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While Stupid Dream can serve as Porcupine Tree’s coldest-sounding album (musically and lyrically), Lightbulb Sun is the closest thing to a happy album in the PT discography. In fact, this (along with Stupid Dream) are probably two of the best ‘starting points’ in the PT discography.
Lyrically, there is a focus on human relationships all across this album. Sometimes, this refers to romantic relationships (“Shesmovedon,” “Russia on Ice,” “Feel So Low,” “Where Would We Be?,” “Hatesong”). At other points, those relations are about other people (“Lightbulb Sun,” “Four Chords That Made A Million,” “How Is Your Life Today?,” and “Last Chance To Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled”). This is—in some respects—both the most humane and the most concrete (lyrically-speaking) album in the PT discography.
That doesn’t necessarily mean that the music is happy all the time. Sure, you have songs like the title track and “Four Chords That Made A Million” that are among the least sadness-inducing songs Steven Wilson has ever written. However, several songs on here—“Russia on Ice,” (title refers to vodka, not the 2016 election) “Feel So Low,” and “Shesmovedon”—can definitely come across as tearjerkers depending on the context.
For facts about the personnel who played on Lightbulb Sun, this would be the last album which drummer Chris Maitland played for Porcupine Tree. Starting with In Absentia, he would be replaced by Gavin Harrison (who I’ll have to restrain myself from gushing about his drumming prowess).
“Lightbulb Sun” (5:31)
The opening track on any Porcupine Tree album has an important task: setting the tone for the album. “Even Less” did that so perfectly for Stupid Dream that it nearly outshined the rest of the album. While “Lightbulb Sun” doesn’t do the same for Lightbulb Sun, it still makes for an effective opening track.
Lyrically, “Lightbulb Sun” is by far the easiest song on the album to analyze. In fact, most of the lines in the song don’t bear printing for the sake of analysis—this is a simple song about childhood nostalgia on a sick day. Or is it? Because there are a few lines in this song which make me think “This song’s definitely has some aspect of drugs to it.” In fact, there’s one line in particular that makes me feel as if medical marijuana is being used. However, despite all of the drug references, there is a sense of childhood innocence that is maintained throughout this song’s lyrics.
The first part of the lyrics which make me think as if there’s something druggy to this song is as follows:
My head beats a better way. Tomorrow a better day.
As to how these lines relate to drugs, “My head beats a better way” comes across as the words of someone who view drugs as an escape from one’s problems—the only way that tomorrow can be better is by giving themselves false hope via an escape from reality. In being high, one temporarily escapes sorrows by drowning in delusion. While this song isn’t only about drugs, the fact that Steven captured what amounts to the mission statement of a large portion of drug users is the first thing that opens the possibility that “Lightbulb Sun” has an undercurrent of drugs running throughout the whole song.
The second passage of lyrics that appear to be drug-related:
My best friend from school will Come over and stare At me in my bubble Of germified air
This part requires context of actually having watched people smoke pot or do other drugs to understand. Having done the former on a couple occasions (Oh shit, did I say that?), I think I can suitably unpack this. The first think to ask in unpacking this is “Why is the best friend staring at the speaker?” To which I can say that the speaker—while he’s in his “little retreat”—seems like a different person than when the speaker is at school. Granted, the speaker is sick—that’s he is ill and/or has some physical problems is something I don’t feel that I can deny. However, there’s still the idea that this “bubble of germified air” might be a marijuana cloud. After all, the idea of someone being sick and smoking weed because of a ‘calm-down’ effect isn’t something which is unheard of (look at medicinal marijuana). I think that there’s too much contextual evidence in these lines for there not to be a ‘420 BLAZE IT’ element to “Lightbulb Sun.”
But as for the third set of lyrics which are conspicuously marijuana-based:
When I'm asleep the smoke fills me. I feel the heat. My illness leaves me.
Remember how I said there was a line which made me think the speaker of this song is using medical marijuana? Well, here are the lines of the song which make me think that. Besides marijuana, I think you’d be hard-pressed to find a form of medication which involves smoke. Especially one that’s taken when one is sick. As far as I know, there isn’t one. However, I’ll gladly eat my words if I’m proven otherwise.
Now as for how “Lightbulb Sun” sounds musically, the song starts with a brisk and almost Dylan-esque acoustic guitar passage before a single note from Richard Barbieri on the keys chimes in and cues Steven’s first verse. During this whole first verse, it’s just guitar and keys backing Steven’s voice.
Once the song reaches the crash cymbal (courtesy of Chris Maitland) at 0:48, the song changes gears. Now, the acoustic guitar plays a not-so-quick rhythm and is doubled over with some light electric guitar as Steven sings “My head beats a better way./Tomorrow a better day.” All the while, Chris hits some quarter notes on the ride cymbal (some of which are emphasized by kick pedal). But at small break at about 1:05 signals a shift back to the verse rhythm.
However, this second verse now has all the previous elements—acoustic guitar, electric guitar, drums, keys and vocals—as well as a bubbling, melodic bassline from Colin Edwin. It’s the type of bassline that sounds as playful as the childhood which this song (at its core) is about. The familiar refrain of “My head beats a better way/Tomorrow a better day” returns at 1:45, but now with a full band at play. In fact, Chris’s steady rhythm (carried over from the second verse) being applied to this passage gives this part of the song a sense of build-up.
At 2:04, we hear what the entire song has built up to—a jaw-dropping set of harmonized vocals singing “When I’m asleep the smoke fills me./I feel the heat./My illness leave me.” During these lines, Barbieri’s piano becomes more prominent as the acoustic guitar keeps going in the background. Chris’s drums serve to maintain order during this section. This whole bit transitions seamlessly into a lead guitar passage from Steven at 2:23 that adds a hint of that familiar Porcupine Tree melancholy, which is defused slightly by the return of Colin’s playful bassline.
But at 2:43, something unexpected happens in that the song drops down to acoustic guitar again just as you expect the lead guitar to break into a shredding-style solo. Instead, we get a small drum solo from Chris and then some piano from Barbieri before the full band returns at 3:02 for a return of the refrain and the harmonized vocals passage. But this time, you can hear some droning electric guitar notes from Steven—something is being built up to. And then the lead passage from 2:23 returns at 3:39 only to transform at 3:59 into a full-fledged guitar solo. That solo isn’t the most technical one in the world, but it’s blues-based sound functions as the climax of the song and sounds sublime while it lasts.
When the guitar solo ceases at 4:18, the song returns to the sound of the acoustic guitar and keys (like the intro) for the last verse. At which point, the song ends at 5:16, leaving the listener hear the sound of children playing outside for the last fifteen seconds.
As an album opener, “Lightbulb Sun” starts the album of the same name on a good note. As far as both lyrics and sound are concerned, it’s one of the most upbeat songs on Lightbulb Sun. And that’s something that’ll remain true for the sound on most of the album. The lyrics, not so much—although this album’s not quite as pessimistic as Stupid Dream. This song (and “Four Chords That Made A Million”), however, is about as close to a ‘feel-good’ song as there is in the Porcupine Tree discography. There’s not a single cloud in the sky with “Lightbulb Sun” and that’s great. It shows that Steven Wilson can write music that isn’t super-depressing and that he can write it pretty well, too. So I tend to play this track a lot when I get bummed out by some of the other songs in Steven’s catalog.
“How Is Your Life Today?” (2:46)
Both on a musical and a lyrical level, “How Was Your Life Today?,” is a 180 from “Lightbulb Sun.” In regards to the music, this is a low-key piano-based ballad.
Regarding the lyrics, take a look at the first verse:
The letters pile up in the hallway. Junk mail and bills from the catalogues. And the neighbors have guessed 'cos I've cancelled the milk. And they don't hear your voice through the walls anymore.
While these lines appear cryptic at first, there’s something at play. One can infer from “The letters pile up in the hallway./Junk mail and bills from the catalogues” that this involves a person who’s dead in his own home. This would be a mistake to assume because the use of “I’ve” in the next line means the person’s alive. Now an important question about the same line is “What do the neighbors guess?” Judging from “And they don’t hear your voice through the walls anymore,” there’s a couple of guesses. The first guess is that the speaker is slowly going insane. Alternatively, the speaker may not be going insane, but the people around him are convinced that he is.
The simple, one-line chorus reads:
How is your life today?
While this chorus is set up as a question, it’s also set up as a rhetorical one because there’s nothing more said beyond that. As if the madness is so complete that the speaker is unable to answer what appears as a simple question. That would mean that my first guess is the correct one, not the alternative. Another irony is that the harmony-laden choral effects make this sound happy despite the dark subject matter.
The last proper lyrics appear in the second verse:
I was kissed on the cheek by a cold mouth While the taxi was waiting like a getaway car. Each second seems like a lifetime And the cat it's been staring at me all this time.
While “I was kissed on the cheek by a cold mouth” can be analogous to a ‘kiss of death,’ that’s another metaphor—what’s about to happen to the speaker results in something that will feel like death to him. That thing—“the taxi waiting like a getaway car”—is doubtless a vehicle called in to cart the speaker off to an insane asylum. As for “Each second seems like a lifetime,” keep in mind that that line’s in present-tense—the speaker’s relating this whole thing from the confines of a padded cell, which also suggests that this place is sort of a purgatory for him. Ironically, his home before being carted off also seemed like a sort of purgatory back in the first verse—albeit one of boredom instead of nothingness. As for the cat, some would suggest that that’s a symbol of either guilt or regret. If so, that can be taken on a figurative or a literal level. In the case of the latter, it’s guilt for the pet that he’ll be unable to take care of while in a padded cell. For the figurative, then the cat is a symbol of the narrator beating himself up emotionally over the fact that he’s going insane—something that he couldn’t control.
As for the instrumentation on “How Is Your Life Today?,” this is one of the most stripped-back tracks on Lightbulb Sun. Indeed, the song starts with a simple-sounding piano part (played by Steven) and the sound of laughing children (leftover from the end of “Lightbulb Sun,” but they quickly fade out). Not even ten seconds in and Steven’s voice comes through in what sounds like a slightly-higher pitch than normal for him (not falsetto). At 0:30, the piano changes key—indicating that the chorus is about to arrive. Which it does (at 0:36) via Steven’s multi-tracked overdubs of falsetto vocals. Then the (at about 0:50) transitions to the next verse-chorus unit seamlessly. In the second chorus, a cold-sounding string instrument (some have suggested that it’s Steven playing a hammered dulcimer) is heard being plucked.
Following the second chorus (at 1:56), an off-kilter synth can be heard being played by Barbieri as Steven plays the familiar chord sequence. Something sounding like muted cymbal hits are discernable in the distance. Then the song ends with Steven holding the last chord.
Given the song as it currently exists, “How Is Your Life Today?,” is enjoyable while it lasts. Not my favorite song on Lightbulb Sun by any means, but certainly not a song I’d skip in order to get to the next track. Fortunately, the song’s short. Because I feel that if the song were longer, the simplicity would wear thin quickly. Instead, Steven knows when to nip the song in the bud.
“Four Chords That Made a Million” (3:36)
As a song, “Four Chords That Made A Million” was one of the two singles (“Shesmovedon” was the other one) released from Lightbulb Sun. It may also be the bounciest-sounding song in the band’s catalogue (at least getting past the intro). Lyrically, “Four Chords That Made A Million” is a criticism of the music industry—and a rather biting one at that. However, it’s also one that makes it one of the most straightforward songs lyrically—apart from a few bits to look at.
Here’s the first verse:
Six of one a half a dozen Black guitars and plastic blues. Hide behind a wall of nothing Nothing said and nothing new. Four Chords that made a million.
This refrain (sometimes used as a chorus) of “Four Chords that made a million” merits special dissection. Some have suggested (and this is where the grunge gets in for this, Katie) that Steven’s targeting one of the biggest bands of the early 19990’s (Nirvana) by implying that Kurt Cobain couldn’t play anything beyond four chords. The problem with that idea is that Steven probably wouldn’t stop at Nirvana given how much popular music—especially those of corporate design—has been built upon four chords. So while one could say this is a swipe at grunge (I don’t know how Steven feels/felt about grunge), this seems more like a massive diss on those bigwigs which stifle musical innovation and render “Nothing said and nothing new” into a guarantee.
The second verse has two lines in particular worth examining:
A man who thinks he owns the future Will sell your vacuum with his prose.
While the first line of that conveys the head-up-ass arrogance of someone who’s let fame go to one’s head, a particular word in the second line is of interest: “vacuum.” While that may be literal and refer to a vacuum cleaner, the sentiment of these lines (the hollowness of mainstream pop music) falls in line with a similar metaphor from “Dark Matter” that Steven used for the same end. Therefore, “vacuum” has a double meaning in this line.
While the third verse is the most straightforward in the song, the bridge warrants a look:
And I have tried and I have died Trying to get through. But in the end I can't defend you.
There are two ways to read these lines—each involves a different perspective from the third-person omniscient viewpoint of the rest of the song, a technique supported by the different vocal technique which Steven uses to sing these lines. The perspectives (both are first person) which these lines can be read as are that of a music-industry bigwig or of Steven himself. In the case of a bigwig, it’s just as he’s dropping an artist from a major label for commercial underperformance. As for Steven, these lines can be taken as him telling a music-industry bigwig to kiss off—something I can definitely see him doing given songs like this, “The Sound of Muzak,” and “Piano Lessons.”
In regards to what is probably the bounciest-sounding song on Lightbulb Sun (if not the entire discography), the song starts with a guitar riff played in Indian-style scales (a very George Harrison-esque touch) before a sitar arrives shortly thereafter. But at 0:15, the song abruptly changes gears—the guitar shifts to rhythm while Chris plays a frantic drum solo on Indian percussion. This backing rhythm forms the foundation of what Steven sings the first verse over. The atmosphere created by this part is surprisingly tense in that you didn’t expect it to be held out for as long as it does.
But at 0:51, the percussion solo ends and the song begins properly with the second verse. This rhythm is more of a standard rock-like beat that’s propelled by Colin’s lively bassline as the sitar and the guitar provide color to the overall song. Once the refrain rolls around, Barbieri’s synths play a lick or two. But in-between the verses is where Colin shines—changing up the rhythm ever-so-slightly with rolls and/or ghost-snares so that he hardly ever plays the exact same measure twice in a row, yet still fulfils the time-keeping duties of a drummer. Also in-between verses is where Steven plays the intro guitar riff.
But after the second refrain passage ends (at 2:24), the bridge kicks in with a ride cymbal rhythm from Chris on the drums and more restrained parts from Colin and Steven on their respective instruments. The prominent instruments in this part are Barbieri’s layered synths and the sitar arpeggio pattern which recurs throughout this section. Apart from that, the star of this section is Steven’s overdubbed use of harmonies—especially the falsetto high note he hits on 2:51. After that, there’s a brief break before all the band comes back in for the refrain again. And then the song wraps up with one last use of the bridge’s sitar arpeggio pattern.
The fact that “Four Chords That Made A Million” was picked as a single testifies to the ignorance of those associated with business in the music industry. However, the sound of this song does sound like it would work well on the radio. And that’s due to Steven’s gift for melody.
“Shesmovedon” (5:13)
While Lightbulb Sun isn’t a concept album, there are a cluster of songs which Steve has termed the ‘divorce songs’ (break-up songs would be more accurate since these songs give no indication of the parties involved having been married). The songs (in the album sequence) are “Shesmovedon,” “The Rest Will Flow,” “Hatesong” “Russia on Ice,” and “Feel So Low.” All of these songs are about the various stages of ending a relationship. However, a song outside of the sequence (“Where We Would Be”) can definitely be used to inform readings of songs within the sequence.
A curious thing to note about “Shesmovedon” is that Porcupine Tree recorded two versions of the song: the original version (Lightbulb Sun) and a bonus-track re-recording (Deadwing). To which one wonders how those two versions differ. First, one has Chris on drums while the other has Gavin Harrison’s more dramatic, technical fills. Second, the ending guitar solo is almost completely different between the two versions—the Lightbulb Sun version’s solo has a looser, barely-controlled feel while the Deadwing version’s solo is tighter and reflects a soloist who knows how to use every facet of his/her guitar playing for maximum effect. Apart from that, the instrumentation and lyrics are identical between both versions. While I may prefer the Deadwing version, the Lightbulb Sun version will be the one that gets looked at for the review.
Lyrically, “Shesmovedon” initially appears to concern a tired-and-true stock theme—a guy stewing about an unfaithful lover. However, Steven subtly plays around with the tropes regarding that theme. Likely for the better because (apart from the unfortunate implications of misogyny if this theme were played straight) Steven’s smart enough to take what could’ve been a tired set of tropes that date back to blues and make it his own.
While the first verse is scene-setting (and therefore not much to analyze), this subversion of familiar tropes starts arriving with the second verse:
I'm left behind Like all the others. Some fall for you It doesn't make much difference if they do.
To sum things up, the speaker may know now that his ex was and is a cheater, but that didn’t when the relationship started. Alternatively, the speaker could’ve glossed over the history of cheating that this girl had, thinking “I’m so special. She’ll never cheat on me!,” like a blinking idiot (thanks to ol’ Dr. Caldwell, who applied that to Januarie from “The Canterbury Tales”). Thirdly, the speaker could just be a dude-bro misogynist who’s putting on a face for the camera—he could be the one cheating, but telling a lie with these lyrics so convincingly that most listeners fall for it. The song and the album leaves all three of these open enough for any one (or a combination of them) to be true.
Another subversion of the ‘unfaithful woman’ song lies in “Some fall for you/It doesn’t make much difference if they do.” While that acknowledges that a horde of new people are going to get their hearts broken (assuming that the speaker’s not lying), there’s a little more to “It doesn’t make much difference if they do.” That something more means that that phrase concerns the speaker’s emotional disposition regarding his ex—there’s no way to change how people operate, so he figures that he’ll be the bigger person and not let this thing push his buttons any further.
That the speaker has the sense to know when to fold reflects something about how Steven wrote the lyrics. This choice means that Steven’s lyrics sets his song apart from a long rock-and-blues tradition of misogynist power fantasies which the theme of an ‘unfaithful woman’ use as an excuse to exercise in song. To give two examples to contrast how Steven wrote these lines (and suggest how easy it would’ve been for Steven to do the same), both “Run For Your Life” by The Beatles (a song—with lines like “I’d rather see you dead, little girl, than be with another man”—which ended up being the Beatles song which John Lennon most regretted writing) and “A to Z Blues” by Blind Willie McTell (an old blues song about a man carving the whole alphabet across his girlfriend’s body after catching her with another man) show the history of misogynistic power fantasies in both rock and the blues. Steven doesn’t fall into the same trap. To give another example of how Steven’s lyrics in this verse avoid such pitfalls, the speaker’s unawareness/willful ignorance of his lover’s infidelity puts the speaker in a non-powerful light. Regardless of how one views cheating, we can infer that she’s the one that has the power to end the relationship—not him.
The chorus offers more to pick apart:
She changes every time you look. By summer, it was all gone. Now she's moved on. She called you every other day. So savor it, it's all gone. Now she's moved on.
This viewpoint (post-breakup) offers input on when this song takes place in the ‘break-up song’ sequence—at the start. As for the lyrics themselves, they suggest the speaker was unaware of her being a cheater. But the distrust created by that infects any and all good memories which came from having ever known her.
That sensation of formerly-good memories morphing into painful reminders forms a thematic link to details in the third/final verse:
So for a while Everything seemed new. Did we connect? Or was it all just biding time for you?
Steven’s pained delivery of these lines informs how they’re read. Steven sings these notes (the highest-pitched in the song) in a distorted voice over prominent electric guitar (playing the intro riff). Remember how I said he’s being the bigger person and walking away from the situation? Steven’s delivery tells the listener that that’s not so easy. Especially when these words act as anger festering in the speaker’s head which have no outlet for a healthy release, so he suppresses it so that he won’t hurt others. That’s true for the present situation, but when alcohol gets involved (“Russia on Ice”), the inability to think clearly while intoxicated makes the anger come out physically.
As for what he’s angry about in his head regarding this failed relationship, that demands a closer look. Just the word “seemed” in “Everything seemed new” clues us into the whole picture. That picture being that the speaker questions whether there was anything genuine about the entire time he knew her. Because to believe so would mean that the entire relationship was a long series of deceits until the infidelity came along. Such a feeling would lead one to feel like they were being used, which is exactly what the speaker’s feeling. Still, the speaker wants to be the bigger person and not act out in anger.
After this point, the remaining lyrics are whispered repetitions of “She’s moved on” during the acoustic bridge (indicative of a suppressed obsession that he wants to get over) and harmonized wails of “All gone away/She’s moving on” during the ending guitar solo. So the lyrical work for “Shesmovedon” is done.
On a musical framework, “Shesmovedon” starts with two instruments: guitar and drums. Chris’s drums play a basic hi-hat/snare/kick pedal rhythm that set a framework for a mid-tempo (140 BPM) groove in 4/4 that’s steady throughout the song. Steven’s guitar, however, is a clean-toned melody which serves as the songs main hook. In fact, the verses have Steven’s vocals follow the same melody. So when the first verse comes in at about 0:16, the instrumentation doesn’t differ much from the intro.
But once the first verse wraps up (at 0:33), a funk-like rhythmic pattern begins to be played on electric guitar. Chris’s drums remain locked in the groove as usual, but Colin’s sustain-focused bass serves to further anchor the rhythm section. In total, this creates a strong foundation for Steven to sing the second verse over. That’s not even going into the faint glimmers of keyboard with Barbieri chimes in with—only a prelude for what’s to come.
Now, the chorus (at 1:07; 2:08) is ushered in by way of a thunderous crash cymbal from Chris. Colin’s bass is as steady as ever and Steven strums acoustic guitar chords. The instrument that gives the most color to this part is Barbieri, whose array of synths cast just the right tone of melancholy over the other instruments. But Barbieri doesn’t shine the brightest in this chorus. Nope, that’s Steven, who uses a set of at least three vocal tracks (more than that in the second chorus).
The third verse (which begins on 1:34) isn’t that different from the first one. But the biggest difference is that the instrumentation is heavier. Namely, the clean-toned guitar hook is now played on an electric guitar. Steven’s also singing in a higher octave than he did in the intro, as well as with a filter of slight distortion (you can definitely make out what he’s saying on a first listen, so the distortion isn’t too overwhelming…even if he may get drowned out by the instruments in the Lightbulb Sun version). Additionally, Barbieri’s melancholy clouds of synth are perfectly placed here.
The second chorus (apart from the “All gone away/She’s moving on” bit on harmony vocals) is identical to that of the first chorus, so there’s no point touching upon that.
Following the second chorus’s conclusion (at 2:35), there’s a brief acoustic guitar bridge before a transition segment occurs. This section is distinguished by chord sustains on guitar from Steven and bass notes from Colin which use the high end of the neck. But after that transition, it’s back to acoustic guitar for a low-key reprise of the chorus. This only lasts once, because a fill from Chris at 3:24 leads in the ending guitar solo.
While the guitar solo that appears on the Deadwing version is the better guitar solo (it might be my favorite one that Steven’s ever played), the guitar solo which appears in the Lightbulb Sun version is no slouch. There’s still some impressively emotional passages which Steven achieves with the string bends. It’s just that the wah-wah is a little too overwhelming on the Lightbulb Sun version. Yes, there is a good bit of wah-wah on the Deadwing version, but I feel that that version uses it with a little more restraint and ends up being stronger for it. I also feel that Gavin’s fills lend themselves better to the song than Chris’s do. Granted, I’m biased in saying that because I’ve always considered Gavin Harrison to be the band’s best drummer (and probably one of the greatest drummers to emerge in the new millennium so far). But ultimately, my preference for the Deadwing version’s ending guitar solo probably boils down to the fact that that version was the one that I listened to first. So I know some that’ll probably prefer the Lightbulb Sun version’s solo, which is fine because both are awesome—one’s just a bit more awesome than the other.
Overall, “Shesmovedon” (regardless of which version) is a classic example of Steven Wilson’s songwriting and one of the crowning examples of how the Stupid Dream/Lightbulb Sun albums mark a maturity in his songwriting.
“Last Chance to Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled” (4:48)
This song is in some ways a precursor to the recollections of childhood nostalgia which would also be explored in “Trains.” However, this song has two very different parts and that part of nostalgia is only true of the first part. The second part is an instrumental, but with sound clips of a large speech that includes the title. However, the source of the sound clips makes this whole song pretty dark—the tapes recorded by Heaven’s Gate cult leader Marshall Applewhite just before their mass suicide.
I bet you’re asking “Andrew, how the hell can those two elements seem connected in the slightest?” I’m glad you asked, kind reader! One suggestion (and the one which I’m inclined to go along with) is that the two people described in the lyrical part of the song end up becoming members of the Heaven’s Gate cult as adults. Inevitably, the lyrics in the first part which pertain to childhood innocence and nostalgia end up taking a darker sting in this context.
Let us take a look at the first verse:
If you fall asleep with me You can dream and drowse. The minutes turn to hours. We could climb a tree or two And watch the sun go down Upon our sleepy town.
These lines have a number of parts that can work under a double meaning in light of the Heaven’s Gate mass suicide. The most notable ones being “If you fall asleep with me/You can dream and drowse” and “We could climb a tree or two/And watch the sun go down/Upon our sleepy town.” The former part—with the mentions of sleep—echo the Hamlet-esque wordplay which Steven would later use as suicide references in “Sleep Together.” However, those references to sleep can also refer to where the authorities ended up finding the corpses of the Heaven’s Gate members: in bunk beds. Additionally, it ends up being a cruel irony that for all the dreams these two kids may have had, it all ended up being wasted on a bullshit bit of what Steven would later term “cult philosophy.” Regarding the latter of the two aforementioned parts, the climbing of the tress could be ambitions and dreams while the sun going down can stand in for the deaths that will make said ambitions/dreams mean nothing.
As for the second/last verse:
After all the time I spent with you, Summer went away And we just weren't the same. It's just you and me alone. Not grown-ups, but not kids. You kissed me on the lips.
The reason which I compare this song to “Trains” in regards to the theme of this first section lies in this part—especially the first three lines, which seem like a paraphrase of what Steven would later (in “Trains”) phrase as “Always the summers are slipping away/Find me a way for making it stay.” As for “And we just weren’t the same,” there is a sense that a step in a negative direction has been achieved. While I don’t think that all of their youthful innocence has been lost, that line definitely implies that something has happened due to growing up. That something is definitely reinforced by the last two lines, which go as far as to imply an ending to something. Possibly joining the cult?
While the second part of the song is entirely instrumental, the spoken word sample does warrant breaking down:
Let me say that our mission here at this time is about to come to a close in the next few days. We came from distant space, and even what some might call somewhat of another dimension, and we are about to return from where we came.
It requires, if you move into that evolutionary kingdom, that you leave behind everything of human ways, human behavior, human ignorance, human misinformation.
If I would title this tape, it would be ‘Last Chance to Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled.’ Last chance to evacuate Earth before it is recycled.
What if the listener is to assume that the extreme course of action (suicide) undertaken by Heaven’s Gate was how the two characters in the first part lost the final traces of their youthful innocence. Presumably, some years pass in-between the two sections. In that case, “Last Chance To Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled” is a song about how easy it is for people to fuck up irreparably. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Steven chose to use the part of the tapes where Applewhite spoke about “human ways, human behavior, human ignorance, human misinformation.” Steven’s choice to use that specific part of the tapes begs the listener to wonder just how those four human qualities are related, ultimately concluding that those four qualities are inseparable. This is because ignorance and misinformation foster flaws in human behavior and in turn, make human ways irreparably flawed.
Additionally, Steven couldn’t have picked a better cult disaster than Heaven’s Gate to show this point. While one would think that Jonestown might have worked just as well, I think the fact that Heaven’s Gate believed that their suicides would allow their souls to enter a UFO and ascend to a higher plane of existence makes for a few points of discussion. The most obvious one is that a belief like that sounds so crazy that (had suicide not been involved) it would’ve been the type of belief system that makes satire easy—it’s so absurd that it makes fun of itself. Another discussion point is that this crazy belief—by being more ‘out-there’ than that of the Jonestown cult—illustrates how susceptible those with still some semblance of youthful naiveté are to the “misinformation” that Steven turns against Applewhite’s own speech (in a bit of irony). Unless one is either stupid or a fanatic, a hardened cynic probably wouldn’t fall for such a crock of shit as that crazy belief system.
On a musical level, “Last Chance To Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled” opens with an acoustic guitar passage that shimmers in a banjo-esque tone. This lasts all of twenty seconds before a more traditional acoustic guitar rhythm arrives as an acoustic lead guitar briefly plays over the top of it before the first verse starts (around 0:40). Said verse is sung by Steven with a smooth and inviting tone of voice—almost like someone reading stories around a campfire, which I suppose is fitting given the sense of nostalgia the first part of the song’s meant to evoke.
At 1:01, the banjo-esque acoustic passage comes back. But this time, it’s complimented by cozy-sounding fretless bass from Colin. But is short-lived because the second verse arrives soon (around 1:23). This time, Steven’s vocals are in multi-tracked harmonies. During this verse, some faint keyboard can be heard from Barbieri.
While the vocals end at 1:43, the second section still hasn’t begun yet—it has to transition from it. Steven can be heard playing the hammered dulcimer while a more militant acoustic rhythm develops. Now, the second section of the song has begun and the static from first part of the Heaven’s Gate tape begins soon afterward while some keyboard flourishes from Barbieri and guitar harmonics from Steven set the mood. Chris finally enters the song at 2:07 while a Hammond organ is now added to Barbieri’s keyboard layers. A build-up is in motion, but for now, this is the vamp that plays while the first part of the Applewhite sample begins playing.
Once the first part of the sample ends at 2:54, a crash cymbal from Chris and a hammered dulcimer flourish from Steven signal the change in rhythm. Indeed, Colin’s bass appears front-and-center in the mix—right alongside Barbieri’s keyboards. This is even more apparent now that the acoustic guitar has dropped out completely, but Chris’s drum rhythm is now busier than earlier (ghost-snares are aplenty if you listen for them hard enough). Then (at about 3:09), some flute from Theo Travis comes in before the Hammond organ returns about twenty seconds later. At 3:40-ish, the Hammond organ drops while the second part of the Applewhite sample starts playing. During it, there’s a sense of build-up with various layers: the intermittent flute from Theo Travis, the arrival of droning-sustains from Steven’s guitar, and the increasing of crash cymbals from Chris. Overall, this jam just intensifies in the last minute—even as the last sample from Applewhite is playing. Heck, the song doesn’t so much end as it does stop.
While “Last Chance To Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled” appears at first glance to be about youthful nostalgia, finding out the source of the samples in the second half forces you to reconsider the meaning of the entire song. That’s such a bait-and-switch move on Steven’s part and I have to tip my hat to that. That the song’s surprisingly moving is a bonus. In fact, this one didn’t quite gel with me the first few times I heard it. But once I sat down and dissected the song from an analytical standpoint, this one grew on me to the point where it’s probably my fourth favorite on the album (behind “Shesmovedon,” “Russia on Ice,” and “Hatesong”).
“The Rest Will Flow” (3:14)
At one point, “The Rest Will Flow” would’ve been the third single from Lightbulb Sun, but that fell through. Listening to the song makes you feel immediately that this would’ve been a strong single based on the now-familiar penchant for melody which Steven Wilson has shown time and time again.
On a lyrical level, this song could be associated with the ‘divorce songs.’ The way to read this is by entailing that the speaker from “Shesmovedon” has found someone new. Unfortunately, the internalized anger doesn’t go away as quickly as the speaker would’ve liked—as “Hatesong” and “Russia on Ice” make clear. Regardless, this is easily the happiest of the relationship songs on Lightbulb Sun. Even if the good times from it don’t last.
The first verse of “The Rest Will Flow” sets things up nicely:
I was pretending to be floating strong, But I was sinking Into still water.
Eyes closed. All of the rest will flow.
The three lines—“I was pretending to be floating strong,/But I was sinking/Into still water”—has a bit to unpack. The first line’s easy enough—the speaker from “Shesmovedon” may seem happy, but that’s a ruse. The next two lines are more curious in that they address his inner turmoil. In fact, the imagery of the speaker drowning within himself has a lyrical parallel to an image in “Russia on Ice” which describes a drop of vodka as “A drop in the ocean.” In both examples, anger plays a significant role. But in this example (I’ll address the one in “Russia on Ice” in that song’s write-up), one should look back to the rage which the speaker internally expressed in the last verse of “Shesmovedon” and realize that the speaker doesn’t have a healthy way to deal with that sense of anger—it will resurface and end up hurting others even when that’s the last thing he wants to do.
While “The Rest Will Flow” doesn’t have a chorus, “All of the rest will flow” acts as a refrain. However, each use of that refrain differs depending on the context of the prior lines. In this case, “eyes closed” means that the speaker thinks he’s through with the worst of it with “Shesmovedon” and that everything else will turn out fine. Such a sentiment—while uplifting—is harsher in hindsight given that things end up becoming worse for him further on—especially in a track like “Russia on Ice” where this relationship ends up being destroyed by his own doing.
The next set of lyrics warrant a look, as well:
Then out of darkness, I found I could still feel Something good. Out of the woods.
Eyes closed.
All of the rest will flow.
One simple thing that I never could see, But now I know. All of the rest will flow.
That the speaker finds happiness with another woman is something that should be tempered by a couple of things. First, the previous verse implied an unresolved sense of anger leftover from the breakup in “Shesmovedon.” Such a conclusion leaves the speaker—despite seeming happy here—with some leftover emotional baggage, suggesting that he probably rebounded too quickly. The second thing which tempers the happiness of this verse comes from the fact that we don’t have access to the perspective of the women in this album—for all we know, the speaker of all these songs may be covering his ass and presenting a sanitized portrait of his character to the listener. Something which wouldn’t be a stretch to assume given the speaker’s implied behavior in “Russia on Ice.”
The last bit of lyrics has one devious hint of foreshadowing:
Stay with me, my angel. I found you. Now I don't feel low.
Eyes closed. All of the rest will flow.
The line that comes across as foreshadowing—“Now I don’t feel low”—reminds a listener that the last track on Lightbulb Sun (“Feel So Low”) will render this tragic. However, the conclusions raised in the prior two verses ensure that that’s the inevitable outcome.
As far as the musical structure of “The Rest Will Flow” this one’s introduced by a simple series of acoustic guitar chords by Steven. And just before the ten-second mark, a string section (playing the melody which Steven will sing for the verse) enters the mix right before Chris enters on drums. A few seconds after that, a layer of electric slide guitar plays on top of that before Steven begins the first verse (at about 0:20). The second verse (starting about 0:51) is where instruments start to pick up: a more standard beat from Chris, Colin appearing on bass, and some light keyboards from Barbieri. All the while, Steven hardly ever stops on vocals—and until the second refrain (about 1:11), he’s singing without any harmonies.
But once the string section kicks in the second part of the second refrain, it stays in for roughly the rest of the song. While a string section can sometimes make a song sound overblown, the way the string section is used both here and in “Russia on Ice” serves to heighten already-strong songs. And in both cases, they sound sublime and are used in just the right spots.
After that, it’s pretty much standard procedure for how this song runs structure-wise. This is probably the most radio-ready song on Lightbulb Sun. It’s a damn shame that it wasn’t released as a single. In fact, that refrain’s been stuck in my head for roughly the entire time I’ve written this review.
“Hatesong” (8:26)
As another one of the songs in the ‘breakup songs’ sequence, “Hatesong” is arguably the most straightforward one of them, lyrically speaking. Simply put, “Hatesong” is the thoughts of the speaker of that set of songs. The anger in the last verse of “Shesmovedon”—as mentioned in the write-up for “The Rest Will Flow”—isn’t of the type that will go poof and vanish. Therefore, it’s going to come out one way or another.
Given that “Hatesong” only has nine lines of lyrics and was a live staple (one excellent performance appears on Octane Twisted, a live album of the band’s final show), the instruments are the highlight to “Hatesong.” However, there is a little bit to dissect from the lyrics.
As such, the opening lines of “Hatesong”—while straightforward—has one big thing to glean from:
This is a hate song just meant for you. I thought that I'd write it down while I still could. I hope when you hear this, you'll want to sue
While the first line is as blunt and to-the-point as one can be, the one that follows—“I thought I’d write it down while I still could”—leaves a little in the air. The mystery at hand regarding that line begs the question “What would render you unable to write it down?”—a question which I have two possible answers to. The first reflects ahead to “Russia on Ice” and suggests he’s already developed the drinking problem that’ll become the central concern of the later song. The second possibility is that the speaker’s action of expressing his anger via writing is something which doesn’t quell the pent-up anger that’s been building since the last verse of “Shesmovedon.” Alternatively, a combination of both possibilities is possible.
The next set of lines also has a little to chew on:
Oh it's a lonely life in my empty bed And it's a quiet life that leaks from my head. These are the last rites. The line is dead.
The first bit of this—“Oh, it’s a lonely life in my empty bed/And it’s a quiet life that leaks from my head”—offers some perspective on why the speaker of the ‘breakup songs’ rebounded from “Shesmovedon” as quickly as he did (and “The Rest Will Flow” established that it’s not because he was ready to be in another relationship). The use of words such as “lonely,” “empty,” and “quiet” in these two lines paint the speaker as someone who craves companionship and flounders in isolation without it. However, that can also be read as him trying to guilt-trip his lover into staying.
As for “These are the last rites,/The line is dead,” that’s something which is foreshadows “Feels So Low,” where the effects of “Russia on Ice” result (deservedly) in the final cutoff of communication.
The last lines of “Hatesong” (what this song has for a chorus) has some things to chew on:
Yes, I'm hearing voices, too. And I'm more cut up than you.
While “And I’m more cut up than you” can come across as a bit of victim blaming from the speaker done in an attempt to shift the problems from him to her, the line before it—“Yes, I’m hearing voices, too”—has a little bit more weight to it. That line appears to foreshadow the insanity which is implied to result from the alcoholism in “Russia on Ice.” That notion of insanity isn’t a foreign concept to Porcupine Tree’s music—not even in Lightbulb Sun, where “How Was Your Life Today?,” gives an example. However, Steven was quoted in the promos for this album as implying that “How Was Your Life Today?,” should be lumped in with the ‘breakup songs.’ Until now, that was something which I thought was total bull. But maybe he’s onto something—“How Was Your Life Today?,” can be deemed as depicting the speaker of the ‘breakup songs’ at some point after the events of “Feel So Low.” As to why “How Was Your Life Today?,” comes as the second track on Lightbulb Sun instead of the last track can probably be chalked up to “Feel So Low” making for a stronger coda after “Russia on Ice.”
Like I mentioned earlier, “Hatesong” is the instance of a Porcupine Tree song which you listen not for the lyrics, but because of the instrumental interplay between Colin, Steven, Richard, and Chris/Gavin (depending on the studio or live versions). In fact, much of the song is dominated by a jam in the middle. It’s no surprise that Gavin (in a post-PT endeavor) picked this track for Cheating The Polygraph, an album reinterpreting select Porcupine Tree songs into the mold of big-band jazz.
“Hatesong” opens with a signature bass riff from Colin Edwin (displaying his jazz-trained background in spades) that serves as the song’s main riff. The fact that he goes for about twenty seconds sans accompaniment (before Chris’s drum fill preludes the regular beat) shows that it’s also the song’s backbone. Other instruments come in gradually: rhythmic bits of palm-muted electric guitar and some intermittent keyboards. Then (at 1:06), Steven’s vocals arrive over the rhythmic foundation established by the other instruments.
A change happens at 1:39, where an electric guitar riff punctures the song open…only to go back to the verse rhythm (at 2:01). Only this time, Steven’s vocals have a noticeable harmony accompanying it. But at 2:34, the song returns to the rhythm from 2:39, but now it serves as the transition into the chorus (which comes at 2:57).
The chorus is the most synth-dominated portion of the song so far—they practically smother the other instruments. The drums still stand out as the crash cymbals now serve to punctuate Steven’s lyrics as he sings them in a more agonized manner than the verses. All the while, the bass still bumps along in the distance as Steven’s guitar reverberates chords—not taking the spotlight from the other instruments.
However, that chorus ends at 3:25 with quite some time before the second chorus—there’s a lot of instrumental jamming in the meantime. But first, there’s the banjo-toned acoustic guitar from the start of “Last Chance To Evacuate Planet Earth Before It Is Recycled” picking out single notes in perfect harmony with a clean-toned electric guitar. Then (at 3:36), a fast-paced rhythmic pattern from electric guitar, bass, and drums starts to pop in-and-out of this until the pattern comes back from a break at 4:00. At that exact moment, Steven plays a guitar solo on the lower strings of his guitar (a guitar solo he referred to as “my Korn solo” for that very reason)—man this solo sounds (appropriately) hateful. And then Barbieri follows it up with a keyboard solo on his Fender Rhodes. These solos (and the rhythmic backing) end at 5:06, where a series of guitar chords akin to that of the chorus end up being the transition point to a more traditional guitar solo from Steven at 5:24. This solo sounds so much more satisfying than the one played on the lower strings. But the solo ends just before the second chorus starts at 6:01.
But even when the second chorus ends at 6:30, the song still has two minutes left. So that exact second marks the electric guitar returning to the rhythm that first appeared at 3:36. But this time, it’s used as the backing for Chris’s drums solo. You’d expect that to be it, but at about 6:42, Steven starts to play another guitar solo. This time, it’s a very bluesy one—something noticeable by the different tone of his instrument. After a bit, Chris stops soloing to settle into a groove while Colin’s busy bass fills in the gaps. The soloing stops just before the eight-minute mark. At which point the steady groove starts to fade out over the sounds of Barbieri’s synth and the chirping of birds.
While “Hatesong” is one of the better songs on Lightbulb Sun, it’s an example of a track where the lyrics aren’t the highlight of the song. Instead, that goes to the instrumental portion of the song.
“Where We Would Be” (4:12)
While “Where We Would Be” comes across as the most reflective track on Lightbulb Sun (with the possible exception of "Feel So Low"), it’s also linked to the other ‘breakup songs’ in that the speaker is remembering earlier times with the woman introduced in “The Rest Will Flow.” The lyrics to this do raise a couple questions if they’re linked to the other ‘breakup songs.’
Those questions start with the opening lyrics:
Tied - tied to a time When we knew that the sun would shine. And you were all smiles. And we could just talk for a while.
Of where we would be when the future comes And how you would paint while I wrote my songs.
This talks of a past-tense scenario, but that runs into a problem considering how recently the speaker may have met the woman that—in “The Rest Will Flow”—he falls for. Some ways around this is that this is looking back at the cheater from “Shesmovedon,” but that doesn’t make sense unless if the person in “Shesmovedon” and “The Rest Will Flow” are the same person. And if that’s the case, then the chronology of the ‘breakup songs’ song sequence would have to be re-organized in order to accommodate for that. I don’t think that that’s the case, but the only other way involves assuming that the woman in “The Rest Will Flow” is someone that the speaker’s known for a long period of time.
Much of the rest of the lyrics are more of the same, but the last two lines of the song bear a look:
Strange how you never become The person you see when you're young.
They tie the theme of reminiscence of the rest of the song with the theme of guilt. This can be read as the speaker blaming himself for not living up to his own expectations. In the context of what just occurred with “Hatesong,” it’s beating himself up over an inability to express the pent-up anger from “Shesmovedon” in a healthy way that doesn’t hurt anyone. Which leads into a perfect mode of self-loathing going into “Russia on Ice.”
Regarding how “Where We Would Be” sounds musically, it carries over the bird sounds from the end of “Hatesong.” Then (at 0:15), the steady stream of Mediterranean-esque acoustic guitar chords come in—occasionally being punctuated by toms supplied by Chris. The vocals arrive to sing the first verse over this rhythm at about the thirty-second mark. But the key (of both the guitar and of Steven’s voice) changes to deliver the last two lines of the verse. Then, the song shifts back to the next verse-chorus unit near-seamlessly, but this time, there’s a lot more vocal harmonies in this go-around.
Following the end of the second chorus (at 2:14), Steven delivers the last two lines without missing a single beat. Immediately afterward, an electric guitar solo comes into the room. A highly melodic one that has a lot of sustains and goes on for quite a while. It also feels like a guitar solo that doesn’t fully stick to the Gilmour model since there’s noticeable bits of knob-turning finagling at times. Even still, it’s an emotional-sounding guitar solo. It’s not a solo that’s anywhere close to touching those that are considered the greatest of all time, but it’s one which caps the song on a satisfying note before the last chorus arrives (at 3:32).
If I had to pick a least-favorite track on Lightbulb Sun, “Where We Would Be” would be my pick. Not because I dislike the song, but because I find Lightbulb Sun to contain nine other songs that are more memorable than this one.
“Russia on Ice” (13:03)
At a runtime of just over thirteen minutes, “Russia on Ice” stands as an epic on an album that has been relatively down-to-earth for Porcupine Tree. Appropriately, the subject matter (alcoholism) is something that is similarly down-to-earth. As for how the song sounds, it’s the band’s most ‘open’ sounding epic because of the slow tempo (roughly 80 BPM). In fact, the slow tempo contributes to the fact that (despite the long length) “Russia on Ice” has about the same amount of lyrics as the average Lightbulb Sun song. The song’s probably the most dynamic-sounding song on Lightbulb Sun, with deathly quiet verses being juxtaposed with a larger-than-life chorus. And then there’s the entirely instrumental second half, whose metal-based riffs serve as a forerunner for those used more regularly starting with In Absentia (although they’re never death metal levels of heaviness). While “Russia on Ice” isn’t my favorite epic-length song from Porcupine Tree (the full “Even Less,” “Arriving Somewhere But Not Here,” and “Anesthetize” all beat it), it stands as a fairly complex (in how the melodies are arranged) piece that would be the masterwork of the entire careers of most bands. If I had to make a Top 10 or Top 20 Porcupine Tree songs (which would be a tough task for me), “Russia on Ice” (along with “Shesmovedon”) would definitely be on my list.
When “Russia on Ice” begins, the listener is greeted by a keyboard solo by Richard Barbieri that’s soft, icy, and one of the better-sounding things that he’s done with Porcupine Tree. While Barbieri isn’t a virtuoso pianist, he more than makes up for it by having his parts hit the right note emotionally—hardly anyone can deny that he has written some great-sounding keyboard parts for the band. In a way (to bring back a Pink Floyd comparison), he’s a lot like Richard Wright in that he’s not a player on the level of Keith Emerson/Jordan Ruedess/Rick Wakeman, but the ear for atmosphere that his keyboard and synth parts provide to Porcupine Tree’s sound is so distinctive that he’s irreplaceable. In the instance of this keyboard solo, the layer-upon-layers comes close to overwhelming the listener at parts. Such a sense of unease creates a distinct atmosphere which preludes the unsettling implications of the song.
Once the keyboard solo wraps up at 1:07, Steven’s clean-toned guitar and some ride cymbal from Chris underscore the low-end bass and guitar riff that serves as the foundation for the verses. This vamps around a bit—first at low volume and then at high volume—before simmering down at 2:16 for the first verse.
This first verse reads:
You think I deserve this. You said I was stupid. All my thoughts are like coal But Russia on ice is burning a hole.
The tone of the first two lines indicates that “Hatesong” led to a rift in the relationship, something which this song will only widen. Those first two lines alone constitute the speaker of the ‘breakup songs’ sequence redirecting the blame towards his girlfriend.
However, the phrase of “All my thoughts are like coal/But Russia on ice is burning a hole” provides a lot to pick apart in a very compact space. The first detail implies that the symbol of the speaker’s thought being “like coal” takes on added significance once you apply “burning” to alcoholism. Namely, the speaker’s thoughts have been burnt down to the point where he can no longer think straight. Given that it’s likely that this state of alcoholism has shut down the speaker’s normal state of mind, the metaphor of thoughts being burnt “like coal” indicates a permanent change for the speaker…and not for the better.
The second element of that aforementioned phrase is the meaning of the title itself, which takes on several meanings. The most literal level is that it refers to iced vodka as the type of alcohol that the speaker’s drinking. However, something to keep in mind is that a later line of the song is “Nothing melts in this cold.” In that case, the after-effects of the festering emotional damage inflicted by the girl from “Shesmovedon” has left the speaker in a state of extreme emotional distance—or coldness. The term “Russia” isn’t a literal reference, but a symbol for the way that the speaker views the world around him. This song—while still about alcoholism—shifts focus with this idea in mind. This is because the most emphasized quality isn’t the drunkenness, but the fact that the speaker’s desensitization has left him in a state of hatred.
Following the end of the first verse, Steven plays the song’s first guitar solo—one that’s brief and depends on a Gilmour-esque sense of economy. As it winds down, it’s even punctuated by thunderous-sounding toms from Chris before everything simmers down for the second verse.
The second verse of the song contains lines that are worth taking a look:
Can't stop myself drinking. Can't stop being me. If I call will you come and will you save me?
The first two lines bring up a good question that the album leaves in the air: “What drove the speaker to alcohol in the first place?” Because it’s either an addictive personality making everything worse or an attempt to drown his sorrows away over the break-up. I definitely see the former because I don’t think that “Russia on Ice” takes place post-breakup. Instead, I see the events of “Russia on Ice” being the straw that broke the camel’s back for the relationship.
But remember what I mentioned in “Hatesong” (during the line about hearing voices) where I mentioned that insanity is the implied long-term result of the speaker’s alcoholism? That’s the result of an impulsive nature. My guess is that he started drinking sometime between “Shesmovedon” and “The Rest Will Flow,” but managed to keep it under control until around the time of “Hatesong.” But here, it’s full-blown alcoholism that’ll only make things worse. Considering all of this, that last line is an empty plea and likely serves as a reflex of the fear of isolation entailed by the opening lines of “Hatesong.”
The one note of musical detail that separates the first verse from the second is that during the last line, the instruments slowly crescendo as a build-up for the chorus.
The chorus of the song goes:
I see the whole thing come down. I burn it to the ground. Well what the hell did you say? You said you hate me this way. It's just a matter of time.
This whole chorus—a statement of violence—shows just how clearly alcohol enabled the thoughts of the third verse of “Shesmovedon” to become actual words and to give those words actions. As it starts, the promise of “I see the whole thing come down/I burn it to the ground” is double-meaning. Sure the latter half of the statement is a slang term for getting intoxicated, but there is a sense of the speaker (either wittingly or unwittingly) sabotaging the relationship—and with “Hatesong,” he probably already has.
Regarding “Well what the hell did you say?,” that’s a statement that warrants breaking down. First, it’s one of the few times that a Porcupine Tree song has used anything that can constitute a swear word. However, the anger of the situation makes the use of it appropriate given the context of the rapidly-increasing antagonism in this relationship. Additionally, that line being a question ends up becoming a statement in and of itself—he’s so far down the path of alcoholism and indulgence in self-pity that he’s having none of what this girl or what anyone else has to say about it. He’s hurting others, but he couldn’t care less.
As for the last two lines, they boil down to a threat. Essentially, he’s telling someone (presumably the girl) that she thinks he’s a monster now, just wait until he goes on an utter rampage because it’s only a matter of time until he does so.
The way that this chorus sounds musically stands in marked contrast to the subdued verses. To put it bluntly, this chorus sounds larger-than-life and is in the running for my favorite chorus out of any PT song. There are a few things which make that chorus sound the way that it does: the fills from Chris which punctuate the lyrics at key moments, the layering of the vocals which convey several qualities (rage, unease, and joy) all at once, the circular eighth-note guitar pluckings, and the combination of the keyboards and string section which nearly coat the other instruments like molasses. However, each of the choruses cut off the instruments (except a lone violin in the string section) once Steven says “time” in the last line—holding that last word for a little bit.
After the first chorus wraps up on 4:27, the song doesn’t go straight to the third verse. Instead, Steven starts a second guitar solo with a clean-toned guitar that goes on for a tad. Over this, the string section picks up in intensity and Chris starts to vary his drumming patterns a bit with added ghost-snares. This lasts until a syncopated fill from Chris on 4:54 ushers in a shift from Steven, whose guitar solo goes into full-throated distortion for a brief bit. This isn’t a technically difficult solo, but definitely one that can stir emotions in a listener. Even after having heard this song close to a dozen times, I still get chills at the first fully electric note of the solo!
Following that guitar solo’s conclusion, there’s the third/last verse of the song:
A drop in the ocean. A significant motion. Nothing melts in this cold But Russia on ice is burning a hole.
The first two lines—“A drop in the ocean./A significant motion”—present a vivid image. A drop of vodka is the “drop” which is spoken of. As for “ocean,” one can think of that as either his body or his bloodstream. The “significant motion” portion makes this imagistic in two ways. In a literal sense, it’s the speaker chugging down a vodka bottle with the bottle being pointed upward—making the drops in the line descend downward into the speaker’s mouth. As to why this is a significant motion, picture the speaker chugging this bottle while in the pinnacle of his internal rage—only for the effects of this alcohol to shatter any inhibition he had left. This becomes significant because it enables the implied physical abuse which the metal-like riffs of the outro may represent.
For a contrast with how wrong I once was, I once read these first two lines as the speaker jumping off of a bridge that overlooked a body of water. A significant motion in that it’s life-ending, but now “A drop in the ocean” becomes literal. And for this, the fact that the song ends with funeral-like bells seemed to lend credence to that view. But given that “Feel So Low” and (debatably) “How Was Your Life Today?,” occur after this, that interpretation is contradictory in that those two songs can’t happen if the speaker had killed himself in “Russia on Ice.”
Now regarding the phrase “Nothing melts in this cold/But Russia on ice is burning a hole,” that requires us to consider how we read previous usages of “cold” and “burning.” While “cold” and “Russia” come to stand for the desensitized emotional state-of-mind, “burning” had previously been associated with anger and imbued with a corrosive quality. Therefore, this flat-out states that the alcohol inhibits the speaker’s ability to control his anger—the desensitization is the result of suppression, which will only make things worse. That the anger already penetrates the freezing air around him proves an ominous sign of just how bad things will be when the speaker’s anger takes physical form.
After the second chorus (which has added flourishes of a string section) ends at 6:44, the song shifts gears to an instrumental section which kicks off with some jazz-like bass from Colin. Some synth from Barbieri and ride cymbal taps from Chris compliment it, but Colin’s the lead instrument for right now. That all changes once Steven picks up an electric guitar at 7:35 and starts playing what’s probably the heaviest riff of any PT song pre-2002. Over this, the other instruments build up until bass returns to the fore at 8:20. At the same time, guitar doesn’t stop—it merely goes into a more palm-muted wah-drenched rhythm—while Chris plays a steady beat of cymbals, snares, and kicks. Soon enough, Barbieri’s eerie synths start coming on top of this before the rhythmic pattern changes back (at 9:06) to the metallic riffs. Only this time, there’s a lead guitar solo from Steven along with it. This lasts until a break arrives at 9:28 which leaves various electronic effects of Barbieri’s as the only thing left. This goes on for a bit until Chris unleashes a monster drum fill to signal the rest of the band in at 9:51. Shortly after, Barbieri starts a synth solo (using the same keyboard tone as the synth solo in “Even Less”), which (at 10:37) is followed by a repeat of Steven’s solo from 9:06. Once that wraps up, the only instruments left are Chris’s drums, Barbieri’s synths, and the sound of an ominous bell. Chris goes on playing a steady beat for a bit, but he stops at 11:22, leaving Barbieri all alone to shape a desolate-sounding atmosphere for the remainder of the song.
Now as to what the point of that instrumental section is in the structure of the ‘breakup song’ sequence, I have a something in mind. That something is that the metallic section marks where the speaker of these songs loses control with alcohol (which doesn’t excuse anything). What that means is that any inhibition regarding the suppression of the anger that’s festered since “Shesmovedon” is thrown out the window. If that leads to the speaker becoming physically abusive, then the loud jam at the end is the sound of it. The periods of respite from the metal-like onslaught of riffs represent the conscience of a more sober mindset trying to get him to stop. That the riffs return prove that the brute force of the drunken state ends up winning. When the song stops to nothing but synth and tolling bell, that exact moment is when the drunkenness wears off—leaving the speaker to stew in horror at what he’s done. As for the tolling bells themselves, they stand for the death of the relationship as this is the point where it is damaged beyond any and all hope of recovery—and that’s all on the fault of the speaker.
In total, “Russia on Ice” provides a defining example of Steven Wilson’s songwriting. Enigmatic and imagistic lyrics which appear simple but have so much more to them—check. An impeccable ear for melody that few have matched or exceeded—check. Use of instrumentation to further the meaning of the song—check. Creating a tone that complements and heightens the dramatic situation—check. It’s a tough call between this and “Shesmovedon” as to which is my favorite track on Lightbulb Sun—it could change from one day to the next. What I do know is that both songs are proof at just how much the Stupid Dream/Lightbulb Sun approach to songwriting gave his material a tighter structure than almost anything he’d written prior. And that tightness-of-structure is a facet of Steven Wilson’s songwriting which remains once Porcupine Tree begins incorporating metal-style guitar parts starting with In Absentia.
“Feel So Low” (5:18)
While “Feel So Low” can be the biggest tear-jerker on the album to some, the evidence in songs like “Russia on Ice” makes this come across as pitiful. This isn’t the best song on the album (in fact, it may be one of my least favorites), but it makes for a good capper to the album. Because—let’s be real—it wouldn’t have been in good taste to have a song with the disturbing implications which the instrumental outro of “Russia on Ice” carries be the final track on the album. At least “Feel So Low” implies that the woman who bore the brunt of the speaker’s rage in “Russia on Ice” got out of there and managed to move on with her life.
Despite “Feel So Low” being a simpler song lyrically than much of Lightbulb Sun (it only has two verses and (not counting the refrain) thirteen lines of lyrics), the first four lines of the first verse densely-packs all the information worth going over:
So see how long I can last You can pretend that I don't exist for you And I can laugh about it now, But I hated every minute.
The first line—“See how long I can last”—is the one thing which says it all. By that, I mean that that line entails that the speaker of the ‘breakup’ song sequence hasn’t learned anything and still thinks he’s in the right. So he goes about victim-blaming. Worse, it’s possible that he’s been so hardwired to do this as a coping mechanism that (at this point) he does this without thinking.
The thing that sets this apart from the countless number of songs dealing with this theme is how Steven words the next line. He says “You can pretend that I don’t exist for you,” when a lesser writer could’ve said something like “I don’t exist for you anymore” or “Why won’t you pick up the phone?,” and be done with it. Out of context of the ‘breakup’ song sequence, this wording manages to get the message across without coming across as whiny.
However, the context of songs like “Hatesong” and especially “Russia on Ice” render this as an attempt by the speaker to manipulate the emotions of the listener—he still thinks that he’s in the right and has done nothing wrong even after the implied physical abuse at the end of “Russia on Ice.” What a piece of shit!
The third line of this—“And I can laugh about it now”—ends up speaking volumes as well. On one level, it conveys that the events which he’s talking about occurred in the past. On an even more important level, the speaker’s talking about how this whole thing still affects him today. For instance, the fact. A takeaway from that is that the speaker has an overwhelming sense of guilt over what he did in “Russia on Ice” that plagues him for the rest of his life (nowhere near that of the trauma she’ll experience). This also entails that the act of manipulating the emotions of the listener is in and of itself a coping mechanism—acknowledging that he’s wrong means that he has to return to what he describes as “But I hated every minute” and rewrite (in his mind) what occurred into something where he has to face permanent defeat as an irredeemable monster. Not as irredeemable as someone as twisted as the In Absentia protagonist, but a type of irredeemable monster we’re more likely to encounter in our day-to-day lives than the sexually-deviant sociopath from that album.
While there is a second verse, that verse is also a self-explanatory epilogue to what occurred in the first verse. In fact, if people tend to mock “Feel So Low” (to which even I wasn’t above doing the first time I heard the song) or claim that Steven Wilson’s a bad lyricist (to which I strongly disagree, even if he has some not-so-good moments), the second verse of “Feel So Low” is usually one of the first examples that people draw up.
Musically, “Feel So Low” may be the simplest song on the album. The song begins with leftover synth effects from Barbieri (carrying over from the end of “Russia on Ice”) before a clean-toned guitar pattern from Steven comes in—becoming the dominant rhythmic and melodic component of the song. That pattern—simple as can be—is the foundation for Steven’s easy-going vocals in this ballad. Apart from guitar and synths, there’s very little here in terms of instrumentation. While there’s no drums/percussion on this, there’s the clean-toned guitar, acoustic guitar, mellotron, synths, and a string section. This song keeps building up by adding more and more layers. In fact, this probably would’ve been a big hit had it been recorded in the 1970’s.
Fun fact, you can actually hear (just after the last refrain) Steven Wilson himself speaking “Thanks” towards the end of the song.
Despite being far from my favorite song on Lightbulb Sun, “Feel So Low” is a song which grew on me over time. While still (in my mind) one of the lesser cuts from the album, the first four lines of lyrics create a fitting coda to the album. If “Russia on Ice” is the climax of the album, then “Feel So Low” is the dénouement.
Final Thoughts:
It really is a tough call to say whether Lightbulb Sun or Stupid Dream is the better album. Both are the two strongest albums which Porcupine Tree had recorded up to this point and both contain songs that’d make my Top 20 Porcupine Tree songs (“Even Less” and "Piano Lessons" from Stupid Dream and “Shesmovedon” and “Russia on Ice” from Lightbulb Sun). To put that in perspective, the only songs from prior albums that’d make my Top 20 Porcupine Tree songs are “Radioactive Toy” (On The Sunday of Life), “Synesthesia” (Up The Downstair), “The Sky Moves Sideways,” “Waiting,” and “Dark Matter” (both from Signify). That shows you how highly I regard the next three albums when 3/4ths of my Top 20 comes from In Absentia, Deadwing, Fear of a Blank Planet, and The Incident. Although (as a personal challenge), I'll try to put my 'Top 25 Porcupine Tree songs' as a thing to accompany the review of The Incident.
What makes Lightbulb Sun (this is also applicable to Stupid Dream) such a great starting point is that while the structures of the songs may be simpler than the albums that came before, the songs here are as layered as an onion—each listen reveals something new. The simplicity may—on the surface—seem to make these two albums sound the poppiest out of the Porcupine Tree albums, but the multi-layered quality renders these albums a skeleton key to the rest of the band’s catalog.