INSURGENTES

I bought this on a whim because impulsive buying goes well with planned purchases, gives the experience some diversity in searching for that ever elusive thrill. I was motivated by reading sinkadotentree's review ,as well as finnforest's both rating it 5 stars and as it evolves often into a necessity, I jumped on it . I , like my pal, have a strong admiration for the prog Castaways basketball guru Steve Wilson , mesmerized by his prolific output and mostly by his determined , at times even rabid, quest for different sounds and textures. Many will wonder as I did initially why this isn't just a PT album and yet there are obvious differences that repudiate such a notion. This is way moodier and less aggressive than the recent band material and certainly not as vaporously dance as his No-Man gig. A more personal and even more profound recording that has mystery dripping from the speakers , "Harmony Korine" flops along with a harsh raindrop guitar rambling, with syncopated drumming from the imperial Gavin Harrison , massively colossal mellotron walls swerving within the angelic vocal pleading. The chorus is deadly melancholia, weaving ceremoniously some distant and unbridled angst, while the axe rages as if spewing radiant phosphorus, thus becoming the first guitarist to exalt beyond what Fripp could only foresee and cleanly incinerate with his six-string. "Abandoner" is a scratchy electro-voyage into a minimalist theater of pain and despair, Wilson seemingly cocooned in deep swaths of muted musings on the human condition. We are far removed from the Porcupine's quills! This is plain creepy and I love it! The epic 8 minute + "Salvaging" features string arrangements by Dave Stewart (The Hatfield/Egg-man or the Eurythmics fella? Don't know for sure.) and permeates within a deep droned dirge , guitar slashes bloodied as monster riffs combine with the beastly drums. There is a magnificently restrained mid-section (where the violins enter) that exudes sheer refined foresight. A true prog moment is to behold, as it turns back into the sonic abyss. Lost in deep space, I am! "Veneno para las hadas" is a strangely unique piece that breathes inconsolably, Jordan Rudess piano rivulets on a dreamy voice, dribbling inexorably amid the sweeping atmospherics and insistent effects, all with elaborate effortlessness. There are some Eno- esque passages, what with all the gentle synths coloring the horizon, Wilson searches for the glorified summits of prog manifestations and succeeds, even though he is said to severely dislike the term progressive. Well Stevie, this is prog! "No Twilight within the Courts of the Sun" is perhaps aimed at the Frippian allusion I made earlier because the guitar here is disarmingly researching all kinds of creative sounds that would make Robert blush with admiration. Wilson tortures his instrument with rabid abandon, ripping the skin off his callused fingers, blistering and exalted. Another 8 minute job that is the musical equivalent of savage mutilation, the Tony Levin squirreling around with Harrison 's nuts and generating unparalleled rhythmic euphoria , showing why Wilson is for real, regardless of what he does to his Tree! Sheer magnificence and my fave piece here adding another Rudess piano solo to the fray! The final seconds are a heavy basher, a nuclear washing machine gone haywire. "Significant Other" is the lighter side of the ball, a breezy affair that keeps things vaporous and temperate, as he croons mellifluously as the guitar hardens into a cosmic gel, howling vocals only adding to the ecstasy, Levin shepherding the way towards a glockenspiel adieu. "Only Child" is a tighter romp, very binary in nature, spearheaded by broad effects that create a certain malaise, a Wilson specialty under any of his multiple guises, closer to some of the Manzanera solo album efforts. Phil would be proud. "Twilight Coda" is a short that serves as a meditative bridge towards the next piece, the haunting "Get All You Deserve" that seeks to relive the latter day Talk Talk minimalism until half way through when the mood suddenly gets hot and sweaty. Mark Hollis would be proud! The closing title track has all the suave classiness that one comes to expect, a delectable triumvirate of piano, koto and voice, illuminating a beautiful melody that mortifies the spirit. Mission accomplished , a record that will take many more listens to really hit the mark, highly introspective and luxuriant.

Yes, this is a dense quagmire of sound that may confuse some Porcupine fans but it's a Wilson solo album and its pretty obvious why! Its brilliant .5 insurgents