Led by the enigmatic multi-instrumentalist Hamlet, Transport Aerian has carved out a niche for itself, a progressive style that is anchored in a heavier prog modulation, think Porcupine Tree, Riverside or Pain of Salvation, as well as occasionally transiting into melancholic environments that wink at Mice on Stilts. There is a fair amount of stark theatrics in their music, which is presented here in a live setting, a private show for friends and fans. The concert is quite gothic sounding at times, perhaps winking at a proggier version of Trisomie 21, with all kinds of experimental effects, voice narration and doom mood sensibilities, like on the opening piece curtain raiser.
When Stefan Boeykens’ razor guitar slashes the sonic canvas, as on “Full Body Access”, it only gives Hamlet the ideal stage to launch into some theatrical singing that verges on hysterics (oooh, that screech!) and permit drummer Paul de Smet to thump his kit with unrestrained vigor. Perfect segue into the equally voracious “Shall Not Be”, where Hamlet gets to vociferate like a madman, rekindling vintage early 70s recollections of Arthur Brown on fire! Calming down just a tad, the melancholic folly of “Big Heart” surprises both lyrically, as well as that elastic bass rubbing across the arrangement, twinkle of lavish piano notwithstanding, before some growling yelling vocals kick the pants right off and impetuously tossed into the crowd. Chainsaw buzzing fretboards shudder until collapse ensues.
The throaty vocal on “Lunatic” is spot on, emulating the constriction of lungs that debilitate a mind that has lost its motor mechanics, urgent, desperate, and yes, flirting overtly with psychosis. Any more intense, imaginary Bedouins would start dancing uncontrollably while roaming the dunes in search of some illusory oasis. That exact allusion is depicted by a serene mid-section ruled by a serpentine bass romp and some clamoring guitar expressions. Ridiculously attractive track, this.
Rekindling primal images of arctic Bauhaus-like atmospherics on the spectral “Falling 20”, Hamlet rages controllably like a demonic torch singer, the billowing puffs of frozen piano colliding with screeching guitar icicles that portray all the inner angst one could hope to muster. The insistent tones of “Destroy Me” imply an imminent crucifixion of the soul, fuelled by some surreal repentant melody in search of some kind of deliverance. The piano is obsessive, almost Magma-esque. The sullen and morose “Inspire” creates quite a psychedelic atmosphere, spirals of cigarette smoke billowing into the deepest recesses of the cathedral mind and the extended rotund bass try to resolve all kinds of musical contradictions. And succeeding!
Another slight deviation occurs on the monolithic march of the “Smirking Sirens”, a pounding procession of thunderous sledge-hammer clamor, leaden axe riffs of pent-up wrath and a ‘heroin-heart’ microphone going outright berserk. This is not heavy, its pachydermia at its finest, a lumbering mammoth charge that devastates. The violin-like solo and echoing piano motifs induce vertigo and submission. “The Effect” just adds another dollop of calamity onto the heaping steam-roller momentum that has not diverted since the opening assault.
The celestial scar is evidently not yet healed on highlight track “Skywound”, an oddly baroque, echoingly spooky and completely stunning piece that encompasses everything one needs to know about this album, as every word expressed above comes back to haunt the audience in Ghent, witnessing the velvet curtain as it comes down, and wondering how in hell, will they be able to find their way back to their cozy homes.
Quite the experience, a unique, disturbing and harrowing live album that spits out sweat and sucks in blood. Bela Lugosi is never dead.
4 Ghent gents
