Review: Steven Wilson, Royal Albert Hall

As far as victory laps go, Steven Wilson's hot-ticket successive sets at the prestigious Royal Albert Hall stand aloft like two giant middle fingers: for the humble bespectacled audio-wizard has enjoyed a fantastic new chapter in a musical career already jam-packed with the kind of accomplishments many musicians would kill for.

After impressing all concerned with 2013's rightly acclaimed The Raven That Refused to Sing, Wilson did it all over again with his latest, Hand.Cannot.Erase. The newer release carries a freshness and immediacy in stark contrast to Raven's lengthy, haunting proggy ghost stories, but not without hidden depths that only appear after the 99th listen.

The first of the two shows feels like an extended Hand.Cannot.Erase. tour concert: Wilson and band glide through the entire album (sans Transcience, sadly, preventing it from being a complete end-to-end run-though), being an extremely well-oiled and rehearsed machine by now. Despite having taken this set to numerous rapturously-received shows throughout the year, they attack the new material with pleasing, spirited zest.

While Hand... is a multifaceted, genre-skipping milestone unto itself on record, hearing it explored live is nothing short of a treat, Wilson and band employing quadraphonic sound to fill the Albert with it. 

The material traverses almost all of Wilson's musical palette: the uplifting prog-rock of 3 Years Older, the nimble pop of the album's title-track, the wistful slow climax of Perfect Life, the monstrous riff-labyrinth of Ancestral before finishing with Happy Returns, expertly treading the cheery/sad balance. Three select choices will survive into the second night, squaring off impressively against older cuts: now, however, Wilson's self-belief in his fantastic accomplishment shines through.


With Hand.Cannot.Erase. put to bed, the second set of the first night provides the assembled disciples with a grinning bag of jewels and gems, starting slowly and ominously with the first ever performance of material from Wilson's collaborotion with Opeth's Mikael Akerfeldt. Drag Ropes, a wonderfully spooky and foreboding piece (to call it a track or 'song' would be a misjustice), is laid out across the Hall over the course of approximately seven days. 

Its sheer length may have has a slight pulse-weakening effect on some, but the sheer rarity of the event cannot be underestimated, especially when Akerfeldt joins the band on stage to provide vocals and animator Jess Cope's fantastically disturbing video accompanies it on the giant screen.

Wilson next reminds all involved whose name is on the ticket as he leads the bands through their reworking of Index, complete with synchronised statue-posed finger-clicking introduction, a fantastically surreal sight through one of Wilson's brilliantly darkest pieces, with suitably eerie visuals presumably from long-term collaborator Lasse Hoile.

How is Your Life Today? and the invincible Lazarus follow, respectively a not unwelcome oddity and one of Wilson's absolute strongest compositions, rapturously received.

A short speech from Wilson prefaces a particularly tasty showcasing of unreleased HCE material, titled My Book of Regrets. Part proggy length and catchy verse, it is reminiscent of the dreamy sections of Luminol crossed with the singalong 'Tree track Blackest Eyes. It will arrive on an EP in January: begin the countdown.

Harmony Korine, The Watchmaker and Porcupine Tree's Sleep Together follow, the latter two with the expected white sheet hanging before the band, with appropriately disturbing visuals projected onto it for Watchmaker. It is nothing short of spellbinding, a masterfully executed matrimony of sound and sight.

By way of eventual encore, the 'Tree's The Sound of Muzak's sincere lamentations precedes The Raven That Refused To Sing, a perfectly judged conjuration of storytelling and emotional power.

The first night wrapped, all speculation turns towards the second: making sense of what has taken place, however, will take a long time. Wilson and band admirably stepped up to deliver something far more than a simple recital, matching expectations by putting on a spectacular event. 




Night 2:

With the first evening being an extended Hand.Cannot.Erase. tour show, the second is a rarities free-for-all. The band members consecutively take the stage to contribute to a steadily growing No Twilight Within the Courts of the Sun. Wilson is the last to take the stage, to deserved cheers, leading it to its fantastically intense conclusion.

Fully assembled, the team tackle the first of several Porcupine Tree gems in the maudlin Shesmovedon, before returning to newer material in Routine. Guest vocals from Israeli singer Ninet Tayeb have been conspicuously absent from renditions of the song due to Tayeb's own inability to attend tour dates. For both of these nights, however, she is present to fill the Hall with the full force of her impressive larynx. Animator Jess Cope's heartbreaking stop-motion video accomapnies it as expected, and suddenly there is a demand for Wilson-themed handkerchiefs at the merchandise stand. 

A prog-rock stand-off ensues between Wilson's solo material versus more 'Tree tracks, to satiating results. "The only way to follow that is with some dumb heavy metal", quips Wilson in the aftermath of the emotional onslaught of Routine's unholy trinity of itself, Ninet's presence and Cope's aforementioned video. The 'metal' he speaks of comes in the form of Porcupine Tree's Open Car, with its itchy verses, gloriously epic chorus and the best guitar riff Matt Bellamy or Tom Morello never wrote. 

Don't Hate Me follows, before the two-part prog workout of Wilson's Home Invasion and Regret#9 - the former being a hydra-headed piece of volatile riffery, dreamy chorus and alt-rock swagger, the latter a truly fantastic showcase for the remarkable skills of keyboardist Adam Holzman and guitarist Guthrie Govan, who returns to the lineup tonight as a welcome guest, his recent absences ably covered by the superb Dave Kilminster (including these two nights). Govan and the band then revisit Wilson's wondrously fragile Drive Home, featuring Govan's jaw-dropping emotion-wringing extended solo.

Also re-joining for Drive Home is the humbly talented Theo Travis, providing woodwind instrumentation for a jog through more of Wilson's solo material: the crushing Sectarian, the dreamlike Insurgentes, No Part of Me, and finally a tastefully trimmed airing of sinister prog-demon Raider II. 

The first of two encores is a fascinating exploration of the first of three Porcupine Tree songs, the lengthy Dark Matter. Celebrated 'Tree sticksman Gavin Harrison receives some of the biggest cheers of the night, joining the band for a one-two of Lazarus and The Sound of Muzak.

For Steven Wilson, victory was secured long ago. With performances like this, he is reaching for something greater: immortality.

Review: Steven Wilson, Wolverhampton Civic Hall 18.03.15

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

Review: Steven Wilson - 'Hand.Cannot.Erase.'

Not one to either rest on his laurels or plough a particular musical direction ad nauseum, Steven Wilson has made a name for himself in energetically pursuing all manner of different styles and genres across various projects, spreading himself like peanut butter: a distinctive taste that is instantly recognisable against any background.

He is also keen on approaching music armed with a theme or story, as 2013’s magnificent The Raven That Refused to Sing proved: a haunting collection of musical mini-feasts, encompassing prog-rock, jazz, and based on ghost stories penned by the man himself.

2014’s Cover Version compilation was a perfect stop-gap between Raven and Wilson’s latest, being an unpretentious collection of covers (duh) and original compositions – reminding everyone of his ability to create intriguing and spellbinding music simply for the joy of doing so.

Having given his growing legion of disciples time to breathe, he returns with a concept that out-concepts most other concepts, the concept being (sorry) the story of a young woman who is swallowed up by the big city and is discovered dead in her bedsit, having tragically passed away years beforehand.

An interesting story in itself, a judder of significance permeates the proceedings when it transpires that the story is based on real events – an actual breathing, living, loving human named Joyce Carol Vincent. A documentary about Vincent, titled Dreams of a Life, had such an effect on Wilson that he took inspiration and ran with it – to the studio.  

We begin at the start of the album (where else?), the first of eleven intriguingly-titled tracks, First Regret. An instrumental piece, it sets the scene with seasick piano and electronic washes of atmosphere. Digital thumps appear underneath the piano, and more electro tomfoolery fills the space. It could have fitted on The Social Network’s soundtrack.

Sparse keyboard gently introduces 3 Years Older, a musically exhilarating rollercoaster of full-band adventures, a Rush-esque rush. As the track veers between exciting peaks and gentler troughs, it’s hard to not wish for a little more time to be spent exploring the various avenues that the piece hurtles down: it feels like a taster montage of songs from a full album. However, it is brilliantly weaved together – and tremendous fun.

The album’s title track then elbows its way to the front, with breezy pop-rock sensibilities. You can almost hear Wilson smirking as he reminds you that while he can drag the listener through twenty-minute prog epics (Raider II, from past album Grace For Drowning), he can ‘do’ pop with a flick of the wrist.

A further part of the unfolding story is illustrated with the wistful and subtle Perfect Life, where Katherine Jenkins narrates memories of the female protagonist’s former foster sister, over a gently building electronic beat that gradually reaches its full sonic height, revealing Wilson waiting in the wings to add soft vocals in the second half. The sensation of sad longing for a much-missed happy period abounds.

These first four tracks almost lull the listener into audio safety before Wilson drags you into the album’s meatier, if less hooky, core. The further you venture into the album (and thus the story), the further into madder musical territory you go. Thankfully, all those who trespass here will be rewarded.

Home Invasion takes a turn for the weird with a proper prog-out leading into alt-rock swagger, permeated by dreamy intersperses of Wilson’s distinctive layered vocals and guitar that floats along with him, before shazoomphing into Regret #9, essentially an elongated spacey guitar solo that never approaches the wrong side of indulgence.

In turn, it sets the stage for the fleeting and gentler Transcience, which simultaneously recalls the aforementioned Cover Version collection of mostly acoustic numbers, and even the wondrous past project Storm Corrosion, where Wilson teamed up with Mikael Akerfeldt and produced stunning atmospheric vistas that paid zero heed to established ideas of song structure, revelling in a tremendous sense of musical freedom.

We now come to the biggest bastard of the album, Ancestral, clocking in at thirteen minutes. Classical instrumentation shakes hands with more electronic beats, in a mixture that shouldn’t work, but Wilson bends unto his will and view. Like 3 Years Older before it, enough music is stuffed into it to fill a warehouse (or the last chunk of space on your phone’s microSD card).

Happy Returns, um, returns us to the piano melody in First Regret. This is the last we hear of Wilson’s female protagonist, and the lyrics alone are heartbreaking when thinking of the tragic Joyce Vincent’s final moments. Wilson is to be commended for helping the cause against loneliness, by imaginatively filling in the blanks for a life shared with nobody but Vincent herself. The track also recalls the slow climb and build of Perfect Life – it’s reminiscent of when non-linear films show the viewer a penultimate scene near the beginning, so when we reach that crucial moment, it is already strangely familiar.

If this is the case with Happy Returns, it works excellently. A musical sad smile shows as Wilson engages in lyric-free doo-dooing, acoustic in hand, before the whole piece dissolves into Ascendant Here On..., the album’s exeunt.  A gorgeously simplistic choir vocal is accompanied by considered piano notes, and the sound of children playing leads us out...along with the life of a young human being.  

As the world becomes more and more connected but increasingly impersonal, future generations would do well to recognize Hand.Cannot.Erase. as a commentary on our increasing social coldness, and the effects it has on our fellow selves, most of which go unseen by the absolute majority.

It’s a bewilderingly beautiful kaleidoscope with which to view the social network age; few will ever capture it so vividly. 

Incoming: Steven Wilson - 'Hand. Cannot. Erase'

In a journey that began during the touring cycle for 2013’s opus The Raven that Refused to Sing, where the forward-looking Mr. Wilson aired newer music alongside new tracks, we find ourselves facing another release from the messiah figure of prog: Hand. Cannot. Erase.

In contrast to 2014’s Cover Version collection, Wilson has gone for the jugular with a concept album that out-concepts his previous concepts. Where Raven was based on a collection of ghost stories penned by Wilson, his latest offering takes respectful inspiration from the tragic tale of Joyce Vincent, a young woman who had been dead in her London bedsit for two years before anyone found her. 

Despite being a young, attractive woman with enough family and friends, she managed to essentially disappear inside the ocean of the city. Thoroughly affected by this, and a documentary on the subject, Wilson has taken the story as inspiration, concocting something of a musical story with a similar individual as its protagonist.

There’s the concept, but what do we know of the music so far? Kate Bush has been admitted as an influence, and Wilson has cold-watered fears of an overly poppy record by reassuring that Hand. Cannot. Erase. actually encompasses every style of music that can be associated with him – prog fans rejoice.

The first slice from the album was its title track: breezy, ostensibly pop, but like past single Postcard, there is still something about the song that elevates it. Mostly, it’s the knowledge that the song will form a part of a wider tapestry, and the music itself being subtly more than a three-minute wonder. Guthrie Govan lend a gentle, passing guitar lead, further enticing those who were won over by his pitch-perfect playing on Raven, often beautifully filling space and occasionally taking free reign and painting beautiful sonic pictures. His star is in the ascent, and praise is well deserved.

More recently, another track has surfaced: Perfect Life. Fans could perhaps be forgiven for hoping for something a little more musically chunkier, after the airy lark-drama of the title-track. Instead, Perfect Life is a less-is-more statement in understatement, which will probably fall victim to the skip button in time, perhaps unfairly.

First impressions find it to be lightweight and meandering, with Katherine Jenkins as the aforementioned female protagonist reflecting on happy memories she shared with a younger sister, over a drum-machine beat.

Later on, Wilson then reminds you whose name is on the sleeve by singing “We have got the perfect life” several times, while the electronic music gently builds. The piece is starkly beautiful in a way that Wilson is proving more and more adept at, and it remains to be seen how this fits in to the mural of the story, and how it relates to the other songs on the album.

As befalls every album, Hand. Cannot. Erase has now leaked.

 If you can’t hold on until March 3^rd, you’ll know where to look. But Steven Wilson is an individual who takes extra, extra care in crystallising the mundane and presenting it as something extraordinarily beautiful. In examples such as Hand. Cannot. Erase. he presents to the world something far more than a collection of songs; it’s art, pure and far from simple.