Words: Gary Mackenzie

Edited by Dave Everley prog.reviews@futurenet.com

Illustration: Jonathan Edwards

HAKEN

Pure animal magic from the leaders of the British prog pack.

The only problem with successfully scaling an epic peak is deciding what the next challenge should be. That’s the dilemma Haken faced after delivering the ambitious, expansive and breathlessly complex one-two of 2018’s Vector album and its 2020 sequel Virus. However, as singer Ross Jennings observes during The Alphabet Of Me, one of the standout tracks on the British band’s seventh album, ‘It’s time to wake up and die or regenerate’ – and regenerate is what Haken appear to have done with Fauna.

Which isn’t to say this is a complete overhaul of who Haken are. Rather, Fauna marshals many of the elements that make them so eminent among their peers while simultaneously reaching for even greater stylistic diversity and sound combinations. Add to this the departure of longtime keyboardist Diego Tejeida at the end of 2021. A major factor in the sound department is the return of founder member Peter Jones on keyboards, whose contributions here are arguably more central, more prominent and more varied than Tejeida’s work on the previous couple of releases.

The central thematic conceit on Fauna is, as the title might suggest, animals. Specifically, each track takes an animal as its jumping-off point, though the songs aren’t merely straight descriptions. The lyrics are layered in such a way that the animal in question might be used metaphorically or allegorically to further explore some aspect of the world around us, environmental concerns, the human condition or, in many cases, the personal stories of members of the band.

Fauna INSIDEOUT

"It marshals familiar elements while reaching for stylistic diversity."

Thus, the eight-minute Eyes Of Ebony acts as both a poignant salute to the near-extinct white rhino and a powerful eulogy to guitarist Richard Henshall’s late father, with more than one reference to his unfailing support in the band’s journey to the mountaintop. At the front end of the album, opener Taurus rumbles into life with a relentless, almost uncouth repeated keyboard note (or guitar? It is Haken after all), presumably representing the violent onward rush both of the wildebeest it uses as its inspiration and the trundling Russian war machine they use as a parallel before the band briefly pile in, presaging a classic mélange of towering choruses and low-key verses which build and build.

Emphasising the band’s wide dynamic range, Nightingale utilises an initial foundation of enchanting electric piano and verses that could easily pass as cool late-night jazz, which get scooped up in passing maelstroms of punishing odd-time. Elsewhere, Elephants Never Forget looks at how Victorian London reacted to the pitiful yet cultured and noble John Merrick, its jaunty piano jumping into a Gentle Giant-meets-George Duke verse. Every track here demonstrates the band’s commitment to leaning into various styles, feels and genres, while never forgetting who they are and what they’re about. Examples present themselves at almost every turn. The Alphabet Of Me starts in pure smooth EDM/pop crossover mode which is subtly warped as the song progresses as they introduce drum machine-inspired grooves, sudden explosions of frenetic unison playing, polyrhythmic juxtapositions, strains of Peter Gabriel, the merest pinch of light reggae and a trumpet solo. Lovebite marries signature Haken-isms with a bit of power pop and a classic, huge, chest-beating chorus as it wryly uses the cannibalistic nature of the black widow spider to explore a failed relationship. Beneath The White Rainbow adds both stuttering, raw fusion and twisted jazz into the mix.

Some of the album’s lyrics will have listeners striving to discern meaning. Possibly one of the strongest songs on the album, both melodically and structurally, Sempiternal Beings is a case in point, using double meanings for names of various species of jellyfish to look at the ultimately temporary nature of human existence.

Fauna shouldn’t scare any existing fans – Haken haven’t become a dedicated oompah/ Mongolian throat-singing crossover act, at least not yet. But they’re clearly allowing even more influences to infuse their work. This is an album that embraces more of everything, while allowing the band to exercise their undeniable virtuosity and creativity. Jennings’ voice has rarely sounded better, with phasing both shrewd and masterful. Henshall and Charlie Griffiths’ guitars do astounding things while perhaps finding a bit more space, with Jones clearly enjoying his return to the fold. And Ray Hearne exercises both his bewildering, pin-point precise drumming and a wider palette of sounds and grooves. There are no cockroaches this time around, but in their kingdom Haken remain pretty much near the top of the food chain.

EMOLECULE

The Architect INSIDEOUT

Ex-Sound Of Contact bandmates reunite.

When Simon Collins and guitarist Kelly Nordstrom joined forces for Sound Of Contact’s only record in 2013, their chemistry was magic. Many have longed for a follow-up, and while this is far from the same aesthetic, it shows just how well-suited for one another the pair are. Far more freewheeling, and with no external influences muddying their waters, The Architect can shine as the ambitious and immersive concept record that it is.

Written and recorded in Collins’ home studio in Ireland, its story centres around the science of emotion. It also explores what these two musicians can offer each other, with Nordstrom’s abrasive but intelligent prog metal and Collins’ penchant for vocal hooks and electronic soundscapes colliding, resulting in a compelling progressive metal record peppered with futuristic effects and euphoric crescendos.

As if to hammer home its metallic ferocity, opener eMolecule sets the scene with clanging, syncopated rhythms. They nestle alongside foreboding, ever-rising passages that journey towards a patience-rewarding climax that will no doubt draw comparisons to Tool but deserves more than that; the song has a lot to offer and introduces what is a dynamic and ballsy record in style. Much of the album entails slow, dramatic builds; as with Mastermind, which threateningly rumbles towards brighter, catchier pastures. Even the more immediate Prison Planet stays teasingly in third gear until its explosive finale of tribal drums and squealing guitars.

Yet, for every hard-hitting moment the record provides, there’s tenderness too and Awaken may just be one of the finest songs Collins has ever produced. A lusciously performed track about self-discovery, it feels like a journey unto itself as it floats through zero gravity, with Collins sounding beautifully pensive. It kick-starts the record’s strongest trio of songs. Beyond Belief centres on another stellar sing-along chorus but is flanked by expansive musicality and moments that could have been penned for a dark and dreary alien-shooting video game. Those aesthetics help darken their textures to make the light of the chorus blindingly bright, before The Universal marries 90s dance keyboards with industrial clangour and a stunning Eastern-flavoured guitar solo. The latter stands as Nordstrom’s crowning moment.

They both have a lot to offer on The Architect; it sounds like nothing either has done before, its well-paced storytelling flaunting their individual and collective talents in a brand new light. Collins has said this band is in it for the long haul, and with a debut this commendable, it’s clear to see why.

PHIL WELLER

ARILD ANDERSEN GROUP

Affirmation ECM

Beguiling improv from Nordic bass maestro.

Sometimes the best things happen by chance. Having entered the studio to record with his new group, bassist Arild Andersen suggested they improvise. The result is the exquisite Affirmation Part I and Affirmation Part II. At 23 minutes and 14 minutes respectively, they show musicians discovering startlingly beautiful tunes out of the air in real time. Lacking any post-production editing, it’s thrilling, sensuous stuff.

Marius Neset’s plaintive sax occasionally evokes Wayne Shorter’s lyricism, while Andersen’s FX-enhanced runs and bowed bass conjures cavernous depths and whale song. Pianist Helge Lien’s luminous, clustered notes and Håkon Mjåset Johansen’s insistent brushstrokes galvanise a set that’s as energetic as it is comfortable with the proximity of silence as a key ingredient. The album is completed by remaining track Short Story. It’s welcome enough, though compared to the rich seam of telepathic interplay on display before it, it almost feels like an unnecessary addendum.