Dream Theater
Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence

THE REVIEW

Preface:

Those who frequent DeBaser regularly might be wondering, more or less politely: "was there really a need for another review on Dream Theater?" You'll find the answer at the end.

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And there clarity returns all at once. And along with the frustration of not being able to jump out of bed and write something immediately – because tomorrow morning the alarm goes off at 6 – there is the anger of having already lost that blonde who was running semi-naked through the woods at the beginning of the night's first dream. But serenity returns shortly after. After deciding that tomorrow I’ll write about... well... about which album?

One of those containing the romantic and sweet "Wait for Sleep", "Anna Lee", "Through Her Eyes", "The Ministry of Lost Soul", or one of those with the muscular yet melodic "The Mirror", "Metropolis part 1", "In the Presence of Enemies"? Or one of those with the more neo-progressive "Lines in the Sand" with that moving solo, "Learning to Live" beautiful, or the triptych "Erotomania - Voices - The Silent Man"? Write about the entire concept-album "Metropolis part 2" or the one containing the pinkfloydian-genesisian-yessian suite "Octavarium", a homage to the greats of the past??

Those with guitar solos stunning in technique and originality like "Trial of Tears", "Surrounded", "The Spirit Carries On", or the already mentioned suite "Octavarium" for one of the most beautiful keyboard prog solos I've ever heard?

A stroke of genius!: a wonderful album, one of their best that contains all these forms: "Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence". Yes, decided, because this encompasses all the facets of their style. It has a really beautiful cover! The only flaw is that it's poorly recorded, the worst audio in a production almost always above average of what's out there. Don't ask me why this time it's like this, I don't know.

Dream Theater is either loved or hated, there are no middle grounds, almost like Juventus.

I admit that sometimes they've let themselves go in albums full of purely technical displays (Train of Thought for example) but it is also true that at the pinnacle of their artistic curve, they have gifted history with prog-metal masterpieces that have inspired many others. And even afterward they managed, at least until Portnoy's departure.  

Now, onto the Work: almost everyone knows it is a double album and that it begins with the crackle of a stylus having left the groove of a vinyl, a connection with the previous record which ended just like that. Then, after a recognizable beginning among millions of records made of bell, bass, and arpeggiated guitar, it powerfully kicks off with "The Glass Prison". "Blind Faith" follows, which represents the low point of the production, light, catchy, and therefore tiresome after 10 listens. Misunderstood is a great melodic piece and precedes the best in my opinion, the dense "The Great Debate", which, beyond the content that may or may not agree on, dealing with the theme of abortion, is a phantasmagoric kaleidoscope of times, rhythms, original notes but with a classic aftertaste, the pinnacle of progressive interpretation in modern key. With the initial rhythm of an insistent bass, it carries and the John Petrucci solo at the end touches the peaks of originality and technical quality, literally gives me chills every time. You wait for it, after the keyboard solo, and when it arrives, it is pure ecstasy. The first CD concludes with a beautifully poignant "Disappear", which creates an atmosphere, enhanced by those notes at the beginning and end seemingly off-key.

At first listen, the suite seems like a joke, with that swirling of symphonic and 19th-century sounds; but then no, you understand they mean business, that it's a playful overture that preludes to a suite worthy of the Founding Fathers of prog. A suite that, after passing through six splendid chambers, returns at the finale to the initial theme this time in a rock key, to then conclude with a well-placed gong strike that reverberates, floats in the air, goes from left to right, fills the room you’re in, fading slowly to zero but leaving in the air the palpable soul of the whole complex precious composition.

It may be that much has already been written about DM on our DeBaser, that many will say more or less 'politely': "here’s yet another superfluous review". But I, a good Tuscan, preemptively respond: m'importanasega, this time I did it yes also for you, but above all for me.