CD Review: Billy Sherwood – Citizen

CD Review: Billy Sherwood – Citizen
Frontiers Music srl
All Access Rating: A-

Billy Sherwood - Citizen 2015

Filling the shoes of the late, great Chris Squire as the bassist in Yes is an almost impossible task. And yet, Billy Sherwood – handpicked by Squire as his replacement in the legendary progressive-rock outfit – isn't shying away from taking on other herculean projects, such as his latest LP Citizen.

Like all the scripts from "Quantum Leap" all rolled into one sprawling concept album, the Frontiers Music srl release Citizen imagines "a lost soul reincarnated into various periods of history" that isn't Scott Bakula. Still, the cast of Citizen is impressive, as Sherwood draws on the talents of prog-rock innovators Geoff Downes, Steve Hackett, Steve Morse, Rick Wakeman and Jordan Rudess – just to name a few – to bring his vision to life. What's more, Squire actually plays on the triumphant and expansive title track, thought to be his final recording.

Sherwood's "citizen" finds himself either caught up in a series of cataclysmic world events, such as the Great Depression and World War I, or witnessing the birth of paradigm-shifting scientific discoveries, once as a friend to Galileo or another time as an assistant to Charles Darwin. All the while, Citizen's sweeping, slow-developing melodies, layers of harmonies, soft instrumental interplay and breathtaking, cinematic beauty seem attuned to the somber and surreal artwork that graces its cover in standout tracks "No Man's Land," "Just Galileo and Me" and "The Great Depression."

More watery and ominous, "Empire" turns starry and its choruses grow wider, while "Trail Of Tears" – a song about the forced migration of Native American peoples in the U.S. – is an edgier puzzle of sharp confusion sussed out in a manner signifying rage at the ruinous cruelty and injustice of such a monstrous policy. Lighter and more lively, with some splashes of funk thrown into the mix, "Age of the Atom" practically dances about, as Sherwood's bass lines, so plush everywhere else, offer contrasting melodic forays, but in the end, it's the accessibility and drive of "Man and the Machine" that wins the day. Not so different from the music of Yes, the compositions here, while cut from the same cloth, are more lush and elegantly designed, even if Citizen does tend to infuriatingly dawdle at a somewhat leisurely pace. That won't matter to those with a lot of time on their hands; their patience will be rewarded with an immersive experience, both lyrically and musically. If Citizen is any indication, Squire has left Yes in good hands with his protege.
– Peter Lindblad

DVD Review: Yes – Songs From Tsongas: The 35th Anniversary Concert

DVD Review: Yes – Songs From Tsongas: The 35th Anniversary Concert
Eagle Rock Entertainment
All Access Rating: A-

Yes - Songs From Tsongas:
The 35th Anniversary Concert

It does the heart good to see Jon Anderson and the rest of Yes so happy together, especially in light of the bitter divorce to come in 2008.

Four years earlier, there were no signs of bad blood between the two sides when the cosmic progressive-rock voyageurs' classic lineup traveled through the past at the Tsongas Arena in Lowell, Massachusetts, and closed out their 35th anniversary reunion tour.

Adding to the slew of Yes live releases over the years, an effervescent and exhilarating special edition two-disc DVD set containing an expertly filmed version of that blissful virtuoso performance, as well as a separate 70 minutes of live footage from a rainy night of Yes playing at the Estival in Lugano, Switzerland, is out now, released by Eagle Rock Entertainment.

The two stagings couldn't have been more different, the spartan set-up at Lugano a sharp contrast to the vivid, trippy spectacle of colored lights and alien, amorphous scenery – dreamed up by the one and only Roger Dean – that surrounded Yes at Tsongas, a joyous occasion highlighted by Anderson unabashedly running out into the crowd to belt out a stirring rendition of "Rhythm of Love" that's a veritable flood of silvery synthesizers, harmonized vocals, bubbling bass and sonic exuberance bursting forth.

Shooting the band from a variety of angles and smoothly pulling in tight for unobtrusive close-ups, the camera work is well-organized and clever, capturing the chameleon-like complexity and power of Yes as a whole and allowing individuals to shine on their own. Rick Wakeman's piano practically dances during his solo turn on "The Meeting," and Steve Howe deftly works out "Second Initial," his chance to go it alone, as Howe jumps between country, folk and rock genres like a world-class gymnast throughout, with Anderson's ageless vocal panache, Alan White's drumming is on point and Chris Squire's bass rambles on with precision and grace.

And Yes does justice to its legacy of innovative musicianship and compositional intrigue, gracefully navigating all the enigmatic time changes, unfolding drama, expansiveness and shifting melodic pathways of favorites such as "Your Move/All Good People," "Going for the One," "Starship Trooper," "And You And I" and a stunning version of "South Side of the Sky" – among others – with skillful finesse, a magical imagination and warm emotion.

Making the Tsongas performance even more special is a seven-song acoustic segment, where the quintet gathers in a close sitting, joking and smiling as they dive into winsome, charming readings of "Long Distance Runaround," "Owner of a Lonely Heart," "Time Is Time" and "Wondrous Stories" with the easy nature of old friends in the throes of strong drink and nostalgia. Even the shuffling blues treatment they give to "Roundabout" steps lively, and when a laughing Anderson proclaims he can't remember the words to "This Is Time," the gentle ribbing he gets from his comrades is delivered with good humor.

Out in the wet streets of Lugano, Yes runs through a condensed version of the Tsongas set, their energetic treatments of "Long Distance Runaround," "Roundabout," "Owner of a Lonely Heart" and a rollicking "Going For the One" ringing out in the rain. Shot in a more basic fashion, the show, nonetheless, is just as transcendent as Tsongas, if a bit shorter in duration. For Yes fans, it doesn't get much better than this.
– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Oliva – Raise the Curtain

CD Review: Oliva – Raise the Curtain

AFM Records

All Access Rating: A-

Oliva - Raise the Curtain 2013

Jon Oliva makes a grand entrance on Raise the Curtain. Out of the shadowy wings of the stage he steps, drinking in the triumphant, twirling synthesizers and well-sculpted guitar lines of a grandiose title track that could introduce royalty at some gala event. 

In a voice as radiant and angelic as Jon Anderson’s, the Savatage co-founder and vocal wizard demands the crushed velvet drapes be pulled aside so the drama can begin. Somebody’s been listening to Yes, the Rick Wakeman era in particular.

Oliva’s solo debut, Raise the Curtain is a great experiment, a wildly diverse progressive-metal epic that combines all of Oliva’s musical tastes in one extravagant movable feast, where the keyboards are as prominent as guitars and Oliva's theatrical indulgences are properly sated. On the menu is a generous helping of ‘70s prog, heaving surges of power metal and flourishes of jazz – the colorful and ebullient “Ten Years,” with its full-throated horns, being most reminiscent of the Broadway-style arrangements found on Savatage’s transformative fifth album Gutter Ballet.

Some of the most compelling material on Raise the Curtain also happens to be the heaviest stuff, such as “Soul Chaser” and “Big Brother.” The bass lines in both are remarkably strong and thick, circling around and around with sinister intent as driving guitar grooves push the action forward. An evil carnival of apocalyptic images, doom-laden sounds and crazily spinning instrumentation, “Armageddon” is by turns majestic and hellish, but “Soldier” is an affecting, melodic ballad, fleshed out with heartrending flute and piano, that sympathizes with a warrior finding it difficult to return to normal life. “Can’t Get Away” is similarly cast, but a little bluesy and more wistful, a modest cut with subtle charms.

Delighting in subverting audiences’ expectations with completely unexpected twists and turns, Oliva and crew – including Jon Oliva’s Pain drummer Chris Kinder – pull off a bait-and-switch on “Stalker,” as the mellifluous intro gives way to thorny, menacing verses that hack their way through incredibly intricate guitar work. And it continues to go off into different directions, once again becoming a wonderful flow of keyboards and six-string magic. Somewhat more Gothic, “The Witch” embarks in a similar journey, going down strange and wonderful paths and then running off into dense sonic thickets before emerging in bright, expansive clearings.

Composed and created with the help of friend Dan Fasciano and born of his still lingering sadness over the death of Jon Oliva’s Pain guitarist Matt LaPorte in 2011, Raise the Curtain also purges the vault of Criss Oliva’s final writings. Although it comes off as unnecessarily fussy and overblown on occasion, the album’s sheer bombast is awe-inspiring, even brilliant. Amid the prog pageantry are powerhouse riffs and forceful, evocative vocals that ground these shape-shifting works. Take a bow, Jon Oliva.http://www.afm-records.de/

– Peter Lindblad

CD Review: Kamelot - Silverthorn

CD Review: Kamelot - Silverthorn

Steamhammer/SPV

All Access Review: A-

Kamelot - Silverthorn 2012

Before taking his last breath in the classic film “Citizen Kane,” ambitious publishing magnate Charles Foster Kane enigmatically whispers, “Rosebud,” and a newsreel reporter spends the rest of the movie trying to figure out just what the devil he meant by that dying utterance. Power-metal observers may find the title of Kamelot’s latest magnum opus, Silverthorn, to be just as perplexing, because guitarist/composer Thomas Youngblood, essentially the director of this extravagant production, is being rather cryptic about its significance, leaving it to the listener to decipher it on his or her own.

A sweeping epic, as only Kamelot and Youngblood, in particular, can stage, Silverthorn weaves a haunting tale of lost innocence, heart-rending tragedy, guilty consciences, and troubling family secrets around a young girl’s death and her twin brothers’ search for resolution and salvation. Befitting the poignancy and the dramatic tenor of the story, not to mention the deeply conflicted morality and humanity of its characters, Youngblood has composed a tour de force of jaw-dropping, melodic metal grandeur that's just as awe-inspiring as the cinematic scope of Nightwish's most majestic creations, if somewhat less wintry. Meticulously sequenced so that each piece is logically and inextricably bound to the next, with new singer Tommy Karevik interpreting with clarity and stunning expression the reflective moods, emotional turmoil and thrilling action of the engrossing lyrical narrative, the expansive and mysterious Silverthorn explores progressive sonic labyrinths with childlike wonder and endures full-on invasions of classical bombast, glorious choral outbursts and churning gothic metal riffage. Out via Steamhammer/SPV, and packaged in a limited-edition box set, a doubleg gatefold LP, or the Ecolbook normal version, there's nothing subtle about Silverthorn.

In “Manus Dei,” which serves as a sort of prologue to Silverthorn, there is unease and fear in the smartly executed piano figures, that sense of impending doom enhanced by the enveloping darkness of urgent, sharp vocal violence and cutting strings. Out of the blackness, the pulse-pounding “Sacrimony (Angel of the Afterlife),” emerges, caught up in a swirling vortex of symphonic flourishes and surging guitars and breathlessly racing headlong into the heavy, pendulum swing of the more menacing “Ashes to Ashes.” Among the most impactful tracks on Silverthorn, “Torn” is fraught with tension and its release is cathartic. Immense walls of sound that they are, the title track, “Veritas” and “My Confession” are similarly cast, although the down-and-dirty, serpentine grooves that hold the grinding “Veritas” in their death grip fill a need for some much needed low-end thickness and grit – something Silverthorn otherwise lacks.

Completely over the top, even to the point where it might be wise of Kamelot to scale back on the full-blown orchestration and avoid burying the character of their songs in such lush instrumentation, the multi-layered Silverthorn is, nevertheless, a grandiose monument to Youngblood’s exacting standards with regard to arrangements, sonic quality and musicianship that dazzles. When experienced as a whole, Silverthorn’s overflowing melodies, beastly metal riffs, compelling storyline and the Rick Wakeman-like keyboard excursions from Oliver Palotai make it a fantastical sonic journey with many magnificent peaks and lovely valleys – one being the beautifully rendered “Song for Jolee,” a soft, sad little ode held together with the rather fragile thread of pretty piano and Karevik’s tender vocal treatment. An exception, rather than the rule, “Song of Jolee” is practically the antithesis of “Prodigal Son,” its swells of church organ contrasting with carefully plotted acoustic guitar surrounded by heady rushes of sound. Such is the way with Kamelot, these Floridians who seem more European than anything else. If not quite as volcanic or malevolent as the last couple of Kamelot records, Silverthorn somehow still manages to rise majestically above them, its melodies bigger than life. Now, if only Youngblood would just tell us what Silverthorn means.

-            Peter Lindblad