RPWL, The RPWL Experience
Tempus Fugit/Inside Out (Arrives: Feb. 29, 2008)
By: Christa Titus

(Albums that are referenced in this review are hyperlinked to Amazon.com for your purchasing convenience. If a product is not hyperlinked, Amazon.com did not offer that product at the time of publication.)

“They are a German band
They’re trying to play the music of Pink Floyd
And so they make their way
Unable to come up with their own style”

The words above aren’t a critic slagging off Germany’s RPWL. They’re lyrics from the band’s self-deprecating rant “This Is Not a Prog Song,” the most lighthearted piece of music to be found on new album The RPWL Experience. We’re guessing the band has heard this criticism so much, it decided to tip a big wink (or jauntily wave a one-fingered salute) to naysayers with this pop tart song, giving it a wannabe rock star narrator who says, “If it was up to me they could kiss my ass goodbye/To be quite frank they make me fucking sick.”

RPWL does cut close to the Pink Floyd bone. Singer/keyboardist Yogi Lang’s voice could pass for David Gilmour’s, sans the slight rasp. (In fact, an English affectation flitters through Lang’s singing, while U.K. native Gilmour hardly has a trace in his vocals.) It also trades in the highly accessible psychedelia that Pink Floyd pioneered, the kind that invokes the vastness of the universe and the interconnectedness of man. But the band’s rock is more low-key than Floyd’s, even when it’s booming forth; its experimentation isn’t too far out to grasp and its tracks don’t get long-winded. RPWL stands on its own for its innate simplicity and doesn’t need heavy production to make its points, such as with a cut like “River,” which calmly trickles from an acoustic guitar alongside Lang’s voice before descending into murky waters that gurgle with discord.

Save for the comedic interlude of “This Is Not a Prog Song,” The RPWL Experience runs along seamlessly. Forget that song’s camp observation of, “This is definitely just the sort of music that can only be a mildly pleasant background noise while you’re doing something else.” It’s a carefully woven record that should be experienced as a whole, one soothing listen at a time. If you’re forced to choose a few tracks for the sake of introducing RPWL to someone, offer them “River,” “Silenced,” multilayered jam “Stranger” and lonesome centerpiece “Masters of War.” “Silenced,” a close cousin to Porcupine Tree, demonstrates the moderate pacing the band usually follows, and as the album’s first song, it immediately signals how conscientious the lyrics are. Corruption, consumerism, eternal love, existence itself—if these chaps ever toured with Rush, we could see them whiling away many nighttime hours on the bus engaged in deep conversation with drummer Neil Peart about the human condition. The perils of war and violence are especially referenced, and get their sad due on the mournful, fist-shaking “Masters of War,” a “War Pigs” for the new millennium.

So far, RPWL has announced only one U.S. concert performance for this year: May 3 at the Rites of Spring Festival in Glenside, Penn. The progressive music event has very limited tickets—about 1,300—so those attendees will be the chosen few in North America who will be lucky enough to hear RPWL perform in 2008. The rest of us will have to content ourselves with spinning The RPWL Experience until the band can mount a U.S. tour. Since it’s got a good sense of humor, maybe it should give Gilmour or Roger Waters a call.

myspace.com/rpwl

Queensrÿche, Take Cover
Rhino (Arrives: Nov. 13, 2007)
By: Christa Titus

(Albums that are referenced in this review are hyperlinked to Amazon.com for your purchasing convenience. If a product is not hyperlinked, Amazon.com did not offer that product at the time of publication.)

Queensrÿche showed what it could do with other people’s material back in 1987 on Rage for Order when it converted the new-wave trappings of Lisa DalBello’s obsessive “Gonna Get Close to You” into a gothic thriller. It that instance, it merely nudged the song’s framework a few steps in a different direction. A few years later it showed its talent for completely renovating arrangements by transforming folk standard Scarborough Fair into battlefield thunder and smoke. As Mike Stone said himself, Take Cover is an album that’s just about having fun, and it’s a welcome stop-gap between studio albums. In honor of Queensrÿche being The Killing Words’ first featured artist, we’ve dissected the album in a track-by-track review.

Welcome to the Machine by Pink Floyd
Best Track. Unquestionably. The band said it all in one shot right here, raising the bar for the rest of the record. The saxophone has the right seen-it-all attitude, and the synths could be heard as the weeping musicians do inside as they feel their souls being sold off a bitter piece at a time. One of the best guitar performances Michael Wilton and Mike Stone have recorded together. (To read Christa Titus’ review of “Welcome to the Machine” for Billboard, click here.)

Heaven on Their Minds from “Jesus Christ Superstar”
Smartest Heeding of the Call. Stone was ahead of his time when he fantasized years ago about rocking out to this Broadway tune. The opening licks are filled with distortion and attitude, setting up the urgency of Judas Iscariot’s plea for Jesus not to believe the hype. The fivesome is completely unified in their performance, hitting their cues like this was their own song. Scott Rockenfield goes above and beyond, creating a riveting drum track virtually from scratch.

Almost Cut My Hair by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
Bluesiest. Eddie Jackson’s pondering, contemplative bass stands front and center in this bluesy rumination on what society sees as the ultimate symbolic act of growing up. (Jason Slater’s and Kelly Gray’s mixing/engineering prowess also make this the most consistent recording of Jackson’s performance on a Queensrÿche album.) Jackson sets the tone for the group to get its laid-back groove on—except for Rockenfield, who plays almost as busily as he does on Heaven on Their Minds.

For What It’s Worth by Buffalo Springfield
Most Transformed. This 1967 protest song is immediately recognizable by its watery harmonic tones and its chorus (”Stop, children, what’s that sound/Everybody look what’s goin down”). Queensrÿche stripped both those elements out and further eradicated the hippie vibe by pumping up the strumming. No surprise if this was one of singer Geoff Tate’s picks; its social commentary, sadly, is still apt 40-some years later.

For the Love of Money by the O’Jays
Fattest Payoff. Most Rÿche fans probably haven’t heard of this track, and the layered backing vocals pay the most tribute to its R&B/funk origins. Again, the band’s industry experience gives it a knowing attitude with which to approach this cautionary tale about greed. The song is all about the rhythm, and the guitars and Jackson are the links that fill out the bottom with high-test vibrations. A remarkable interpretation.

Innuendo by Queen
‘A’ for Effort, ‘B’ for Execution. Like much of Queen’s fare, “Innuendo” was made to shake the rafters. The Rÿche lightens up on its sinister, lockstep foundation, which in turn lessens the song’s impact. Tate, a longtime admirer of Freddie Mercury, treads lightly on the late singer’s territory. Wilton unleashes his inner muso on the first part of the flamenco-inspired, triple-tracked midsection, then wallops it out of the park in the second half.

Neon Knights by Black Sabbath
Gets the Party Started. The band clearly had the most fun zipping through this one, likely recalling the days when they dreamed of being rockers like Sabbath—we’re certainly remembering Queensrÿche’s early years when it wore its English metal influences on its sleeve. Tate reverts to the much-loved power vocals that helped QR distinguish from the hair metal pack; Wilton and Stone gleefully make like two kids discovering Guitar Hero.

Synchronicity II by the Police
Band Practice. Boundaries aren’t pushed much here either. The guys do hijack the tempo and crank the guitars, but beyond that, this is just a well-executed exercise that keeps the guys limber and lets them enjoy jamming on a classic. To be fair, not much else can be done with a song that screams as loud as the din of one’s Rice Krispies.

Red Rain by Peter Gabriel
Most Inspiring. Another case of serendipity where Queensrÿche slips into the song like a well-oiled glove. Dropping the keyboards for Wilton’s and Stone’s raw, inspired string work (and one of the record’s best solos), the band sets afire one of Peter Gabriel’s greatest hits. Rockenfield brings the sound of rain to life with his skittering beats and bold crashes, Jackson’s bass groans and growls like purring thunder, and Tate’s voice is full of praise.

Odissea by Carlo Marrale and Cheope
Biggest Surprise. Although given Tate’s operatic training, it makes sense for him after all this time to try recording in that vein. It’s a compelling treatment and grandiose, but “Odissea” is more opera- than rock-oriented, throwing off the album’s pace. The orchestration and Tate’s tenor—which is richly enhanced by his singing in Italian—take center stage, so the band doesn’t have much room to join in.

Bullet the Blue Sky by U2
(Note: Kelly Gray performs guitar on this track instead of Mike Stone.)
Grittiest Take. Queensrÿche reaches the same rarified performance air as U2 with a bump-n-grind groove that becomes more trance-inducing with each four-count. The members read each other’s nuances like telepathy; Jackson’s pumping bass is flat-out sexy, and the guitars whine and shriek like flares. The live recording catches Tate completely going off for several minutes of spoken word, unloading so hard that fans probably thought twice of approaching him for autographs at the post-show meet-and-greet.

Queensryche.com

Ascension of the Watchers, Numinosum
13th Planet Records (Arrives: Feb. 18)
By: Christa Titus

(Albums that are referenced in this review are hyperlinked to Amazon.com for your purchasing convenience. If a product is not hyperlinked, Amazon.com did not offer that product at the time of publication.)

Those who know Burton C. Bell by way of Fear Factory need this heads-up: Ascension of the Watchers is a 180-degree shift from his industrial death metal output. And for some tracks on Numinosum—like lullaby “Violet Morning” and the dance club drum’n'bass of “Like Falling Snow”—the change is nearly 360.

Bell notes on the back cover of Numinosum that the record’s primary goal is “to fill a want, on many occasions, where some soul-stirring music is needed.” Indeed, he, John Bechdel and Edu Mussi have fleshed out Ascension of the Watchers’ 2005 five-song EP “Iconoclast” with six other semi-stream-of-consciousness ruminations on love and loneliness, and the wonder of whether God’s turning a deaf ear to prayers. The setting of rural Pennsylvania, where the album was recorded, bears a strong influence. Nature dominates that landscape with rolling hills, vast tracts of farmland and trees, making the environment conducive to pondering life’s big-picture issues.

Numinosum is a mediation for those whose minds are irritated by tinny new-age keyboards and faux angelic choirs and are instead soothed with relaxed beats and deep grooves. Opening track “Ascendant” draws you in with a heartbeat and a sense of rising anxiety that something is about to burst. “Evading” picks up the pace to fly along on acoustic guitar and jangling drums. Skipping over to “Canon for My Beloved,” AOTW invokes the cold solitude of the north with a wolf’s forlorn howl and a crackling fire, then slips into a desultory shuffle that sounds a gong for regrettable heartbreak.

The band brings surprising cheerfulness to the proceedings on “Moonshine,” but that’s eradicated when “Mars Becoming” channels the warring nature of the Roman god with chord-heavy sturm und drang. “On the River” is another bright streak, but most of the album reminds you that solemnness is the business at hand. Even dedication “Violet Morning”—which could be mistaken for an Iron and Wine outtake—is a weighty love song to Bell’s baby daughter, with him singing, “You are the light for my love/You are the love for my God.”

Numinosum isn’t something to throw on for background music while getting on with your day; the album warrants intimate space, like when the last five people at a party spend the rest of the night on more serious talk than who got robbed at the Super Bowl. The songs themselves stretch and sprawl—in the case of clock- and train-inspired instrumental “Quintessence,” it chugs for over 15 minutes. Ascension of the Watchers doesn’t write music that gives a quick mental fix. But then, the soul can’t be reached with sound bites.

(To read Christa Titus’ live review of Ascension of the Watchers for Metal Edge.com, click here.)

thewatchers.org