IQ
Are You Sitting Comfortably?

Introduction:

For those not particularly well-versed in progressive music, I would like to preface this by saying that IQ (or Intelligence Quotient) is a London new-progressive quintet, active since the early eighties to the present day and holding a dozen studio-recorded albums. This is the fourth in the series, released at the close of the eighties.

IQ prides itself on being among the many highly appreciated groups by yours truly, albeit not absolute favorites… let's say within the top fifty of my personal ranking, and this for the bipolar attitude their catalog of tracks evokes in me. On more than a few occasions, their music almost brings me to tedium… like much of the sixth album “Subterranea,” but it's also true that here and there in their different albums, there are moments that are absolutely magical for me, entire excellent songs, or more often sublime passages within them that send me into rapture, aesthetic/ecstatic panic, musicophile orgasm.

They are more of an “atmospheric” than a properly melodic group. You have to get into the vibration, not be in a hurry. Also totally derivative: historical Genesis as their prevailing model, complete with a “theatrical” singer (also the author of many of their album covers), more artist than entertainer, even adorned in makeup and wigs in his youth; then romantic keyboards (less intrusive than those of Tony Banks... especially little piano), Hackettian lead guitar with long and round sounds or floridly arpeggiated, irregular rhythms where possible, etc. All pleasantly coherent and cohesive, democratic, balanced, determined, naively but respectfully “serious” in their approach to arrangements and concepts of pure classic progressive, temporally anachronistic yet sincere and enthusiastic.

Of course, it is classic European rock, requiring multiple listens and an innate predisposition toward its themes: there is no blues, no rhythm & blues, no jazz, in short, no America, and the usual criteria to define them as a rock group tout court are concentrated in the robust rhythm section and the sonorously amplified instrumentation.

Context:

It is 1989, the prototypical Genesis, King Crimson, Yes, Pink Floyd have long been on a downturn, if not completely disbanded and on a sabbatical pause; the rock music that sells the most is still synth/plastic or glam/metal, but IQ proudly travel their path, supported by the niche enthusiasm for new progressive, by that crew of die-hards who refuse to give up and let the genre succumb. They are always devoted to Art and Inspiration, but they have been trying to take an additional side step, as pronounced as possible given their nature as faithful and purist nerds, for several years now.

Already with the third album “Nomzamo” from 1987, they decided to pay their first tribute to the hedonistic eighties by forcing themselves to replace the original singer: the artistic and Gabriel-like Peter Nichols out (temporarily) and in with the very similar in voice timbre, but more ordinary and lean Paul Menel.

In this album, Menel is confirmed, as well as the already initiated trend towards the poppification of the musical proposal. Nothing exaggerated though, no drastic and jarring banalizations of the Genesis Collins-era, if only because this album still provides two suites, one about nine minutes and the other almost eight. The group is trying to create their “And Then We Were Three” or their “Duke”… arriving as always ten years late.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

IQ has defined their peculiar sound since their beginnings: sweet, melancholic, evocative, attentive, convinced, essentially not-virtuosic. If you love progressive, it is impossible for some of their songs not to strike a chord in your heart and mind. They are formulaic by nature (like all new-progressive), yet also alluring and effective on at least one-third of their repertoire, and this makes them to my taste among the best representatives of the eighties' new progressive wave, second only to Marillion (the initial ones with Fish, not the later ones led by Steve Hogarth, too rarefied and lengthy, interesting yes, but without enthusiasm).

Highlights of the Album:

“Nostalgia” is the absolute masterpiece here: a linear, choral, and hypnotic instrumental placed as a prelude to the subsequent and varied track, the valid but much less memorable “Falling Apart at the Seams.” Even live, the quintet always performs the two numbers together, linked as a suite, but the best, I repeat, is that instrumental intro, and so it’s nice that it has its own title and track number.

The piece is relatively short… about two and a half minutes of engaging Mellotron-like synthesizer fanfare, proceeding in semi-slow tempo, first evocative (appropriately to the title) and then also swaggering once joined by the powerful rhythm section.

The main performer and certainly also the author, keyboardist Martin Orford, is no stranger to brilliant harmonic progressions through mellotronist chords (notably the one that inaugurates “Outer Limits” and the 1985 album “The Wake,” a passage favored by their fans, myself included), but here the modest yet excellent musician exceeds all expectations.

It all starts simply with a progression in triads that, maintaining the drone of E in the bass, oscillates towards its flat and then its fourth B, then repeating half a tone lower, thus sliding the drone to E flat.

The fanfare is already heartbreaking and epic as it is, but its closure turns it into something surprising and, from a harmonic and compositional standpoint, absolutely genius. On the second round, the good Orford decides to change chords and especially move the bass, raising the E flat to F sharp, then G sharp, then A, then going back and plunging into a B that supports a satisfying, nourishing, resolving F sharp minor, the last of a series of three or four unexpected chords.

A cool sequence, one that demands instant repeated replay: there’s an acute desire to recharge with the intense initial “rounds,” to plunge back into their temporary, unsettling resolution and to reiterate the experience as many times as possible. (Good) music is this: nourishment of the spirit through tensions and releases, constructions and completions, expectations and satisfactions. The nostalgia referred to in the title is fully alluded to, celebrated, drawn, even painted. Marvelous!

Another peak of the work is “Through My Fingers,” a progressive pop ballad chiseled by electric guitar arpeggios drenched in chorus and embellished with tiny synthesizer and guitar solos, especially enriched by a wide, wonderfully twisting vocal melody, rather difficult but most importantly surprisingly good and, as the cherry on top, by an impressive drum score.

Paul Menel (who reminds me a bit of Howard Jones’s style and timbre) is certainly not the best singer there is, but here he’s doing his utmost! The track suits him perfectly: effortlessly, he oscillates between the baritonal notes of the verses and the falsetto of the choruses with commendable conviction and fitting expression. The complex melody takes a long time to unwind and simplify (superbly) in the choruses, becoming increasingly stentor and assured: a gem.

Even better is what Paul Cook manages behind drums and cymbals: a real lesson in progressive ballad pop accompaniment. Not forgoing his usual explosive and Austro-Hungarian style, the musician keeps the piece's normal 4/4 but makes a difference in the fills, seasoning every passage from one section of the track to another with a sequence of brilliant inventions, especially with the bass drum. Very reminiscent of the school of Bill Bruford, a recognized master in the field (field of “I make the bass drum disappear for a moment and then bring it back where no one expects it”). Paul is the most brilliant musician of IQ, and it becomes evident in this occasion.

The rest:

Eight tracks on the lineup, two well-extended as already mentioned, and six otherwise usual (ranging from two to five minutes).

“War Heroes” at the opening has a stentorian (a tad shrill) chant that supports the piece's crescendo, from the initial atmospheric electronics to the medium rock. Quite listenable, but it lacks a bridge, a modulation, and then six and a half minutes always on a single musical phrase is excessive.

“Drive On” decidedly pays tribute to the synth-pop prevailing at the time, both for the sequences programmed on Orford’s machines and for Menel’s way of singing, in broken and repetitive phrases. A long and not particularly inspired guitar solo by Mike Holmes stretches the piece to almost five minutes. The chorus is unappealing, lacking instrumental or vocal “hooks.” Better leave these synthesized squawks to Duran Duran: thumbs down.

“Falling Apart at the Seams” is the typically moderately successful IQ song: changes in rhythms, solo parts, arranging effort, vocals coming and going, and towards the end, there’s a rock reprise of the theme from the previous “Nostalgia.” All exquisite but drastically unmemorable… everything is appreciated when listening, but in the end, not a single note, not a single passage stays in memory.

“Sold on You” is lightweight and banal progressive pop, theoretically a means to open up the market but, based on the facts, a mere filler.

“Wurensh” is the hefty piece just shy of ten minutes, the album’s neural center, the ideal place for anyone seeking instrumental complexity, virtuosity, and changes of atmosphere from the progressive genre. The title is an anagram for New Rush, and with a bit of effort, references to the super Canadian band can be found (counter-tempo keyboards, choral detachments, busy drums). Not much though, because Menel is too different a singer from Geddy Lee; moreover, the rhythm section doesn’t make one miss Toronto’s super talents, Geddy and Neil Peart. The piece ends with a guitar classical essay by Holmes, simple but competent.

“Nothing At All” is supported by a very beautiful repeated keyboard phrase and closes the work well, in a symphonic and compact manner.

The sci-fi cover? Well, I find it rather unattractive, including the lettering of the title, which is cute and original, however.

Final Judgment:

A decent album, made attractive (or indispensable in the case of devoted progressive listeners) by the couple of contained feats described thoroughly above. IQ has better in their discography (such as “Ever” from 1993) but also far worse.