Peter Hammill
Incoherence

There are works by artists that at first seem challenging and not easily grasped. With Hammill, this is often the norm, but in the case of "Incoherence," it's even more so. The more you listen to the CD, the more layers of understanding increase, and the more difficulties arise in maneuvering through the winding spirals that climb in this magma, never before so intertwined like the roots of ancient trees among music, lyrics, and soundscapes.

The key to unlocking this maze, an illumination for me, was comparing it to another work of such complex dimensions: the "Flight" of "Black Box." I told myself that this "Incoherence" album was indeed the "Flight" of these 2000s years, and whereas there it seemed to me Hammill was ascending as if to challenge the barriers of physics, launching into a free, individual, and solitary flight toward the metaphysical, here it seems like a kind of inverse process, as if attempting a sort of superhuman effort to achieve communicability of the word at the edge of practicability, without taking for granted the certainty of success. But as high human ingenuity teaches us, the aim of certain straightforward, sincere, and simple works, despite their complexity, is not to unveil answers to arcane mysteries but perhaps to provoke endless questions that will never find sly and charlatan solutions thrown in just to comfort hearts and minds.

What Peter excels at, however, is creating a perfect soundtrack to the Babelic chaos of human language where the sound is truly powerful and innovative, erupting like a compact and solidly uniform magma, never approximate, among flows sometimes impetuous, sometimes calmer, where no instrument predominates. Even though drumming is completely absent, in certain frenzied moments, it's not missed at all. In fact, this makes the album peculiar as well, since Peter almost always had the support of a drummer, either physically present or electronically aided, but here it's totally absent. Yet it's not a 'quiet' record, as Peter likes to define certain atmospheres, but rather truly convoluted. The phrasing of the piano, violin (Stuart Gordon), sax (David Jaxon), and various keyboards creates a unique and unrepeatable atmosphere, even for Hammill's own scenery. We could say it stands halfway between the VdGG sound and Hammill's solo work, but ultimately it truly stands on its own, listened to as one block, like a chaotic sigh from start to finish, making it difficult to extract any track for random listening... no!

It's an album that must be listened to entirely in one go, like drinking a strong glass of red wine with intense, purple hues, slightly vanilla but dry, dense, and firm, leaving a sweet and powerful taste in your mouth at the end, ecstatic and intoxicating.