DO YOU DREAM OF LUMINOUS THINGS?

I am sure it's a purely coincidental comment, but the title contains a few words that may , (possibly a shot in the dark), provide a hint at Jamie Parker's potential influences, namely Bill Nelson, a legendary irascible icon who had a great tune called "Do You Dream in Colours?" as well as later album called "Luminous". Who is Jamie Parker, you may ask now but one day very soon, many in Progland and beyond will recognize this name, so take note now, you can brag about it later. You have been warned. Partnered with a valiant crew of accomplices, Jamie handles all the guitar and vocal duties, ably assisted by Will Sear on organ/piano/synths, Lucy Hackett on strings/synths, bass guitar by Jack Ansell and the drum stool taken over by Rick Veall. Jamie had sent me a single "How I Caught the Moon" for review but as you all know, I do not review singles as a rule but the track was phenomenal, and I urged him to send me the album. Ah, the joys of proper communication.

I certainly admires audacity, and launching any album, especially the inaugural full-length release ,with a 19-minute cyclone is quite the bold statement, iznit? Confident, chiseled and creative, the groovy mood is set in stone, with the stirring "The Radient", introducing all the beacon elements that will guide the listener on their musical discovery. Jamie has a most expressive voice, both urgent and radiant (oops! there I go again), instantly believable and attractive. The intricate guitar phrasings weld to the organ colorations with perfect synchronicity, the rhythmic duo holding the fort with valiant determination. Both the feathery electric guitar and the slippery synth solos are spot on, healthy proof that the crew can play with the best of them. When you add an extensive baroque piano and synthesized strings as a variation, the symphonic aspect leaps to the forefront with courageous fortitude. Another deviation suddenly occurs when the rousing saxophone (courtesy of guest Amy Williams) seeks to imply a Floydian sensation, soothing organ in tow, and masonic tempo for good measure. The final outro ratchets up the atmosphere with a stirring guitar-fuelled rapture that gathers in all the players, in a common outcome.

The delectable single mentioned earlier is the celestial "How I Caught the Moon", a brisk and passionate Traffic-like performance, Jamie channelling his Stevie Winwood influences, both the lead and choral vocals on this side of paradise, imbued with sterling orchestrations from Lucy Hackett in particular. The silky flow definitely emits 'a low spark of high-heeled boys' impression, as both Parker and slide guitarist Tim Bascombe combine in weaving up a fantasy factory of delirious notes. Amazing tune.

A brittle rocker is up next , showcasing a versatility that keeps the listener on the razor's edge, broiling organ bullying the grisly guitar riffs along on "Steeped in Burning Flowers" , Jamie quite comfortable in veering his voice modulation into more angry (almost punky) mode, hitting the vertiginous high notes with utter impunity. A galvanizing piece of surly electricity that should go down a storm in a live context.

You never quite know what to expect next and Parker does a magic trick with a stunning proggy composition led by a lengthy narration (Molly Waters) in a sea of luminous atmospherics drenched in psychedelic splendour, "A Place I Can Disappear" is an electronic space rock masterclass of the highest order, an incredibly dreamy novelty in a cosmos of illuminated things and perhaps my fave track (but only barely).

Now, here comes the clincher and why this album should be considered as a masterstroke of mettle under pressure, explaining the glowing initial comment on rogue audacity ! Parker and company press all the right buttons by polishing off the album with not one but two extended prog epics! "Waking in the Land of Giants" follows a16-minute long pathway into a faraway torpor , a cinematic excursion well beyond the redundancy of commercial music, throwing as many curves as possible into the ,at times, liner onslaught. From the rabid opening steps to the inevitable arrival among the titans, a panorama of moods unfold like a caravanserai through the desert. An ardent and bluesy vocal with organ shimmers as propellant, eddying orchestrations discreetly along for the ride, reflective halts at an unexpected oasis of thoughtful salvation, 'changing landscapes' of unforeseen wonders, a Spanish themed saxophone wave to the torero, experimental pools of reflection and, a short thrust into a Hawkwind-like metronomic launch into a distant orbit. It's the flute's turn to momentarily calm the senses, tingling guitar flicks notwithstanding. The chugging rhythmic assault and battery shuffles hard and relentless, with biting accuracy. A space ritual comes to mind, and then there is silence. Magnificent.

The 14 minute "A Grief That Does Not Speak" is probably the most engrossing and demanding piece, a rapturous melee of collision and deflection in musical terms, playing the ebb and flow, peak and valley cards to perfection, not just the sink but the entire kitchen, dining room and salon, to boot. Insistent to the nth degree, with a purling sax and guitar rampages combining in an obstruse frenzy of finality. The sombre reptilian string arrangement is sheer unadulterated drama and overt theatrics. A mute pain conveyed in loud brassy shards of jagged edge.

This album spans 72 minutes, and I am always wanting for more by the end. There is always the convenience of the replay button. I intend to wish for many more shining returns.

5 Rarefied airs

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