I guess tomorrow is finally today. After so many decades of brilliant music, Scottish legends and prog pioneers Pallas have reached the pinnacle of their craft. 2023 had already raised the bar with “The Messenger”, a recording that was so enjoyable it verged on preposterous ! When Alan Reed was recently interviewed by yours truly on the Prog Rogue channel as well as on YouTube, we all learned that he plans to retire from live action for health reasons, a September farewell concert in Scotland, taking a well-deserved bow for his illustrious career. His singing on this, his last hurrah, will go down as added legend.
The aptly titled “Reset“ lays down the Pallas recipe with controlled perfection, serving as your archetypical heavy prog intro with colossal orchestral symphonics, marshaled by a bristling bass offensive and programmed drums that are going to convert the many drum purists forever more (a dual effort from Niall Matthewson and Ronnie Brown). Alan Reed has that heady combination of lung power and velvet touch that can only inspire the lush Brown keyboard flood, inserting layers of synthesized glory like there is no tomorrow, its now or never. Things get downright aggressive on the tumultuous “Rage”, with bass legend Graeme Murray creating hissing low-end missiles that seem to be propulsed by nuclear reactors, the drums pounding like siege warhorses bent on piercing any resistance, and Mathewson’ s effect-laden electric guitars bolding slicing through the sulphurous haze.
Temporary reprieve with Natasha O’Neal’s child-like vocals on “Song for Tomorrow”, a misty lullaby with tingling backdrop, as fragile as the wind. The sheer audacity of revelling in a pool of ambient sonorities is compelling, especially in view of the fact that the gothic upsurge half-way through is beyond cinematographic, it’s utterly exquisite. The thunder, the lightning and the despondence is commendable, suddenly extinguished by a return to sheer filigree of the commencement.
The sonic structure is set up so that the epic “The Private Collector” receives the warranted spotlight, a gradually developing chant that is two cracked marble steps away from some gruesome horror tale. Though lumbering along in neo-apocalyptic terms, it remains highly melodic, though veering from sombre to reflective, layered with numerous vocal and instrumental detail and never overstating the mood. Soundtrack prog strikes again, as time stands still, just for a moment.
A couple of 6 minute + pieces keeps the foot on the pedal, showing little remorse in maintaining the course (poetry in motion) . First up, the exalted “DIRT” a track where Reed emotes like a man possessed, certainly drenched in heartfelt dramatics, twinkling piano being the only salvation from the hallowed resistance. Murray’s bass takes over, changing the grim direction only so slightly, setting up teammate Matthewson’ rippling multi-forked flurry. Five tracks in and I am already convinced 100%.
As if a moment of introspection was severely in need, “Aspirations” conveys exactly some semblance of warmth and the obsessive echo of ‘happy smiling people’, surely a mirage of hope or even desire, hanging on to some thread of salvation that may just bring about a new revelation. Midway through, the acoustic guitar seems like a distant cry from the past, while the mellotron keeps the despair somehow alive. The onrushing sonic tsunami that provokes the solemn apotheosis is stupendous by the nature of its restraint. Unreal.
As if “Rushing Headlong” would not reveal its true intentions right from the onset, Pallas put up a throttling ball of confusion that fizzes as if overtaken by static, showing a modern gleam that proves how well thought out their strategy was to record this kind of album, arguably their finest ever. The chaotic impression is palpable, a rightly tortured glance ahead into the future, where time and space are nearly becoming invisible. Egads!
Perhaps a fine description of how the 21st century has been a bitter disappointment, “The Avenue of Broken Dreams” is 2026 ‘s version of King Crimson’s “Epitaph”, ‘a cracked and broken path’ that just might not ever resolve itself into a peaceful future absolution. ‘Plus ca change’, we need not guess no more, because we know now that we are doomed once again to fail. The arrangement is a brooding ceremony of despair, stunningly accurate in terms of sound sculpture.
Solace is found in the womb of maternal protection, the first and only refuge. “Mother” may be the last panacea, the final frontier, and the ultimate comfort. Piano, voice, crushing lyrics and spectral symphonic pain. I am at a loss of words of just how poignant Alan Reed’s delivery comes across. In fact, I feel helpless without being near my mommy.
A final dazzling epic to end this voyage into the unknown, a future even AI could not envisage “Inside Outside” is an assemblage of everything written before on this page. The eternal collision between opposites, entrenched in a melody so overwhelmingly beautiful, that it just might heal the broken heart. The wind breathes silently and then gasps in agony. The guitars screech, the riffs pound the pavement, where the grass has long ago disappeared. The rhythms never seem to surrender and hush in peaceful silence, a prog berceuse, swinging from inside to outside, back and forth , for evermore.
There will always be a song , but will there be a tomorrow? Surely among the very best of 2026.
5 citadels of fate