This review was begun last night, September 30th, and finished up just now:
I got back from the Porcupine Tree concert an hour ago. What can even be said? A three hour show, one tremendous song after another. Some qualify as pieces of music, or suites, because they are up to 17 minutes long and feature stylistic and tempo changes throughout. Referencing that aspect, a guy behind me, about my age, said to his friend during the 20 minute intermission that had his wife come along, she'd have hated the concert for that reason: "too many starts and stops, and too all over the place." But that's why some folks are P-Tree fans and others aren't (or have never heard of 'em). Steven Wilson is a progressive rock iconoclast who does his own thing, whether it's jagged-sounding or beautifully melancholic, or even if it's disco like his most recent solo album. Steve does what he wants to do, and you either like it or you don't.
The dyed-in-the-wool fans love it (I'm one of them), and I'd be willing to bet that most of them (including me), while we like SW's solo work, and even love some of it, we like him a lot better in Porcupine Tree, where he's working with soundscape maestro Richard Barbieri (the Rick Wright of P-Tree), and Gavin Harrison, the greatest drummer since Neil Peart. The touring band is filled out by bassist Nate Navarro, who is very good (original bassist Colin Edwin wasn't asked back for the reunion), and guitarist Randy McStine, who I have a special interest in mentioning because he was part of the original King's X chat board, way back in the early 2000s when he was a budding musician. I've been part of that board since I first got on the internet in 1998. Randy was on the KX board too, and he posted regularly for at least a few years. He even asked me one time about my concert history, because he wanted to hear about bands from the 70s. He was a kid back then, so he can't be much more than 35 now, and in those days he was an up-and-coming guitarist from New York; now he's in Porcupine Tree (in the tourning band), and man, did he ever add a lot to the show tonight, with exceptional guitar playing and perfectly blended background vocals. You have to be a top of the line musician to play with Steven Wilson, and Randy McStine is that.
So yeah, it was an off-the-chart show, as good as KIng Crimson or anything you can name. It could've been a bit louder; Wilson apologized more than once about the lower-than-usual volume (which I didn't think was too bad) and said that it had to do with the Greek Theater's strict rules. They have decibel limits and a curfew hour, 11pm, because the joint is situated in a neighorhood. Wilson also lamented that he wouldn't be able to tell any jokes due to time constraints. He's known for being the comedian at his solo shows but this time his repartee was at a minimum.
But holy smokes, the musicianship and The Music. If Joe Biden was there, he would've said "C'mon, Man!" Now, it's true that mere musicianship ain't worth a doggone if you ain't got the songs, right? And even then, the songs have to have emotion. Without emotion, music is just melodic sound. But SW is known for packing an emotive punch. His solo music can be so beautifully depressing that if you listen to it in the wrong mood, you might be looking for the nearest bridge. But because P-Tree is balanced out by Barbieri and has heavy metal touches, there's just the right mix of edge and emo. The sold-out crowd went nuts, and I'm sure most if not all of the fans hope Steve will continue with Porcupine Tree rather than return as a solo artist. They played their entire new album, along with most of "In Absentia", also prog masterpieces like "Anesthetize" and "Sleep Together" and a few oldies like "Collapse the Light into Earth." They even played "I Drive the Hearse" from "The Incident", a song title no doubt borrowed from Steve's pal Mikael Akerfeldt, who named an early Opeth album "My Arms, Your Hearse." So yeah, it was awesome. Despite all of that, I don't know how many more shows I'll go to by myself, but I'd say I'm pretty close to being done. For one thing, it'll take something special to get me to sit in traffic like tonight, which was bumper-to-bumper the whole way. But man, ("C'mon, man!") Roxy Music and Porcupine Tree in the last two days is a heck of a way to hang it up.
Oh, who am I kidding. I'll still go by myself. But when I do I'll complain about it more. :)
On a final note, the ushers got a kick out of my paper ticket. One even said, "how cool!" ////
And now, a movie review:
Two nights ago we had something very different: "The Blood of Jesus"(1941), a religious film with an all Black cast. It plays like a fable: "Sister Martha Ann Jackson" (Catherine Caviness) is a devout member of her church. As the movie opens, she's taking part in a group baptism in the nearby river as the choir sings in full robes on the bank. Other ladies gossip that her husband never comes to church, and one says, "this morning I saw him out hunting". "Huntin' on a Sunday morning?" her friend asks, incredulous. Sister Martha Ann goes home to find out this is true. Her husband "Razz" (Spencer Williams, who also directed) isn't a bad man, but he is "unchurched" (a great word). Razz is an atheist, and not altogether honest. When he doesn't bag any rabbits on his hunt, it appears that he's stolen a neighbors raccoon, "so you'll have something to eat tonight" he tells Martha Ann. She shakes her head in dismay, then a moment later she's near death. What happened? Razz was cleaning his rifle and dropped it - boom! The shot went through the wall and struck Martha Ann. The doctor comes to see her and says she might not make it. Members of her congregation show up and pray. Even Razz is now praying by her bedside.
Then the worst happens. Martha Ann dies. Razz is beside himself with grief. The church ladies pull a sheet over her face and tell Razz to trust in The Lord. Martha Ann's spirit leaves her body via double exposure, and she walks to a crossroads, where a double-arrowed sign points the way to Hell or Zion. Satan is hiding in the bushes, wearing a leotard complete with horns and forked tail. With him is an agent of misfortune, a well-dressed man in a suit. (Stay! Out! Da Bushes!) Satan whispers instructions into the protege's ear, then watches as he runs off to tempt Martha Ann.
Satan's gent is tall and handsome. He offers Martha's soul a slinky dress and high heels, telling her they're "free of charge. You'll need these clothes if you're going to the city. You've gotta dress stylish there." She wasn't planning to take that route, but now she's tempted and accepts. Satan is ecstatic with glee. The tall gent escorts Martha to the city, where he puts her to work in a nightclub. The place reeks of sin; A band plays jazz while dancers pickpocket the customers' wallets or prepare to sleep with them (though this is 1941, so that part is left to supposition). The tall gent then goes to a table to talk with a friend who's a pimp. Martha Ann is forced to work for him. Now she's a prostitute, but an Angel (who's been warning her of the dangers of temptation) comes to her rescue and fights Satan off. Just when it looks like Martha Ann will be forever lost to Hell, the Blood of Jesus drips from a picture over her bed, onto her face, and she is saved. Her bullet wound heals, her husband Razz gains faith, and Heavenly Choir music plays throughout the movie. Boy, do we need films like this in the world today, and I think you'll like it regardless of religious convictions. It definitely gets Two Big Thumbs Up and is highly recommended. The picture is soft but watchable. ////
And that's all for tonight. My blogging music is "The Hoople" by Mott the Hoople. Man, what a great album. "C'mon, man!" Sorry, but I'm on a Joe Biden "C'mon, man!" kick and I've been looking for videos where he says that. My late night music is "Rienzi" by Wagner. I hope you are enjoying your weekend and I send you Tons of Love as always.
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