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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.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 Even Less (07:11)
A body is washed up on a Norfolk beach
He was a friend that I could not reach
He thought I was cold but I understand
But for the grace of god goes another man
And I may just waste away from doing nothing
But you're a martyr for even less
A choirboy is buried on the moors
Where we used to go dreaming when we were bored
So some kids are best left to fend for themselves
And others were born to stack shelves
And I may just waste away from doing nothing
But you're a martyr for even less
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02 Piano Lessons (04:21)
I remember piano lessons
The hours in freezing rooms
Cruel ears and tiny hands
Destroying timeless tunes
She said there's too much out there
Too much already said
You'd better give up hoping
You're better off in bed
You don't need much to speak of
No class, no wit, no soul
Forget you own agenda
Get ready to be sold
I feel now like Christine Keeler
Sleepwaking in the rain
I didn't mean to lose direction
I didn't want that kind of fame
(Take your hands off my land)
Credit me with some intelligence
(if not just credit me)
I come in value packs of ten
(in five varieties)
And even though I got it all now
My only stupid dream
I see you and me together
And how it should have been
I remember piano lessons
Now everything seems clear
You waiting under streetlights
For dreams to disappear
04 Pure Narcotic (05:02)
You keep me waiting
You keep me alone in a room full of friends
You keep me hating
You keep me listening to the Bends
No amount of pointless days
Can make this go away
You have me on my knees
You have me listless and deranged
You have me in your pocket
You have me distant and estranged
No narcotics in my brain
Can make this go away
I'm sorry that, I'm sorry that I'm not like you
I worry that I don't act the way you'd like me to
I'm sorry that, I'm sorry that I'm not like you
You find me wanting
You find me bloodless but inspired
You find me out
You find me hallucinating fire
No narcotics in my brain
Can make this go away
I'm sorry that, I'm sorry that I'm not like you
I worry that I don't act the way you'd like me to
I'm sorry that, I'm sorry that I'm not like you
Have we ever been here before?
Running headlong at the floor
Leave me dreaming on a railway track
Wrap me up and send me back
Have we ever been here before? (I'm sorry that)
Running headlong at the floor (I'm sorry that I'm not like you)
Leave me dreaming on a railway track (I worry that)
Wrap me up and send me back (I don't act the way you'd like me to)
05 Slave Called Shiver (04:40)
I need you more than you can know
And if I hurt myself it's just for show
I found a better way to curb the pain
You put a trigger here inside my brain
Mother I need her
I'm falling apart
Mother I need her
And it's only the start
I may be nothing now but I will rise
I'll have more followers than Jesus Christ
Mother I need her
I'm falling apart
Mother I need her
And it's only the start
Through all the smashing things and crashing cars
I love the ground you walk with all my heart
Mother I need her
I'm falling apart
Mother I need her
And it's only the start
06 Don't Hate Me (08:30)
A light snow is falling on London
All sign of the living has gone
The last train pulls into the station
And no-one gets off and no-one gets on
Don't hate me
I'm not special like you
I'm tired and I'm so alone
Don't fight me
I know you'll never care
Can I call you on the telephone, now and then?
One light burns in a window
It guides all the shadows below
Inside the ghost of a parting
And no-one is left, just the cigarette smoke
07 This Is No Rehearsal (03:26)
How many children did I bring into this world?
How many did I lose in the shopping arcade?
This is no rehearsal - play it back
and throw things at the screen
This is no rehearsal - somebody
interpret this for me
And still I remember how I dressed him this morning
And then he was gone - stolen, my only one
09 Stranger by the Minute (04:30)
Ghosts in the park
Appear just after dark
Killers, children ...
But no-one has a harp
They look like tourists
It makes me want to laugh
Under floorboards
It's hard to fly a kite
Underwater
My cigarette won't light
Standing in the shade
I'm getting frostbite
Strange as I seem
I'm getting stranger by the minute
Look in my dreams
They're getting stranger by the minute
When I'm drowning
You drag me up to you
Rings in the water
My only residue
But you're just fiction
And I'm a twisted boy
10 A Smart Kid (05:22)
Stranded here on planet earth
It's not much but it could be worse
Everything's free here, there's no crowds
Winter lasted five long years
No sun will come again I fear
Chemical harvest was sown
And I will wait for you
Until the sky is blue
And I will wait for you
What else can I do?
A spaceship from another star
They ask me where all the people are
What can I tell them?
I tell them I'm the only one
There was a war but I must have won
Please take me with you.
12 Stop Swimming (06:53)
This song leaks out onto the pavement
It could be a joke, it could be a statement
The more that I fake it and pretend I don't care
The more you can read in to what isn't there
Maybe it's time to stop swimming
Maybe it's time to find out where I'm at
What I should do and where I should be
But no-one will give me a map
I'll leave now, this can't continue
But I forget which door I came through
And I know what the lift can be painfully slow
So I think I'll leave by the window
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Other reviews
By splinter
An album at the service of emotions.
If you want to enjoy it to the fullest, you absolutely must set your mind free from what you’re doing at the moment and think about where you’d like to be and when.
By Omega Kid
Stupid Dream is the story of an epic infatuation, a destabilizing crush that makes it difficult to rationally evaluate what surrounds us.
It’s simply a comforting, warm corner of serenity, where Wilson finally manages to find that dimension craved by his creative vein.
