Porcupine Tree
Stupid Dream

The vortex of time was about to swallow the nineties, and a strange mixture of light and shadow was about to envelop me.

For some years already, I had begun to cultivate my special non-sense for life. Listening in those years to "Disintegration" by "The Cure," "OK Computer" by "Radiohead," and "Stupid Dream" by "Porcupine Tree" was a real relief because it freed me from the obligation not to cry: that "cosmic" pain released by that music brought tears to my eyes that I had suppressed for too long. The sparks of that salt water fell and exploded on the ground, turning into fragments of a mirror that distorted my face. I was finally free to reveal the sick flowers of my love. A few years later, I was happy to hear Fossati sing: “Sono colpevole di aver nutrito l’amore e altre deviazioni, come la malinconia, come la nostalgia”. I don't know if those were good years for all of you… I only know that for me they were fiercely and cruelly important. Perhaps I shouldn't have started this review this way, but I can't deviate from the feelings connected to this music, can't leave them behind. I don't need to listen to this album again to revisit its various moments.

I close my eyes and think back to "Even Less," with its keyboards introducing the laughter of a distant girl, and then the interlocutory sound of a guitar that suddenly becomes hard and epic... and again dreamlike atmospheres over which Steven Wilson's voice soars, taking us to the Norfolk beach. You see a gloomy, winter sea, lit up by a few rays of light that threaten to make you burn with nostalgia. Suddenly comes "Piano Lessons," which shakes you with its energy and allows you to relax only in certain moments. It feels like cold water running over your body early in the morning to invigorate you. After this energy, you close your eyes again and recover the dreamlike fragments of the night through "Stupid Dream." An acoustic guitar and a piano introduce "Pure Narcotic": it feels like a morning walk through the dewy fields that relaxes and puts you in a good mood. It's a shame that a sense of inadequacy occasionally surfaces in this sweet walk: "Mi dispiace di non essere come te". Colin Edwin bursts in with a hypnotic bass line on which Chris Maitland builds the rhythm of "Slave Called Shiver." Steven Wilson roams through this track with a strange sense of oppression to which he reacts with the anger of his guitar. A sense of creeping anguish begins to rise when the notes of "Don't Hate Me" sound: the apathy of the track tightens the throat to be interrupted only when Wilson sings anguished: "Non odiarmi, non sono speciale come te". The track evolves further, immersing us in the mists of evanescent dreams where Theo Travis's winds and Richard Barbieri's keyboards emerge. The track ends with a solo by Wilson that lulls us with its beauty.

You awaken again with "This is No Rehearsal": Wilson plays very well with the wah-wah pedal during the solo before leading the band towards an adrenaline-pumping finale of the track. "Baby Dream In Cellophane" shows us the world through the distorting lens of a light narcotic: everything has a strange logic, and it's strange to try to do more. Our eyes open again with "Stranger by the Minute": it feels like watching the world and time pass by through airplane windows, and Wilson's guitar invites us to fly. Silence. An acoustic guitar arpeggio begins, leading us into a slow vortex of sidereal nostalgia, where every note is a sweet poison… you breathe slowly… and then the heart opens, chasing the trajectories of Wilson's pentatonic scales. The poison begins to circulate, and the cosmic dream becomes a nightmare in "Tinto Brass." The drums and bass are a single heart beating rapidly, reflecting the visions evoked by Travis's flute. Suddenly, the labored breathing is cut off with the violent entrance of Wilson's guitar. We are at the end. Eyes wide open from the nightmare suddenly close again in quiet, slow pain: "forse è il momento di smettere di nuotare" whispers Wilson in "Stop Swimming." For some fragile visionaries, it’s easy to imagine sinking into the sea and seeing the sunlight move away and vanish as their body goes down… further down… more and more. After seeing the darkness, we have exorcised death… and now life is an adventure that must be lived.