BAKELIT is the new project founded by Carl Westholm, known for his avant-garde CARPTREE albums.

"The Coolest Place on Earth" opens with a disconcerting, electro-syncopated sound; the vocals are in sync, letting their words flow over the orchestration with a catchy chorus from the start; a mix of prog art-rock, velvety keyboards, then vintage, assisted by Cia, who worked in the equally incredible JUPITER SOCIETY; in short, a slap in the face that feels good. "Remember Who You Are" features this vocal duo, the band's strongest, navigating between sung, whispered, and high voices; a nod to the distant sounds of the '60s for the choruses, a reminiscence of new-wave electro sounds, rich and swirling, with Carl playing with genres. The vocals become dramatic, speaking of the fading environment, the sound drastic. "Two Living Things" with that austere, dark, mysterious keyboard again; the sound pleasantly reminds me of CARPTREE's; the track blends industrial prog, electro, and dark wave prog; the break with Cia sharply interrupts this sensation, giving it height; the languid keyboard and Lars' tribal pad build to a unique, captivating crescendo. The bass vibrates, the theremin does the same, adding to the solemnity, imbuing the album with an evolving conceptual effect. "Asleep or Insane" has a cinematic sci-fi vibe from the start; its languid, dark, heady, almost mantranesque sound, on KILLING JOKE and JOY DIVISION. The chorus is enlivened with martial choirs; a keyboard tinkering worthy of AMAROK flirting with an intergenerational sound; a dreamlike and enjoyable break.

"My Punishment" or the conceptually Dantesque intro; GABRIEL era 'III', BOWIE, an aggressive, grinding sound, wanting to hit the listener on our life on earth. The chorus of the refrain hypnotizes, a vocoder emerges, a bit of 'The Wall' in the distance, CHURCHILL preacher. The martial drums amplify the despair, we will be punished; the emphasis is on the velvety synths and the choirs. "This World Belongs to Me" changes tone, metronomic AYREON electro, like a war machine, with superimposed languid, pleading voices. The intimate synthetic piece which explodes moderately on a melancholic crescendo; the sound makes me think of the glacial DEPECHE MODE of 'Music for the Masses' before the finale where the hypnotic choirs and the metallic guitar remind us that this world belongs to us after all. "Silence is Weakening My Thoughts," with its drums, echoes the somber air of Lucassen's work, and its heavy sound; a crescendo with the guitar and keyboards in a duo?yes, it's not just Cia and Öivin who do this. The sound also recalls the work of CEN PROJEKT in its darkest form. "Death Without Angels," a latent electro intro, coming from the Heavens; the message reminding us that we are trapped, this album is coldly real, darkly atmospheric, and strangely premonitory. A deafening bass, a cruel chorus, a heady track; the apocalyptic evolution is measured, controlled, the hope of seeing an unrealizable happy ending. The haunting title track, with a message from the Theremin announcing a possible end without going through the angels, is a long, dark and beautiful crescendo.

BAKELIT is a blend of captivating music, with a touch of progressive dark wave, art rock, and dark contemplative rock. A beautiful album offering a strong, tenacious sound, reminiscent of the aforementioned bands. Originally published on Profilprog.

— First review of this album —

Alex Carpani was anointed with my favourite release of 2024 with his stately "The Good Man", a sizzling initiative which collected rave global reviews. Here Alex is backed up by the legendary Gigi Cavalli Cocchi on drums and Jacopo Rossi on bass. This is a follow up to their precious work, the self-tilted debut in 2018 and very much in a more energetic vein than the more symphonic concept style of Alex's solo material.

We plunge right in with the obligatory intro "The Dive", wasting scant time in getting the motors oiled up and properly lubricated for the full-bore throttle on "A Distant Cry", a brief but deadly surge, where both the propeller bass and explosive drums convey a sense of navigating the choppy sea, yearning to reach a faraway siren, beckoning our three mariners onwards. Alex sings forcefully, fingering the metallic keyboards (there are no guitars on the album!) with deft insinuations that really hit the mark. The sweeping "Life is Calling " is led by a rampaging bass line that takes no prisoners, Gigi gleefully pushing the percussive narrative, while Alex croons masterfully. The keytars get hot and heavy, brittle sonic prosciutto crispier than your ex's ego, a reality check of sound that packs a mighty punch. Being a bass fetishist, I must say that Jacopo really affects my fascination for the low-end of sound. This modern track is courageous, clean and commanding.

Showing no desire to veer into any calm pool of reflection, "Meet Me at the End of the World" keeps the pedal to the hefty metal, a raging missile heading for some future apocalypse. The ingenious inclusion of an almost rap narration (heavily prog though) comes as a revelation, within an expertly sung verse and chorus , a rather unique desire to stretch the boundaries, which is what prog was really about in the first place. The roller coaster ride gets dreamy just long enough to switch gears and turn on the turbo traction. The bass leaps out again bopping with superior authority, as if unclear whether the end of the world is heaven or hell. Perhaps a no man's land awaits us all, which would be perhaps a rightful punishment for our inability to live in harmony with the world around us. "The Wait is Over" possesses a hint of psychedelia (the Beatles come to mind) but lathered with a contemporary sheen that also finds the need to include all kinds of experimental bits (The latter Beatles again), especially vocally. The atmosphere does arrive at a harder edge , as the track approaches the finality described in the title. Back in the leathered seat with the steering wheel firmly in hand, "Drive My Soul" accelerates into the forceful combustion that encompasses all the facets of this album, the powertrain bass meandering between the convulsing cylinders (the drum work is exceptional) as Alex supplies all the bodywork needed to make this machine discover new frontiers for the mind. On the vocal front, both the lead and the tremendous backing vocals are world class, both urgent and heartfelt. 'Sliding on a rainbow', indeed. Definitely, prog radio material.

Adding a little axiom to the reality, "Life is Too Short" last a bit over 3 minutes but suggests a rather haunting voice- led electronica which does not distract from the main sound philosophy, obvious within a few seconds as Alex revs up the crew for another run on the pavement of existence, offering all the obligatory shifts of fortune that we must all bear. 'Taking us to a place where you are waiting passionately', the gentle flow of "Fly Over Me" is only a temporary moment of reflection, as this trio just has no interest in floating in ambient space, keeping the flame of urgency and re-evaluation firmly in place. The keyboard-sourced keyboards convey all the power needed to keep the blood pulsing through the body, a cardiac massage of incredible sounds and relentless rhythmic propulsion. The synth solo seals the deal. Dense electronics greet the ears, laden with voice effects not too distant from Deep Forest though "Soulshine" inevitably swerves into that foundational pulse that cements the entire production. On this, the longest track here, Alex sings passionately (Is there a more Italian trait?), a highly inclusive listening experience that encompasses all the attributes mentioned previously, the synthesizer folly and the outro proving that this is a well thought out project and can inject modernism into classical prog realms . Introduced by a beastly drum that would make John Bonham smile from his stairway to heaven, "Run as the Sun Goes Down" reignites the powertrain, pistons generating all the strokes needed to keep this sonic vehicle firmly adhering to the road, Pirelli tires aiding in the project. The luminous electronic backdrop interfaces with the burly bass attack and Gigi's unrelenting throbbing, another winning lap on this aural circuit. Should not come then as any surprise that "Messiah" will offer the final reflection, a moody lament that should consecrate Alex's vocal abilities as he simply crushes this checkered flag victory, confident that his instrumental skills can now be on the same podium, where the champagne can flow freely, Jacopo and Gigi spraying each other with the finest bubbly. Exceptional ending to a brilliant , off the beaten path album, with a gorgeous cover and devastatingly accurate sound.

Exhausted, ears firmly buzzed and utterly content, it is time for a well deserved 'pisolino' (nap for you non-Italians) 5 reappraisals

Following the departure of original vocalist Peter Nicholls, IQ continued with singer Paul Menel, who appears on the band's third studio album called 'Nomzamo'. This is a 1987 release that sees a dramatic change in style, incorporating a more radio-friendly sound, which is perhaps in line with the direction of the neo-progressive movement in the late 80s in general, with many of the scene's major bands experimenting with less sophisticated arrangements (with AOR and progressive pop being strong influences here). At the same time, the new lead singer brings a completely different energy, with the overall feel of this "new" IQ sound being comparable to Asia, Yes, Pallas and It Bites, which is natural given that Nicholls' voice is much more idiosyncratic. And in this context comes 'Nomzamo', a less diverse and more predictable record that preserves some of the progressive tendencies of the band's music but comes off as misdirected and mediocre.

The synth-driven sound of earlier IQ albums is at least partially informing this 1987 studio LP, but 'Nomzamo' has a tendency for much more atmospheric, even "skeletal" soundscapes, which provide for a laid-back feel, with the guitars being less prominent than on 'The Wake'. The recording quality is actually rather decent, even if the vocals can be a bit of a disturbance, especially for those who associate the IQ sound with the voice of Peter Nicholls. Some of the longer tracks on the album actually echo the progressive ambition of preceding releases, and the listener should be able to appreciate the intricacies of some of these compositions, especially the 10-minute opus 'Human Nature', which is excellent and beautiful as well as the tracks 'Common Ground' and 'Nomzamo'. Opener 'No Love Lost' is interesting, too, while radio-friendly numbers like 'Promises', 'Passing Strangers' and 'Screaming' are just bland and forgettable. In summary, this album really jumbles between beauty and mediocrity, and this might as well be why it has never been a fan-favorite.

Carl Westholm is well known to the prog universe as he fronted the critically acclaimed Carptree, who had released 7 well received albums from 2001 to 2018. He has also played with Hollingshead, Jupiter Society, Krux, Avatarium, Candlemass, and Dec Burke. This is a new project that will also include drummer Jonas Kallsback, guitarist Ulf Edelonn and two vocalists Cia Backman and Oivin Tronstad, with Carl handling his arsenal of keyboards as well as bass duties and backing vocals. As with his numerous past endeavours, the music incorporates heavy doses of metallic electronics into the cutting-edge mix, with boldly accentuated art rock tendencies, forging the next level of evolution in electronic prog rock. The cover art perfectly transmits the stark mood of this Kafka-esque production, shrouded in a pattern of steely girders bolted with dire precision, interconnected into a perplexing mass of construction.

As if rising from the center of the netherworld, 'From the Underground' paints a bleak sonic picture, an unambiguous panorama of textured sound, heavily echo-laden and an Orwellian utopistic delivery, with layered voices as well as a male and female duet struggling for air and gasping for liberation. The hurricane winds add to the suffocating angst, souls kneeling at the shrine of deliverance. One word fits perfectly : harrowing! Lying in a pastoral field, trying to recover from the tormenting escape, 'Moment of Peace' expresses the trauma of freedom, and the need to breathe in the air. Eventually, the lungs are filled to the brim with expectation and exaltation, as the shrouded electronic sheen masterfully conveys the perfect platform for an acidic guitar solo that screeches in healing delight. Utopian prog soundtrack of the finest caliber.

Then comes the emotional outburst obscured by clouds, a slew of wayward feelings of inner turmoil, long incarcerated and finally expunged on 'We Still Hate You', a lyrical harangue that fits perfectly in the current media fueled extremism, two-hued diatribe of endless nihilism and self-immolation. The musical arrangement is disconcerting, as the expansive keyboard backdrops highlight the petty drama, focusing more on the 'still' than on the already tedious 'hate'. I prefer colour in my daily outlook, and this is a reminder of how primitive darkness can be.

Keeping the narrative in full progressive expansion, the quasi-Wagnerian onslaught on 'Weak, Immature , Aggressive' is certainly far removed from pretty, cute or even attractive. 'Sad, childish, and forgotten, no surprise , nothing new'.Just a state of mind' stated with a state of mind verging on abject surrender, forcing a retreat into an inner world of love, caring and peace. The raging guitar powerhouse riffs send a concrete message of outer imprisonment, a world gone mad where everyone has become a prosecutor/judge/jury and executioner and led by those who eschew the need for critical balance of thought. Oppressive, tyrannical and suspicious, billions of opinion-peddlers questioning everything yet offering zero solutions. How convenient! The apotheosis finally arrives when the inexorable numbing conditioning has taken away everything and replaced with only eternal apathy, 'No Fear of Drowning' sends us the message that senses have conclusively tumbled into the Red zone, an area of possible no return, unless the accelerator is replaced by some intelligent braking reflection on how the hell we got here in the first place. Fixing what works and not repairing what is in dire need of a retooling. 'No way home'? Pity, it used to be where the heart really is.

The explosive finale is reached on the atomic 'Bombs in my Head', a sonic deflagration that underlines the casualties of the mind, faced with endless confusion, diluted information overkill and depressive fatigue. The match was lit back in the day when lighters were used to create fire , the slow burn leading to a world where no one is 'safe' anymore , even though their PC shamelessly states all is okay with the 5-bar reception. The music is suitably overbearing, an electronic symphony with Magma-like eruptive power, merciless choral onslaughts, lathered in a gruesome veneer of electronic keyboard orchestrations and catacomb percussive thunder.

With this second instalment, Bakelit becomes a new light within the still obscure darkness of the future of music, and we wish them well on their quest for offering something factual, in the present and with heavy doses of raw power. This album best illustrates the current miasma we collectively find ourselves in. Endless confusion, diluted information overkill and depressive fatigue. The lyrics are some of the most clearsighted and impactful I have had the pleasure of reading. Thoroughly apocalyptic

4.5 Sweltering burns.

As in a Last Supper: Chronicle of a Generation at the Twilight of Ideals

Introduction: A Personal Banquet in the Years of Lead

Picture, if you will, a young boy stepping through the doorway of a record shop in 1976, that threshold between childhood and understanding, fingering through the vinyl sleeves until one stops him cold: "Come in un'ultima cena." This was no mere purchase; it was an unconscious act of archaeology, the acquisition of what would become a Rosetta Stone for decoding the wounded zeitgeist of an entire epoch. That first vinyl, that private initiation, now serves as a skeleton key unlocking chambers of collective memory far larger than any one boy's adolescence.

"Come in un'ultima cena" stands as more than the fifth studio offering from one of Italy's progressive rock titans. Here was an artistic manifesto carved in wax, a moment when Banco del Mutuo Soccorso shed their baroque plumage to stare unblinking at a nation eating itself alive. The album reimagines that most sacred of suppers as a secular wake, a parable for idealists watching their dreams curdle into something unrecognizable. These pages seek to excavate the historical crucible that forged this work, to dissect its musical anatomy with the precision of a watchmaker, to hold each track up to the light like a fragment of stained glass, and finally, to contemplate why its resonance refuses to fade, like a bell still ringing in an empty church.

Chapter I: The Uneasy Table - Italy's Fever Dream of 1976.

To grasp what "Come in un'ultima cena" truly represents, one must first descend into the schizophrenic fever dream that was mid-seventies Italy, a country simultaneously giving birth and administering last rites to itself.

The Weight of Lead:

By 1976, Italy had become a nation where breakfast came with body counts. The so-called "Years of Lead", that metallic taste in the mouth of history, had reached their terrible crescendo. From one corner came the black terror of neo-fascist bombs, those apostles of chaos who'd been planting their deadly seeds since Piazza Fontana in '69, believers in the "strategy of tension" that sought to frighten democracy into authoritarianism's embrace. From the other corner, the Red Brigades and their ilk, revolutionary romantics turned executioners, their manifestos written increasingly in blood rather than ink. This wasn't some distant thunder rolling through newspaper headlines; it was the weather itself. Fear had become atmospheric, as pervasive as humidity before a storm. Democracy seemed paralyzed, a deer caught in history's headlights. The beautiful dreamers of '68 watched their utopias metastasize into something monstrous, some turned to bullets, others to heroin, most to a kind of numb bewilderment. This is the emotional frequency the album captures: not rage, but the exhaustion that comes after rage has burned itself out.

A Nation Giving Birth While Dying:

Yet to paint Italy purely in shades of darkness would be to miss half the picture, perhaps the more astonishing half. Like a patient experiencing both fever and euphoria, the very same Italy was simultaneously undergoing a Renaissance of social progress. Universal healthcare bloomed from legislative soil. Women gained equality under family law. Divorce became legal despite the Vatican's protests. Workers won rights that would have seemed fantastical a generation earlier. The streets that ran with blood also filled with feminists, ecologists, reformers, a carnival of progressive possibility. This cognitive dissonance, this sensation of living simultaneously in apocalypse and renaissance, forms the album's emotional core. Banco didn't simply document the darkness or celebrate the light; they captured that vertiginous feeling of existing between worlds. The dinner guests at their allegorical table aren't mere characters but living contradictions, each one a fragment of a society trying to be born while convinced it was dying. The album becomes a seismograph recording not just political tremors but the soul-quakes of an entire generation.

Chapter II: A New Testament - The Sound of Metamorphosis.

Banco's response to this historical delirium was neither retreat nor revolution, but something more subtle: a deliberate evolution that proved artistic maturity isn't measured in minutes or movements, but in the courage to speak plainly when the times demand clarity. Under Manticore's Wing By 1976, Banco had transcended their peninsular origins. Manticore Records, the brainchild of Emerson, Lake & Palmer, had become their gateway to the world, positioning them alongside PFM and Le Orme in progressive rock's Mediterranean trinity. The album even spawned an English doppelganger, "As in a Last Supper," with Angelo Branduardi serving as linguistic midwife. This wasn't provincialism; this was a Roman band speaking in tongues the whole world could understand.

From Symphonies to Snapshots:

The album's most radical gesture was its abandonment of sprawl. Gone were the twenty-minute odysseys of their earlier work, those baroque cathedrals of sound that had made their reputation. In their place: nine focused meditations, with even the longest, "Slogan," barely breaking the seven-minute mark. Some critics smelled commercial compromise, a genuflection to the emerging punk ethos that viewed prog's excesses as musical obesity. But this interpretation misses the artistic intelligence at work. Like a poet discovering the haiku after years of writing epics, Banco had learned that compression can be its own form of complexity. In an era when both punk's three-chord manifestos and disco's mechanical heartbeat were assassinating prog's reputation, the ability to distill without diluting was survival through adaptation. Moreover, the album's concept demanded this structure: if each song was a dinner guest's monologue, then concision became dramaturgical necessity. The genius lay in making artistic evolution and narrative requirement coincide so perfectly that one couldn't exist without the other.

Chapter III: The Parable of the Diners - Anatomy of Disillusionment.

At its heart, the album operates as an elaborate metaphor, a passion play where political betrayal substitutes for religious treachery, and communion wine tastes suspiciously of bitter herbs.

Dinner as Theater:

The album cover, Cesare Monti's visual overture, immediately signals we're entering theatrical rather than liturgical space. This isn't Leonardo's Last Supper but something more Beckettian, figures frozen in a tableau that's simultaneously sacred and absurd. Da Vinci's fresco captured the apostles' individual psychological earthquakes at Christ's announcement of betrayal. Banco's album performs a similar operation but on a sociological scale: these are the poses a generation strikes when told their revolution has been canceled due to lack of interest.

The Cast of Characters:

Each track introduces another archetype slouching toward this Bethlehem of disillusionment. Di Giacomo and Nocenzi's lyrics abandon their former mythological grandeur for something more intimate and bitter, the poetry of hangovers rather than intoxication. "Il ragno" (The Spider) spins webs of cynical opportunism. "Giovanni" offers love like a child offering dandelions to cure cancer. "Slogan" still believes in the revolution but his voice cracks with doubt. The brilliance lies in how the biblical framework elevates generational disillusionment to the status of spiritual crisis. The betrayal haunting this table isn't Judas's kiss but something more diffuse, the thousand small treacheries that transformed the '68 generation's wine into vinegar. By invoking the Last Supper, Banco suggests that political disappointment can be its own form of spiritual death, that losing faith in revolution might be as profound as losing faith in resurrection.

Chapter IV: The Courses of the Dinner - A Track-by-Track Séance.

Each song deserves examination like a specimen under glass, not to pin it down but to appreciate its particular wings.

1. A cena, per esempio

The opening doesn't so much begin as materialize, like fog condensing into form. Di Giacomo confesses exhaustion with the weariness of a night-shift worker: "I've extinguished the last fire to give my eyes rest... but earth's cry still whips my heart." This is the host's welcome speech, admitting his own emptiness while begging his guests to fill it. Nocenzi's keyboards and Maltese's guitar interweave like smoke and light, creating an atmosphere of elegant unease.

2. Il ragno

Enter the spider, capitalism's sociopath, revolution's undertaker. The music turns predatory, Nocenzi's keyboards stabbing while Maltese's guitar slashes. "I spin... I concede nothing, ever, to anyone." Here's the winner in chaos's lottery, the one who profits from everyone else's confusion. The rhythm section, Calderoni's drums and D'Angelo's bass, doesn't accompany so much as hunt. This is prog rock with blood under its fingernails.

3. È così buono Giovanni, ma...

The album's "pop" moment arrives dressed in sheep's clothing. Giovanni loves purely but pointlessly, a saint in a world that's forgotten what holiness means. The acoustic guitar and piano create a lullaby for adults who've forgotten how to sleep. It's a critique wrapped in a caress, sometimes good intentions are just another form of narcissism.

4. Slogan

The album's epic struggles to contain itself at seven minutes. This is the activist's aria, all passionate intensity and secret doubt. The band unleashes its full arsenal, time signatures colliding, dynamics exploding and imploding, instruments arguing like a family at Christmas. It's brilliant and exhausting, like watching someone trying to restart a dead engine through sheer will.

5. Si dice che i delfini parlino

Now comes the mystic's escape hatch. Branduardi's violin doesn't play notes so much as paint auroras. The synthesizers drift like thoughts during meditation. Originally conceived for an unfinished opera about St. Francis, the track finds new meaning here, when reality becomes unbearable, perhaps dolphins really do have the answers.

6. Voilà Mida (Il guaritore)

The false prophet arrives with jazz in his pockets and snake oil in his briefcase. The opening sounds like a seduction, but the second half reveals the con. Di Giacomo's voice goes full theater, exposing the charlatan behind the charm. Maltese's guitar work flows like expensive wine that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

7. Quando la buona gente dice

Two minutes of medieval judgment, the chorus of conformity dispensing wisdom nobody asked for. The trumpet sounds like a town crier announcing regulations for proper living. It's a miniature masterpiece of social observation, sometimes the most dangerous people are the ones who "only want what's best for you."

8. La notte è piena

A rare moment of unguarded tenderness, like finding a love letter in a war zone. Branduardi's violin returns to remind us that beauty persists despite everything. This is the album's emotional pressure valve, suggesting that even in history's darkest moments, two people can still find each other in the dark.

9. Fino alla mia porta

The finale doesn't conclude so much as ascend, Nocenzi's synthesizer building a stairway to acceptance rather than heaven. After all the voices, all the positions, all the poses, what remains is a solitary figure walking home alone but somehow not defeated. Di Giacomo's voice carries the weight of experience without bitterness, the difference between giving up and letting go.

Conclusion: A Resurrection of Memory:

"Come in un'ultima cena" endures because it captured something more precise than history and more permanent than politics, it caught a generation in the act of growing up, that precise moment when idealism doesn't die but transforms into something more complex and perhaps more valuable: wisdom.

That young boy in the record shop, choosing his first album in 1976, was unknowingly selecting a companion for life. The affection that remains isn't nostalgia but recognition, this album told the truth when truth was unfashionable, offered complexity when simplicity was trending, chose melancholy over either rage or submission.

In the end, "Come in un'ultima cena" succeeds because it dared to be transitional in the deepest sense, not just musically but philosophically. It's the sound of a generation learning that growing up doesn't mean abandoning your ideals but understanding their true cost.

The album remains forever at that table, waiting for each new listener to pull up a chair and break bread with their own beautiful failures. In that sense, every listening is both a last supper and a first communion, an ending that insists on also being a beginning.

3.5 stars. KOiAK were a five piece band from Chile who unfortunately were not able to release a studio album, but we get the next best thing with this sole live release from the band in 2005. This was released on the excellent Mylodon Records label also based on Chile. We get eight tracks worth around 51 minutes. This is very much flute led music and there's way too much of that dancing and fluttering flute that I'm not into.

The guitar is second fiddle and different as he plays an electroacoustic guitar and classical guitar. We get bass and drums then a flautist who plays some other ethnic wind instruments along with a second percussionist who adds some ethnic sounds as well. This is all instrumental save for some spoken words and yells here and there. Some crowd noise after the songs too.

Without question this was a talented band and at this point they had ben playing together for a while as they formed in 2003. The flute is all over this! That guitar sounds cool to start "Sifilis" like a "Discipline" style here, so intricate. But just one guitarist not a Fripp/Belew type thing. "Abismo" is one of the longer pieces at 9 minutes. I like how spacey this one gets. It does kick into gear around the 5 minute mark. It settles with more flute late. It's surprisingly jazzy 2 1/2 minutes in on "Zandunga" but again flute leads the way.

Flute and drums really dominate this record so it's nice to hear the bass early on "5+4+7". The album opens and closes with the band celebrating in a Spanish way. The second last track "Odisea" is 8 1/2 minutes long and is ruined by the second half where the flute goes all freestyle on us. A good album with so many great moments but 3.5 stars is the true rating and I'm dropping it because of the dominating flute.

IQ followed-up their excellent debut album with 1985's 'The Wake', a record that has since been considered one of the high points of the neo-progressive movement, and this rather peculiar album is indeed a fine continuation of a style the band had been pioneering and refining since their formation. For what concerns this LP, it is a daring record that introduces a darker, more compelling and emotive atmosphere, definitely soaking up the gothic undertones of its predecessor and the popular early releases by Marillion and Twelfth Night. The result is an album in which the overly theatrical and dynamic symphonic passages dominate, all while preserving the intricate synth-driven style of play that had been introduced on the debut album. At the same time, Mike Holmes' guitars are more prominent and aggressive on 'The Wake', which is commendable. It seems like IQ are experimenting with heavier, more ominous tones here, which would necessarily turn out to influence the entire sub-genre.

Opening track 'Outer Limits' picks up where 'Tales' had left off - with the quirky and pastoral symphonic build-up, we also have a thumping rhythm that really drives the song. This piece is a fine example of the predictable "Genesis-worship" style of writing and playing, which many neo-prog bands of the 80s champion. However, at the other end of the spectrum, this album offers several irresistible pieces of melodramatic, dark and brooding progressive rock with stabbing synths and atmospheric, dreamy guitar solos, always placing a great emphasis on the melody, on the transitions between different section, and the staggering musicianship - 'Widow's Peak' and 'Headlong', together with the title track all carry these characteristic elements that make early IQ so compelling and influential. 'The Magic Roundabout' is another interesting longer-format song, this one centered around the lush, synth-laden soundscapes of the band's debut album, while tracks like 'Corners' and 'The Thousand Days' tend to wander off a bit, interrupting the otherwise excellent flow of 'The Wake'. Excellent neo-progressive rock with strong melodies, a theatrical presentation and impressive musicianship.

'Tales From the Lush Attic' is the famed 1983 debut studio album by IQ, one of the pioneering acts of the second wave of the British progressive rock scene, and as one of the first neo-prog records (alongside Marillion's 'Script'), it is characterized by a synth-driven style of rock, atmospheric guitars and a tendency for long and sophisticated suites with multiple tempo changes, in the vein of the genre's originators - Genesis, Camel, and Yes in particular. Characteristics of neo-prog are the semi-gothic aesthetics of the bands and the traces of a post-punk affinity in the songwriting, which are elements carried by multiple early releases coming from this underground scene, with 'Tales From the Lush Attic' being no exception. The melodramatic, high-pitched singing style of Peter Nicholls is definitively one of the key elements behind IQ's appeal, together with the intense and technical playing.

For what concerns the contents of this album, this is a five-track LP split in two sides, with a short instrumental interlude and a rather unrewarding attempt for a marketable single (in the face of the second album track). Apart from these, what one might find really appealing on here is the majestic 20-minute-long opening suite called 'The Last Human Gateway'. A composition that is directly inspired by the classic progressive rock records of the 70s and impresses with its pastoral soundscapes, masterful instrumental parts and vigorous melodies - of which the main one carries a moodier sentiment, which immediately gives the whole record a darker edge. 'Awake and Nervous' from side two brings the trademark symphonic sound, with some sophisticated passages and enjoyable sweeping guitars, while the closing piece 'The Enemy Smacks' seems to be the most relentless song on the album, and for what concerns the reviewer, one of the perfect neo-prog epics. This is a theatrical, up-tempo retro prog album that showcases most of IQ's strengths and capabilities - and while some may dislike the synth-driven dynamics of this early 80s album, it remains an essential neo-prog classic.

Ambient Den are an Australian three piece band comprising Tim Bennetts on piano, keyboards and vocals, Ben Craven on guitars, bass, programming and vocals with Dean Povey on drums and vocals.

This project entered my radar I believe due to me having three of Ben Craven's solo albums. So this piqued my interest _ how different would this be? The album has six tracks containing three instrumentals and three songs.

The first track called 'Future History Part 1' is an instrumental at not quite two minutes long and acts as in intro. Starting out like wind in a tunnel, it soon incorporates atmospheric synthesizer and acoustic guitar. This is suddenly heightened by blues-style electric guitar and drums that lead into the next track 'For All Mankind'.

This second track starts with an ear catching hook on keyboards that will permeate your mind. A very intelligent way to start the album as it invests the listener straight away. The bass and drums soon emphasise this riff and Ben's guitar subtly enters. The vocals matches the riff and you can't help but sing along with this addictive melody. The singing has a peaceful and uplifting flavour that along with the whole album is a space or sci-fi filled theme. It ends with an elongated guitar solo backed by an ethereal backdrop played on synthesizer that returns to that catchy riff and song.

At nearly six minutes the third track called 'Provenance' is an instrumental that makes you feel like you are floating. Interweaving between electric guitar and keyboards creates a sublime airy feel and places your mind in a meditation and before you realise, it ends with a soft crisp piano.

Singing almost begins straight away with the fourth track 'Earthrise' that has the same delicate tone as in 'For All Mankind'. The lyrics bring in a sense of hope and a positive vibe that truly lifts your soul:

"All we need is an Earthrise in our dark skies Summoning day from night. All we need is an Earthrise in our closed eyes Baring our soul to the light".

A simple and yet strong message. Acoustic guitar and pulsating keyboards again emphasises that spacey feel. Half way through a keyboard solo ensues with the guitar as background that transpires to acoustic guitar rising to the top and then electric guitar fully taking over.

Fifth track 'Terraforming' is the epic track running at 16 and a half minutes and what a joy this is. The piano is pounded in soft velvet for the beginning with acoustic guitar delicately played and organ percolating through. When the drums enter, so does the electric guitar that grasps our hands to lead us on the journey. Background vocals highlights our feeling of weightlessness. A swirling Jon Lord type organ leads the way superbly sliding to the side to allow the guitar through again as the guitar/keyboard improvisation is pursued.

This is where the calm water now becomes white water where you lift your paddles and let the white water take you on a ride. At approximately 7 minutes and 45 seconds in, an unexpected break happens out of time and it works. If this was intended then it is genius. If this was a mistake and left in on purpose then again, this is genius. I don't know who but someone famous once said the spaces in between notes are just as important. This interweaving of keyboards, guitars and drums improvisation that follows continues in a marathon of musicianship.

The final track 'Future History Part 2' is the odd track compared to the rest of the album. It is a happy song still uplifting that brings a funk to the tune. What appears as a brass section gives a 'Big Band' type of vibe. All in all an interesting and good way to end this compilation that leaves you with a smile.

I wasn't sure what to expect but I am very glad I bought it - this album has surpassed my expectations by miles. It pushed all my buttons, this is why I listen to music, it brought pure joy to me. Tim tickled his keys, Ben bends his strings, Dean taps his skin and top hat to a beautiful structured and improvised effect. I have a feeling this band had a blast creating this together. I intend to wear this CD out if that is possible. I would like to think this is a beginning of something special.

(By the way I avoid making any reference to Pink Floyd. The influence is there but Ambient Den are their own entity).

While I don't think it's the best album Floyd did, it's still a fantastic album. It's probably their most ambitious musically and thematically, but idk I just prefer Dark Side

Pigs on the wing is an amazing intro. Super short, super soft, just eases you into this fantastic album (1/1)

Dogs is THE Pink Floyd track. I think it's their best song with Shine On. A masterpiece in almost every way. (17/17)

Pigs is the rare groove oriented prog track. Pretty simple all around, but very groove based. A fun listen, the pig sounds are out of this world, might just be slightly too long for me. (10/11)

Sheep is the only track here i have trouble with. It's not bad, but Floyd is better at slow tempos. I love the voice merging into the synth and the experimental middle section, but yeah this is by far the weakest song on this album. (7/10)

Pigs on the wing closes the album just like it started. Can't complain (1/1)

TOTAL: 36/40 = 90. 5 stars album. One of their best work