Conception
Flow

The Conception is the product of the unsuspected northern European class of Tore Ostby, a guitarist with notable technical and stylistic abilities. And if the sound language of every part of the world uses a particular genre to express itself, the Norwegian guitarist is the most worthy representative of the nobility of a plebeian genre: metal. Be it because it is too tied to the extreme at all costs, or because those who masterfully play it often tend to boast about their skills, with modern “blue-blooded” music, metal has never had anything to do.

The Conception represents the exception that proves the rule: a project that originates from progressive metal in the common sense (extended solos, an abundance of technical prowess), and becomes a stylistically uncontrolled creature even for its composers. "In Your Multitude" (1994) was the first step towards subsequent stylistic degeneration, which however did not herald the shift of the following "Flow" (1997): a gamble worthy of the creativity of a genius, devoted to the search for the perfect note. On the grooves of this CD, there is indeed very little prog. metal: it is a work that embodies the madness of a virtuosic guitarist, anything but self-celebratory and stale like his genre colleagues.

To attest to these conjectures is the review on this same site (not by me) of that hard ‘n’ prog work known as "Burn The Sun," the subsequent highly eccentric experience in Ostby's second artistic chapter: the Ark. Avant-garde and almost out of place, "Flow" primarily plays on a certain type of sound and "interpretation from a classist snobbery" typical of the genre, with the flaw of lacking the overused “displays of technique” (which especially justify such an attitude to the ears of the buying audience). Whether they thought they would make money with such a record is unknown, but they indeed went seeking rubies in the land of the colorblind: considering the precedents, this work can be called commercial only in the intentions of its composers.

"Gethsemane" opens the show, playing exactly on these tones. Khan delivers an appropriate performance, well masking his not so outstanding skills as a prog singer. But really goosebumps-inducing is the solo in this piece. For goodness' sake, four notes and nothing more, but sometimes the manner allows us to transcend the technique. Stunning "A Virtual Lovestory," which opens with one of the most classic strumming on harmonics "made in Ostby," continues slyly on the lofty effects of the verses, closing with a display of the skills of the good Ingar Amlien, who may not be Randy Coven, but repeatedly demonstrates being an impeccable and precise bassist. The title track is also engaging, perhaps disappointing the progressive fans because it's too catchy. "Tell Me When I’m Gone" is embellished by the heavy rhythm of the choruses and yet another talented solo in the background. The chorus of “Cardinal Sin” enters the brain, yet another episode where the brief solo and the effects of the keys give the piece complete meaning.

A record not very progressive "in the metal sense," simple in structures and refined in arrangements and sounds, practically the exact opposite of what everyone expected. This is Art.