The cult of Steven Wilson is surely reaching critical mass.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to imagine a gem of a musician staying
hidden from the mainstream public for much longer, especially when he manages
to surpass an already widely-acclaimed album, 2013’s haunting The Raven that Refused to Sing. Tonight
he returns to Wolverhampton’s Civic Hall in support of his latest, the
end-to-end perfection of Hand.Cannot.Erase,
a breathtaking guide to Wilson’s musical repertoire and a concept that
out-concepts most concept albums.
The man has consistently translated well to the live
setting, and tonight builds upon great memories of when he and his formidably
skilled band (Guthrie Govan on guitar, Nick Beggs on bass and Chapman Stick,
Adam Holzman on keyboards, Marco Minneman on drums) last graced the Civic in
2013, breathing life into the proggy ghost stories of The Raven that Refused to Sing with poise.
And in a moment reminiscent of that tour, an overly-long
introductory video opens the proceedings, Wilson and band drawing loud cheers
when they take to the stage.
Later, the ensemble reel off the Porcupine Tree classic Lazarus. it’s debatable whether this is
as deep a cut as fans would hope for when Wilson spoke of airing rare tracks
from his songwriting career, but it’s a flawless rendition. Announcing the song
drew some of the biggest cheers of the night, when Wilson mentions that certain
songs were chosen for airings due to having relevant themes. It’s a touching
moment that demonstrates the enduring love for Wilson’s ‘other’ band, Porcupine
Tree, from which he seems to finally be stepping out from under. Given how
unlikely future Porcupine Tree activity may be, it’s safe to bet that more than
a few fans were glad to hear it, along with Sleep
Together which rears its head later in the set.
As every song from Hand.Cannot.Erase.
is played tonight, and in sequence, save the gentle Transcience, it’s tempting to wonder why they don’t go for the
jugular and perform the whole album. A few Steven Wilson standards, such as the
woe-is-me pop of Postcard, are
conspicuously absent - such is the fate of songs belonging to a steadily growing
back catalogue.
Despite these gripes, what actually transpires is
note-perfect and emotionally charged; every delicacy and every stomp is acutely
brought to life. It’s (another) testament to the team that Wilson has
assembled, who now have several tours under their collective belt and have
gelled admirably (take note, Axl Rose).
While the band could play with just a post-it note for
visual accompaniment and still put on an amazing show, the music is brilliantly
paired with dynamic lighting and artistically matching visuals that shed light
on the slightly mysterious story of Hand.Cannot.Erase.
Eventually, the giant veil from tours past drops over the stage for The Watchmaker, a reminder of Raven’s progressive beauty and
fragility. Nightmarish visuals projected onto the veil adds another dimension
to the song, and is hugely effective.
All too soon, it’s time to say ta-ta as the band creep into The Raven that Refused to Sing’s title
track, a wonderfully moving piece that may be the most beautiful and simply perfect thing Wilson has ever created.
While it feels odd at first to have the same closer as the last tour, absorbing
the magnificence on offer reminds you that very few things on Earth could
follow such a song, and indeed such an act as polished, imaginative and skilled
as Wilson and co.
***** 10/10
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