Its mood consistently dark and ominous, with songs about climate change, disinformation and the reigniting of the Cold War, Pallas’s latest album, The Messenger, is certainly far from easy listening. Only their eighth album in their 48 years, it was also – as usual – far from being a rush job.

Words: Dave Ling

The many shades of Pallas.

Images: Mike Bentley

There’s sluggish, there’s longwinded, there’s slow, there’s languid and unhurried. Then there’s the speed at which Pallas seem to operate, which can best be described as glacial.

Prog’s correspondent has just taken his life into his hands by voicing this theory to the veteran Scottish neo-proggers. Fortunately, they erupt with laughter before addressing the truth behind our statement.

“We take a long time to do anything,” says a smiling Ronnie Brown, “and then quite often we’ll go back and do them all over again. I don’t think we will ever do anything quickly. We’ve turned messing around and going down alleys into an art form.”

“No, we’re not the fastest-moving group of individuals,” Alan Reed says, nodding in agreement. “But having said that, cutting the tracks was done quite quickly. Once I rejoined, that kick-started things a little.”

“By our standards this album has been quite quick,” Graeme Murray continues. “Five years. For us that’s lightning speed.”

“The bottom line is that with Pallas, things take as long as they take,” says Brown. “If we’d set ourselves a deadline of making it in five years, it could have been another five years.”

Apologies for labouring the point, but it’s worth making: Pallas are reminded that the studio album we have met over Zoom to discuss, The Messenger, is just their eighth in their 48-year history, which dates all the way back to the mid-70s. The statement causes Murray to grasp his head in his hands theatrically, before retorting: “Aye, but let’s be positive –at least we’re all still here. And I can assure people that the album is well worth the wait.”