Sylvan
One to Zero

Mostly remote, partly in the studio, with a maximum of two people at a time, at least 2 meters apart and wearing masks. Amidst a thousand difficulties, "One to Zero," the tenth album by the German band Sylvan, was born, which comes out a good 6 years after their previous work.

The music hasn't changed; after all, Sylvan's offering hasn't undergone major transformations over time, only small changes. The differences predominantly lie in the first two albums, where the sound leaned towards the more traditional neo-prog of early Marillion and IQ, and in the 2007-2009 period, where they ventured into more pop territories. However, it is noticeable that in recent works, the sound, already delicate and refined in itself, has become even more subdued. "One to Zero" continues this theme; it's quite similar to the previous two albums, thus featuring an extremely delicate sound. This leads to some flaws, essentially consisting of a certain underlying prolixity and a lack of variety in solutions. Not that there was a great melting pot of elements in the band's golden phase, but that period of 2002-2006 had something that kept the attention higher; the bar was higher: the rhythm varied just a bit more, there were small shifts in intensity, a touch more brilliance in the guitar and keyboard parts, occasionally even some harder parts emerged, like a crest rising in a calm sea, and they weren't even that rare, metal incursions weren't excluded either; if we take "Artificial Paradise" as an example, probably their best album, then we see complete variety, with each track being profoundly different from the other while still adhering to a common denominator. "One to Zero" instead gives the impression once again of always hearing the same riff; the same muffled and minimal guitar, the same soft piano parts, even some delicate string arrangements, plus a general sense of relaxation that prevails throughout most of the album. At times, it seems like a kind of contemporary classical music adapted to neo-prog. Clearly disadvantaged is vocalist Marco Glühmann, who has always been a real strength of the band—not to mention one of my favorite vocalists—but here he often finds himself having to sing at the minimum of his abilities due to obvious stylistic choices. This time, however, they had the intellectual honesty to contain the overall duration; after the 90 minutes of "Sceneries" and the 76 of "Home," here they limit themselves to 65 minutes.

The tracks where a sense of prolixity is most felt are, unsurprisingly, the two longest tracks, "Part of Me" and "Not a Goodbye." They don't appear endless, but the sensation that they could have been shorter is evident; all the others, however, flow very well, lacking that bit of dynamism but fulfilling their function effectively, representing well that sense of delicacy they aim to show. There are still the more lively episodes and particular ideas, such as "On My Odyssey," a bit more lively with a sprightly violin section with almost folk-like traits, something quite unusual for the group. However, there are fundamentally three tracks that completely detach themselves from the rest of the album, not blending with the generalized delicacy of the album and providing a touch of liveliness that certainly doesn't hurt: we're talking about the introductory "Bit by Bit," which without problems proposes guitar-keyboard passages that insert themselves into the purest prog, bringing Sylvan back to their origins, to the typically neo-prog approach of the first two albums; then there's the energetic "Go Viral," with electronic sounds from a post-industrial atmosphere, the very few metal inserts in the album, and again guitar-synth passages; the most surprising track, however, is "Start of Your Life," that scratchy but not exaggerated guitar, those slightly artificial percussions, those keyboard ups and downs that are very Muse-like, all, however, in the service of quite remarkable immediacy, a pleasant and vibrant hard-pop, the classic controversial and modernist track capable of raising eyebrows but in which a small gem is actually hidden.

In the end… one could expect more, but not by much, because Sylvan is not the band from which to expect a stroke of genius. There may not be much variety, but the Germans have crafted an album absolutely in line with their style. Relaxed, refined, elegant, ultimately quite consistent, it flows to the ears with incredible clarity, precision, and naturalness—all criticisms that could be leveled against it crumble when one realizes the fluidity and attention to detail. Let's avoid asking for too much.