Okay, I am going to get some pushback with my intro but ‘frankly, ma’am, I don’t give a damn’. Porcupine Tree lost its way after “Fear of A Blank Planet” and morphed into a Steve Wilson project that had some elevator rides, to say the least. In 2012, long-time P Tree bassist Colin Edwin left for greener pastures after the controversial ‘the Incident’ album, to a new configuration called Burnt Belief uniting with the unique talents of guitarist extraordinaire Jon Durant, released a total of four regularly paced albums that bluntly outshined SW, surely in terms of artistic creativity, sonic exploration and instrumental focus, which garnered rave reviews. It is with immense exaltation and glee, that I found and purchased this new extension, as it adds, (unsurprisingly perhaps), Colin’s old mate Chris Maitland, an exceptional drummer in his own right for this “Baldock Transmission”, named after the town, where the album was recorded (situated between Luton and Cambridge, for you cartographers). If you think that this is ambient fluff, you will be severely wrong. Background music this is definitely not, as its busy and intricate without any raging decibel romps, seducing you into their sonic cocoon with apparent facility.
While on each track one can find regular ambient flirting going on , the Colin Edwin bass ruminations really kick start the development of each piece , slowly entering the fray with a foundational element that is hard to resist. I must admit that his playing is my reason for considering anything he may record as it is always first-class.
Case in point, the sprawling nearly 14-minute title track, where the opening soporific electronics surrender to the low-end undercurrent gradually building up into a whirling hypnosis. Durant has his very personal touch style, forcefully textural than classic prog, jazz or rock, inserting glittering streaks that illuminate the arrangement. Maitland contents himself with a more experimental, percussive slant, technically sound but subtle rather than brutal. As the piece progresses along gingerly, it picks up quite the head of steam, with the incredible Edwin holding the steering wheel with nimble elasticity, a real joy to behold.
As if glancing into a pool or mirrors , the reflective “Journey to Rebhu” maintains the sense of adventurous pace that characterizes their style, drenched in galactic psychedelia, Maitland accomplishing Brufordian magic, with superb cymbal work. There is an India feel to the complex melodic structure, where the rhythmic extravagance combines with the shimmering guitar phrasings, all kept in place with impeccable bass fencing.
Same size as the opening blitz, “Stationary Orbit “ flings the mood into more futuristic horizons, each player raising their individual bar. Durant channels his Carlos Santana/John McLaughlin vibe , Maitland throttling along with valiant bravado, and once again, Edwin smiling as he dances along with his bass guitar lovingly held (he is a delight to watch live, clearly loving his career choice and it shows). Exuberant chill music with a distant similarity to the two Summers/Fripp collaborations as far as Durant is concerned but with a monster rhythm section that adds oomph , how can one go wrong?
That ‘I Advance Masked’ feel becomes abundantly evident on the subtle “Mechanical Tears”, with even more experimentally oblique tonalities, the electric guitar sobbing, meowing and purring endless contentment. One can easily imagine a Toyah Wilcox, or even Bjork shrieking along for the ride, adding that radical vocal contrast that shatters glass from a distance. The three musicians hum like a well-oiled machine, hence the title, I guess. Edwin raises the stakes with a cunning bass line that made me finally cry with joy.
Sonic tranquilizers are now prescribed as “Lower Constrictor” settles into the nodes with relaxed detachment, an ideal platform for Durant to venture out into the farthest vistas, a mirage-laden expedition among the plentiful dunes and occasional oasis of the Sahara, dromedaries watching the promenade, under a broiling remorseless sun. The pace slows down as if thirsty exhaustion has taken hold, struggling to maintain balance and sweat wiped from the brow.
A decidedly sci-fi slant on “Solar Season Signal” that casts the trio in their most experimental mooring, laying down some low frequency ambiance that rekindles classic King Crimson in their quietest sections. Colin Edwin caresses his bass like an entangled lover, massaging both skin and muscle that scream out for tension release, haunting swirls of opaque sound as a backdrop and sensorial percussive adornment to fill out the canvas. Dreamy, ethereal, hypnotic, and completely mesmerizing. The swooning anesthesia is operating the table, even the memory of past pain is erased.
If there is a 2025 album that deserves the following posology advisory : Put on your headphones, turn off your cells, computers, alarms and lights, settle into a comfortable chair and gently go where no one has dared to go before. Sixty-one minutes of blissfulness.
4.5 charred convictions