MYTHS & LEGENDS

When Prog was created back in Biblical times, bones raised in defiance as armed hordes roamed the earth, there was a condition set by the elders that this type of adventure would know no national borders and eschew militant partisanship aka Fanboyism (yeah! right!) but it must be stated that prog has certainly landed on some strange beaches around the globe. The usual European suspects are par for the course, the South/Latin Americas equally and Asia, well they will try anything! But this oddball recording comes from the sweltering sands of Bahrain, a small mega oil-rich emirate in the Persian Gulf. Guess they really picked up the Camel/Floyd/Genesis records while studying in England, looks like the head rested Bedouins certainly did. The opening salvo is an interesting romp, lightly symphonic and showing perhaps more spirit than technical chops. Learning the intricacies of prog as they studied, the overall mood is slightly amateurish but in a good sense. "Free Like the Wind" has some nimble moments and some sloppier ones too, but the guitar solo is pretty decent, fast and furious when prompted. The repetitive groove is intoxicating and flogs the progressional elements with devious merriment. The vocals are a bit amateurish and yet really don't spoil the instrumental brio displayed, the bass romping along, the guitarist flowering into multiple blooms, vivid when needed and certainly very willing to suggest awe. "Voyage" sounds a lot like their signature tune, loaded with simple elegance and distinctive flair, far from any clone, the players expressing themselves according to a fabulous tradition that flickers still today. The synths are swirling in the sandstorm of sweltering fanfare, proud and even cocky, like they we can play the classical way, prog has no borders anymore!?. The ultimately false preconceptions are tossed right out the bloody window, as this music is inspired and inspiring, actually even dare I say charming. "Dreams of a Jester" is chillingly precious, an atmospheric caravan of sun-drenched melodies that are highlighted by suave guitar patterns and savvy synthesized orchestrations. The finale is intensely fierce with a robust axe display with long plaintive lines and coerced by bubbly synths soloing with abandon. Again, we are reminded that these amateur prog musicians are above all, fans and strive to achieve a certain sound. "Wasted" is more nervous, with almost disjointed beginnings turning into a lovely stretch, with percolating beats and solid direction. The synth solos here are spectacular, wasted (pun!) by some so-so vocals and a limp chorus, saved by the quality playing once again, this is the conundrum with Osiris. With a little more structural guidance and a better producer, they could have made a wider impact. Now they remain an incredible geographically incomprehensible absurdity, such fabulous prog ideas and statements in its rawest form, untainted and smothered in virgin purity, like the desert. "Who Remembers" is the highlight oasis here with a desperately gorgeous piano wreaking havoc with the senses, a gentle lullaby that passes the torch to a guitar flight that soars mightily, each note evoking deep sentiment . "The Power" is another short ditty that motors along nicely, propelled by some simplistic beats and more of them so-so vocals. Not as stimulating as the previous tracks, but acceptable. All in all, a valiant effort that deserves to be more than just a curiosity and perhaps inspiring the at times jaded prog community . 3.5 palm trees.