SPOCK'S BEARD Snow (Radiant/Metal Blade)
For the past decade, Spock's Beard has been at the top of the contemporary progressive rock heap. The hardworking California quintet has released consistently excellent albums, toured as much as their limited finances have allowed (mainly in Europe, where prog actually sells records) and generally been good-natured American prog spokespeople whenever asked. The band's assets are legion. Leader Neal Morse is a triple threat, an excellent, soulful singer, a lyrical keyboardist and an amazing songwriter, capable of pulling a startling number of memorable melodies out of the very air. His bandmates always rise to the occasion. Rather than dominate the music, guitarist Alan Morse prefers to accent it with catchy fills and succinct solos. Keyboardist Ryo Okumoto fills out the arrangements with oft-genius Hammond organ licks and just the right touch of Mellotron. Bassist Dave Meros is a modern master of melodic basslines that still stay in the pocket. Drummer Nick D'Virgilio keeps the beat moving, no matter what kind of funky time signature he's playing in, and provides lush harmony vocals as well.
Most important, however, is the band's ability to balance virtuosity and taste, craft and emotion—this is an ensemble that never goes over the top, even when faced with temptation to do so. The rock-solid arrangements always emphasize the integrity of the song itself, not the scope of the musicians' abilities. Spock's Beard has always been about tunes, with the progressive part of the equation coming from its own high level of musical skills. Its string of ambitious records is a testament to its commitment to quality.
Strangely, however, the Beard has never before done a concept album. A record whose songs are tied together by a narrative storyline or a single theme has been, depending on your perspective, either the holy grail or the utter downfall of many a prog outfit. Until now, Morse has always preferred to put together a collection of quality songs, rather than put an impetus behind them. He and the band have done extended suites, linking different tunes together, but always for musical effect, rather than storytelling technique. But that's changed with the Beard's sixth studio album Snow.
Told as a rock opera, complete with overtures and repeated musical themes, Snow follows its title character, an albino "working man's son" with the power to heal souls. Spread over two disks and a couple of hours, the tale is a familiar one, as Snow heads to New York City, gains a reputation amongst the city's castoffs for his abilities, a rep which spreads beyond the borders of the underground and leads to him becoming a much-in-demand figure. By disk two Snow is facing the twin demons of raging ego and unrequited love, both of which conspire to bring him down hard from his lofty perch. In the end, he finds redemption by walking through an unnamed spiritual gate, finally achieving the peace he'd been granting others.
The allegory is fairly obvious, even without songwriter Morse's interview confirmations; Snow is the story of an individual with extraordinary talents finding more happiness and peace in God than in his own abilities. It's a familiar tale, one that would become tiresome were it not accompanied by the Beard's typically well-crafted music. The album has the band's trademarks: catchy melodies, anthemic choruses, seamless shifting from powerhouse rock ("Freak Boy") to shimmering balladry ("Made Alive"), sparkling counterpoint harmonies ("Devil's Got My Throat"), heartfelt vocals ("Love Beyond Words"). In fact, if any complaint can be levied at the tunes here, it's that they have too many of the band's typical tricks. Outside of a horn section here ("The 39th Street Blues") or a dobro ("Stranger in a Strange Land") there, and allowing D'Virgilio to write and sing one of the songs ("Looking For Answers"), there's nothing here musically the group hasn't done on any of its records. Then again, experimentation is not what this album is about; it's about telling the story, getting out of Snow's way so he can relate his trials and triumphs. So while the twin anthems "Devil's Got My Throat" and "Wind At My Back" may not be two of the Beard's more original creations, they get their points across with passion, clarity and singalong choruses. Considering the often-convoluted nature of many concept records, it's hard to ask for anything more than that.
What makes Snow truly fascinating, however, is something which its creators never intended while they were making it. Not long after the album's release, Neal Morse announced his departure from the band he's led for nearly a decade. The reason? To follow the will of God, in whom he relatively recently gained a passionate belief. The parallels between art and life practically smack you in the face. Which begs the question: was the development of Snow analogous to Morse's real-life spiritual discovery? It shouldn't matter; any artist would ask an audience to judge a work on its own merits. But in this case it's nearly impossible to extricate the work from the man who made it. Snow is more than just the latest record by a beloved band; it's now a chronicle of its creator's inner journey, an emotionally-crafted farewell to his band and his fans. Snow has become not only the swan song for Neal Morse's career with Spock's Beard, but also its coda. No doubt that was never the intention of Morse or the band, but it can't be avoided. What was supposed to be a triumphant pinnacle instead has become a bittersweet finale. Michael Toland[buy it]
For fans of:Kansas, the Rocket Scientists, the Flower Kings
SPOCK'S BEARD
