With an album title like that, how could I, the Prog Rogue, possibly resist? This is a strange beast, the van Dam brothers (Niels on lead guitar and Robert on bass) conspire with vocalist Fons Herder and drummer Coen Speelman to be hang around since 1999 and flutter about among the canals and windmills of the Low lands, occasionally recording and releasing this third album after a decade of gazing at the stars (also known as Covid). This is another offering from Bad Promotions, so I am de facto always be open to consider. I must admit from the outset, Rogue Planet has been quite the challenging listen, as the material proposed has some serious ballistic tendencies, skirting on the outer rims of conventional prog, unafraid of flinging harsh riffs that collide with thundering drum exploits, a vocalist who seems to want to explore the softer regions of his lungs.
The two- equal part “Few and Far Between” suite opener assuredly establishes the climate for the oncoming onslaught, the Part 1 is suitably turbulent, a windswept gale that can on occasion, can be driven into a frenzy by mother nature’s ferocity . Like sitting on a chair on a quiet polder near the Zuiderzee and getting blown into the nearest ditch. Part 2 is the total opposite, a laid-back, blades of the windmill churning leisurely mood, Fons Herder’s voice floating like a kite looking for altitude. I can hear the Anathema influences in the symphonic wall-of sound sonorities and the innocuous usage of choir laden choruses that elevate this fine piece into the realm of attraction.
Sustaining their striding pace on “Intention”, the overall expression conjures impressions of Floydian realms, a floating sheath of reflection on the human condition, its foibles amid oft repetitive failures and the seeming inability to learn how to adapt to realities. Musically, its flowingly attractive.
Slight upswing in the chaotic delivery here, the stark guitars grinding with exuberance on “Consequence”, spotlighting a deliciously perverse guitar solo that glitters like gold, perfectly imbalanced like an acrobat on a high wire, a thunderstorm on the horizon. The vocal sections are cottony soft with an array of effects, the bass sulky as hell, and a fierce 80s sound to boot, creates quite the stir. I like; I will follow. A sudden silence disrupts the throttling sound, replaced by some showbox rant in a public space about some form of imaginary injustice in order to help consolidate someone’s ardent desire to lead the sheep, who knows, its relatively indistinct.
Another constricted two-part suite with “Raven Song” and its croaking guitars cawing in the wind, the six strings clinging, clanging and otherwise banging with resolute tremor. The voice remains diaphanous and sweet, yet on Part 2 , it gets flung into that storm I warned about earlier, a threating axis of doomsday mood and mechanical invasion, celebrating some atrocity. Shriek goes the synthesizer, like some warlord in the Arabian desert, the torturing scimitar glowing in the glare. Coen bashes hard, he must be inspired!
Yes, finishing off any potential opposition or contrarian opinion, the 9 minute and change the show-stopping “Virgo Calling” closes this fine return to form, certainly more than worthy of being recommended to those who enjoy some edge to their preferred prog razor, the acoustic guitar having the audacity to first soothe the bruised senses with some melancholia, perhaps to confuse or just provide that touch of Dutch psychedelia , you know the redlight district near the poshest hotels and green signed cafes that specialize in more than just java. The sweeping vocals are echoed whooshes that seduce and inspire to dream within a dream, and once the numbness settles in, the greased-up guitars are given their well-deserved liberation, as the swelling chorus keeps rising like the smoke from Krakatoa just before the bang.
Wonder where this will be going next…..one never knows with floods, and the Liquid Landscape Dutch know a bit about that.
4 Absent globes