Porcupine Tree
Fear Of A Blank Planet

THE REVIEW

"Year Zero," Nine Inch Nails, release date April 16, 2007... damn, tomorrow! The same day as "Fear Of A Blank Planet"... I ask my wallet, "Can we afford to buy both?" It doesn't say anything but puts the payment slip for the five-string Spector bass under my nose... Alright, it's a no... Sleepless night, until a revelation: in the dark, the bluish gaze of a little girl and a voice: "Colin Edwin uses Spector basses..."... April 16, morning; I don't even look under the N in the record section, I grab one a little further away... Now let's hear what this bluish girl really has to say to me. Play.

A year ago, an acquaintance who always gets it wrong when he criticizes but always gets it right when he praises recommended "On The Sunday Of Life" (1991) to me; nice album, I agreed, so rich in ideas as well as all those debts someone like Steven Wilson inevitably has to the golden era of rock. Then, out of curiosity, I skip eleven years of Porcupine Tree's career and crash into "In Absentia," finding everything I was looking for: modern sound, stimulating compositions, perfect arrangements. I hadn't heard anything better, and within a few months, I caught up with all the porcupine's chapters; a series of seemingly impeccable albums that, however, dilute the newprog ambition now in predictable digressions (the scheme of "Russia On Ice" recycled multiple times), now in dubious pop concessions ("Lazarus"). The pleasure of listening to them, yes, that always persists...

...play...

The six tracks of "Fear Of A Blank Planet" are pure perfection, and this time they are even beyond appearances. Porcupine Tree is probably not destined for an absolute masterpiece, but they do have some of "their" masterpieces ("The Sky Moves Sideways," "In Absentia"); "Fear" is one of them. The infinitesimal attention to detail works on two fronts, delighting the listener and cooling the impact of a concept as cold as the cover; the technique of Wilson, Barbieri, Edwin, and Harrison is exquisite and yet always functional to the entirety of the sound; the premises were recycled but sooner or later they had to reach their executional peak. "Anesthetize," seventeen minutes that split the album in half, flows more than three minutes of Sanremo and is, with its riding a multitude of suggestions, perhaps the most emblematic piece of the Porcupine Tree style; the metal thrusts are more justified than ever, the electronics enter massively yet do not invade, everyone's taste (Wilson first and foremost) is the only source of warmth...

Happy and content, I haven't yet bothered to find a friend who chose "Year Zero"...