Saga
Pleasure & the Pain

Throughout the nineties, Saga subjected their fans to bewildering stylistic swerves: after the high-powered pomp rock ("The Security of Illusion," 1993), the glossy and oleographic synth pop ("Steel Umbrellas," 1994), the ambitious and substantial progressive/metal concept album ("Generation 13," 1995), in 1997 it was the turn of this authentic, unprecedented, disappointing techno/alternative/grunge mixture.

That the Ontario quintet's music constantly plays on the crossover between different genres is a fact, but usually the styles involved are primarily progressive, followed by hard rock, classy pop, certain distinctly British folk moods (it is typical of Canadians, a primarily Anglo/French-speaking community, to lean much more towards Northern European cultures compared to the Yankees) and even a certain disco/funky component in the rhythms. This unprecedented one-time swerve towards more "current" sounds obviously stems from the unsatisfied yearning for that broad success that never favored the band, accustomed to receiving tons of compliments from insiders, only to manage to peak in popular charts of only two important countries: native Canada and welcoming Germany, the latter almost an adoptive homeland.

The sadomasochistic cover chosen to illustrate, crudely and effectively, the title of the work (Pleasure and Pain...), was at the time censored by the international distributor, who replaced it with another, harmless and insignificant. Letting go of such an initiative probably wouldn't have changed anything about the fate of being a "cult" band, long attached like a monkey on the backs of the five talented musicians, sure that when the record label also throws spanners in the works of artistic inspiration...

The album is, simply put, the worst in their lush discography: the band's restyling towards territories not pertinent to them is conducted with skill, craft, balance but substantial coldness and didactic application. Among other things, they find no better than to recycle some tunes from past production: one of the flagship songs of the repertoire "You're Not Alone" (from the second album "Images at Twilight," 1979) is in fact self-covered in the new alternative guise, which, however, cannot help but make one miss the original.

 It is easy to recognize, in the opening track "Heaven Can Wait," the beautiful vocal line belonging to the verses of "Say Goodbye to Hollywood" (from "Steel Umbrellas"). Similarly, the suggestive acoustic guitar farewell that ends and titles the album is nothing but the further development of a melodic idea already used to ennoble a past, excellent song: "No Regrets" (from "Worlds Apart," 1981).

The grungy sounds applied to the guitar, with their sprawling distortions and lack of attack, do not benefit Ian Chricton's explosive and wild style, his proverbial staccato. Same fate for drummer Steve Negus, an artist of cymbal work and four-on-the-floor beats, who finds himself playing the typical squared and monotonous, fake John Bonham figures of alternative rock, without even having the essential power. As for keyboardist Jim Gilmour, the judgment is equally negative: a musician as exquisitely pompous and romantic as he is, grappling with disturbing and drowning electronic frequencies, is an abomination. Lastly, the heartfelt, composed, "light" voice of frontman Michael Sadler is the antithesis of grunge heaviness and depression.

Failed attempt, poorly executed experiment, ill-advised digression, pissing outside the pot, a shot in the dark... even after repeated listens, this work communicates exactly and only these feelings.

NEVER start your acquaintance with Saga from "Pleasure & the Pain": it would be counterproductive, and unfair.