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How do I even begin to describe a band that was described by publications such as Classic Rock as “the most important band you’d never heard of?” I’d start with their sound, but they evolved dramatically from one album to the next. I’d start with individual members, but Steven Wilson himself was the lone consistent member (and for the first two albums, PT was a one-man band where Wilson played all instruments except for drums (which couldn't play, so he programmed electronically)).
I’ll start by saying that to anyone listening along to the albums for the first time through this retrospective, you will be in for one of the most overlooked bands of the 1990’s-2000’s—in terms of song-craft, lyrics (when they’re on-fire, at least), and consistent quality. Out of their 11 album discography, 8 of them qualify as unsung classics and one of them [In Absentia] is in my all-time top ten. Furthermore, those 8 albums I referred to as unsung classics [Up The Downstair, The Sky Moves Sideways, Signify, Stupid Dream, Lightbulb Sun, In Absentia, Deadwing, and Fear of a Blank Planet] were eight straight albums released between 1993 and 2007. The other albums are those that bookend their career [On The Sunday of Life and The Incident] and one [Voyage 34] whose experimental nature will inform other projects of Steven’s (namely Bass Communion and Incredible Expanding Mindfuck, the name of the latter stemming from an in-joke regarding early PT material), but even these albums aren’t without their fans and their best tracks stand up toe-to-toe with anything from the Unsung Eight.
To define the basics of Porcupine Tree’s sound at the most basic level would be to call them progressive rock. But that isn’t a catch-all as some material goes into other genres: Voyage 34 (psychedelic rock), a handful of songs from Stupid Dream and Lightbulb Sun (a mild Britpop influence), anything post-In Absentia (using the techniques of metal, but best to think of them as more tools in the toolbox), some material from Signify and earlier (ascribable to Krautrock and electronic music). The lone constant sound-wise is one that is rooted in progressive rock, but as an avenue to explore whatever sound Steven Wilson feels like exploring.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the other members apart from Steven: keyboardist Richard Barbieri, bassist Colin Edwin, and drummers Chris Maitland and Gavin Harrison. Richard Barbieri has a playing style that suits Steven’s music better than a player like Jordan Ruedess or Rick Wakeman would in that Barbieri isn’t a virtuoso in the traditional sense, but he is a keyboard player that constantly tinkers with the sounds of the synth to create sound you didn’t think were possible. Colin Edwin is a bassist with some jazz-influenced touches that isn’t a virtuoso, but he is always up to something of note on his instrument. Chris Maitland (played from 1993-2002) is—as a drummer—the Ringo to the Neil Peart that Gavin Harrison (2002-2010) brings to the table—both are great drummers and both have their moments of technical prowess, but Gavin Harrison is easily the better drummer.
It is also with this band that Steven came into his own as a lyricist. Yes, there are moments where Steven's lyrics can be cornier than popcorn (this can even be true of his solo work). But there are other moments that reveal a lyricist of exceptional depth with few words—one who makes the most out of little. You won’t have a display of John Darnielle-esque near-literary lyrics, but the closest literary comparison to be made for Steven’s lyrics is to Hemingway’s Iceberg Theory. But instead of your brain making out half of the meaning, Steven—by adding music to the mix—creates a third channel for things to be filtered through. So anything Porcupine Tree or Steven has written can be boiled down to three elements: your brain, the lyrics, and the music.
Porcupine Tree did break up long before I got the opportunity to see them live and Steven—being forward-thinking and not one interested in money—has zero interest in a reunion. Given his stellar solo albums (which will have an overview of their own just before I get to Insurgentes, his solo debut), I’m not too miffed about it—people grow and change, so why should music be any different? Besides, the Unsung Eight will always be there to listen.
WORRY NOT, the review of "On The Sunday of Life" will come later today.