Saga
10,000 Days

The ten thousand days in the title are nothing more than the thirty years spent together by the group from Oakville, Ontario, by one of the founders and now resigning, the singer Michael Sadler. His departure is entirely amicable, with no artistic or character conflicts; Sadler simply longs for more time to spend with his family, and thus reciprocates this kind of final dedication with special care and vocal commitment, at the peak of his possibilities, in short, with a swan song as a true protagonist.

Not that the other four are sitting idly by... there is glory for everyone in these nine successful tracks, including the relatively new element, the drummer Brian Doerner in his second, outstanding recording effort with Saga. On the other hand, professionals have long considered him as nothing less than the second-best Canadian drummer, namely the first among the "human" ones (his fellow countryman Neil Peart, cephalopod central rhythm of Rush, is notoriously of Martian origins!).

The most striking example is the second track "Book of Lies", a summa of the best of the best that this formation can offer: a stuttering riff plucked by Ian Chricton on the electric guitar predisposes the ear to uncertainty, so that when the first thud of the rhythmic train arrives, you are stunned in a rush of adrenaline. Above the heavy bass/drum pedal, Sadler's beautiful voice declaims the verses, pursued by barking replies together from guitar and synthesizer: crazy dynamics, a savage drive. At the moment of the chorus, the rhythm shifts to three-fourths and the song expands and envelops itself in a lush manner, thanks to very elegant harmonizations of fourth and sixth: class for sale, great skill.

After the second round, it's time for a break: repeated and earth-shaking drum rolls by Doerner pave the way for Chricton's guitar solo. The long solo continues in our friend’s typical unpredictable and eel-like style until it sublimates into swift Bachian tapping that falls, after a breathtaking general stop, into the basic plucked riff. The bulk is done, and there's time for just one last re-proposition of the splendid melody of the chorus, and the four minutes and change have flown by, full of strength and desire for music and grit and elegance.

In their eighteenth studio work, the quintet still manages to place songs of excellent standard like this one, but there's more and different: the Irish-born frontman is a delightful protagonist in the romantic super ballad "More than I Deserve", featuring a radiant chorus exuding class and sophistication, as well as humility (in the lyrics). On the lush keyboard carpet, certainly saccharine for those who don't like syrupy ballads, also rest the indulgences of Chricton, fiddling with his volume knob leading the passionate listener to a past exploit of the group, that in "You and the Night" contained in the 1985 album "Behaviour."

The placement of this song in the lineup is appropriate, right after the frenzied seven-plus instrumental minutes of "Corkentellis" (but what is it?… mystery…), the spectacular apex of the album and now a constant presence in concert set lists: in a jazz manner, a swirling initial theme is proposed, which then slides into concatenated and changing solo situations that neither the bass nor the drums shy away from, albeit briefly. The initial obbligato finally resurfaces to bring the piece to its epilogue. A fusion piece, especially in the guitar solo, but with its beautiful progressive component given by the inevitably pompous style of the keyboardist.

Sadler's skill at harmonization shines again in "Sideways" this time along the verses, thicken and animated by the fat stopped strums of Crichton. The doubling of the vocal line carefully avoids the expected paths of thirds and fifths, nobly climbing towards seventh and ninths a'la Mercury (poor Freddie, if he were still here, would have appreciated -- he thrived in these high-school harmony wraps).

The battalion of Korg synthesizers in the hands of the curly Jim Gilmour is in full display in the opening "Lifeline": his free form prologue that crosses brass carpets, piano arpeggios, and woodwind counterpoints serves to make surprising the timely rhythmic explosion, which proceeds swashbuckling in its cyclopean riff before giving space to singing and then to individual solos, then crossed, then call and response of the two very agile soloists. The little one on the guitar in particular is the usual dragon: hear how anticipatively, with touch, technique, heart he grabs the B string and makes it oscillate by a tone, in tune to fear and in complete control, meanwhile the amp valves, saturated hard, do their work and release the upper harmonic...: bliss!

Full instrumental consistency also for "Sound Advice", which travels on a mighty nine-eight riff that then resolves into an eccentric refrain, a creative prog/rock'n'roll thing that pushes Sadler's voice to the limit of his range. The instrumental portion grants evident and clear digressions a'la Gentle Giant, with typical contrapuntal interlocks inherited from the seminal British masters that then flow into yet another, beastly solo by Ian, able to fiddle with his Music Man with exuberant expressiveness.

For those seeking inspired ideas from music, here's to you the growling, very stopped, quite strange riff of "Can You See Me Now?" first straddling a rolling rhythm and then flowing into a dissonant chord, but comforted by a convincing singing line. It's music devoid of commercial aims and banalization, which lets transpire how this group, now without uncertainties and reservations, works primarily for the pleasure of its members, then for that of its faithful admirers, and that's all. 

In their eighteenth album of new material, as well as their twenty-ninth year on the recording market, Saga released this album in 2007, which positioned itself among their top four or five albums. Fresh with beautiful songs, free to give full voice to the progressive vein, the pleasure of playing and knowing how to play, the proven, deadly execution cohesion, without regard to career, to sales because the "cult" dimension (few fans, but good ones, loyal, happy) has long been perfectly accepted.