Patience is often regarded as one of the loftiest virtues that a human can wish to attain in its lifetime. From our drool dripping early days learning to crawl, talk and then walk, transiting into the rebellious stage of impetuous behaviour verging on invincibility (LOL), a time where the average person often makes all the mistakes possible, then the reflective middle age in which an attempt is made to accept the past failures and proceed to look for solutions, before finally diving into a pool of introspective reasoning and ultimate success. It’s called the golden age for a reason. Well, this tremendously patient Welsh band has certainly exemplified this heady notion to a T, originating back in a time when 8 tracks, very long hair and cleaning pimples were all the rage. Releasing their stunning debut in 2022, “it is somewhat ironic that after releasing their first single in 1980, Retreat from Moscow have waited 40 years to produce an album only to have the proposed launch postponed by a worldwide pandemic. Yet from the early, heady days at school listening to bands like Genesis, Tull, King Crimson, Camel, and Caravan, even though the journey has been a long one, it has been worth the wait”. They certainly have a lot of material and energy left in their artistic funnel, because as wonderful as that first album was last year, this one really puts a lock on the list of top contenders for prog album of the year. This new offering delves into Welsh and Greek mythology, social angst, the shaky status of the future and the topic of cancel culture. Cardiff-based Vocalist John Harris also mans guitars, flute and keyboards, Andrew Raymond rules over his arsenal of keyboards as well as contributing guitars and backing vocals, Tony Lewis plays the mythical WAL bass guitar as well as pedals and vocals, and the rhythmic fortress is further boldened by New Zealand-based Greg Haver. In other words, four exceptional musicians with enormous appeal, covering nine tracks that also include the following guests: keyboardist Andy Tillison, guitarist Robin Armstrong, Peter Kirby, and Jilian Slade on vocals.
The table is set immediately with the exhilarating “Saving California”, where the combined talents are impeccably rendered, offering an accessible prog-rock sound with all the shifts, contrasts, melodies, and sublime vocals, with a story line that needs no explanation if one has been paying attention to history. Inspired by Collins-era Genesis is never a bad thing, especially when it is decorated with an atmospheric outro that adds both drama and passion to the recipe. Delicious entrée.
The thundering and inspired “Flowerbride” combines Celtic intonations with modern prog electricity, at times it felt like a proggier version of Manfred Mann’s Earth Band (which in my books is a hell of a compliment), especially the slower mid-section. The twirling keyboards, the persistent bass, the athletic drumming, and the slashing guitar work seemed like an homage to ‘Bombers and Nightingales’.
The revving engine of “Running Man” is a joy to behold, as it lumbers along like a Lambo on fire, particularly impressed with John Harris’ impossibly adroit screaming voice on the chorus, I just love that gravely upswing, and the churning organ steamroller bullying this sleek beast along. Highway star music….
The epic “I Can Hear You Calling” is a showstopper, undoubtedly highly symphonic in development, a mythological platform to stretch their talents on a wider canvas, tossing in some segments of bombast, followed by serene moments of introspective bliss (generally hugged by an embracing mellotron). An odyssey where the sirens beseech the weary mariners, the voices beckoning towards some impossibly endless outcome. The extravagant keyboards are mesmerizing, the sizzling guitar excursions breathtaking, while the rhythmic duo behave like the Spartans protecting Thermopylae, methodically valiant, bold, and ruthless.
The frisky “Windchill” just keeps the pedal firmly to the quality pedal, with a concise and cartesian arrangement that shifts the spotlight on the lyrical content delivered by the intense vocals, proving that Mr Harris can sing with the very best of them (like Michael Sadler, for example), while guest guitarist Robin Armstrong throws in some thrilling electric guitar fulminations. Think Saga, as the square drums, the whistling synths and that darn bass carve a deep path, like a snowplough in a blizzard.
Who else can we hint at now, you may ask? Well, the opening few seconds of “Time Traveller” will put you into an orbit around the dark side of the Moon and why not! No one travelled farther and as fearless as the Floyd boys and anyways, though the lads waste little time in switching to a more Rush tone with a crunchier guitar assault, swooning vocals and paced drumbeat. The band waltzes back and forth between the mood and the thunder, with immaculate transitions.
The epic “The Machine Stops” is the highlight piece here because any track that lets such a gorgeous bass tone lead the way will get me standing up and applauding. The subsequent ride is utter bliss, it felt like a perfect soundtrack to the recent TV series the Silo, where survivors live in subterranean desolation and controlling lies. The bombastic section is overarching and imposing, the instrumental work worthy of the great prog classics (we know who they are). The organ solo is from no other than Andy Tillison, who knows a few thing about tangents, whether below or above ground. When Tony caresses his mythical WAL bass, aided by a solitary piano motif and some Fish-esque vocals, I find myself immersed in Trespass land, as a flute dances merrily in the pastoral mellotron-drenched background. The elongated guitar solo is unstoppable. An impressive mastodon of progressive rock genius.
The punchy “Assassin’s Cloak” features more exemplary playing from the crew, Peter Kirby’s synths in particular providing lusty accompaniment, as John Harris infuses dramatics in his vocal display, showing no ‘hint of remorse’.
Distorted bass notwithstanding, “DNA” is a fascinatingly dark and moody finale with cannonading drums and screeching guitar slashes, again hinting at the Phil Collins era, with Harris putting on quite the show on the microphone, the electric guitar and flute, before the accordion-like synth solo warbles like old school Steve Winwood, arcing like a diver ever so gracefully, bowing to the bucolic flute cameo and vocal narration effects. The all-encompassing finale is a heart stopper, flush with passion, atmosphere and bliss.
My second full album audition have always been focused on listening intently to the bass while clearly hearing the rest, as it gathers in the melody and the rhythm. Well Tony Lewis is an absolute joy to listen throughout the album, as his bass playing is utterly pulsating, as it cavorts, cajoles, and finally conquers each track with finesse and gusto. A record that will place itself on my top 10 list for 2023, an exceptional flourishing year for prog, may I add. Like Napoleon, I will retreat from Moscow and eventually review their debut, which I remember enjoying immensely.
5 mechanical thoughts
