Magazine - Boiling Fowls is just brilliant, bonkers prog: and they're giving it away!

Non-Prog Albums of the Year
Black Vines - The Return of the Splendid B*stards. Earthy, bluesy, mucky rock from Barnsley, and great live!
And a trio of jazz albums that have really entertained:
  Go Go Penguin - v2.0 (Mercury Prize nominee)
  Bill Laurance - Flint A beautifully atmospheric offering from the Snarky Puppy keyboardist
  Snarky Puppy - We Like It Here Energetic, inventive, live-recorded fusion that simply leaves me gob-smacked! (See below!)

Disappointments of the Year
Three albums that I was expecting more of and which failed to impress:
Anathema - Distant Satellites: seems to lack the spark of Weather Systems and We're Here Because We're Here
Asia - Gravitas: the departure of Steve Howe seems to have lost what little progressive edge they had left
Yes - Heaven & Earth: enough has been said on this album. The live shows of old material seemed to work, but not this. Perhaps it's time to stop?

So, to my Top 30:
30. Elbow - The Take Off and Landing of Everything
29. Fractal Mirror - A Garden of Ghosts 
28. A Secret River - Colours of Solitude 
27. John Bassett - Unearth
26. Transatlantic - Kaleidoscope
25. Knifeworld - The Unravelling
24. Decameron - Decameron: Ten Days in Ten Novellas - volume 2
23. Druckfarben - Second Sound
22. Rosenkreutz - Back to the Stars
21. Steve Rothery - The Ghosts of Pripyat

20. Heliopolis - City of the Sun
19. Resistor - To The Stars
18. Simon Godfrey - Homeland
17. Pink Floyd - The Endless River
16. Opeth - Pale Communion
15. Kaipa - Sattyg
14. Howard Sinclair - The Light Broke In
13. Jeff Green - Elder Creek
12. Tony Patterson & Brendan Eyre - Northlands
11. Cosmograf - Capacitor

10. Bjorn Riis - Lullabies in a Car Crash. The Airbag guitarist gave us a great guitar-driven collection, again demonstrating his strong Gilmour influences.
 9. Tin Spirits - Scorch. Carrying on from the wonderful 'Wired to Earth', this longer collection of pop-tinged prog is a delight.
 8. The Enid - First Light. A couple of new songs, and some fantastic reworkings of some of the band's classic repertoire showcasing the wonderful voice of Joe Payne.
 7. IQ - The Road of Bones. A return to form for the neo-prog stalwarts, full of the songmanship and musicianship one expects from this band.
 6. The Gift - Land of Shadows. 2014 was an excellent year for all the artists on the outstanding Bad Elephant Music label, but this collection stands out for its breadth, sweep and lyricism.
 5. Dave Kerzner - New World. A December release, but already a classic. This debut solo release from the former Sound of Contact keyboardist channels the classic sounds of Genesis and Pink Floyd to wonderful effect.
 4. Lazuli - Tant Que L'herbe Est Grasse. A band with a unique sound, boundless energy and a great stage presence, they have produced another stunning set of songs. Not being able to understand them doesn't stop me loving these guys!
 3. Snarky Puppy - We Like It Here. A jaw-dropping collection of big-band jazz fusion, showcasing world-class musicianship with a love for life and total abandonment to the moment. All the songs performed and recorded live, and available on DVD to fully expand the experience!
 2. Abel Ganz - Abel Ganz.This Scottish four-piece don't produce albums very often, but when they do: WOW! The 'Obsolescence' suite and 'Unconditional' stand out, but there's nothing weak in this collection at all!

 1. Andy Tillison Multiplex - Electric Sinfonia No. 2. Noted for his work with The Tangent and Parallel or 90 Degrees, Andy has returned to solo working and has produced a simply awe-inspiring masterpiece of proggy jazz fusion. Listening to this work it is difficult sometimes to recognise and appreciate that this is the work of only one musician, and that every note and sound is created on keyboards. A stand-out piece in a stand-out year!

Thus we wrap up 2014. 2015 promises, among others, new material from The Tangent, Steven Wilson & Big Big Train, and the long-awaited live shows from BBT. Should be another great one!