Fourth release by this dynamic duo of Kenny Bissett and Patric Farrell, both proficient multi-instrumentalists, and am awfully glad I have all their previous ones in my collection. I particularly was impressed with the previous “2084:Heretic” released in 2023. Though an American outfit from Texas, their sound is more inclined to a more Euro prog sound, which proves only that our beloved genre has no sense of border or passport control. We stay in the year 2084, maintain the 100-year legacy of Orwell’s seminal treatise on the future of mankind, a clear and vibrant depiction of what retro-futuristic means: nothing really changes except for the ever-evolving technology, relying on both its good and evil intentions. The addition of keyboardist Pete Fithian and some mysterious dude on drums called Lalo (as opposed to Lola) rounds out the crew. Nearly 90 minutes of penetrating and ultramodern exploration that should go down like an act of revolutionary rebellion against the current ‘musical’ tides. The lyrics here will play a primary role in determining the core value of this work., so pay attention! Or else….
CD 1 : Starlessly black and somberly saturated in mellotron escarpments, “2084” establishes a 22nd century schizophrenic world, where rasping guitars gasp, a brawny bass splintering spasmodically and as one-two a bashing any drum kit could handle. “One by one, one by one, we lose our freedoms “ is not only a rather grim outlook, but it may also be a razor blade shaving away from reality. Sadly, it’s not even dependent on one side or the other, but rather those who sit in the corporate loges, sipping from their diamond-encrusted titanium chalices, enjoying the carnage and wondering whether to eventually signal thumbs up or down.
To the point, “Propaganda” are stories that are told, boldly referencing the who, what , where and when but hiding the why. Clever, and this time willing and well-paid Winston Smiths manipulating the edit, crop and delete buttons at will, leisurely slicing, dicing and flushing any hint of truth. Feed the billions of shallow minds, who can barely read or write anymore and supply them with 3-5 second bursts of mind warping illusions. Information now replaced by simply adding a choice of prefixes such as dis- and mis- (not to be confused with diss the miss), the Moscow poutine slurping his cheesed gravy with glee.
“The Empire State” keeps the pedal on the metal (its all very plastic you know) losing control over a multitude of lies, creating endless chaos with a tissue of lies, where even the starving flies hesitate to visit. Musically, the brakes have not been even tapped once, as the bullet train of thought ventures further down the tunnel of doom, the pounding pace relentless and harried, a scorched earth assault on the senses.
As a release, we get to dive into the aquatic abyss that is “Subterranean”, swimming in the wide expanse of water instead of inland manure, nowhere to charge the phone, verify the wifi coverage or find more time for added insomnia. A salutary escape to hide in the inscrutable deep where the octopus rules, admiring the freedom that mankind cannot provide. The arcane mellotron plays the effervescent liberation most perfectly.
Back on shore, like fish out of the water, “Airstrip One” is the epic 11 and a half adventure that exchanges the previous grim reaper noise in order to favour a more electronic echo, a mass neo-Orwellian oath ‘We give our lives to Oceania’ that conjures rather stark reminder of that seminal work and its warnings. All forms of dictatorial behaviour can be easily manipulated as survival of the fittest after all, especially when the media has sold its soul to the devil. This track is one of the finest prog treatises yet, a look into the future without any AI interference needed, its as plain as flowing water (An Oceania specialty, after all). Farrell’s bass forceful athleticism is astonishing, while Bissett decorates the entire arrangement with apocalyptic clouds of radioactive concentration.
In an increasingly black and white world, forcefully polarized to adhere to the ‘us and them’ credo, “Zealot” is as ugly a word one could possibly come up with in 2026, an increasingly hooligan-led mob of billionaire politicians recognizing that left-wing fascists and right-wing Maoists need each other to fill the ring. The idea of a gentle, civilized, fair and honest third option is totally unacceptable to the extremes, determined to silence the vast middle-of the road majority into abject choosing sides or facing the consequences of surrender. Incredible progress…Orwell fully understood both sides at the time.
“The Brotherhood” closes the first chapter on a kinder note, one of determined hope of eternal light, perhaps one of resurrection of peaceful coexistence, where courtesy , manners, critical thinking and respectful dialogue. Fewer and fewer people read, content only on following , liking and subscribing to whatever sounds good enough to make them feel better about themselves. Our vocabulary in the last 50 years has tumbled to the nadir of subjugation, a society riddled with torrents of opinion, gaslighting, innuendo and out right blasphemy.
CD 2: Like the grotesque realm depicted by George Orwell, “Oceania” is a surrealistically sized 25 minute and change colossus that pulls no punches, exploring the famed chronicle of a futuristic world that has already burgeoned in many places around the world, only a step away from an inferno from which there may be no recourse. Musically, the expansive palette gives Bissett and Farrell the opportunity to really stretch out their craft, forging the much-needed desire to leave nothing to chance, to eschew any overt simplification, and forcing the listener to…listen! The extended electronic steamroller daubs wide swaths of swarming mellotrons, sibilant synthesizers and vituperative fretboards all over the arrangement, leaving nothing to chance. The silken moments clash unexpectedly with the opening CD, a contemplative sonic essay on creating dense symphonics with a strong rhythmic engine. Bissett sings convincingly, the words clearly expressed and delivered with sombre reality. Tackling the limits of patience with mankind’s folly and the propensity for continuous control from whatever source is showcased as it should. Their can be no privacy with a computer, a cellphone or a credit card. The biggest lie we are fed is confidentiality, what a crock of poo. The difference between private lives but private lies is just a V, like in Victory. Welcome to the Ministry of Love (aka Law and Order), hail to the Ministry of Truth (aka Propaganda), greetings to the Ministry of Peace (perpetual conflict and control) and of course, the current material palace of good fortune, the Ministry of Plenty (making already debt-ridden people even more subservient) .
With a distant tinge of Robert Calvert-era Hawkwind, the punkish “Permanent War “ provides the incredibly insane notion that modern war can last for many years, which militarily speaking makes no sense at all, unless it is meant to keep elected people in power, regardless. Farell does a wonderful Lemmy like ride on his bass guitar, mellotron blasts and relentless pounding notwithstanding. I am reminded of this Serbian proverb : “In war, politicians give ammunition, the rich give food, and the poor give their children. When the war is over, politicians shake hands, the rich raise food prices, and the poor look for the graves of their children”.
Thankfully, this magnificent opus closes on some kind of dignified scream for salvation, “The National Anthem” proclaiming that the people can and freely choose who they are governed by, a paradise where justice and freedom will forever prevail. Strange though that there is only one country that actually requires its citizens to decide their collective outcome. Only one,.. only one …only one.
Needless to say, the music here has inspired this writer to scour the inner workings on my beliefs and that alone is praise , worthy of the highest honor. What should we believe : what we are told or what we are seeing? Pretty much encapsulates not only this revealing album, but also my entire 50-year sideline career as a language analyst, specializing in disinformation specifically. Thank you BFTF .
5 small brothers