It is true …
Many people don’t know who Steven Wilson is. Generally and within musical ‘popularity’, Wilson lives in an obscure place. For the punters of the world a very bad thing. For Wilson – a very good thing.
The creator of the band Porcupine Tree and his band-mates set up shop at Place des Arts in Montreal on Friday night. Combining Porcupine Tree material and material from Wilson’s various solo and band projects – the tunes were for the faint of soul …
Wilson is an innovator. He is also a man filled with musical conviction both from a songwriting perspective and a technical point of view. His attention to detail and exploration within all musical forms is an attribute to his Father’s teachings. Wilson is also no fool when combining the arts. The marriage of visual and audio conceptions are ‘making love on their honeymoon’ during a Wilson show. Perhaps the only time when unannounced voyeurism should not be condemned.
Think of Wilson as a leader of a cult. From the beginning of the night through to the end – his ‘followers’ are pumped and poised to drink his poison. The pent up energy within the anticipation ready to explode as a premature ejaculation. Only the commanders of their very own pirate ships possess this type of passion for perfection and rebelliousness. Only perfection parlays unique language to the passionate through words and music.
Thinking and retroactive responses fill the spaces left by the pauses in musical creativity. The roller coasters, the emotions of life envelop the band and the crowd. The synergy, allowing connections to arrive at mutual understandings. Bonds -unmistakable gluing of concrete agreements.
Progressive Rock (with hints of early day Genesis and King Crimson) pokes it’s head in between Heavy Metal and Pop / Rock. Ghostly appearances from Gabriel to McCartney float nearby without interrupting the moment of now. The polite ‘intrusions’ – mere knocks on the door of Wilson’s songwriting bedroom.
To sum up a show of Wilson’s (and the bands) genius – a crime against humanity. A war crime to make Cheney and Bush appear angelic.
Years and years of recording. Years and years of ‘schooling’. An insatiable thirst for creativity and a natural habit for mining the salt of the earth allow Steven Wilson a hiding place.
For the sake of humanity and musicianship – the flashlights should remain in their respective drawers.