Steven Wilson
Insurgentes

The Porcupine Tree are not disbanded yet, but Wilson already feels the need to work in a new expressive context. However, instead of recurring, as he often did in the past, to various pseudonyms, he decides to publish the fruit of his new endeavors under his own name.

“Insurgentes” is Steven Wilson's first solo work, and even if usually overlooked in favor of later works, it is in my opinion a grand debut and an excellent album.

Before analyzing the tracks, comparisons with the sounds of Porcupine Tree productions and Wilson's later works are inevitable.

Regarding “Fear of a Blank Planet,” the differences are not negligible but not so shocking either. In this respect, it's perhaps telling that at least for this album, Wilson continues to contribute as a musician (guitars, keyboards, and occasionally bass) and not predominantly as a composer (a role he would limit himself to more and more in subsequent productions). Furthermore, in “Insurgentes,” the reference drummer remains Gavin Harrison, with his rich, precious, yet also cumbersome and easily recognizable style. Having said that, there had to be some stylistic resemblance between this album and “Fear of a Blank Planet.” However, the most striking differences are two: a massive, atmospheric, and experimental use of distortions, and precisely Wilson's artistic approach. The compositions are more inspired, absorbed, and definitely much more solemn than many of Porcupine Tree's tracks: the pop vein present at least until “Deadwing” has completely disappeared, and Wilson is now sailing towards the territories of art-rock.

The desire to compose something “serious” shines through powerfully: “Insurgentes” is indeed certainly the darkest and most experimental album in Wilson's entire solo discography. Claustrophobic, dramatic atmospheres alternate with clearer yet equally chilly and anguished moments.

A perfect example is “Harmony Korine,” the first track, in my opinion unjustly among the most famous of the album, which nevertheless gently introduces the dark yet elegant atmospheres of the album. But it's only from “Abandoner” that you get a taste of one of the album's strengths: the arrangements. The musicians are exceptional, and the lines of the instruments (keyboards, guitars, bass, drums with traces of electronics) blend beautifully with each other, and everything becomes tremendously significant, as if capturing the listener. However, instead of the expected explosion that would have made the track a masterpiece, a rampant distortion arrives, striking heavily with the force of a string orchestra. The spectacle is hallucinatory, but the text is cryptic and subtle, and the echoes disperse, leaving the listener hallucinatory, empty, but also somewhat unsatisfied.

An additional example of the density of each composition is “Salvaging:” the terrifying initial riff (preceded by an unprecedented but perfectly fitting horn introduction) gives way to a beautifully moving and absorbed keyboard deployment, a fierce drone intervention, and finally a cynically sharp progressive metal instrumental finale reminiscent of late-period Porcupine Tree.

But by now, the composer is abandoning the characteristic sounds of that period, and in doing so, he draws heavily from the endless years of sound research carried out even in the lesser-known side-projects, like the one called Bass Communion. Therefore, it should not be surprising if each track seems to escape a specific genre label: the ethereal “Veneno Para las Hadas” for example, has strong ambient and post-rock influences, supported by Wilson's usual interpretative lyricism, which like in many Porcupine Tree records, masks a songwriting whose meaning is sometimes hermetic if not outright confused.

As if not to disappoint fans of traditional progressive and to celebrate the maximum inspiration of his maturity, Robert Fripp, Wilson then inserts halfway a track whose title is absolutely crimsonian: “No Twilight Within the Court of the Sun.” Imposing, aggressive, eclectic (with a Wilson several times indistinguishable from Fripp on electric guitar) the composition is a grandiose mini-suite, and with its overwhelming instrumental flights, it is perhaps musically the best track on the album. The sounds are very close to “Nil Recurring,” certainly more than to “Anesthetize,” but it goes even further. The reprise, “Twilight Coda,” risks being the most elegant composition: the corrosive drive of the mother track calmed, it is difficult to decide whether Sand Snowman's guitar notes or Jordan Rudess's nearly jazz piano loop are more delightful. Both were significant guests on this album.

With the subsequent “Significant Other,” we continue to remain at the levels of a masterpiece. After a verse always arranged in meticulous detail, a disconcerting guitar progression explodes, embellished by the vocal evolutions of a very talented female guest and the narrative drive of the legendary Tony Levin's bass notes. Even the finale is breathtaking: composed of very delicate piano notes, like a music box, on a noisy background, it is like a nostalgic and slightly sick black and white photograph.

To temper the emotion, there's a more linear piece, “Only Child,” which, although always very well arranged (Wilson's intriguing bass line), doesn't have 21/8 riffs like “No Twilight.” However, the atmospheres are evocative: cynical, grotesque but at the same time sharp, making this track definitely enjoyable as well.

Another composition where distortions constitute the central element is then included: the famously known “Get All You Deserve.” The fierce aggression of the guitars, very slow but with abrasive power, is amplified by the contrast with the piece's intro, a delicate piano poem.

“Insurgentes,” the title track, is finally the unexpected closure: a quiet, delicate, elegant piano ballad, which could have been borrowed from Sigur Rós, accompanied by an exotic and enveloping bass koto, hosting an invective against a better not defined mother of all evils. Another episode with a high poetic content but somewhat self-contained, confirming the impression of having just witnessed an excellent show that was, however, missing a certain something. But such a debut could only presage greater things.

Rating: 10

Recommended listening: “Abandoner”