Things must not be quiet in the province of Québec lately, what with veteran neo-prog band Red Sand dishing out yet another tasty album, coincidently entitled “The Sound of Silence”, a title eerily similar to Enigmatic Sound Machines latest “Imperfect Silence” who hail from Montréal! The trio of multi-instrumentalist Simon Caron, drummer Perry Angelillo and vocalist Michel Renaud return with their 12th album, and I am proud to state I have them all and enjoy them regularly.
Geometric electronic pulses kick off “Puzzle”, Simon’s beseeching guitar wasting little time in taking an extended six- stringed bow, Perry’s ‘octopussian’ drum patterns creating the rhythmic conundrum, the chaos from which a soothing mellotron bursts, a shuddering organ , and a popping bass emerge as if by some miracle of sound. Bonjour à tous!
Michel has that proto-typical original voice, a legendary league of mike handlers such as Pete Nichols, Benoit David, Stu Nicholson, Jean Pageau, Marco Gluhmann and many more and he passionately settles in on the symphonic “Lost Fantasy” with a powerful delivery that secretes endless swaths of feeling, amid all the sonic keyboard splendor! The melody on this impressive track is drenched in overwhelming melancholia, perhaps one of their finest compositions ever.
When the very first notes of “The Sound of Silence Part 1” extirpate themselves from the shuddering speakers, a strong Andy Latimer vibe takes complete control of this lush instrumental, Tony Banks-like organ in the background, Simon and Perry unwilling to deny their masterful heroes , certainly those that dazzled the Québec crowds back in the 70s, me included, leaving a perpetual and undeniable scar of joy. Speaking of which, on the next piece “Watcher” (what a coincidence, not!), my detective ears looked up to the skies and picked up that heady second still seared in my mind 51 years later when Gabriel blurted amid a huge flash “A Flower?”, in concert at the Université de Montréal, on some 23 minute piece about food being tabled. Michel cries the words out twice, surely on purpose, non? Simon has his savage bass burping like a sated child, his electric guitar building up its liberating swoon as Perry rifles off one hell of a cannonade on his percussive kit. The talent to modulate the voice to fit perfectly into the various elevations is a hallmark of the afore mentioned vocalists. Assorted effects join in on the solemn lead axe solo, that darn bass still coughing up a storm. Incredibly intense and devastating track.
“The Sound of Silence Part 2” soothes the previous bluster with a mandolin/bouzouki entrance that would make any Greek man cry, garnishing a Mediterranean melody that crushes the soul into paroxysm. It’s not a tragedy that it ends too rapidly, as it’s just the podium on which the colossal “The Last Voice” and its 18+ minutes get to develop further the classic organ-driven , guitar slashed, drum propelled extravaganza all proggers around the world dream of at night (and also at lunch, on occasion). As befits all epics worthy of repute, the complex arrangement travels through a whole series of variances from rabble rousing “the Knife”-like passages to more current exhortations by IQ, Sylvan, Galahad, Pendragon, Mystery and tutti quanti. All along Simon’s bass guitar shows little mercy, placed solidly up front and stinging like a colony of wasps. Perry is easily on par with the finest drummers in a province that also has the beastly JS Goyette (Mystery) to applaud , his interventions are often on the verge of tectonic , measuring 5,9 on the Richter scale. When the mid-section luxuriates in dense mellotron and solo guitar twining, the atmosphere veers into the sublime, a sound I will never tire of listening to with deep devotion. The audacity to include an elegant piano into the mix at the prefect time is a blessing, the Latimer-styled guitar doing immense comfort to the soul. Movement needs to reappear, and the next section throttles up the tempo into near Formula 1 mode, as if the band was featured at Circuit Gilles Villeneuve, the bloodshot silt engine revving like crazy before settling into a temporary introspective glide (Simon on the volume pedal is stunning!), before launching into the final laps, focused on the chequered flag and the laurels of exhausting victory. Michel can pant, moan and groan with the talent of a jester, as the champagne corks explode into the crimson sky. Among the top epics of 2025.
“The Best” is the obligatory encore, coming after such a leviathan, and its simplicity incarnate, no frills, no fireworks, just subtle elegance, a lullaby for the bruised senses of our current malaise , where extremes seem to rule. I keep calm because of prog ; it’s the BEST healer ever. This is Red Sand’s best ever….
5 quiet noises.