Welcome Back + Album of the Year 2007: Porcupine Tree - Fear of a Blank Planet

Alright, I'm finally back and writing again after so many months of inactivity. I've been in a music lull (AKA my iPod died again and the world pretty much ended musically as I knew it) but now I'm back in the groove (AKA I got an iPod touch and it's inspired me) so the reviews continue. Seeing as I haven't been here in quite some time, this might as well be an appropriate review.

Porcupine Tree - Fear of a Blank Planet
Rating: 9.8/10

Sound: 10
Lyrics: 9.5
Sound/Production Quality: 10
Impression: 10
Replay Value: 9
Tilt: 10

Release Date: April 16, 2007
Genre: Progressive Rock, Neo Prog, Progressive Metal
Length: 50:48
Key Tracks: Listen to the album as a whole, or don't listen to it at all.

Almost a year ago today, the world was changed musically in an undeniable manner: Fear of a Blank Planet, Porcupine Tree's mainstream debut on Roadrunner records, was released. While many are unfamiliar with the four-piece progressive rock band from Hertfordshire, Englad...I can't really blame them. Despite massive, powerful rock epics from the mind of Steven Wilson being produced for more than 20 years, Porcupine Tree has never really found a name for itself in many scenes around the world until recently. Their releases have been described as eclectic, psychedelic, heavy and powerful by the world's top critics, but none can compare to Fear. For Porcupine Tree, although many others have come close, this record, more than any, is their magnum opus.

Fear of a Blank Planet is a self-described concept album. Steven Wilson, the band's lead singer, guitarist and producer, has described the album's central theme as "coming to terms with information technology...and the 21st century." Touching on the subjects of teen angst, drugs, alcohol, violence, gun violence, and escapism through each of these things, Fear of a Blank Planet is a trip into the soul of a troubled teenager. The trip itself is an interesting one, but, by no means, is it a smooth transition. Porcupine Tree bounces the listener from blaring guitars, to passive keyboards, to smooth drum beats and rough bass lines, not to mention extended, 5 minute guitar odysseys, just as mood swings and depression take the place of violence and extreme energy. Capturing this wide range of emotions in an album that is only 6 songs long is a complex task, to say the least, but Wilson does it flawlessly, creating a brilliant examination into adolescence and childhood trauma.

We begin with the keyboards taps of Fear of a Blank Planet. The sounds of a computer lead us into a heavy, fast metal track, setting the tempo for a rocky trip. The song describes an average teenager's perceptions on life: hatred towards adults, praising technology as the Almighty, taking the lessons of the media to heart and the unquenchable thirst for violence. They try to take drugs and alcohol to take the pain away, but things never seem to improve. The "bipolar disorder" that is boredom is taking over and the options are growing slim; a gun seems to be the inevitable conclusion. Wilson paints this picture so readily, using quick, almost spoken, vocals to drill the horrors into the head of the audience. Yet, as much as we are informed, the confusion of it all is captivating and we are left somewhat wanting. Our wants are answered in a progressive solo, fueling the hatred the song creates in the audience, finally ending in a heavy, distorted guitar solo. Nothing is contrived in this work; the power of each note and each word is evident in its creation. As it is a perfect opener, it also serves as so much more.

The album then transitions into My Ashes, from anger to isolation, as the song radiates lost hopes and dreams. A single acoustic guitar/piano combination plays into depressing lyrics from Wilson, expressing how society has laid blame on the album's protagonist, leading them to feel nothing and reject all else. They believe their isolation was their choice and that all that is left is their ability to dream of a better life they will never achieve. The guitar/piano combination is joined by a slow 4/4 drum beat and passionate strings half-way through, creating an escalating atmosphere as the protagonist's fears are taken away by sleep for another day.

We are now moved into the album's most prolific, perfect, stunning composition: Anesthetize. This almost 18 minute song is separated into three parts, each with its own separate values. The first is the transition of the dream-like trance of My Ashes into a nightmare, leaning on a powerful drum beat and an echoing keyboard movement. Wilson then begins to sing in a dream-like state, lamenting the lack of existence the protagonist feels. "I simply am not here / No way I should feel happy / Stop whining please," defines the message of this album as a whole in one singular chorus. At the 4-minute mark of the song, we witness another fantastic progressive guitar solo from none other than Rush's Alex Lifeson, done with intrigue and undeniable mastery. The keyboard then transitions between the first part, into a heavier guitar riff. This second part develops the transition of the entire album: from disinterest, to disregard, to boredom, to a lack of empathy, to hatred, to violence. The drum work of Gavin Harrison is highly regarded especially in this part, employing various meter changes between the parts. Again, as an audience, we are able to experience the same elaborate emotional escape the protagonist does in this part (most notibly at 11:05, with a violent, heavily distorted guitar passage). Finally, we transition into the final part. This part is the softest and by far the most relieving of the song; it is as if the protagonist is once again lost in the drug-induced coma in which his life is bound and the audience is along for the ride. The meter is common, but all in all it captivates more than anything on this album. Lyrics sung in round at first, then in full projection, describing a dreamscape. The protagonist reflects on a moment of happiness in their life, yet can only recall it as a fading memory, pessimism taking control as it always has. We drift out, along with the song, and feel an eerie sense of fulfillment along with the usual despair. In my opinion, songs are meant to captivate. In some ways, this captivation can be happiness, energy, compassion and even fright. More than any other song this year, Anesthetize was the most jaw-dropping, eye-popping, stunning, frightfully beautiful piece of music I have listened to in 2007, it wasn't even close.

After coming down from the high of Anesthetize, we enter into Sentimental. This song sounded eerily familiar to me, like something that would come off In Absentia, one of Porcupine Tree's earlier works. However, upon a deeper listen, the production value as well as the brilliant piano work of Richard Barbieri were enough to make this song a stellar addition. Lyrically, the song describes the power struggle between the two opposing ends of the teen-aged spectrum: the desire to escape and the desire to remain dependent. Through dependency, one always has an outlet upon which to place blame. However, this desire only stems as far as the desire for freedom: an escape from the horrors of everyday life. Either way, "sullen and bored the kids stay/ and in this way they wish away each day." The album moves into what I believe to be its climax. Way Out of Here is the culmination of boredom, the epitome of sadness and the deepest depth of despair. From the first second of the composition, we are able to recognize every feeling behind it. The 6/8 measure springs into full effect at the song's chorus, driving drums into our skulls and proclaiming a guitar symphony. It describes the moments in life when we are void of feelings, compassion, anything. Break-ups, isolation, losses of those we love are all fair game. The guitars are simplistic, yet heavy and unbelievably appropriate. As captivated as this song is, it leaves room for an extensive range of emotional freedom. Fading out into only a bass line over the last minute, we are left strangely satisfied.

The finale of this masterwork is Sleep Together. While I feel the ending wasn't perfect, it leaves the listener with the proper sense of fulfillment required. Without a way out, nothing can possibly happen. Therefore, the protagonist sees sex as the only bridge between dependence and escapism. Instantaneous gratification is the only way out of the despair they feel, so the world falls away as the pleasure increases. Once again, the song is quite simplistic. In standard meter, Wilson drives distorted guitars into a slow drum beat with strings and a keyboard riff along for the ride. The song grows as it progresses, gaining momentum as the strings take over near the final bars of the composition. All combine for a conclusive finale to a wonderful album all around.

Very few albums of the modern era have an ability to capture the critics' hearts quite they way they used to. Today, we see simplistic indie rock overtake metal, progressive and various other genres on what is considered musically relevant. However, we cannot forget about metal all together. Porcupine Tree has developed one of the greatest works of the decade, possibly of music in general. They personify what it is to be a musician: honest, dedicated and masterful of their craft in every aspect. While very few have heard mention, let alone songs, from this English band, their future, as well as their present, is very bright. Run, don't walk, for this one, it is a modern masterpiece.

Photo References:
http://www.alternative-zine.com/images2/albums/porcupine_tree_fear_of_a_blank_planet__big.jpg
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/22/26066603_21c36d8aca.jpg