Review Summary: A dreamy, ethereal piece of work that achieves a high level of artistry not often seen in modern music.
Patience. It's the first thing you'll wanna grab before heading out (or in) to listen to this record. The Storm Corrosion album is a very cinematic experience, with strong imagery and a variety of feelings expressed throughout the arrangements. So grab your best pair of headphones, and let's begin.
First, a little history. In case you didn't already know, this project is a collaboration between Steven Wilson (Porcupine Tree, No-Man) and Mikael Akerfeldt (Opeth). Both are figureheads of the modern rock/metal scenes and their respective bands have established dedicated fanbases. This certainly isn't the first time their paths have crossed, with Wilson having produced some of Opeth's most acclaimed records. But this time things are different. This is a 50/50 collaboration between two friends, under a new name, with a different set of expectations. Anyone looking for
Damnation 2 will be disappointed, as this is (thankfully) much more artistic and original.
Many of the musical attributes fans have come to expect from these two have been either A) stripped down, or B) thrown out altogether. Gone are the distorted guitars, thunderous percussion, death growls and overblown production. What's left is something far more difficult to master:
Restraint. This is an album that takes it's time and fleshes out each idea and feeling. It's immersive. Time feels elastic, and the journey is just as important as the destination. Contrasting feelings of haunting isolation and simple beauty constantly tear at the listener. It's as if a candlelight of hope guides the listener through a dark, empty courtyard that may have once belonged to a King of Red. The statues have crumbled, and the trees are black, shriveled hands reaching for a light that's been masked by an unrelenting fog.
Drag Ropes - The song fades in with some rather unsettling strings, setting a dark/haunting tone that is consistent throughout the album. Akerfeldt comes in with lyrics that escalate that tone even further, yet also provide a sense of accessibility. About halfway through the song, the instruments are briefly dropped in favor of an overlap of menacing vocals from Wilson and Akerfeldt. As their voices circle, it becomes clear; we aren't on stable ground. The song continues to build in emotion and volume, adding in more strings, piano, and choirs, before ending with a variation of the intro.
Storm Corrosion - A song for the wide-screen, this one fades in with some seriously detailed imagery. Initially, we hear the sounds of a campfire crackling against distant winds and thunder, before being overtaken by Akerfeldt's characteristic acoustic guitar. The guitar continues a consistent rhythm throughout the song, shifting through different emotions, all while keeping a forward momentum. Wilson provides an intimate vocal delivery that is, once again, as beautiful as it is haunting, especially the descending non-lexical riff that repeats throughout the song. Per the established format, the song adds layers of emotion and instrumentation as it goes on, before taking a turn toward the strange at around the six-minute mark. What follows is some of the most abrasive, uninviting, anxiety-inducing ambiance I've ever heard. After a couple minutes of increasing volume and paranoia, it breaks into a bleak yet rewarding acoustic progression that revisits the emotions portrayed at the beginning of the song.
Hag - Dissonant, nervous, restrained; this song will really test the listener's patience and fortitude. We begin with a slow, descending guitar riff that's mimicked by the piano and later Wilson's vocals. Subdued, but equally as unsettling as anything we've heard thus far, the song ups the energy at around the 1:30 mark with waves of Mellotron strings. Then suddenly, a break from the bleakness! A quick verse of Wilson singing over subtle piano offer the listener a brief flicker of hope, before dropping us right back to the dissonance from which we came. This continues briefly, until a distorted guitar line welcomes us to Gavin Harrison and the most frantic drum solo we've heard him perform yet. Muffled and spastic, the drum solo carries us to the end where we, once again, revisit the intro.
Happy - Don't be deceived, this is not a happy song. It opens with Akerfeldt finger-picking a beautiful progression panned right, while Wilson delivers a gut-wrenchingly sad couple of lines from the left. The spaces are then filled with more dissonant strings and subtle choirs that further accentuate the guitar. Everything fades out, then quickly back in with a modified riff that carries an immense emotional impact, which is then doubled by Wilson's non-lexical harmonizing. After quickly revisiting the beginning riff, Akerfeldt lays down a cold yet gorgeous electric guitar solo that overlaps well with the acoustic, before fading to a familiar ambiance.
Lock Howl - A bit of an anomaly on such a bleak, minimalist record, this is more like an orchestral jam. The duo aren't afraid to flex their compositional muscles, and they do so effectively. The sounds here are very organic and atmospheric, layered, and possess an energy level that isn't displayed by the other tracks. It's hard to put a finger on the mood of the song; each section seems to contradict the previous one. At some points the song is almost danceable, while simultaneously sounding apocalyptic. The final section is the highlight, with a pleasurable riff played on piano and overlapped by what sounds like some kind of hammered instrument.
Ljudet Innan - The first five tracks are the journey.
This is the destination. Prepare yourself. It's time to shed the layers upon layers of darkness we've accumulated thus far. Step into a sea of light and let the sounds take you far above the clouds. Akerfeldt immediately cleanses the listener with perhaps his most impressive vocal performance since ditching the death growl. Complimented by some simple, watery chords, we've certainly crossed over into an entirely different realm. The next few minutes are spent in an ocean of strings and ethereal choirs, filling our ears with hopefulness and light. The ascension takes a good couple of minutes, before breaking into a slow jam with percussive embellishments that overlay some soulful soloing by Akerfeldt. We've arrived. Wilson welcomes us to the skies with lightly sung lyrics that remind us that, although we've left behind the brooding darkness, we cannot escape the isolation. Finally, the song climaxes. Strings, choirs, percussion, and guitar weave together to form a platform on which Wilson stands and belts out one final, epic vocal just as the sun pushes through the clouds, laying the darkness to rest.
An emotional journey chalk full of images and ideas that wouldn't have fit anywhere else, the Storm Corrosion album is a timeless masterpiece that will remain as a milestone in both musician's careers.
