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Post by Mr. Atari on Feb 2, 2012 12:36:26 GMT -5
6. Peacemaker Die
This song wraps up the first side of the album, and it's another doozy. The theme of this one is how whenever someone comes out preaching peace and unity, they get killed. It's mostly about MLK, but the implications are far-reaching. What's particularly effective is that it's written from the point of view of an assassin, or at least a critic of the MLKs of the world. What's even more particularly effective (more particularly?) is how they worked in the audio of MLK's "I have a dream" speech at the end. Another great, great song.
The Music: When I listen to this album as a whole, I get caught up in the flow. Going through it song by song like this, I'm flabbergasted at how incredible the riffs are. One after another, they keep coming at you. For each song so far, I could just write, "The riff is amazing and the harmonies are incredible", and that would just about cover it.
One of my favorite songwriting tricks is the moving seventh, going down chromatically. The way they do it here in the chorus in the harmonies and guitars to create contrary motion under the melody gives me goose pimples. Nuno writes chord progressions that make for great, memorable songs. But he doesn't just write chord progressions-- he writes symphonic melodies over the chords that carry the piece to a different level, and yet his noodling never gets in the way of the song. It's an incredible balance, especially on this album. For proof, just listen to the instrumental break on this song (it starts around the 3:10 mark)
The Lyrics: This song bookends the set that started with "Warheads" and brings the focus back to peace and war. Again, they use a Biblical allusion to drive home their point by twisting the famous line from Jesus' sermon on the mount, "Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called sons of God" into "Blessed are the warmongers for they shall be called man-made gods." It perfectly encapsulates the attitudes of the bigots and those so aggressively resistant to the non-violence of Jesus, Gandhi, MLK, and others who were killed for their teachings. In "Rest in Peace", Extreme pointed out the flaws in overly-simplistic, jargonistic peaceniks. Here, they point out that the people who understand the true depths of peacemaking will always get resistance, often to the ultimate end.
Favorite Moment: I haven't credited Gary Cherone's vocals that much yet, but he really deserves credit as a top-notch singer. He has a voice that really soars without sounding strained. There are great moments throughout this song, but I really like how Cherone riffs over the chorus at the end.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 1, 2012 0:22:34 GMT -5
7. Seven Sundays
Act II of the musical starts here, and it is what second acts are supposed to be-- dark, conflicted, and tense. Musically, the gears have shifted away from the driving, guitar-heavy power metal and into sparse, keyboard-oriented, reflective ballads. Thematically, Act I was subtitled "Yours" and looked at the prevailing worldviews that lead to violence, racism, and selfishness. Act II is subtitled, "Mine" and deals with personal desperation, fears, and doubts regarding the big metaphysical questions of life. Once again, this is not cheesy hair-metal or cheap rock & roll schlock. This is akin to the philosophical digging of the great novelists and poets. This is opera.
The Music: At first blush, this song might contradict my last 3 sentences. It has a cheesy groove (what I've always called "6/8 Couple's Skate"*) and some pretty bad early '90s keyboard and drum sounds. But the progression makes great use of minor chords and moving thirds and the wall of harmonies is incredible. Throw in some sweet bass moves, and the whole is definitely greater than the sum of its parts. For a long time, I thought this was the weak link on the album because I thought of it as a lazy attempt to follow-up on "More Than Words". Then one day, I listened to it without that pre-conception and realized that it sounded a heck of a lot like Pet Sounds-era Beach Boys. The harmonies are definitely channeling the amazing arrangements of Brian Wilson.
(* 6/8 is my favorite time signature to play in, but it's important to find the right groove. It's very easy to slip into a waltzy, flowy, "couple's skate" groove if you're not careful.)
The Lyrics: "Seven Sundays" has the simplest lyrics on the album. It's an easy-going love song that's not all that deep or impressive. But it's a little ambiguous about who the subject of the song is. In the context of the album and especially the next few songs, it would seem to be about God. "If I had one wish, it wouldn't be hard to choose. Seven Sundays in a row, 'cause that's the day that I spend with you." Taken on it's own, if it is about God, it's kinda lame. However, the lyrical reflections about God that are coming up on the album more than make up for any lameness here. In the end, I choose to think it's just a dumb love song to some girl. That way, I don't worry about it.
Favorite Moment: My favorite moment is Cherone's riffing over the last chorus (starting at 3:09). He puts his best Freddy Mercury on over the Beach Boys harmonies, culminating in a soaring finish at 3:50.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 1, 2012 1:09:12 GMT -5
8. Tragic Comic
Act II continues with a lighthearted tale of personal insecurity and romance. "Seven Sundays" and this song are a nice breather and respite from the depths of the rest of the album, and it helps the flow nicely. This one is just fun.
The Music: This song is acoustic all the way. The arrangement is exceptionally simple, creating a sonic quality that has a lot of room to breathe. It's a wonderful balance to what's come before and what's coming next. Pat Badger plays a Hofner bass, and Nuno is on acoustic throughout. The main riff isn't as complicated as earlier riffs, but it's just as effective and keeps the song out of "hair metal ballad" territory. Simple, simple, simple, but a lot of fun.
The Lyrics: The lyrics are humorously humble and sincere. They tell the story of an inept romeo trying to impress a girl. The joke is on the singer, and he cheerfully admits his shortcomings. He's such a loser that at one point, the backup vocals even correct his grammar. "When we dance, my lead it ain't so graceful ("Isn't so, not ain't so")". Very clever. The sincerity and foolhardiness here is a perfect counterpoint to the earlier "Cupid's Dead", which was all about treating romance with bitterness and ironic detachment. Honest insecurity is always better than ironic detachment.
Favorite Moment: Aside from the great bgv grammar lesson, my favorite moment is coming out of the bridge and into the last chorus. There is a lone electric guitar accent (at 3:37) that sounds like Brian May meets Duane Allman for 8 seconds. It's perfect.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 1, 2012 14:16:01 GMT -5
9. Our Father
After an ambiguous love song, we get an ambiguous lament. It ratchets up the intensity in music and theme, beginning the move into deep thoughts and emotional catharsis.
The Music: This has a nice fade in with a phase delay guitar and solo vocals. The groove kicks in halfway through the verse and gives the song a nice drive. This is the most electric song of Act II, and it works to transition between the lightness of the previous 2 songs and the darkness of the next 3. At the beginning, the song is reminiscent of some vintage Queen tracks, most notably "I Want To Break Free". As the song picks up steam, it starts to resemble a good Hagar-era Van Halen track (especially around the guitar solo). Since I love Queen & Hagar-era Van Halen, this is a winning track for me.
The Lyrics: The lyrics are a child's cry to an absentee father. Taken on its own, it's a powerfully sad song about having to grow up without a dad, something way too many people have to face. In the context of the album, it's also a plea to God not to disappear from human interaction and aid. If there is a God, where is he when we need him most? Why isn't he more involved (seemingly) in preventing human tragedies? Has he left us to our own devices in our development? Is God an absentee father? I think this song strikes to the very heart of the human condition, and I don't know anybody who hasn't thought these thoughts.
Favorite Moment: Nuno has some great background noodling on this one, but my favorite moments are the syncopated kicks in the chorus between the lyrics. You'll understand when you hear them.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 1, 2012 16:52:29 GMT -5
10. Stop the World
Despair comes in a lot of colors. Most people experience it during times of individual tragedy and anxiety. At those times, it's just magnified self-pity, and the weight of personal issues turns into despair. But there's another kind of despair that comes from bigger issues outside of one's self. It comes when you look around at the state of the world, and the chaos of and cruelty of humanity, and experience a true grief about the past, present, and future of mankind. This is the despair that leads to religion. Or atheism. Or hedonism. Or existentialism. Or all of the above.
"Our Father" introduced the question of life on this planet without God's presence. The next three songs develop that idea even further. "Stop the World" is the response to the idea of a God-less world, where we are all left with our own subjective views of how to live in peace. What if Dawkins got to live out his wet dream and the entire civilization of the earth was entirely secular? Would that really be a good thing? Or are selfishness and greed endemic to the human condition independent of religion?
The Music: There's a timeless rock & roll quality to this song that would still impress me if it came out last year. It's a nice plodding 4/4 groove that's too fast to be a ballad, but too slow to be a hit. But it's the perfect feel for an emotional song like this. There's some great orchestration with the strings and a sweet bass solo. There's even a great moment when a cheap 1980s Casio drum loop comes in halfway through yet another perfect guitar solo.
The Lyrics: I think this is the best song of Act II. These lyrics express my emotions more than just about any song ever. "All the world's a masquerade made up fools and philosophers. Were it to rain on our charade, [it] washes away except the true colors. If any people bother looking for truth...instead we choose to follow footsteps of fools." The lyrics borrow from King Solomon & the book of Ecclesiastes ("There's nothing new under the sun for me and you") and from Jesus ("Do unto those as you would do to yourself, please..."). In short, human history has repeatedly proven for millennia that we're all too selfish and too hypocritical to make this world work on our own strength and faux-wisdom. If that's all we have to hope for, then stop the world, I wanna get off.
Favorite Moment: The bass solo ends with some lovely dissonance that is emphasized in the violins. The guitar and drums build from that into a wonderful climax of increasing tension until Cherone shouts "STOP!" There's 4 seconds of silence, and then...resolution on the root chord. Musical composition that perfectly matches the emotional lyrics. That's art, baby.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 3, 2012 15:50:59 GMT -5
11. God Isn't Dead?
When I was growing up in Chicago, I went to a lot of musicals. I saw Phantom, Miss Saigon, Les Miserables, and the annual Nutcracker tradition at McCormick Place. I married a woman with a music degree, and we used to go on dates to Orchestra Hall downtown and see symphonies and soloists perform. Whether it's Mozart or that hack Lloyd Webber, every good middle act has a heart-rending aria, usually in a minor key, that's a performance piece for the singer and a dark place for the libretto.
The last two songs of Act II on this album follow that pattern perfectly. The singer has looked at the failed worldviews around him, struggled with his own inner fears and insecurities, and finally cries out a last prayer of desperation. This song is the first half of that cry; it's a plea to the world looking for hope that Nietzche was wrong.
The Music: When I listen to this song, I imagine a performer on a naked stage with a lone light following him as he paces and pleads with the audience. The song starts with a falsetto vocal over simple piano chords and some cello accents. It then abruptly shifts into a haunting minor melody where the vocals almost whisper the theme. The intensity builds and the orchestra enters and the frickin' roof gets blown off by the power of the passionate vocals. It then fades down and ends on a perfect chord with sustaining strings. A beautiful song with an amazing arrangement.
The Lyrics: It's easy to get into a philosophical debate about Neitzche's ideas or atheism vs. theism, and go for days dealing with all of the epistemological and sociological implications. Extreme isn't interested in all of that. This story is about the emotional implications of the ideas. Again, this is what makes great literature or great opera or great poetry; not just dealing with the ideas themselves, but grappling with what those ideas mean at the deepest level of our humanity. The first line is a quote from "Elenor Rigby", and it's a fitting allusion, as the song hits similar thematic resonance.
Favorite Moment: The orchestration, especially during the crescendo towards the end.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 3, 2012 16:25:58 GMT -5
12. Don't Leave Me Alone
This song is the second half of the singer's cry. While "God Isn't Dead?" was a plea to the world for assurance, this song is a plea to God (who might not be dead) not to abandon him. In the flow of the story, this song concludes Act II and transitions into the final act by turning the story in upon the singer. He's now starting to feel his own culpability in the brokenness of the world he sees. And he wonders if it's his own sin that has caused the distance between himself and God.
Unbelievably, this song was omitted from the CD version for time constraints. When one looks at the album in its entirety, it's baffling why this would be the song that got cut. ("Color Me Blind" or "Tragic Comic" would have made far more sense.) It's such a central piece to the theme and the flow of the album. Nuno said that leaving it out "was like cutting off my arm." Even more unbelievably, it's still omitted from the album's digital download versions on Amazon and iTunes. It's presented here where it belongs because here is where it belongs.
The Music: Musically, it starts right where "God Isn't Dead?" left off, with a single-track vocal against a piano accompaniment. It sounds like they kept Cherone's first vocal take, warts and all, and the song is better for it. It's emotional and real, not too slick and over-produced. The drums kick in on the chorus with a stumbling and stiff groove that is unsettling to my ears, but also works because of the theme of brokenness and disorientation. Instead of a soaring guitar solo, we get a synth solo that's straight out of late '70s Genesis or Styx. It's so odd considering the rest of the album's sound and style, but I love it for its oddness.
The Lyrics: It's hard to criticize someone's personal lament. That's what this song is, and while cynics might find it cliched, I absolutely love it. The words come from a real place, and Cherone sings them like that. "Don't leave me on my own. I'm so afraid. Why can't you stay?" There's something beautiful about brokenness, something so dramatic about finally breaking down the resistance and saying, "I need you." "Doing the things I should have known, only to reap what I have sown...how long will my song be wrong?" Most people don't realize that many of the Psalms in the Old Testament are angry or sad laments, not simplistic praises. A huge part of the religious experience is wrestling with God, not just blind acceptance. Songs like this one illustrate that wonderfully.
Favorite Moment: Well, there's the synth solo that makes the Genesis fan in me happy, but I also love the "marching band" drums that come in after the solo. It feels like the song finally gains momentum after such a stiff groove.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Mar 29, 2012 14:36:09 GMT -5
13-15. Everything Under the Sun (in 3 parts)
I've been reticent to finish this annotated review because I simply can't find the words to describe this final piece. There's no way to communicate my thoughts without sounding like an irrational or emotional freak. But I promise you I'm quite sane, still as snarky and snobbish as ever, and completely able to laugh at myself. With that caveat, here goes...
I know people who cry when they listen to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony or Mozart's Requiem, just at the mere beauty and power of the music. I've seen people weep when certain Bible verses are read because the words so perfectly encapsulate what they are feeling spiritually in that moment. This piece of music makes me cry every time I hear it for both of those reasons. It is perhaps my favorite 20 minutes of music ever written. I identify with the lyrics and I'm overcome by the music. For me, every listen is cathartic and true.
The piece is divided into 3 sections ("Rise N' Shine", "Am I Ever Gonna Change", and "Who Cares?"). The musical themes of each are interwoven into the others. The ebb and flow of musical intensity is perfectly executed, as is the incredible orchestration. The lyrics are written and sung with sincere, visceral passion.
Taken on its own, this is a masterpiece. But its genius is magnified in that it is merely the conclusion to an already amazing concept album. It's like if The Who decided, after writing the rest of Tommy, to close it out with side 2 of Abbey Road. Or if Pink Floyd decided at the end of The Wall to wrap it up with Bohemian Rhapsody. That is, if those finales also impeccably wrapped up the theme of those albums, as well.
This is Act III of the opera and it functions (like all good third acts) to resolve the conflict, bring resolution, and provide a powerful release for the audience. I'm going to go through each song/movement, but in general, it finally seeks to answer the question about what's wrong with the world and if it can be fixed. Is God dead? Why can't we find peace? It moves beyond the anger of Act I and the introspection of Act II and into an attempt at cohesion and solution. Frankly, the whole thing should have collapsed under its own audacity. But it absolutely works because of 1) the unbelievable musical acumen and 2) the humble tone of the lyrics.
Don't believe me? Turn down the lights, put on some headphones, and give it a listen:
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Post by Mr. Atari on Apr 14, 2012 15:15:36 GMT -5
13. Rise 'n ShineWhen we last left the story, the singer was in desperation about life, the universe, and everything. He feared that God was either dead or had abandoned him, and despair overwhelmed him. "Rise 'N Shine" is the pivot song of the album, and moves the grand finale into hopeful territory. It opens with a music box, playing a pretty melody (that establishes the main musical theme of the upcoming "Who Cares?"). It dramatically shifts from the direness of Act II and brings an optimism both in the lyrics and in the major-key orchestration. It also lays the groundwork for the other two songs in the finale, drawing the listener into honest, but hopeful introspection and answers. The Music:After the music box intro, the song fades in nicely with acoustic guitar, simple stick-click drums, and voice. It sounds like the first few moments of a new, sunny day. Gradually, the arrangement grows and the 76-piece orchestra works its way in, bringing drama and majesty to the proceedings. Nuno did all of the composing for the orchestra, and it's as good as any movie composer working today and far better than any rock guitarist has ever done. The flutes sound like birds, the contrary motion in the violins swirl around the guitar, and the low end strings give great power to the choruses. Instead of a traditional bridge, there is a quiet break where the music goes back to solo acoustic guitar, played with a straight quarter note rhythm that builds and builds. Eventually, the cellos come in with a riff underneath, feed into the drum kicks and violin runs, and finally back into the majestic chorus. It's really stunning. In my previous post, I compared this 3-song finale to the second side of Abbey Road. This is especially true on this song in how the main musical idea works with the bridge and the orchestration. Like they mashed up two great songs into one that feeds itself coming and going. George Martin would be proud. The Lyrics:The lyrics here are loaded with Biblical allusions, but still strongly support the narrative of the album. It starts with the idea of a new day and new hope. But it also includes a criticism of the anti-God sentiment expressed in Act II. The pre-chorus quotes Jesus from Luke 12, when he points out to the people that while they can recognize weather patterns and predict atmospheric events, they refuse to recognize the winds of spiritual movement and fail to interpret the signs of the times because of their hard-heartedness. In the second verse, there is an allusion to the Old Testament prophet Daniel (you know, the one with the lion's den). The story goes that Daniel interpreted a dream of King Nebuchadnezzar's, where he saw a statue with gold on the top, then silver, then bronze in the middle, and then iron, but with feet of clay. Daniel gave a specific interpretation of future kingdoms and Nebuchadnezzar's successors, but the general idea is that Nebuchadnezzar wasn't as strong/smart/powerful as he thought he was. A statue is only as strong as its foundations, and standing on sand is where arrogant humans often find themselves. Recurring throughout the song is the phrase "Everything's under the sun", a refrain from the book of Ecclesiastes, written by King Solomon at the end of his life. Solomon had gained everything possible for a human to gain and concluded in the end that it was all vanity. To everything there is a season - a time for being born, a time for dying, a time for peace, and a time for war. It doesn't explain the reason for suffering, but it provides an honest assessment of the patterns of human existence and at the very least says that while we as humans might not get our answers, trying to force answers or put ourselves in the place of God to judge him will always lead to the wrong answers. See also the Byrds' "Turn, Turn, Turn" or Kansas's "Dust in the Wind", dude. All of these allusions seem to tell the tale that there is hope, but it isn't to be found in nihilism or humanism. It would seem that there is a new day coming when all will be put to right, but until then, we live out the seasons of our existence. It doesn't answer all the questions, but it does put us in a better framework for the asking. Favorite Moment:I don't know if I can pick just one, as the greatness of this song lies in how it grows into the next two. I like the harp sweeps, the flute & oboe highlights, the cello lines, and the moving bass line. But probably my favorite part of the song is that, as a Bible scholar, I love that it references so many obscure passages (and references them correctly) and then synthesizes them into such a powerful lyrical theme.
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Post by Mr. Atari on May 23, 2012 15:33:23 GMT -5
14. Am I Ever Gonna Change?
After the hopeful beginnings of "Rise 'n' Shine", the grand finale shifts into its second act, the introspective and cathartically honest, "Am I Ever Gonna Change?" It's one of my favorite songs ever, due in large part to its lyrical theme, which too often reflects my own feelings. In answering the questions raised earlier in the libretto, the song goes to a psychological and spiritual depth that too many people are too scared to go. In fact, in my 17+ year career of working with people, it might be the #1 counseling issue I run into, again and again. Namely, the ability (or inability) to own one's own crap. It's always someone else's fault. I don't have to take responsibility or face the consequences of my choices. Unfortunately, that way of life leads to nothing but pain. Playing the victim card is a cheat and "But-I-Want-To-ism" is a fast path to a rotten life.
This song continues the optimism of the finale, but it's optimism is found in its honesty and humility. It's a wonderfully paced B-section to the 3-song medley, and provides a nice continuation to the idea of "a new day is coming" from part 1.
The Music: The song starts with some beautiful bounce-back delay of a chucka-chucka guitar line. Four-on-the-floor kick drum gives it the slow drive it needs to build and build. The song makes great use of empty space and quiet moments throughout. Again, the orchestration and strings really build the majesty that marks the finale medley. I've said it a lot in these reviews, but this song really sounds like something Queen would have done on their later albums. During the section in Latin (see below) we get some vintage, classically influenced, intensity-building arpeggios from Nuno that end with some amazing licks before heading back into the final chorus.
The Lyrics: In 1908, The London Times ran a write-in op-ed with the question, "What's wrong with the world?" G. K. Chesterton wrote in with a response, "Dear sirs, I am. Sincerely yours, GKC" In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus famously taught, "Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?"
What I love in this song is that Extreme isn't afraid to do some real soul-searching and self-admission. This isn't self-pity or faux-humility. It's an honest frustration at the inability to live with integrity or make lasting change. "I'm tired of being me and I don't like what I see. I'm not who I appear to be." I don't know anyone who hasn't thought these thoughts.
"I say one thing then I do another, it's the same old song that goes on forever." This, I believe, is the human condition. We just don't want to be honest about it. When I tell people what I do for a living, they often say, "I don't go to church. It's full of hypocrites." My answer is always the same, "Oh, we're not full. There's room for you."
It's not only Christianity that promotes confession as a healthy discipline. Most world religions and even secular spirituality understand the breakthroughs that can happen in the psyche when we process through our weaknesses and brokenness. Catholicism is the most famous for it, though, and this song reaches its most powerful moment when a voiceover quotes the Latin text for absolution during the sacrament of confession. "Indulgentiam, absolutionem, et remissionem peccatorum tuorum tribuat tibi omnipotens et misericors Dominus. Amen. Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat: et ego auctoritate ipsìus te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis, suspensionis, et interdicti, in quantum possum, et tu indiges. Deinde ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." In English, "May the almighty and merciful Lord grant you pardon, absolution, and remission of your sins. Amen. May our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you. And I by His authority release you from every bond of excommunication suspension and interdict, in so far as I am empowered and you have need. And now I absolve you from your sins; in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
I'm not Catholic, and I'm not even that interested in the doctrine of those words. But the impact of the sentiment in light of the song and flow of the entire album always brings me to a deep place of reflection and catharsis. It's a great setup for the real payoff that comes in the next (final) song.
Favorite Moment: As I'm sure my comments showed, it's the lyrical theme that I love on this one. It just hits so close to home. When the Latin comes in underneath the building arpeggios, I'm taken to another place.
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Post by Mr. Atari on May 26, 2012 17:40:28 GMT -5
15. Who Cares?
I mentioned before that this final medley of songs makes me cry. That's mostly true. It's this particular song that does it every time. On its own, it's a phenomenal piece of music, with a composition and orchestration that is amazing. In context of this 3-song set, it's a stunning wrap-up, overlapping the medley's musical and lyrical themes in a climactic finale. In context of the entire album, it's the moment when everything shifts from, "Wow, this is a pretty great album" to "Holy crap, this is a frickin' masterpiece."
In "Who Cares?", the debates and questions of the album, from racism to war to media to philosophy get shrunk down to one person having a soul-searching, intimate prayer. He no longer blames the world at large; instead, he sees himself as part of the problem and wonders if anyone else feels like he does. He decides that even if no one else cares, he still wants to make peace for his own soul. And perhaps, through the humble confession of a broken man, he might find the hope that he can't seem to find in the world.
All of this takes place against a sweeping score that takes the listener to just about every emotional place music can take you.
The Music: This song is the perfect alchemy of Queen, the Beatles, and Mozart. It opens with 1:15 of solo piano introducing the musical motif (you heard it before as the tinkling music box at the beginning of "Rise 'N' Shine"). There is some indistinct whispering behind it that adds to the haunting and/or prayer feeling to the proceedings. Then, the strings kick in with a chamber orchestra building a secondary motif until the full orchestra explodes with powerful horns and percussion. This has grand finale written all over it.
Following the bombastic opening, the bottom drops out and we're left with Cherone's voice over simple piano chords. This leads into the chorus, which isn't so much a chorus as it is a dream set to a few notes. I love the chromatic moves in the melody here. The second time through the verse, more instrumentation is added to support Cherone, with flute and french horn accents right out of Mussorgsky or Tchaikovsky.
Suddenly, the song shifts from minor key ballad to a 3/4 waltz, sending the mood into a carnival of emotion that's equal parts chaos and dance. There's 16 bars where Nuno plays a simple melody over plucked nylon string chords. It's stunning. The orchestra comes back in and builds everything up to a shimmering crescendo with Nuno wailing over the top. And then...
"Here I am: a naked man, nothing to hide, with empty hands" is sung over nothing. I've never heard a better use of a capella. Ever. It's like the entire album has been building to this singular moment. Some wind is heard behind his voice, then cellos, then the opening theme is recapitulated. Only this time, the dissonance of the 7th is allowed to sit there, reinforcing the heartbreak, and building tension to a staggering height until...
RESOLUTION! The first major chord of the song hits at the seven minute mark, and it is orgasmic. The release of the tension in the lyrics, the resolution of all of the musical themes, and the sheer majesty of the orchestration is why I lose it every time. It's as triumphant as anything I've ever heard.
But wait, we're not done yet. The choruses of the previous two songs get mashed up over the chords of this one, and the medley laps itself in arrangement and thematic perfection. Until finally, the song winks out of existence and we're left with the music box that started the whole thing. *Whew*
The Lyrics: "Tell me Jesus, are you angry? One more sheep has just gone astray," is the first line here and it signifies the intimacy of the ending. It's a lament for the people who don't care, but it's mostly about his own epiphany regarding what really matters. He's worried that he's missed his opportunities to live right and choose wisely; that he's wasted his existence "Hardening hearts, wandering off, chasing rainbows, and looking for a sign" while "losing sight of the light."
The crowning moment is in the a capella solo where he cries out, "Here I am, a naked man, nothing to hide, with empty hands. Remember me, I am the one, who lost his way, your prodigal son." Is this a moment of repentance? Conversion? I don't know, but it's powerful. And as someone who has prayed that prayer more times than I care to admit, I know the place in the soul from where it comes. The fact that the major key resolution comes right after these lyrics might be my favorite moment of music ever recorded. The denouement that follows, where the lyrics of the previous songs are revisited, completes the journey in the most fulfilling way possible.
Favorite Moment: There's nothing about this song that isn't a favorite moment. But the walk down the scale to the big resolution at the 7:00 mark hits me in a deeper place than just about any art ever made.
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Post by Mr. Atari on May 26, 2012 17:43:33 GMT -5
Thanks to anyone who bothered to read this. I didn't realize how personal this would be for me.
I completely understand that these are extremely subjective opinions about why this album is so significant to me, and therefore I doubt anyone will have the same response. But hopefully, I've been able to explain why I feel this way, even if you don't. And hopefully, that's worth something.
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Post by mummifiedstalin on May 27, 2012 10:58:05 GMT -5
It may sound strange, but I really enjoyed reading your commentaries...even though the music doesn't do it for me. Still, I get the vicarious fun of enjoying you enjoying it. (Isn't that a riff somewhere? "Let's enjoy them enjoying each other.") That sounds bad, but you get the point.
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Post by Mr. Atari on Jun 24, 2012 18:48:09 GMT -5
Time for a bump. A certain band came out with their 19th studio album last week... Clockwork Angels (2012)I'll admit, I was nervous about this album. After the tone, antagonism, and name-calling on Snakes and Arrows, as well as the dull songwriting and go-nowhere instrumentals, I feared that the days of blow-me-away albums from Rush were over. My fears were very misplaced. 40 years after forming, Rush is still blowing fans away, and Clockwork Angels delivers the goods. It's a concept record of a different sort. Neil wrote a steampunk, sci-fi storyline that follows a young man on his quest to find meaning and adventure away from a strictly ordered upbringing. It's a story heavily dependent on Voltaire's Candide, a book I remember really enjoying in college. However, rather than cram the entire narrative into 12 songs, each track is a small scene unto itself. The liner notes help bridge the story gaps between songs effectively. (Sci-Fi writer Kevin J. Anderson has written the full novelization of Neil's story.) The music is tight and aggressive, with little hints of the progressive accents that haven't been seen much since the '70s. For the last few albums, they've written songs by recording jam sessions, then cherry-picking moments they liked and mashing them up into arrangements. It makes for messy songs that aren't very memorable. Sadly, there is some of that here, but there is also a welcome return to hooks and choruses on a few songs. Speaking of the songs... Caravan starts the album off with a killer riff and a fun story about dreaming big. Lyrically, it hearkens back to great songs from Rush's past like "Dreamline" or "Analog Kid". It's a hard-hitting slingshot that carries the listener into the mood and narrative of the album. There's also an awesome instrumental break that proves they are as good as ever, even as old men. This is a very good song. BU2B is another fun riff and probably the heaviest song on the album. It sounds like music from the Counterparts album (back in the grunge era). Neil has referred to this as "the faith-bashing song", and that's a good term for it. In the narrative, the protagonist is expressing his desire to flee from the overbearing oversight of the "watchmaker" who he doubts has his best interests in mind, as he was brought up to believe. Neil is speaking through a character, but the anti-supernatural sentiment is just as thick as ever. Still, it's a fun riff. Clockwork Angels is obviously one of those songs they wrote by piecing together jam session clips. It's the longest song on the album, and the pieces don't fit together very well. There's a fun triplet groove in 4/4 that shifts into a driving 6/8, but the song never really finds its footing. Alex has a nice solo that transitions into a jazzy section that could be fun except for the reverb effect that makes it sound like they're in a tin shack. The angels in question are majestic decorations atop the cathedral in the center of the city the protagonist has always dreamt of seeing. I wish this one was better. The Anarchist is a cool song with colorful chords. It finally includes some punchy bass & drum syncopated accents, a trademark of their late '70s output. In fact, this song would totally have fit on Permanent Waves. There's a fun eastern-sounding scale that provides the melody of the chorus and jam section. The lyrics introduce a friend for the protagonist, the Anarchist, whose influence helps drive him to the decision to break free from his surroundings. This is one of the better songs on the album. Carnies opens with a riff that is the twin brother of "BU2B": ugly, grindy, and awesome. The chorus is very melodic and catchy. This might be the best hook on the album. The story continues with our hero joining a traveling carnival, and getting in real trouble thanks to the Anarchist. By the end of the song, he's on the run for his life. This one makes a killer one-two punch with "The Anarchist" before it. Halo Effect is a slow-groove ballad. Sort of. The song has a decent tempo, and is held together by some thick low-end bass chords and pretty strings. It's a nice melody and not nearly as wimpy as it could have been. The lyrics are all about the pretty girl that got away, 'cause what's a coming-of-age journey-story without a pretty girl that gets away? Seven Cities of Gold features Geddy's at his funky best and Alex at his soaring, noisy best. Then, the riff kicks in. Hoo boy. I'm not sure I like the chord progression, but the riff more than makes up for it. The chorus isn't very impressive, but it's memorable, and the playing on the solo section is as amazing as one would expect. This is another song that sounds like it came from 1993's Counterparts. Neil said he wanted to incorporate the legends of golden cities from the new world explorers into his story. Troy and Rowsdower would be proud. The Wreckers is based on a true tale of nefarious miscreants who would lure ships into jagged reefs, plunder the goods, and leave the sailors to an icy grave. Our hero is the only survivor of such a misfortune, because what's a coming-of-age adventure story without being the only survivor of a shipwreck? It's a catchy, almost poppy song with the rocking simplicity of The Who. The chorus rings with the sentiment that "All I know is that sometimes you have to be wary of a miracle too good to be true. All I know is that sometimes the truth is contrary to everything in life you thought you knew." The idea that what seems good from a distance might lead to your undoing is a good life lesson. The snarky jerk in me wonders if Neil has ever applied that second sentence to his own skepticism, though. Headlong Flight is the best song on the album, by far. It's a blistering riff that cooks from beginning to end. The main verse riff sounds like a variation on "Bastille Day" from 37 years ago. The 9th chord and moving bass in the chorus make my brain hurt. There's a third section to the song that is very anthemic and ripe for head-banging and fist-pumping. Oh yeah, there's also an unbelievable instrumental break that trumps everything they've recorded since "The Big Money" in 1985. But that's not even the best part. The best part is the message of the song's lyrics-- our hero is reminiscing about his adventures and the ups and downs of life and decides that "some days were dark, some nights were bright, I wish that I could live it all again." It wasn't easy, but it was worth it, and you know what? I wish I could live it all again. Neil has said he doesn't personally share those sentiments (and with the hardships he's been through, who can blame him?), but only a band with 40 years of experience can write a song like this and have it resonate this well. BU2B2 is the polar opposite of "Headlong Flight". It's just Geddy's voice and a string arrangement where he sings about how "belief has failed me now, life goes from bad to worse, no philosophy consoles me." It's a real pick-me-up. On the plus side, it's only 1:28. Wish Them Well is an earworm of a hook that is very, very repetitive. It's a catchy album-ender in the grand tradition of their '90s-era closers "You Bet Your Life", "Everyday Glory", and "Carve Away the Stone", except it's not quite the album-ender. It's an empowering number about walking away from those who hurt you without trying to figure everything out or holding pointless grudges. Just wish them well and move on. The Garden. Voltaire's conclusion in Candide is that there might not be a cosmic point to anything, but the meaning of life can be found in "cultivating one's garden" outside of the demands of society. Neil's protagonist comes to the same conclusion and leaves the story with a reflection on "the measure of a life is a measure of love and respect...a garden to nurture and protect." The music is quiet and reflective with strings and acoustic guitars, floating into a soaring electric guitar solo with as much passion as Alex has every played. It's not a perfect song, but it's a fitting finale to an epic album. Rush maybe coming to the end of their run, but they're not limping to the finish line. They don't sound like aging rockers whose best years are long past. They somehow found a way to mix their '70s riff-rock sound with their '90s crunchy songwriting into an amazing album for 2012. Impressive alchemy, that. If this is their final album, and let's hope it's not, it's a great one to go out on. ****1/2
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Post by Mighty Jack on Jun 25, 2012 14:30:01 GMT -5
It may sound strange, but I really enjoyed reading your commentaries...even though the music doesn't do it for me. Still, I get the vicarious fun of enjoying you enjoying it. (Isn't that a riff somewhere? "Let's enjoy them enjoying each other.") That sounds bad, but you get the point. This Plus your so damn articulate about it. I always get the feeling that you know what your talking about and that I get a clear idea of why something is meaningful to you, or impresses you in regards to performance or structure or whatnot. It's makes for an interesting, edifying read.
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