Another artist that will always find safe harbour with the Prog Rogue, is this remarkable composer and fellow Canadian Rick Miller, a deserving iconoclast who forges his own path as he sees fit, unmolested by corporate pressure or any outside critic. These are attributes that I have always deeply admired, and his massive discography holds a special sector in my wall of prog collection (which should soon rival that Chinese one, 😊) with this new arrival being the 15th I get to enjoy! His style is specific to his muse, and he maintains his aural garden like a dedicated professional, exploring constantly within his realm and not seeing the need to explore into new fangled territories, a trait that deserves to be applauded. His talented crew remains the same and consistently delivers quality interventions that show no weakness, all his albums earning very high marks in my book. In fact, Rick is surely among the most consistent and prolific prog stalwarts in the community, and more power to him. If you are in desperate need of listening to a fusion of crypto-psychedelic-Pomeranian polka, with proto-punk inflections and lyrics spewing venom, look away Renée and read no further! Rick offers pure, unadulterated ear candy for mature audiences that enjoy and relish harmonic comfort zones.
Seven mid-size tracks constitute this new phase, for a scenic 50-minute journey into the movie playing in your mind. Are we ready to roll? “Fill the Night” sets the stage with soporific electronics, violin and cello orchestrations that define beauty, flute and oboe weaving the seduction, all wrapped in a stout melody that gets to the point unmolested, finalized by a Barry Haggarty guitar soaring ceremoniously. Panacea. Rick’s silky voice has become such a treat over the years, like a welcome companion, aging like fine wine.
Mateusz Swoboda‘s cello festoons “The Game”, a marathon nearly 10-minute foray into a more substantive composition with a clearly defined premise, finding Kane Miller’s violin swerving amid the various keyboard accoutrements, namely mellotron, church organ and synthesizers and urging the constant ebb and flow into various levels of enchantment.
The dominance of melancholic reflection is the hallmark attribute this artist possesses in spades, and the lovely innocence of “Autumn” cannot fail to impress
The wind instruments also play a pivotal role in Rick Miller’s music and both Sarah Young on flute and oboist Carolina Prada shine on “The King of Men”, a climactic track here that features one Barry’s finest solos, an electric glide up and down the spine, insistent and precise. The keyboards harken back to a time in history where life was constantly faced by challenges, a grandiose exploration of society trying to find its way.
The frightening “Gargoyles” conjures spooky images, where echoing walls of distant choir vie for space between crystalline droplets of sound, Rick’s haunted voice facing the terror head on, on a backdrop of fog-drenched gasps recalling the tortured horror of revolting creatures that instill still can fright in all humans. Evocative, compelling and goosebump worthy, it’s definitely a highpoint moment in Miller’s otherwise celebrated repertoire . The subtle axe solo delivery exudes just the right amount of trembling perspiration required to feel the dread permeating the skin. Where is that darn exorcist when I need him? A wreath of garlic may work in the meantime.
Classic Miller composition on the floating luxuriance of “Time and Again”, a flute fuelled gust of illusional splendour, dreamy guitars clicking the space between where we are now and where we shall be sooner or later. The dense choir backdrop provides the cinematographic canvas to best express the momentary absence of cartesian reality. The whispered voice infuses a wonderment than verges on introspective reflection. Eternity shines forevermore.
On “Overload”, the trusted expanse of the dune-laden sonics reappears subtly on the swooning caravanserai, the stoic palm trees barely effected by the seraglio winds, the flute enchanted all the cobras in your mind, the pulse of dromedaries navigating the sands of time, effortless onwards into the horizon , as the ‘aah-ooh’ choruses egg on the weary travelers. Amazing as per norm, I need an oasis after this, throat parched , mind numbed and heart contented.
Rick Miller is a permanent member of my personal Prog temple, proving over and above his ability to progress immensely within his sphere of expertise, and I am blessed to diligently find existential comfort in his music. I urge fans of escapist discovery to check out his universe; there is never any hint of disappointment. This is his best yet!
5 Sequential Mirages