NO FEAR OF DROWNING

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.

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