May 22, 2022

Prog Stories: Pain of Salvation's The Perfect Element, Part I


1st Listen.

Classic first-listen morass. But I’m inclined to like the production here more than the ‘90s sheen on Remedy Lane or the ‘80s black metal murk of Concrete Lake. The instruments seem well-separated. And, come to think of it, this isn’t even the 2020 remix!

The exceptions to the inevitable “everything sounds the same” morass: King of Loss, since I know the Falling Home outtake version (but the arrangement here still dropped into the swamp) and the title track, which is straight-up “like on first listen.”




2nd Listen.

The “getting used to pain” hook in Used is really catchy.

The opening riff of In the Flesh is awesome. It sounds familiar already, so I guess it must be one of the things reprised later.

Morning on Earth has strings, but they sound decent. The section with strings feels like something that could soundtrack a Record of Lodoss War forest.

Naturally, I love the rapping in Idioglossia. And whoa, the 5:50 breakdown! And damn, the 7:00 scream!!! It sounds like an electric guitar!

Great stuff in the section of Her Voices that starts at 1:45. Overall, though... could this, chronologically speaking, be the first good Pain of Salvation ballad?! Huh, but it’s not a ballad for long. The jam around 4:30 is nuts. I’m not hearing a lot of standard verse/chorus structures on this album! Wait, though, 6:20! What is this! Could soundtrack a Final Fantasy last boss battle!

Great seamless transition from Dedication to King of Loss.

Awesome last two minutes of The Perfect Element. Ending an album with a percussion frenzy (ala here, “BE” , and The Seer) should just become a genre. When people heard the first ever song with an offbeat, thank God they didn’t think, “Oh, that’s original and unique, I shouldn’t imitate it.” No, they imitated the hell out of it, and now there are thousands of reggae songs! That’s how all-percussion album endings should be! What a loss that they aren’t.




3rd Listen.

Did not enjoy this listen. Which is kind of weird, because I thoroughly enjoyed the last listen. I will chalk this up either to my listening to too much late Pain of Salvation recently, or (I think this is the main culprit) my having read through the album lyrics right before listening. I didn’t care for the majority of the lyrics in Remedy Lane, but they didn’t clash with my tastes enough to detract from my enjoyment of the music. These lyrics do. I think the album starts well, with an intelligent and sympathetic examination of what it is like to be abused—and it’s bold and important and cool that Daniel went for that subject matter at all—but from Ashes onwards it seems to devolve into vague and cliche-ridden psychotalk. Have people really been able to piece characters and a story together from lyrics like these...? Without outside help from interviews with Daniel, anyway? Dedication means something, and is earnest, but badly-written. I guess Her Voices is about bullying...? I get the feeling that all the songs mean something real and specific to Daniel, else it’s hard to imagine where the passion in the vocals could come from. But—and this is a common problem for inexperienced songwriters, certainly one I’ve run into myself—I don’t think he was able to transform these things that were meaningful to him into songs that could also be meaningful for others.

No, hold on, that is severely presumptuous. I’m sure the songs have meant a lot to many listeners. It’s not for me to judge if a song I consider grossly bland and cliched reaches someone on a meaningful level and creates real comfort and connection. But the Daniel of 2000 wasn’t yet able to write lyrics that could connect with me.




4th Listen.

Indeed, the album does sound better again at a distance from the lyrics. I’m enjoying a lot of what I hear. But it’s mostly a dispassionate kind of enjoyment, one I can remember accompanying many a past listen to Road Salt and In the Passing Light of Day...

I still by far prefer the Falling Home version of King of Loss.




5th Listen.

I like how In the Flesh comes to a full stop, and then Ashes begins by going right back into the In the Flesh rhythm.

I love the music-box keyboard (?) sound at the start of Morning on Earth.

I respect the animating spirit of Dedication more than I do the lyrics themselves, but I’m intrigued by some lyrical overlap between it and Icon. In Dedication: “I have feared this moment since I was just a child.” In Icon: “As a child, it worried me that all the ones I loved would one day die.”

I love the rocked-out version of the Morning on Earth riff in Reconciliation.

I don’t think there is anything I dislike musically on this album, other than the guitar solos.

Great interaction between the guitar and drums in the first half of Song for the Innocent. (I actually like much of the guitar solo in Song for the Innocent.)

And I’m very much struck, this listen, by things you encapsulated perfectly, Zaya, so I’ll just quote you:

“Also I was just telling Josh that I realize the struggle with ranking Perfect Element by song is that it’s almot really just one REALLY BIG SONG in many small parts. More than maybe any other PoS album, it’s more a complete-listen album and not an individual-song album. It’s SO DENSE and I think it’s very interesting and very layered but much less catchy and doesn’t produce as many individually solid songs since all the songs share pieces of themselves with other songs on the album and work as a whole together. In terms of musical connections between tracks, it’s probably the most connected. Like imagine those Ending Theme callbacks from Passing Light of Day showing up on the same album. But much more in your face ... It’s almost a puzzle. There’s really nothing like it.”

In its “one really big song” nature, it’s definitely brought my huge favorites Thick as a Brick and A Passion Play to mind, but while both of those are clearly a long song each, neither of them opt for the intricate puzzle structure of The Perfect Element. Even if I don’t end up loving (rather than, as I do now, liking) the music, I think this album will keep drawing me back to it through its structural ingenuity. 




6th Listen.

Finally trying the 2020 remix! Overall it seems harsher than the colorful original, but the added clarity means there are so many extra parts to hear and enjoy.

I don’t think I like Idioglossia.

Really not big on Dedication, either. Early PoS ballads, what can I say.

But this is such a contrast with my experience getting to know Concrete Lake! With that album, I had to work really hard to single out tracks or moments of tracks that I liked. I’m experiencing a comparative level of difficulty here, but the difficulty is in finding things I don’t like!

Every time I reach King of Loss I like it, but it makes me want to listen to Falling Home.

I love how the remixed title track sounds. The catchiest vocal melody (“falling far beyond the point...”) gets blended beautifully into the surrounding instrumentation.




7th Listen.

First I need to note that various bits of the album are stuck in my head most of the time.

The transition from In the Flesh to Ashes is so great.

And nah, Idioglossia is fine. There are a lot of sections I like, such as the bit where there are fast drums over the Ashes chorus, and the drumming sounds like it has no connection with the rest of the music. I also love the chaotic riff right after that section.




8th Listen.

Enjoyed it. Didn’t notice anything new. I think that means it’s time to let it roast slowly deep in the back of the oven of my mind. I listened to Remedy Lane again today (the live version with Ragnar, granted), and while there were some things I liked less than before, I did find myself enjoying (!) Waking Every God, and loving Beyond the Pale far more than ever. So it would appear it does me good to keep away from these early PoS albums for a while, once my foot’s in the door.

May 17, 2022

Prog Stories: Pain of Salvation's One Hour by the Concrete Lake


Contextual Note 1 (for readers who aren’t Isaiah).

In the week and a half since I put up the post on “BE” , I have become a massive Pain of Salvation fan. I’ve always (ever since Zaya played me selections from Road Salt and lent me his copy of “BE”, a decade back) respected them, admiring them lightly, safe from a distance. I would come back to them every now and then, spending time with some album from “BE” onwards, checking to see if Isaiah’s favorite band in the whole world would grow on me or not, and wanting that to be the case, but generally it wasn't. Then In the Passing Light of Day came out, becoming my instant favorite in the catalogue. But I didn’t listen to it a great deal. It still featured a lot of the things I didn’t care for, such as Daniel’s dramatic monologues, or the bland-sounding rocked-out heavier bits. But still, every now and then, I’d go back... sometimes I’d discover that I loved a certain song, maybe No Way, or Silent Gold, or Mortar Grind, or Meaningless... by and by, a decade rolled away from the world, and the advance singles for Panther started coming out. I loved Accelerator. I loved everything except one structural/lyrical detail in Restless Boy. And I fell hard for the title track. I think that’s when everything shifted. Something in me decided that if loved the songs Accelerator and Panther so much, and so unequivocally, there was probably something wonderful about the years and years of lead-up to Panther that I just hadn’t noticed yet. Last month, I finally gave Panther the careful listens it deserved, and soon loved everything about it. So I started listening to interviews with the band’s frontman/songwriter Daniel, and started talking with Zaya about the band again, and Zaya (for I had always assumed Pain of Salvation was merely Daniel & Hirelings, and paid no attention to the often-changing line-up) told me about Ragnar Zolberg, and I fell in love with Ragnar’s solo work, which in turn got me scouring In the Passing Light of Day for his contributions, and then playing lots of Falling Home (first the title track, a hundred plus times, then the whole album). Around the same time, I started on the Prog Stories... and my love for Pain of Salvation’s post-“BE” work just keeps on deepening. I think Road Salt, Falling Home, In the Passing Light of Day, and Panther are all magnificent, on so many levels. I can’t wait to properly get to know Scarsick. And I’m curious about the early albums that document how they went from being just another bunch of Swedish kids in a metal band to one of the finest rock groups in the world.



Contextual Note 2. 

Isaiah and I exchanged a lot of messages about how much we hate a certain piano part in Inside Out, the song that closes this album. I won’t quote them all, but here’s a fun selection, one which I wouldn’t like to stay buried in a phone chat record: 

April 30th, Isaiah: “...my least favorite [Pain of Salvation] final track is on One Hour by the Concrete Lake which I think is what lowers an amazing album. There’s a specific piano part in it that annoys me lol”

May 2nd, me: “Is Concrete Lake ranked low [in a Pain of Salvation discography ranking that Zay sent] mostly due to the production issues you mentioned?”

Isaiah: “Yup. Still love the songs. Just think the album has the weakest production. Plus I don’t love the closer.”

Then on May 5th, a long talk on the topic:

Me [upon first listen] : “I think I know exactly what piano part you’re talking about in Inside Out :P ”

Isaiah: “Lol! Do you agree? I find it so annoying. Maybe my least favorite thing in all of Pain of Salvation. And it gets stuck in my head.”

Me: “Hahaha! Yep, the word that comes to mind to describe that part is ‘stupid.’”

Isaiah: “I guess it’s supposed to create tension? But it’s the wrong kind of tension.”

Me: “That kind of ‘I wish it would stop’ tension, right?”

Some minutes later, me: “I did notice that the strong impression that piano part in Inside Out leaves on a listener is in direct contrast to how many seconds it’s actually played. But then it’s kind of like a threat hovering over the proceedings... I kept thinking, ‘They’re not gonna go for that stupid piano part again, are they...?’”

Isaiah: “Exactly!! It creates a sense of dread that you’re going to have to hear it again.”

Several hours later, Isaiah: “So listening to Inside Out I’m also not a fan of the initial main chorus in that song, ‘inside trying to get outside,’ but I love the reimagined version at about the three-minute mark.”

May 6th, me: “Damn it! Just around 4:45 in Inside Out... they’d shifted back to that fast part and held off, making me begin to hope they maybe wouldn’t play it this time, and then FUCK! There it was! Literally made me shout out ‘fuck!’ and groan, in the middle of the street. [But] yeah, the middle section is strong!”

Isaiah: “I even dread Inside Out while I’m halfway through the album.”




1st Listen.

Hardly absorbed a thing. I remember noticing some statistics being read, ala “BE”. I remember thinking that the album sounds like Pain of Salvation’s 1980s moment and that Pilgrim (I think it was Pilgrim) was a badly written ballad, and then registering that a whole album’s worth of ballad-writing practice separates One Hour by the Concrete Lake from even the ballads of Remedy Lane, which are hardly shining examples of the form... speaking of the not-ideal, I remember that piano part in Inside Out; how could one forget? Finally, I remember two songs sounding straight-up amazing. I think they are both in the approximate middle of the album somewhere. I look forward to hearing them again.




2nd Listen.

Intrigued by the invitations (“stay with me”) and confrontations (“who the hell do you think you are?”) in the back half of Inside.

I like the choral singing in the, would I call it a, refrain of The Big Machine. The production reminds me of late-’80s/early-’90s gothic-era Swans.

A thought that came to me during New Year’s Eve: “This sounds like a band learning to be good.” Which must be an incorrect insight, or else how to account for Entropia?

I want a Daniel Gildenlöw rap solo album. Even his proto-rapping on Handful of Nothing sounds good. Maybe after the dark country album...

Was Water one of the two songs I liked on first listen? I hope not. There’s some good guitar work in it, to be sure. But if Water was one of the two, then its power has diminished substantially with a re-listen.

Home was definitely one of the two. I love the guitars and the chords in the verses. Maybe this was the first song I loved, and Serenity Shore the second? But now I’m discovering that I’m only really a fan of Home’s verses. The rest (refrains, solo) sounds (for now) like standard (pleasant) Concrete Lake fare.

Damn, I guess Water really was the other first-listen favorite. Shore Serenity is cool and sounds ripe to grow on me, but it made no impression last listen. Water really was a quick fade... not that it can’t bounce back. The Big Machine and Home are my two provisional favorites now.

Ugh, they OPEN Inside Out with that piano part! Instant flinch!




3rd Listen.

I’m liking Inside. The back half has a “final night before an epic journey begins” feeling. It helps that the vocal melody section in that section is simply great.

Water has a good refrain.

Neat guitar figure in Pilgrim’s verses.

Looking at the album as a whole, I would have liked a lot more of the choral vocals we hear in The Big Machine and for a moment in Shore Serenity.




4th Listen.

Still nothing standing out much, but I’m noticing more enjoyment overall.




5th Listen.

I feel about this album right now the way I felt about Remedy Lane after the second listen. Is that because Concrete Lake is less immediate, or because it suits my tastes less?

The second and third tracks are strong.

I never registered anything about Black Hills before, but this time I really enjoyed the breakdown.

If not for the gruesome piano, Inside Out would be my favorite song on the album.

Twenty minutes after the listen, my head is cycling mercilessly between two things I can’t stand: the refrain of Pilgrim, and the nefarious piano in Inside Out. The piano goes tinkling away, dee-ra-dee-ra-din dee-ra-dee-ra-din dee-da. So I will it to stop. Five seconds later, “piiiiiil-griiiim, where aaaare you going.” No! Get it out! I force myself to force it out. And next thing I know, dee-ra-dee-ra-din dee-ra-dee-ra-din dee-da. Agggh!




6th Listen.

I enjoy the first three tracks. Water has grown (back) on me a lot; I like the heavy verses as well as the acoustic ones, and I love the “we flush! we flush!” section. Black Hills stands as my current favorite. I could still happily do without the refrain of Pilgrim, but I like the way it and Shore Serenity seem to blend into one acoustic-based suite.

I think all I need now, to cross over into actually liking the album, is to put it on in the background some fifteen or twenty times as I level up my Final Fantasy VI characters.




7th Listen.

Wrong! I like the album already. The whole album. The FF6 leveling approach would probably just serve to push me over into “really like” territory. (This whole seventh listen happened while leveling up on the Floating Continent. So fitting! So good!) 

I was thinking of doing a lyric readthrough at this point, but reading the lyrics for The Perfect Element made my fledgling appreciation for that album take a big hit, and Concrete Lake predates The Perfect Element, so I’d rather hold back. I always like what I hear of the Concrete Lake words as I catch snippets here and there. Better let things stay that way.

This must be the Pain of Salvation album that I have the least natural affinity for (with the possible exception of Entropia, but only because I haven’t heard Entropia yet), but it has grown on me immensely. You might not guess it from this bare-bones write-up, but it’s true! I’ve gone from finding it extremely bland, and needing to spend several days listening to other things between listens, to ensure I could come back to Concrete Lake with patience and an open mind—all the way to a constant steady enjoyment of what I’m hearing, from Spirit of the Land through Inside Out, the only two hiccups being the refrain in Pilgrim and, of course, what else, the Inside Out piano.

That said, I do think I would need those aforementioned fifteen or twenty more listens to get to the point I got with Remedy Lane after just six or seven listens. That doesn’t necessarily mean I like Concrete Lake less... if anything, I might like it more, because whereas Remedy Lane has a lot of songs I like much more or much less than others, Concrete Lake feels consistently solid. I think I prefer a lower-level solidity over an album in which, as I listen through a song, Im actually just waiting all the while for the next song to start, because I like the next one so much better.

That said, it’s been a while since I last listened to Remedy Lane...

Anyway, I won’t venture to do a ranking. For this album, it would be too soon.

May 05, 2022

Prog Stories: Pain of Salvation's "BE"


1st Listen.

Back around 2010, when you and I did our Top 100 Albums projects (we’ve talked about updating since then but never actually plunged in, right?) I spent a good deal of time with this album. I’ve come back to it now and then over the years, too. So these will be 6 Listens of Rediscovery rather than, as in all other cases but Scarsick, which I’ve heard a few times but not nearly as much as “BE”, 6 Listens of Discovery.

By the time I hit Breaching the Core, I was flabbergasted. How could I have thought that the Pain of Salvation I love best gets its start in “Road Salt, maybe Scarsick” as my party line goes, and not here in “BE”  ?! This is not just a few steps but a massive leap ahead of Remedy Lane in basically every element that matters to me: melodies, tones, arrangements, dynamics, concept. Of the nine first tracks, the only one that didn’t captivate me on this first-listen-in-a-long-while was, actually, Vocari Dei, but of course there’s not much wrong with it either. Three songs had revealed themselves as just WHAT THE, THIS IS UNEARTHLY-GOOD, namely Imago, Dea Pecuniae (every minute, every section), and Breaching the Core. Pluvius Aestivus, Lilium Cruentus, and Nauticus are great too. How could I have remembered this album as anything short of brilliant?

I soon had the answer: because I have yet to fall for any of the songs after Breaching the Core. 25 minutes is a substantial stretch! The Imago reprise at the end is fine, with a nice new riff and of course amazing drumming, but I think for me it’s a case of “too little, too late.” So the big question in the five listens ahead is whether Nihil Morari (I do like the opening riff here, and part of it reprises Deus Nova, which of course I like), Latericius Valete, Omni, and Iter Impius will grow on me.

The concept/story is ambitious and creative, but it too drops off for me in the last stretch. Daniel doesn’t make the end of the world interesting enough.




2nd Listen.

I feel like Daniel should have found better actors to play God. God’s speeches are well-written, captivating even, but delivered so blandly! Is it meant as an intentional foreshadowing of what happens to Mr. Money at album’s end? Or as a reflection of God’s lack of self-knowledge at album’s start? But the sentiments expressed in the lines don’t lack passion. Whatever the case, I think the blandness of delivery harms the project. I love that there are different voices speaking as God (and I love the harsh scary one that comes rolling across the field of sound sometimes) but none of them sound committed! They sound like they only just saw the lines, like the band used the first take of their read-through.

The anxious piano that starts Deus Nova! Goosebumps. I feel like Daniel learned a lot about drama (as in, a sense of the dramatic, not the artform that happens on a stage, although I bet Daniel studied a lot of that too... hmm, I know what my 4.5th listen will be this time) in the mere year that separates Remedy Lane from “BE”. And it also goes to show just how much I’ve learned to appreciate Daniel’s brand of camp over my long years of wrestling with his band. I remember that, way back when I first tried “BE”, which as you may recall was the first Pain of Salvation album I ever heard, I hated the way Daniel recites the year and population figures in Deus Nova and Nihil Morari. Now? LOVE it. He doesn’t sound stupid to me anymore, he sounds as purposefully unhinged and excited as the music. And such music! The guitar sound is phenomenal! It kicks the ass of every guitar on Remedy Lane. Even the guitar solo rules in Deus Nova. So frantic. And I love the nature field-recording sounds that accompany God’s creation narrative at the end of the track. Very Pink Floyd.

Imago is simply one of the best folk-rock songs I have ever heard. In this listener’s Folk-Rock Valhalla, Imago is right there with the best of Jethro Tull. Daniel sounds so good when he sings low. Sometimes I like it when he wails way up high (he’s in command of six octaves, I think I read...?) but I always like it when he goes low. Of course he goes even lower soon on Nauticus. But there’s such melodic timber in his delivery on Imago! 

Now I notice that the riff which begins the Imago reprise in Nauticus II is in fact present in Imago too. I had thought it was a new riff set to the old chords, but instead it’s a formerly background part made prominent. Either way, it’s cool.

The Riff (I can only mean one riff) has shades of System of a Down again, I think! I was singing along with it today, and found myself inadvertently slipping into a Serj Tankian “la la la” delivery. Perfect match.

The Imago drumbeat is unreal.

Wild beauty in Pluvius Aestivus. Dryad of the Woods is great, but this is how you deliver an instrumental. I generally would much rather do without string arrangements in my rock/folk/whatever music, unless the strings are doing something abrasive or weird, like throughout A Moon Shaped Pool or anywhere Warren Ellis of the Dirty Three and the Bad Seeds appears; but here the strings are used traditionally, and yet I love the part that they play.

Lilium Cruentus seems to sit outside the album, somehow. Maybe it’s the first-person, almost story-style lyrics? It’s personal and vulnerable in a way that nothing but Vocari Dei, and maybe Iter Impius, are on “BE”. I love the instrument (a recorder? an organ?) that plays the main riff in the verses.

Nauticus: the Road Salt before Road Salt. Speaking of learning to love Daniel’s inclination for the dramatic and the funny, oh the dialogue that leads into Dea Pecuniae! “I mean, of course I was joking ...................... I would never let you drive my car...”

Vocari Dei seems to have a bit of that retro production vibe going, with the gloss on all the instruments, especially the acoustic guitar. I think it’s the only song on the album that makes me think, “Oh, okay, I can see how this album is the direct follow-up to Remedy Lane.” With everything else, the leap forward (as I would describe it) seems so pronounced.

And yeah, about that “everything else” ... so typical, I should’ve seen it coming ... but on this listen to the post-Diffidentia stretch, I had no idea what made me so dismayed on first listen. It’s all good! Granted, Iter Impius still gives me the impression that its overcoat is covered with flakes of “by-the-numbers prog bombast,” but I’m expecting it to shake those off soon. But the others...! I loved everything about the Imago reprise in Nauticus II this time, SERIOUSLY thrilled by its build-up. I can’t recall how the music of the Martius section at the beginning goes but I know I found it gripping too. But the earlier tracks too! Latericius Valete is so ominous! It reminds me of one of the “we’re all feeling anxious” tracks in the FF7 soundtrack. I think there’s some melodic overlap there. And now it’s going to bother me... I’ve gotta look up which one it is... I’ll report back in the comments for a future listen. Omni has great organ. Nihil Morari perhaps remains the most lackluster of the bunch, but I love the moment in the second half when the Deus Nova heaviness stops and the song shifts back to the great guitar figure it opened with.

 



3rd Listen.

Ah, so the doomy piano at the beginning of Deus Nova is part of a preprise of Breaching the Core!

I noticed that Imago begins (and ends) with digital sounds, which suggests to me that the God who speaks to us in the first track is just another computer, part of a long cycle of repetitions.

The main riff in Lilium Cruentus reminds me of Matsuda Yasunori.

I have mixed feelings about the strings. Like I’ve said, I generally hate string arrangements in rock music. And there are definitely places here where I would have liked them to be absent, like in the quiet parts of Breaching the Core—such beautiful melodies and vibe, but when the strings are playing along, they distract me. But there are a number of other spots, like the aforementioned beauty fest Pluvius Aestivus, where I like what they’re doing. There’s even one heavy song where I think the strings actually RAMP UP the heaviness. But right now I can’t remember which it is. Nihil Morari?

Even when I dislike the strings, though, I tend to notice how well they’re mixed. It’s not easy to be a pummeling, punishing, progressive metal band, and simultaneously find appropriate space for strings. There are moments where it feels like the strings, barely audible, are trying to rise up and howl above the cacophany of the band. I like those moments.

Back when I was first trying to find my way into “BE”, all those years ago, I remember loving the first half of Dea Pecuniae and finding the second half tiresome. I do genuinely like the melodies and arrangement of the whole song now, but (a decade of songwriting having passed in the interim) my newfound respect for the song/suite is also due to how ingeniously I think it’s written and constructed. So many distinct parts that flow so well. Also, I’m pretty sure that it (the first half in particular) is a tribute to Pink Floyd’s song Money. Dea Pecuniae has that same loping, slow swing beat, begins with a catchy bassline, and gets taken over by a marvelous bluesy riff. Since Daniel’s song is about a character named Mr. Money, I figure the tribute is intentional.

The harmonies on the “Daily Finance” verse are phenomenal. And an example of Daniel rhyming cleverly: “Here’s to happiness / Success / Good press / No stress.”

Now that the last stretch of the album is growing on me, Vocari Dei has landed emphatically in the “current least favorite song” slot. The musical arrangement is decent, I don’t actively dislike it, but it doesn’t have any of the “oh damn there go my heartstrings” moments that all the other soft parts of “BE” do. Some of the recorded messages touch me, but others feel too mannered, too rehearsed. The “let me fly” ending of one otherwise compelling message, for instance, and the one that goes something like “why are we faced with an increasing amount of injustice in the world...” Often it sounds like people are talking to a cultural construct rather than to a divine being, which is fair enough, if the divine being is not one they’ve met. But combined with my least favorite musical setting on the album, it makes Vocari Dei the only “BE” song that I wish were over sooner. Granted, it’s a good and necessary dose of softness between the miles-over-the-top glamour in Dea Pecuniae and the darkness of Breaching the Core. I just wish I found more in it to like.

The album’s final third gets more and more enjoyable. This morning, I awoke with Iter Impius in my head. Go figure: my second-least-favorite song, making its claim...

And as is obvious already from the questions I’ve been sending you, the concept is a lot of fun to think about.




4th Listen.

I love the bridge in Imago (“see me!”).

The great heavy strings are indeed in Nihil Morari, around the two-minute mark.

My favorite song segment in this listen was Martius. Again, at the expense of poor Dryad of the Woods, I found myself thinking, “Aw yeah, now THIS is how you do an outro.” I know it’s technically a new track, but for the first time I noticed how excitingly Martius flows out of Iter Impius. And the whole long, elaborate bridging section between Martius and Nauticus II is phenomenal. In my experience, one of the hardest things to do in a song is to connect two distinct songs or songlike things smoothly. Anyone can do an abrupt cut, and they often sound great (see Rope Swings). But to spend several minutes luxuriously connecting one song to another, so that the listener doesn’t even notice what is happening—now that is a challenge.

I love when Latericius Valete gets heavy after the population drop. I tried to figure out which FF7 track it reminds me of and couldn’t. I think it’s related to the way several of the “anxious” songs get played: Who... Are You and Who... Am I and The Great Northern Cave might be references.

The Nihil Morari to Nauticus II stretch keeps on growing on me, but overall, this listen suffered somewhat from my having spent quality time recently with Road Salt and In the Passing Light of Day. “BE” sounds mindblowing to me coming after Remedy Lane but, while remaining wonderful, pales compared to what’s ahead. Thus I become ever more curious about Scarsick. What exactly happened in the middle there, on the way from “BE” to Road Salt? And just how crazy I will be about Scarsick after six listens? Did you know No Way is a straight-up Scarsick outtake?




4.5th Listen.

I was looking forward to the “BE” DVD, but it didn’t give me the kick that Remedy Lane live did. In that 2014 show, the band didn’t try to rework much, but a completely different line-up of musicians helped the songs sound a little different and fresh. “BE” live in 2005 is an almost identical version of what the band had perfected in the studio not long before. Nothing adventurous or new there, just a straightforward performance ala The Wall live (but even The Wall live expanded some songs or reworked or extended some jams). I don’t like the stage set-up, with so much distance between the musicians; what the hell is Daniel doing half a world away from Johan Hallgren?! They can’t feed off of each other’s energy at that distance! 

I didn’t like the directing either, and least of all the multimedia visual stuff. I think that, on general principle, I’m averse to music having visual aid outside of album art and the sight of a band performing the songs onstage. The grin on Daniel’s face as he hammers out the riff in Nauticus II says so much more than all the artsy video footage. Besides, I prefer the imagery my own head supplies.

Having said that, I did like seeing Daniel dressed up like an elf of Beleriand for Imago and Pluvius Aestivus. And Kristoffer Gildenlöw on bass is coolness incarnate, but thanks to the director (or Daniel’s own wishes...?), he’s almost never onscreen.

I like Iter Impius, but I’m not sure it will ever be among my favorites. It’s the one song on “BE” that sounds to me like a holdover from Remedy Lane. The Pain of Salvation fanbase apparently concurs, with the “BE” haters unanimously singling Iter Impius out for praise, “why couldn’t the rest of the album sound like this?” a common moan.




5th Listen.

I love the moment early in Lilium Cruentus, before Daniel starts singing the first verse, when the heavy chorus part kicks in for the first time. It’s Daniel’s nu metal leanings honed to perfection. I wonder whether the Unseen Historical Musical Forces allowed the genre of nu metal to come into being simply so that it could serve as a tool in Daniel Gildenlöw’s toolbox.

The rap part in Diffidentia is so good, Daniel end-rhyming “God” with itself four times in a row, a decade before Kanye made that trick trendy.

My single favorite moment on “BE” is 1:41 in Diffidentia, that genius extra beat before the chorus riff reasserts itself. Its the heaviest moment in what is already a deliciously heavy song (marked by such beautiful contrast in the soft parts! those last two minutes are mesmerizing—we failed...”).

Thoughts I had, listening to Nihil Morari:

1. The prog rock approach to riffing, where you add or drop beats simply because you can, just for the fun of it, is one of those things in music (like reggae, or certain blends of sunnny gospel-folk) that for some mysterious reason I find extraordinarily easy to enjoy. I don’t like every weirdly time-signatured prog rock riff, just like I don’t like every reggae song, but if someone wanted me to fall hard for a song which, in its basics, was already well-written, all they would need to do is either make the arrangement reggae (hey Holy Diver!), or drop and/or add beats in the riff.

2. I’ve only just noticed the part in which Daniel actually sings to the Deus Nova music!

3. Daniel’s singing throughout the whole track is top-notch, and amounts to some of my favorite vocal work on the album.

4. Curiously, the more I listen to “BE”—which I initially heard as such a mighty leap forward, and which I do believe in many regards it is—still, the more I listen, the more of Remedy Lane I hear in it. My current theory about the role of “BE” in the Pain of Salvation discography is that it is a masterpiece in the traditional sense: a work presented by the apprentice to the master, proving that all the requisite skills have been learned and that the apprentice is ready to go out and honestly ply their trade on their own. “See here,” the band seems to say, “we can do fast and heavy, we can do slow and heavy, we can do prog rock riffs; we can also go gorgeously, tenderly soft, and make beautiful piano-&-strings instrumentals, and build songs around news clips and other found sounds; we can do folk, we can do a showtune, we can do blues, we can do gospel. Set us loose.” And it does seem that “BE” was the album that kicked open the doors. After it, Daniel apparently felt at liberty to be more and more unabashedly experimental.

I love the sound of the church organ in Omni. The vocal melodies are weird but great. It’s like the polar opposite of Nauticus, Daniel singing as attention-grabbingly high in Omni as he sang low in Nauticus. 




6th Listen.

I didn’t make this final listen a lyric read-along, because I’ve been referring frequently to the lyrics all along—studying the concept was too much fun. 

The music in Vocari Dei has grown on me a little. 

I’ve realized that my favorite part in Dea Pecuniae is not, in fact, the Floydian, Money-esque opening third, but the quiet, lonely bridge. So short, so good. And I realized how cool it is that Vocari Dei next on the tracklist, because Dea Pecuniae is a song that celebrates power, while Vocari Dei is all about powerlessness.


Now for the “final” ranking (heh), sans the two installments of Animae Partus.

1. Martius/Nauticus II (you were telling me recently about how you prefer the second half of The Perfect Element, but that you only prefer it because the groundwork for it is laid by the first half, so that without the first half, the superior second half couldnt be as awesome. That sounds like the way Nauticus II works. Imago is, strictly speaking, the better song, but Nauticus II is so powerful as a reprise! The riffs, the melodies, the build-up and build-down! And the drum & percussion bursts at the end! ... but wait there’s more, because this track also includes Martius, the phenomenal “outro” to Iter Impius, which, if it were its own track, like Latericius Valete or Omni, would be in my “BE” top five)

2. Imago

3. Latericius Valete (such dread, such beauty, and such badassery once the population drops)

4. Diffidentia (the HEAVINESS; and the contrasts! and slow rapping! a-and 1:41! and the long, heavenly outro!)

5. Pluvius Aestivus (piano and strings, not my favorite things; but look here, nothing but strings and piano and it’s still #5)

6. Nihil Morari

7. Lilium Cruentus

8. Deus Nova

9. Dea Pecuniae (amazing song, but if I’m not in the right mood, I drift off during the big bombast-fests in the middle and end)

10. Omni

11. Nauticus (good stuff, but smacks just a bit of “genre exercise”)

12. Iter Impius (no shortage of attractive elements, but for me they don’t cohere into a moving whole. Or to put it another way, listening to the song is never unpleasant, because there is always something cool going on, but it has never left me thinking, “WOW that was great!” when it ends. However, that may be partly because what I am usually busy thinking instead is, “Oh shit, oh shit, here comes Martius!!!!”))

13. Vocari Dei

Translation: The Kittens of the Apple Forest (Mari Iijima)

Back when I was translating a Matsumoto song or two a day, 1983 felt like a wasteland, and wound up making me feel pretty discouraged. ...