Gary Moore
After the War

This is the last somewhat transitional album from the poor, great Moore, before he finally decided to follow his heart completely, dropping class metal, fusion, progressive... everything he had mostly played up to that point, more or less pushed by the record labels, and giving himself over, body and soul, to rock blues that's more blues than rock (sometimes with Celtic touches, meaning from his homeland). In this way, he crafted a second part of his career much better than the first.

Here (it's 1989) we're not quite there yet: the guitars used are often the wrong ones, eighties contraptions with a bland and mid-heavy sound. The artist is still influenced by eighties trends and plays too many notes, too fast; I wouldn't say soulless (impossible, for him), but, let's say, without that utter abandon he would later show in spades.

The beginning of the album is nevertheless spectacular: the electric guitar, resembling a Celtic bagpipe, paints a suspended and misty atmosphere atop a keyboard drone. This is the first part, instrumental, of the track "Dunluce," which then returns as track 11 to close the album. A great performance—a real thrill.

But then comes a string of predictable and anonymous hard rock tracks, sometimes more melodic, others more metal. In the middle, the inexplicable "Led Clones," a “tribute” to Led Zeppelin, yet sung by Ozzy Osborne for some reason, among “Oriental” keyboards, cyclopean Bonham-style drums, and bombastic bass/guitar riffs. In this way, Gary shows that he too can blandly mimic the style of a huge global name, like so many others—far too many. Fine, but in an album dominated by predictable hard-pop-rock, it doesn't really fit.

Punctual as a Japanese train, in track 7 comes the slow, lengthy, and utterly wrenching instrumental, the real signature move of our guitarist, who possesses that special strength in his hands to stretch his strings to the limit, bending them to his will. This piercing number is called "The Messiah Will Come Again" and honestly should be taught in conservatories, for how Moore's particular “muscular” talent can convey warmth and pain. Also, eternal thanks to Mr. Lester William Polsfuss, known as Les Paul, for inventing and bringing to market the uniquely excellent Gibson guitar—the only one capable of producing sonic performances like this one by Moore.

In the end, the best thing here, besides the already praised intro/outro, is, for me, "Blood of Emeralds," toward the end. It's the longest track, over eight minutes thanks to a lengthy atmospheric interlude at the center. Before and after, Gary's guitar robustly sketches airs from his homeland (Belfast), mixing them with a hard rock that, this time, doesn't reek of mainstream.

Unfortunately, I can only give three stars... The urge to give four, after listening to "Dunluce" a couple of times in a row (it’s the name of a ruined castle on the north Irish coast), is definitely there, but Moore’s truly great albums are others. This one has its moments, but is weighed down by pointless hard rock tunes where he shouts (which is not his thing) and fires away aimlessly.