Has there ever been a band more unknown after nine albums then the ever excellent Porcupine Tree? Most bands with nine albums or more are busy playing Hyde Park, (Red Hot Chilli Peppers) refusing to die quietly, (The Rolling Stones) or simply busy being omnipresent and part of the culture of music, without being directly relevant. (U2) And yet Porcupine Tree release Fear of a Blank Planet, 18 years after there first, and they are still playing small intimate gigs such as The Junction in Cambridge. Perhaps it’s the music they play, musically complex, with deeply introspective lyrics, and minutes worth of precious album time being diverted to mood setting ambient beats. But then you look at “The Mars Volta” who are even more on the fringe then Porcupine Tree and they are busy touring the world and supporting for System of A Down. (RIP) Crazy times my friend, crazy times.
And so, onto the album itself. Firstly, it has some of the best production and mixing on an album I can think of in recent years. The songs all sound crystal clear, as though they have just spewed out of the head of Porcupine Tree straight onto the CD. Every song retains the sense that its part of the same album, the same mood flowing through the tracks, and that mood is most defiantly: gloom. Even when the album gets really rocking, such as on the 18 minute opus “Anesthetize”, it still maintains an air of gloom and melancholy. This is mainly thanks to the lyrics, a mix of sadness for the death of society, such as on the title track “Fear of a Blank Planet,” with a smattering of Trent Reznor style personal pain such as on the bitter sweet “My Ashes” or the appropriately named “Sentimental.” Every track has fragility about it, aided no end by subtle bass work and the voice Steven Wilson, which invokes memories of Bono circa early era U2, or more recently, Tom Chaplin of Keane. But neither Chaplin nor Bono can match Wilson for heartfelt vocals ringing true across tracks like “Way out of Here” where it’s heavy section contrasts with Wilson’s subtle high notes.
And then there are those solos. It’s another one for guitar magazines to franticly masturbate over, with the stunning solo on “Way out of Here,” contending for best solo on the album with the heartfelt fretwork on Anesthetize. In fact all the instrumentation is nigh on perfect, with the use of acoustic guitar over electric backing creating a haunting, brooding atmosphere, and the clever, complex drum lines.
Perhaps the creepiest track I have heard for quite some time is the finale “Sleep Together.” With a techno heavy synchs bass line crawling it’s way inside your mind, metallic sounding, super rhythmic percussion, and vocals ripped right out of a psychopaths worst nightmare, it ends up sounding like Kraftwerk covering The Deftones. Only better then that sounds.
So that’s the good, what about the bad? Well, the album sags in the middle, losing a little focus and becoming a little too melancholy and directionless. Intentional or otherwise, it loses the power that the earlier and later tracks have. Also, at only a little over 50 minutes, it’s short by today’s standards, but it’s a testament to Porcupine Tree that an album of that length can still pack that much punch. The rapid mood shift can be a problem sometimes, with tracks lulling you into one mood and then ripping you out of it with a heavy moving guitar line. At times it can be effective, but is overused slightly on the album. But I’m nitpicking. What Wilson and the band have created here is an ode to teenage disillusionment, an album chock full of cracking guitar work that fizzles with energy and spark, even at in its most downbeat moments. And surely that’s what Rock music should be all about?
