It’s always a fine green morning (wink, nod) in ProgRogue Land when I get a message from Ally Carter, with a nice download for me to peruse. Because it invariably means a new album is about to be released from this talented band that I happen to admire since their debut. Their seventh album is the second volume of last year’s tasty The Land, the Sea, the Air, which garnered rave reviews from yours truly as pretty much the majority of the Prog community. Ally, Tree, David and Tom are back once again, as if it was only yesterday, consolidating their musical stance on the degrading ecology of our tired planet. At the risk of repeating myself, this band sticks to its principles with orthodox zeal, maintaining not only their style and their immediately recognizable sound, but also keeping continuity with a personal artwork display that is applause worthy.
Three mega tracks are their usual recipe, and why change that, after all they are not the Ramones! “Song of the Rainforest” will dominate 21 minutes and 21 seconds of your time, keeping you far away from those pesky cell phones, as well as all other modern technological distractions. Tree Stewart settles the proper mood on her perennially silky keyboards, stitching into the melodic fabric a sundry of effects, bassist Dave Greeaway laying down his basso profundo with meticulous authority, Tom Jackson ticking, tocking and otherwise locking, straight into the groove. Ally glides in with his jade green guitar unbothered , caressing his neck with one hand , while the other performs various wrist flickers on his six strings. The atmosphere is set, perhaps somewhere deep in the Colombian forest where it rains more than anywhere else, an ode to the mighty power that Mother Nature chooses to unleash willy nilly, at her discretion. When Ally interjects with his brassy saxophone, the instrument most resembling the human voice, he pleads the case for all mankind. When the blowing gets severe, it’s surely a sign of repentance and begging for forgiveness. Heavy weather jazz time. The sweeping keyboards convey the sorrowful resignation of endless human intrusion into where it shouldn’t belong, her ominously angry synthesizers (and famed Roli Seaboard) slash fiercely in defence of the despairing jungle and its right to survive, I daresay even flourish. Still heavy but not quite jazzy, more like organized bedlam. And then, extended peaceful interjections of velvety softness come across as soothing panacea, Tree’s flutes leading the serene parade, ethereal yet very much alive. The crushing solemnity in the final section is heart stopping, Tree and Ally laying down a magic carpet ride of contemplative introspection, maybe even self healing, in essence. When the rhythm section forcefully slams its foot down, it serves as a defensive anchor being cast, a line in the forest that will not be invaded anymore, come hell or (gulp) high water! In my mind, and assuredly yours when you hear it, this is their finest track and finest hour ever.
There is a reason why Tree Stewart was voted among the top keyboard players in prog recently, she can play like the wind, as witnessed by her immaculate display on piano on “Rivers of Tears”, mastering not only technique but also impeccable emotion, as one can hear the rivers and the tears in her performance. Throw in the lush orchestrations, Ally’s discreet guitar tremors, the subtle cymbal work, and the reverence in the bass, the only discovery left is Tree’s vocal which is delivered with empathy. The swerve into a jazzier surroundings becomes obvious as the piano and sax conspire to whip up some well-deserved groovy frenzy, after all, these are consummate musicians! This 15-minute epic refuses to stick too long in any redundancy, so the mid-section suddenly flips the script by injecting more sombre sequences, led by a forcefully darker vocal chant, and then plummeting into complex rhythmic polyrhythmic chaos that will drop that jaw of yours. The churning keyboards swirl and twirl like dervishes on fire. Tree even daring a few ‘space shanties’ made famous by the late Gilly Smith of Gong. This section surely owes some winks toward that legendary band; there are many little hints one can discern.
And just when you may think ‘what could they possibly come up with next after such a two-handed slap across the musical face’, the band opt for a swooning melody so immediately attractive that I fell to my knees hearing the first time, sung with utter conviction, as a cross between Olivia Sparnenn of Mostly Autumn and hint of Janis Joplin, I swear on my honor! Here, total simplicity rules, the orchestral keyboards convey harmony only a song title called “Paradise” could get away with. Indeed, this is most heavenly, even the sax plays the gentle card. Nearly 9 minutes of bliss that could have/should have/and would have continued for another 10 minutes, making my day and night. Wow!
Their best yet.
5 seasons of Green