I'm afraid I found one slightly depressing:

Much as I'd loved 'Marbles' and that 'deluxe edition', I was deeply unimpressed by 'Somewhere Else', so decided to give the new preorder a miss: I want to hear audio samples before deciding whether to buy – I'm not taking anything on faith this time. However, H. (er, Helen, not Steve 'h' Hogarth!) told me it was very important that I didn't preorder by the deadline, so I have a vague idea about my next birthday present....

Yesterday, Marillion solicited opinions on whether to release an Ultimate Edition of 'Happiness...', in addition to the existing pre-order Deluxe Edition.

This is my response to the 'no' address:

• I'm interested in the content of a book, DVD or CD, not the object itself, so I find it difficult to comprehend (quite literally) the desire to own things for the sake of owning things. I can appreciate a particularly well-designed or attractive object, but not the mere fact that an object exists: "it's-another-Marillion-release-don't-care-what-it-is-I've-GOT-to-have-it".
• I could understand the desire to obtain an album at the highest possible sound quality, but if one had a DVD-A why would anyone also want a CD or LP of exactly the same music?
• I don't play the guitar or drums, so why would I be interested in a shaped piece of plastic or wood which happens to feature a band's logo?
• I can just about see why someone might want a cardboard box which has been in physical contact with that person's favourite musicians, and been signed as proof, but I still think that's rather pathetic.

*: Horribly twee title, in my opinion.

'Fraid they'd need to go a stage further in my case, and even then I doubt anyone could pay me to listen to such muzak.

Even if "shaping your spring" wasn't LiveJournal-ist pretention from which I recoil, it wouldn't be accurate. I've been listening to a lot of music recently, but largely to discover new music rather than using music I already own to accompany activities or affect my mood. Hence, I haven't been exactly obsessed with many songs. A few (well, seven, obviously) which stand out from the past couple of weeks are:

Emilie Autumn – Misery Loves Company
Goth techno-pop (self-described as 'Victoriandustrial'), is an interesting idea, and Ms Autumn is an excellent vocalist & violinist, but having explored online samples, ordered two recent albums then played more samples whilst waiting, I suspect her earlier (2003) material is more my thing (less repetitive lyrics, for one thing). The 'Opheliac' album will either grow on me a lot or drop out of my awareness rapidly (that seems obvious, but I mean it's not the sort of thing I could imagine liking casually), but I keep returning to this track, probably for the vocal rhythms.

Pagan's Mind – Hallo Spaceboy
The rest of the 'God's Equation' album is unlistenable, but there's something about this Bowie cover; I can honestly say it's a drastic improvement on the original.

Imogen Heap – Speeding Cars
I picked up the 'Goodnight And Go' single from eBay for £1 last week, and have been playing this 'b'-side repeatedly – in contrast to the crappy prog-metal I've been trying to offer a fair chance, this is bliss.

Frost* – Here Is The News
I don't know whether this ELO cover has made it onto an album; I heard it on an archived Rogue's Galley podcast. I don't normally do upbeat 'happy' music, but this got through somehow, perhaps for the same reasons as 'Speeding Cars'.
BTW, the asterisk is part of the band name, not one of my footnote identifiers.

3 – Wake Pig
Another from Frans' weekly podcast and like 'Here Is The News', a track I haven't bought on CD yet: I'm playing it to decide whether I want to hear more from the band which supported Porcupine Tree in N.America last year. I'm not sure about Joey Eppard's voice in this context though, oddly, I knew immediately that I liked his solo material.

Porcupine Tree – The Rest Will Flow
As I've said, the remixing & remastering of the 'Lightbulb Sun' reissue seems to insert the freshness of a brand new album. This is the track which seems most enhanced – I hadn't particularly noticed it on the 2000 edition.

Nina Simone – Feeling Good
Not Muse's cover version. I bought all Muse's studio albums last year in a fit of enthusiasm which wore off very rapidly; I can no longer bear more than handful of tracks. Definitely mere shallow entertainment, not saying much.
Anyway: I heard the definitive 1965 rendition on A's .mp3 player returning from the Lakes a couple of hours ago, and it just seemed to fit the moment.

Kelly went on to ask an independent artist who does operate much this way, ambient musician Robert Rich, for his views. The result is a fairly long but interesting response.

In short: maybe, but it's not easy and there are problems. I was particularly interested by Rich's comments about artistic insularity – without the breadth of inputs from 'mainstream' distributors, he would never have become the artist he is, and if he felt obliged to satisfy the preconceptions of his 'true fans' in the interests of a secure income (he doesn't, but others in a similar situation might feel the temptation), his work could stagnate.

It may be worth mentioning that Rich became self-publishing well before the internet became available. I wonder whether a career more closely integrated with modern promotion & distribution methods at the 'formative' stages would be comparible.

[Via BoingBoing again.

Not particularly a traffic spike – the band becomes more of a minority-interest topic with each 'retro' tour, and Tull-related traffic rarely exceeds more than 15% of the Ministry's overall total – but there's been a distinct increase in the number of people typing 'Jethro Tull' into the blog's internal search utility. Time for a couple of reminders.

Firstly, as I said in the foregoing paragraph, the search box on each page of the blog is an internal feature which only searches blog posts – not the associate photos pages, nor the Tull-related 'departments'. For those, please use the overall, Google-based search feature on the home page and main Tull Tour History page.

Secondly, though I maintain the Tour History, I don't like Jethro Tull myself. Apart from references such as this, you're unlikely to find relevant entries in the blog.
To be more accurate, I do still kind-of like Tull's output 1971-1995, but nothing earlier (such as the 2008 tour setlist...), nor later – my interest in what Tull are doing nowadays is purely 'academic' i.e. in order to update the Tour History.

However, one of my (nominal) housemates at university, another in my first house in Lancaster and two of my current friends were always more interested than me, and I didn't actually own a Bowie album myself until H. gave me a 'best of' compilation last week.

It contains 39 tracks, theoretically representative of the range of Bowie's music over the first 33 years of his almost 40-year recording career (biased towards the more commercial material, naturally), but I'd only choose to copy 13 to my iPod, and only really like seven. Eleven are from the first eight years, two are from the Eighties and I kind of like a quirky Nineties track which would probably be better described as 'The Pet Shop Boys, feat. David Bowie'. Of the rest, I dislike half a dozen or so, and find the rest dreadfully samey. All credit to him for finding a coherent, characteristic sound and sustaining it, but I'm not sure whether it was ever truly novel, and, apart from superficial instrumentation and presentation, it hasn't exactly progressed for decades.

As I say, his music has always been there, so I'm surprised to find there'd have been little net difference to me if he'd retired in 1977.

Suggested applications include tuning a guitar or correcting out-of-tune harmony vocals – after recording.

Perhaps not a technology for live-music purists or opponents of manufactured pop, but still, a remarkable development.

I used to wonder whether I was missing something. It's themes are dark, but I normally like dark. It's generally misanthropic, but so am I, occasionally.

I briefly blamed its wordiness² for slowing the pace. On paper, there don't seem to be many lyrics, but they take the form of dense blocks of text better suited to careful consideration as prose. I presumed the repetitiveness of the music was an unfortunate consequence: that musicians had to repeat bars simply in order to accommodate so many words.
Yet on hearing it again today, I realised that's inaccurate: there are long instrumental-passages too, and they're no less ponderous. Well-played, no doubt, but lacking in creativity. If someone felt inclined to re-edit the main tracks to 60-70% of their published running times (10, 11 and 17 minutes), I'd probably be more interested.

The conclusion is the obvious one: it's just ****ing boring.

1: As opposed to the multitude who only own 'Dark Side Of The Moon' and 'The Wall'. There's nothing remotely wrong with that, of course, but I'm referring to those people who have heard the entire catalogue.

2: Dogs, sheep and pigs, satisfying metaphors for about a minute, become irritating when stretched for a further forty.

[Via BoingBoing.]

That led to an additional thought: British vocalists of that era frequently adopted Transatlantic singing voices, but off the top of my head, I can't think of a single modern singer who still does. When did that happen?

I was wrong. As samples demonstrate, the music is excellent; 'real' ensemble work somewhere between Philip Glass* and the (dark) ambient music I particularly like.

My presumption that it's new was mistaken, too; Stephen Scott has been developing the technique (including 'hardware' innovations) and composition for over thirty years. Very successfully, to my mind.

*: Sorry; I'm not especially familiar with 20th Century American composers: Glass is merely the most similar I can name offhand!

For those unfamiliar with Bass Communion, the music is dark ambient: primarily drones overlaid by instrumental samples distorted beyond recognition. On this occasion, the single 40-minute piece is "based entirely on processed and layered recordings of metal sculptures and gongs, creating complex waves of deep subharmonic sound". Carl Glover (cover designer) described it as "a soundtrack for a slowly sinking battleship making it's way down the Mariana Trench, whilst experiencing impossible levels of pressure on it's disintegrating hull."

Then again, those unfamiliar with BC are unlikely to spend £18 to investigate the project. That's pricey for a 40-min album, but as I've mentioned in previous entries, 'Pacific Codex' is the most lavish BC release yet (not that that's particularly important to me) containing a stereo CD, 5.1 surround sound DVD-A and 36-page booklet in hand-numbered, hand-assembled packaging.

Then again again, I kind of hope no-one buys it just on the off-chance that he/she might like it, as there will only be 975 copies worldwide, and there are more than 975 existing hardcore BC fans!

If you do want to try something else by Bass Communion, I can recommend 'Bass Communion I' (or 'Bass Communion II' if you can find it). Headphone Dust also offers the 20-min 'Droneworks 6' (under the title 'Dronework', for some reason) for a mere £5, so that might be a cheap sample.

*: Those in the USA may prefer to order from Equation Records.

[Update 12/02/08: Equation's allocation has sold out.]
[Update 19/02/08: Headphone Dust's allocation has sold out. That's all, folks.]

Before proceeding, I'd better stress that I'm talking about established bands appearing alongside others, not unknown ones trying to 'break through'. The latter have little to lose, or at least the flexibility to adapt to any opportunities, whereas the former already have a niche and a reputation to protect.

One apparent benefit of touring together is that a lesser-known (but not unknown) band can surf the brand recognition of a better-known band: "X must be good if they're opening for Y". Yet that relies on the relationship being accurate and complementary. Too similar and the support band may be accused of being a clone or even a tribute, and dismissed. Too dissimilar and the association is false, which can even become damaging if the bands become linked in the public's limited awareness.

An example would be Porcupine Tree, who supported Yes in 2002. There was a time when one could ask anyone dimly aware of that, and hear "Porcupine Tree? Oh, they're like Yes, aren't they? No thanks!" No, they are not ****ing similar, and I think that support slot was an extremely stupid idea. Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree has quietly admitted as much, saying that it was neither an enjoyable nor a productive experience.
Rightly or wrongly, the typical public and critical perception of Yes is very negative (and yes, shallow NME-style reviews do matter in marketing to the mainstream): they're considered to be regressive prog dinosaurs. Musically they are very dissimilar to Porcupine Tree and it's a unfair to tar the latter with the former's reputation. Porcupine Tree is a progressive contemporary rock (not 'prog' rock) band, a categorisation which needs to be communicated to the general public in promoting the band – an objective best served by actively avoiding false associations.
Thankfully, Porcupine Tree's career has developed since then, so the damage seems to have been minimal.

A second motivation for a 'name' band to tour with another would be to be heard by the other (presumably somewhat similar) band's fans. That may work to some extent, but there are two negative aspects.

The overwhelming majority of the audience will attend for one band, whether the headliner at a Yes concert or one of the headliners at a Porcupine Tree/Opeth show (they toured together with equal billing in 2003) . The other is merely an irritation, delaying the appearence of the preferred band. That's not conducive to giving unfamiliar music a fair hearing and may – may – instill a negative impression. I don't exclude myself from that: I've said before* that I dislike support bands, and usually time my arrival at a venue to miss the opening set.
The practical result is that audiences can be very unresponsive, talking over (or even heckling) the first band's set (that's very apparent in recordings of the Opeth/Porcupine Tree tour) or leaving after the first set (great for fans of the second band, but demoralising for the band). Either way, it's a unpleasant experience, far less enjoyable than two distinct concerts.

Secondly, concerts are generally of a fixed length, with doors opening (in UK venues) around 19:30 and a curfew at 23:00. That's fine when a support band's set only lasts ~45 minutes, but when two headline bands have to share equally, it means each has less time than usual. A typical Porcupine Tree headline set lasts almost two hours; on the joint tour with Opeth, they played for ~80 minutes and again, the tour recordings exhibit Opeth fans' noisy frustration that their band's set had been curtailed too. Less than satisfying.

It could even be argued that this whole exercise is pointless nowadays, when online samples and discussion groups are so readily available for such cross-promotion of bands. I know I prefer to encounter new music that way, then attend two concerts each devoted to one band, in the company of one band's audience.

*: Actually, that's another topic I've exhausted in discussion groups yet have neglected to mention here. I'm sure I will eventually. In short, I attend concerts for specific bands, not to hear music in general; I have no interest in hearing unrelated support bands.

Album of the Year

Porcupine Tree - Fear of a Blank Planet
[Reviewed here]
This wasn't in much doubt – if only in subjective terms of my own preferences, this was well ahead of anything else released this year: the first Porcupine Tree release since 1999 that I've liked completely, from start to finish, with multiple highlights. This would rank highly on a hypothetical list of my all-time favourite albums, too.

Highlights

Continuum - Continuum II
[Reviewed here]
I wasn't sure about an electric guitar accompanying full-on, extended dark-ambient pieces, but when I'm in the right mood, this grabs my total attention. Transcendental!

Fovea Hex - Neither Speak Nor Remain Silent
I have to confess I was drawn to 'Allure', the third of this 3-EP project, by the participation of Steven Wilson, but I couldn't distinguish his contribution and there was nothing 'fanboy' about my being blown-away by the music itself: a wonderful combination of haunting, vaguely Celtic folk and stark dark-ambient music. The other two EPs didn't quite meet the expectations set by 'Allure', but the overall result is still one of the best albums I've heard for quite a while.

Porcupine Tree - Nil Recurring
[Reviewed here]
Not, as some people have said in year-end reviews, 'FoaBP/NR' – that's just plain incorrect, as 'Nil Recurring' is an entirely separate release featuring material which happened to originate at the same time as, if not slightly before, 'Fear of a Blank Planet'. It is not b-sides/outtakes from 'FoaBP'.
Anyway, I like it a lot, though it's not as consistent as 'FoaBP'.

Explosions In The Sky - All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone
I said two years ago that I like this guitar-led, instrumental-only, post-rock. The new album isn't hugely different to its two predecessors (though stronger than the reissued debut album – if you're new to the band, don't start there!), but I liked them, so that's hardly a problem, and it's not really just 'more of the same'.

Sigur Rós - Hvarf-Heim
I think the band have called this a stopgap between 'real' albums or an offshoot of the 'Heima' tour & DVD project. I'd agree with that assessment: some of the live and revised arrangements of existing material are truly wonderful and the new material compares well with that on past albums, but I can't deny having hoped for genuine progression of the Sigur Rós sound.

The Reasoning - Awakening
An excellent reminder for me to keep my mind open: had I known before hearing the music 'blind' that The Reasoning are a new band featuring ex-members of 'neo-prog' acts Karnataka and Magenta, I wouldn't have expected the freshness and maturity of their debut album. The title track hooked me immediately, and repeated listening continues to unearth excellent details in the whole album.

Gazpacho - Night
My appreciation of this new discovery is developing daily, particularly as I become more accustomed to Jan Henrik Ohme's voice (I wasn't too sure about it at first). One could note a similarity to contemporary Marillion, but it's not too close and this is immeasurably better than the 'parent' band's 2007 release.

Expectedly Mediocre

Blackfield - Blackfield 2
[Reviewed here]
Like the debut album, I thought this was pretty good for a few weeks, but rapidly tired of it. I doubt I'd bother buying a third.

Riverside - Rapid Eye Movement
I was disappointed by Riverside's second album, as it lacked the novelty and energy of the first (my 'album of the year' acquired in 2005, though it was released in 2003). Hence, my expectations of this, the third, were more realistic: I didn't expect much, and was neither impressed nor disappointed.

Disappointments

Fish - 13th Star
[Reviewed here]
I tried to convince myself that I liked this, and I do think it works well when played as one continuous composition, in sequence, but occasional plays over several months have led to the conclusion that it's far from Fish's best.
In fact, I recently made an uncomfortable realisation. As I've mentioned, I've been listening to Frans Keylard's 'prog'-orientated podcasts for a couple of weeks in a conscious effort to widen my knowledge and discover new music. Apart from certain highlights (some on this list), the experience has reinforced both my prejudices about the stale 'prog'/'neo-prog' genre and my perception that there are 'top' bands exhibiting originality and musicianship, and 'also-ran' bands merely emulating what's gone before, somehow lacking the undefinable 'spark' of creativity that'd elevate them to the premier league of headline acts.
And '13th Star' very firmly fits amongst them.

Radiohead - In Rainbows
[Reviewed here]
I only have a slight interest in Radiohead anyway, and only like a few post 'OK Computer' songs, so I didn't expect to love the new album. It didn't meet even that expectation, and I only listened to it a couple of times.

Marillion - Somewhere Else
[Reviewed here]
This bored me in April, and I don't recall feeling the remotest urge to play it since then. Best, and easily, forgotten.

Too Soon To Decide

Pineapple Thief - What We Have Sown
I only received my copy a few days ago, and haven't even heard it once from start to finish, so I better hadn't comment, beyond saying it seems much more promising than '12SD'/'10SD' (haven't heard 'Little Man' yet; that arrived with 'WWHS'). There are another six days until the end of 2007, so if I get an opportunity to give the album my full attention (possible but unlikely), I might post an update.

I really wish that example was an oddity, but band after band alienates me within the first few lines. With the exception of a couple of bands, lyrics aren't especially important to me, but those of these second-division prog bands really are obtrusively dreadful; I can't avoid listening and cringing.

Reader, I bought that CD. ;)

I seem to have missed the pre-arranged meet-up of PTF members; I knew some planned to be at the designated pub from 15:00, but I wrongly presumed they'd still be in residence when I arrived at 18:00.
Not to worry; I was soon adopted by a friendly couple apparently on the basis that they and I looked "suitably biker-gothy" without having resorted to such kiddie-metal stereotypes as faux-leather trenchcoats. Porcupine Tree audiences are getting younger. Pleasant couple, and that's not a reference to a laced-front leather bodice which was more laced than bodice, and which seems to have driven out much recollection of our conversation. Ahem. I do remember they weren't going to the concert, so I left them there at ~19:20 and crossed the road to the venue – accompanied by Richard Barbieri, Colin Edwin & Gavin Harrison, returning with a takeaway. Good start.

As I'd known in advance, remodeling work in the main Academy venue (Academy 1), which was the reason Porcupine Tree performed in Preston instead in April, is still ongoing. The hall itself was usable, obviously, but access was through a fire exit and the toilets were in a portakabin outside. Fine with me, but I think the lack of a cloakroom caused problems for some people.

Once inside, there was absolutely no hope of meeting anyone, as the hall was in near-total darkness, illuminated only by a couple of blue spotlights on stage plus the lights of the bar and merchandise stall, both obscured by the small but rapidly growing crowd. I'd already bought a tour T-shirt (er, three different ones, actually) by mail order from Burning Shed, so didn't need to investigate the stall myself, so I wandered around the room a little (which seemed unchanged; presumably remodelling has been confined to the backstage and foyer areas, the latter still boarded-off at the rear of the hall) then just as I decided to find a spot to stand, at 19:45, Anathema's Vincent Cavanagh was suddenly already on stage. I didn't get as far forward as I could – large gaps remained in the thinly-packed crowd – but it seemed rude to push past and obscure the view of shorter people at the very last moment.

Within a few moments of starting, Danny Cavanagh (lead guitar) was exhorting the audience to clap along, which would have been a bit of a mistake even if this hadn't been a typical Porcupine Tree audience, seemingly unresponsive yet fully attentive: they (we) hadn't yet warmed-up sufficiently that we wished to participate. Unfortunately, that established the relationship for the entire set. I hope the band understood their audience; Vincent didn't seem impressed and his statement that they'll be back next year "as headliner" seemed to have an edge.

It was a well-chosen 45-min set, showcasing the high-energy rock and 'menacing' intensity I particularly like in their music, yet with space for some of the gentler, melancholic material I, er, appreciate less.

Fragile Dreams is amongst my favourite Anathema songs, so was an excellent start.

A Simple Mistake is one of the three songs released via the band's website as a preview of the next album. I hadn't been overwhelmed by that studio arrangement, but it worked much better live, particularly the powerful second half.

'Closer' was the song which introduced me to Anathema, so it was particularly good to hear it the first (and certainly not last) time I've seen them live.

Without wishing to criticise, Lee Douglas's voice (or more generally, female voices like hers) isn't to my taste, and nor are the slower-paced Anathema songs on which she sings, so I wasn't overjoyed that she joined the band on stage for 'A Natural Disaster', a song which I've just noticed I hadn't even bothered to upload to my iPod. Played at concert volume, I was wincing by the end.
She stayed to sing backing vocals on 'Angels Walk Among Us', which was preferable, but I wasn't pleased when Vincent thanked her by saying she'll take a greater role in the next album.

Somehow I didn't realise until later that Deep had been played; it segued straight from the unfamiliar (to me) 'A Natural Disaster', so perhaps I confused it for part of the same song. No, I don't know how, either.

Flying is another that I hadn't particularly appreciated on the 'A Natural Disaster' album (my least-favourite of Anathema's post- doom-metal releases), but it worked well live.

An as-yet-unreleased track, Hindsight closed the set. I think it was fully-instrumental apart from a vocal sample from what sounded like an American self-motivation album, which somewhat detracted, in my opinion.

Both in terms of music and live production, it was clear that under normal circumstances (i.e. with the backing of a record label) Anathema are a headline act. After their set, it took a full 15 minutes to clear the stage of their monitors and equipment (seemingly assisted by Jamie (third Cavanagh brother and bass player) – not so typical of a headliner!) and they made good use of the lights (if with a little too much dry ice – Les Smith (keys) and Mick (drums) were almost invisible at times). For a support band, the sound was extraordinarily good, though not in the same league of clarity as Porcupine Tree. It was particularly noticeable that Anathema's richly-textured music came across well, in extreme contrast to Amplifier's muddy sound in April.

Some Porcupine Tree fans encountering Anathema for the first time have commented negatively about Vincent's 'out of tune' vocals and John Douglas' 'imprecise' drumming.
Firstly, Vincent's diction (not just accent) is strongly Liverpudlian, more so than, say, The Beatles, and the melancholic nature of the music demands a certain delivery which I think he fulfills well. If you want a polished, formally-trained crooner, you have the wrong band.
Secondly, there's more to musicianship than empty virtuosity, and I've never noticed a problem with John's drumming, whether on studio albums or live recordings. I couldn't judge for myself this time, as John had become a father earlier in the day, so the band was accompanied by Mick, a stand-in who certainly seemed familiar with the material.

As soon as Anathema left the stage, some people headed for the bar, but otherwise there was a general shuffling forward, eliminating gaps and dodging around those slow to join in. I ended up at least 10 m further forward, 6-8 m from the stage, dead-centre, with only one taller person in front to my left. Perfect; I had a great view throughout the main set, though Wes was slightly obscured. There wasn't much room to move, so it's lucky that those (very closely) around me weren't inclined to, and the half-hour wait before the main set, in a London Underground-like crush, was rendered bearable by watching the bands' techs clear and reset the stage.

Porcupine Tree's stage setup was identical to that in Preston eight months ago, contributing an odd familiarity. In fact, that was my overall impression of the concert: truly wonderful, and I enjoyed myself tremendously, but somehow it lacked the novelty and extra thrill I'd experienced in April merely from being in the presence of the band. That's not necessarily a disadvantage, as I was able to focus more on their performance and the music.

There were a few videos and lighting effects projected behind the band, but as usual I consciously ignored them (I attend concerts to see the band perform for real, live, in front of me, not to watch something prerecorded) so can't really comment on their content. I did get a dim impression that there were fewer Lasse Hoile videos than on previous tours; perhaps 5 of the 15 songs (indicated with asterices below), as opposed to 8 of 16 last time. The remaining songs were accompanied by more abstract, less attention-drawing lighting effects.

I'm pleased to say the audience (at least those in earshot and in my line of sight) were particularly still and attentive – some would wrongly say 'unresponsive', but there was plenty of appreciation at the appropriate times: between songs. I was aware of people around me taking the opportunities of quiet sections to exchange comments, but no-one near me was shouting or jumping around.

From my position 8-10 m from Steven Wilson (SW), the sound was excellent, with clear stereo effects and good balance on both quieter and 'full-on' material; perhaps the guitar separation wasn't perfect, meaning a few subtleties were only apparent because I was listening for them. However, as explained below, I moved to the extreme rear left corner of the hall during 'Trains' and noticed a general deterioration in sound quality (hardly surprising) and a distracting effect off the temporary back wall, which mightn't have optimum acoustics. As in April, the sound was loud but 'clean', and as I was walking back to the station my hearing was about as clear as when I'd entered the Academy, which makes a tremendous difference to one's appreciation of the music.

The basic logistics of SW being unable to switch guitars quickly enough and having too much to do in complex arrangements of (in April) fairly new material rather dictated the relative roles he and John Wesley played on the last tour: on several songs Wes played lead guitar and the electric solos whilst SW played the acoustic or rhythm guitar parts. Another reason was apparently that Wes improvises solos in his own style rather than following the album arrangements closely, adding novelty to live performances. I can certainly respect that reasoning, but I don't actually like it. I do appreciate Wes' playing on his own albums, but given a direct choice, I prefer SW's sound, and in general I dislike improvisation. Hence, I was very pleased that SW and Wes switched back this time, Wes returning to a more supporting role and SW taking more of the solos himself. I was only jarred out of my rapture twice by Wes solos which I didn't think quite worked.

The set featured fifteen songs and no instrumentals, though several of the chosen songs include extended instrumental sections. Six songs were from 2007, three each from 2002 & '05, and one each from 1995, '96 & '99. That's the balance I expect at Porcupine Tree concerts, emphasising the 2002-2007 albums with a few token representatives of the earlier back-catalogue. I was interested to hear that the band varied the setlist rather a lot on this tour; six songs were replaced for the following night's concert in Leeds.

There was no distinct intro track this time: the band walked on stage to the accompaniment of a few seconds from Lasse Hoile's 'Blank Planet' short film (as seen on the 'Fear of a Blank Planet' DVD-A) then launched straight into the song itself, Fear of a Blank Planet*. An excellent start to the album, and equally so in concert.

As I said in my review of the 'Nil Recurring' mini-album, I suspect What Happens Now? was derived from jamming and was in turn cherry-picked for details when composing the main 'Fear of a Blank Planet' album. Live, that relationship operated in reverse, the song neatly summarising the overall feel of the album without quite quoting from other tracks.
Incidentally, congratulations to SW for hitting the high notes live!

As usual, it was good to hear The Sound Of Muzak, but the 'as usual' part was a problem. Porcupine Tree only play a two-hour set, and there are other songs I'd prefer to hear (not necessarily 'better', just 'other'). Perhaps it's time to retire this tour regular.

Apart from that on the 'Deadwing' album, this was the best-yet arrangement of Lazarus*, one of my all-time favourite Porcupine Tree songs and one which SW's mother "actually likes". I'll have to hear an unofficial recording (which I happen to know was made, but which hasn't reached me yet) in order to pinpoint its attraction, but I think a greater role was given to the electric guitars, providing a less haunting but more immediately exciting feel. Wonderful.

As in April, Anesthetize* was sublime, but curiously it felt very long. With a running time of over seventeen minutes it is a long song, of course (a seventh of the entire concert – a seventh very well used), but this was the first time I really appreciated how long the high energy of the middle section is sustained and that the closing 'Water So Warm' section is itself fully 5½ minutes long. A marathon effort, both for the band and the audience.

Open Car isn't one of my favourite songs – the lead-in to the chorus and parts of the chorus itself are too 'generic pop-rock' for me – but it follows 'the beast' of 'Anesthetize' well. Sometimes one needs the undemanding pleasure of a little plain vanilla ice cream to appreciate a complex, heavy meal.

Dark Matter was a highlight of the concert for me. Perhaps because of its contrast with the heavier, more recent material and the fact I hadn't expected it (I almost mistook the intro for that of 'Russia On Ice', somehow), it stood out strongly, really holding my attention. I gained a new appreciation of the track, refreshing my interest in the whole 'Signify' album.

Blackest Eyes* has been a standard part of Porcupine Tree concerts since 2002, but unlike 'The Sound Of Muzak' it still feels fresh and I enjoyed it immensely. I fact, I think it's improved over the years, and prefer the vocal timings to those on the 'In Absentia' album.

This was the third rendition of Cheating the Polygraph that I'd heard. On the first occasion, when all the 'Fear of a Blank Planet' material had been unfamiliar, the then-unnamed 'Track 5' stood out as the weakest of the planned songs and I was glad it was dropped from the main album. When it reappeared on 'Nil Recurring', my immediate opinion was more favourable (apart from the overbearing drumming) but since September the slightly whiney vocals (not lyrics, vocals) have gradually dropped in my estimation. That impression was reinforced live, but the new arrangement highlighted something new to me: just how similar the heavier sections are to those of 'Anesthetize' and hence how, well, redundant. In short, this was probably my least favourite part of the set.

A Smart Kid had felt out-of-place in the April set, almost lacking in power compared to the 'Fear Of A Blank Planet' material, but not this time, either because the arrangement had been revised or because of the overall balance of tonight's setlist. It was particularly good to hear SW take the climactic solo himself, as I love the 'standard' version.

Though SW almost apologised for repeating parts of the April concert, the main set again finished with the final two tracks from 'Fear of a Blank Planet', Way Out Of Here* and Sleep Together. This tour is supposed to be promoting the album, which I particularly like, so I didn't exactly object. An excellent ending. Though they're approaching the end of a long tour and SW had said he was looking forward to a rest, I was impressed by the strength of his vocal delivery on 'Sleep Together'. His voice has certainly developed in recent years.

The band left the stage for a couple of minutes then returned for possibly the highlight of the concert for me: a ~9-minute version of 'The Sky Moves Sideways Phase 1' performed live in Manchester for the first time since 1999 and hence my first time ever, if we don't count unofficial recordings. At the time I thought SW performed the opening instrumental alone, the others having nothing to do (this was the only song of the concert during which Wes wasn't on-stage, presumably grabbing a Guinness), but in hindsight Richard must have been playing too (his contribution makes the song) and I doubt the percussion was prerecorded. The subsequent vocal section was electrifying, whilst the high-energy end was a reminder (as if that was needed) of how much I love the band's pre-2002 sound.

I quite like 'Trains' but I've never understood the level of fan adulation it attracts and as with 'The Sound Of Muzak', I wouldn't object to it being dropped from the live set for a while; somehow its familiarity meant it failed to fully hold my attention. The circumstances didn't help. As it was introduced, I received a strong impression that 'Trains' would be the final encore piece. Excellent – even though I had to leave at 22:55 to catch a train, it seemed I'd see the whole concert after all. It then occurred to me that that'd only work if I was already by the exit at the end of the song – I wouldn't be able to wait for ~1,700 people to filter out ahead of me. Hence, I was obliged to push through the crowd in the middle of the song (sorry, folks) then leave quickly (at precisely 22:55) as soon as the applause began and SW looked as if he was removing his guitar to finish.

Bad news: I've since discovered that there was another encore. Good news: it was 'Halo', one of the few Porcupine Tree songs I absolutely dislike and one I was actually glad to have missed – as the final encore at the concert in April, I'd thought it a disappointing way to end, and I much preferred to walk back to the station with 'Trains' in my immediate memory.

So, another wonderful concert (from both bands), and I can't wait for the next one. It's unclear when that'll be; 2008 is supposed to be a year off for Porcupine Tree and the only known releases are to be reissues and SW solo projects. However, SW did mention they'd be back late next year, which made little sense. There's certainly been no suggestion of new material to tour.

[Those wanting the review can stop reading now; the following bit is just for cyclists.]

Leaving Preston station at ~00:15, the ride home took longer than normal due to an annoying gusty headwind, reducing my average speed to 14.5 mph (23 km/h; 38 km/h max. speed) and meaning I wasn't home until ~02:00 (01:58, I think). In hindsight, that average isn't much lower than the more usual 16 mph (26 km/h) for this route and my bike computer says I was only moving for 1 hour 34', so Preston's numerous traffic lights must have been the main delay.
For my own future reference and anyone else considering cycling from Preston railway station to Moorlands, Lancaster, the precise(ish) distance is 22.75 miles (36.6 km) – 1.75 miles more than I'd thought, which explains why it's always felt like more than 21 miles! Two useful landmarks are the northernmost turn-off from the A6 to Garstang, at 12.1 miles and hence only slightly over 10 miles from Lancaster, and Junction 33 of the M6, at 16.6 miles – it's important to accept that one isn't 'nearly there' at that point, and over 5 miles remain ahead.

Today's highlight has been a Norwegian band (though one wouldn't know it from the music or vocals) called Gazpacho. As the name implies, it'd be reasonable, if uncharitable, to describe them as a clone of modern-era Marillion. In fact, I understand they supported Marillion's 2004 tour and release their albums on Marillion's 'Intact Records' label; I ordered their latest CD from Marillion's webstore. Somehow the similarity isn't a problem, and hints of Porcupine Tree or 'Kid A'-era Radiohead add to the attraction.

Okay, I wouldn't describe their music as earth-shatteringly wonderful, and I don't have a new favourite band, but they're certainly worth trying. Their website offers a few full-length album tracks for download in 192 kbps .mp3 format, and for the price of an e-mail address, one can download an audience recording of their live set supporting, yes, Marillion, in Paris in 2005. It's even possible to hear their entire back catalogue online (streamed), though that facility didn't work well for me.

"Play it loud with the lights off."

From the home page, select 'News' in the header menu. The text mentions the 'Everything' download from months ago, but not the new one. For that, select "click here for news, headlines and more". That page provides the download link, under the title 'Angels Walk Among Us'.

Previous downloads have been 'free but we'd welcome donations if you like them'. However, this one doesn't have an associated PayPal link, so I'm paying by promoting it (which is more than I can say about the band's website...).

However, I hadn't realised that these releases are scheduled for the same day as the 'In Rainbows' box set, and are alleged to be a spoiler tactic by the band's old label, Parlophone, which had been expecting to handle the 'In Rainbows' release.

Interesting. At first glance, the 'Radiohead Store' website seems to be from the band themselves, with their name in a previously-used font, the bear logo and a characteristic colour scheme, but on reflection, the site is too obvious and openly commercial for Radiohead: if it looks like a Radiohead website, it can't be a Radiohead website. There's also a telling statement that:

The 'most lavish packaging yet for a BC release' sounds like a nice bonus (a stereo CD and 5.1 DVD-A with a 36-page book and other inserts designed by Carl Glover, all in a hard box), but ultimately all I care about is the music, and I'm not pleased by a three-month delay for mere packaging.

[Update 22/12/07: Argh! A manufacturing fault has caused another delay, into February....]

[Update 06/02/07: Pre-orders are being taken by Headphone Dust, for despatch on or about 11 February.]

Quoted in the Financial Times, Bryce Edge of the band's management company said:

It was already known that 'In Rainbows' will be released on standard CD in 2008, but the FT provides an update: the album should be out in January, on one of the 'big four' multinational labels, and may contain further bonus material to drive the hook further into those already tempted by the mp3s. Having heard them, I'm not.

Not that this was some sort of loss-leader: sources quoted by Wired have attempted to assess the raw financial success of the download release, and come up with a figure of something like £3-5 million in the first week.

[Update 07/11/07: It seems that was optimistic, perhaps based on visitors to InRainbows.com, not necessarily the subset who went on to become customers. Further research suggests that 62% of downloaders paid no more than the 45p admin charge, and the average amount paid by those who did pay was £2.90.
The Guardian observes that that's well below the price of a CD or mainstream (i.e. iTunes) download. However, I don't find that part surprising. I certainly paid rather less than for a CD, as I never intended to buy the download instead of the later CD release, so paid a token amount now for a stopgap before paying the full amount for a CD later (then I heard it, and decided the download was more than enough, but that's a different matter). I doubt I was alone.]

Comprehensive review, based on one run-through of the 160 kbps mp3s: meh.

It's okay, but no more than that. Maybe it'll grow on me, but I can't say I've been especially impressed by Radiohead since 1997, and my immediate impression of this one is no different.

As Tim (who "made [his] excuses and left after 'Kid A', which [he] never managed to get into") says, it's not entirely fair to judge any progressive album from a single listen – like Tim, I "find anything remotely complex takes at least four or five listens before it starts to make any sense".

However, one can usually detect some points of attraction immediately, and one can readily compare new material to past releases. Like those post-1997 albums (including 'The Eraser'), which I think it strongly resembles, 'In Rainbows' is... okay. Inoffensive. If any of these tracks came on the radio, I wouldn't turn it off. Unfortunately, that's the full extent of my praise.

I doubt 'In Rainbows' would disappoint existing Radiohead fans, but more casual listeners like me might take some persuading. Maybe I would suddenly see the attraction if I forced myself to play it again and again, but, well, life's too short.

[Update 18/10/07: Fight Club is of much the same opinion.]

Unfortunately, his profile is a little too low for major distributors, and most of his back catalogue has been difficult to obtain. As Wes explains at his Myspace site he's driven by a need to create and perform: "for me to continue to create music, I have to know that people are hearing it.". At the end of August, he instituted a remarkable new policy, recently imitated by an obscure Oxford-based band called 'Radiohead'.

Wes' entire catalogue, featuring over fifty songs, is now available from his Myspace site as .mp3 downloads, on a 'pay what you want' basis. Apparently, he's happy for people to take the albums as entirely free downloads, on one condition:

This policy doesn't mean he's giving up on CDs, not least because there's still a considerable market for physical objects with artwork, and the sound quality of CD Audio vastly exceeds that of .mp3. Hence, CDs remain available for sale from Wes' main website, at concerts, and via major retailers who happen to stock his in-print albums. Any future albums will also be solely sold on CD and SNOCAP (commercial download) for an initial period after release, rather than being made available for free via the 'Share the Wes' programme immediately.

Personally, I already owned 'Chasing Monsters' and 'Shiver' on CD, so took the opportunity to download the foregoing one, 'The Emperor Falls'. It was certainly impressive enough to justify full payment, so I went one better: I bought the CD.
In my opinion, the major flaw in donating or buying directly from Wes is that though he'll receive greater financial benefit than if distributors and retailers take cuts too, he'll rapidly become invisible to the mainstream market. That's why, at least on this occasion, I bought 'The Emperor Falls' from Amazon, reasoning that increased sales there could boost industry awareness a little. Perhaps that doesn't particular matter, if word-of-mouth means the music will still reach those interested. Either alternative has advantages and disadvantages.

A month on, Wes has reported back with the result of his announcement: since 24 August, over 17,000 albums have been downloaded by old and new listeners all over the world. Excellent! Let's hope a significant proportion paid, but the main objective is clearly working.

Your turn. Download. Listen. Share the Wes.

It's available in two formats:

• A 'discbox' will contain a standard CD with the expected artwork and lyric booklets, plus a second CD of bonus material (songs & artwork), plus the album on 2 LPs, all in a hardback book & slipcase.
  This will cost £40 – if the inclusion of LPs and lavish packaging wasn't a clue, this is pretty much for fans only. Discboxes will be individually manufactured and won't be despatched until December, but purchasers will automatically receive the second option in the mean time:
• A download will contain the album tracks, without bonus material. I haven't been able to determine the file format, but I'd guess it's .mp3 rather than something lossless like .flac.
  This will cost... whatever you want to pay. Yes, really: you could obtain the latest Radiohead album for 1p (plus the basic online transaction cost, 45p).

It'd be easy to dismiss this as a marketing gimmick, and if it is, it's worked – of my normal news sources, the Guardian, the BBC and BoingBoing have mentioned it prominently.
Yet it is noteworthy that an acknowledged major-league band, supposedly one of those sustaining the mainstream record industry, is releasing an album via its own website and without the involvement of a record label, and treating potential purchasers as responsible individuals rather than as potential thieves.

Personally, I'm undecided. I suspect I'll pay a token amount for a download, merely as a stopgap until the CD is released properly. Then again, I've only listened to each of the post-'OK Computer' albums a handful of times, so I might pay a fair amount for a download and skip the CD.
I suppose I could just wait for the standard CD to appear at Amazon; I'm in no hurry.

I can't help thinking the causal aspect is a bit of a distraction from the core point: is one drawn to particular elements in music, irrespective of genre? It's not a matter of hearing 50s crooners or 60s jingly-jangly pop in childhood and therefore liking (or disliking – it follows that aversion could be predetermined too) those genres now. Rather, the suggestion is that one might be drawn to similar sounds, even in radically different contexts. Having acquired a predisposition for, say, resonant baritone voices, one might subsequently enjoy opera and sea shanties without noticing the link.

Disappointingly, it doesn't seem to be a topic of interest to commenters on the Guardian article, who tend to dismiss or misunderstand it. The only person who actually engages with the subject is Tim, whose response is expanded here.

As for common factors in my own taste... hmm, it's not easy, is it?

One is obvious: I seek downbeat, dark music, and am rapidly bored by upbeat, 'happy' music. If one can dance to it or sing along, it's unlikely to grab me. I'd better stress that's not a conscious decision or any form of snobbishness – I'm not denying some secret urge for the sake of appearences – 'dark' music genuinely grabs me, irrespective of whether its fashionable, and 'party' music just leaves me cold.
I was about to say "but I do like some high-energy trance". Ostensibly, that seems contradictory, but it isn't; now I think of it, the specific tracks I like tend to be slightly sinister, with a sense of contained menace. Nothing fluffy!

Beyond that, I'm struggling. Guitar-led music (electric and acoustic)? Strong, complex rhythms? I can think of a consistent dislike: shrill female vocals.

The only other preference I can think of is a little more abstract, being a context rather than a sound.
Putting the 'prog' vs. 'progressive' genre distinction to one side, I'm interested by music (of any genre, whether metal, disco, folk, or even 'prog') which progresses: I'm naturally drawn to the novel and extraordinary. That certainly doesn't mean I chase 'the latest big thing' (on the contrary, fashion is cyclical whereas I want the genuinely different) and I don't actively hunt for new music. It just happens!
Conversely, I have absolutely no interest in nostalgia. I know some people like certain music as a reminder of certain periods in their lives, and also like music which resembles music from those periods. I don't.

This seems to be straying from the central point, but it is relevant. If I hear a piece which resembles another, I'm less likely to enjoy it (I might; I'm just saying it's less likely), even if it contains the fundamental elements I supposedly favour. Maybe it shouldn't, but it does matter to me whether I've heard something before.
I must be a nightmare for marketers, as their tactic of 'if you liked x, you might like y' invariable fails, because 'x' already filled that niche in my taste.

It may be significant that I was brought up in a house without appreciable musical influences, and I had negligible interest in music until into my twenties. A radio rarely featured in my home environment, and even then it was Radio 4 (i.e. speech, not music). There was a gap of about seven years between my buying my first album and buying the second. In both cases, the music stood-out from everyday pop I'd previously experienced; I was drawn to its differentness.

My first (mistaken!) impression was... succinct: "That was dire." However, repeated listening and a little insight from the 'Making Of...' DVD which accompanies the special edition CD¹ have boosted my appreciation. I think the main problem was my own expectation of high-energy, accessible rock music (with more substance emerging with familiarity) comparable to 2003's excellent 'Field Of Crows' album. Though it's not the one I'd anticipated, I now think 'Thirteenth Star' is a reasonably strong album (though not one I necessarily like...). Perhaps I'm overstating, but its unexpected depth makes 'Field Of Crows' even seem a little superficial.

To expand that initial impression, at first I thought the music and lyrics were boring; 'been there, done that', and if you've heard one downbeat Fish song, this album would be all too familiar. From an artist who claims to be progressive, it seemed dreadfully stale. However, that was only the result of a single play-through and based on mistaken (inflated?) expectations. Hearing it again a few more times, and considering it on its own terms, I'm more impressed.
Uncharacteristically, I've taken a while to compose this review, returning to it several times over the weekend, between playing the album again several times. In that time, I've gone from "this is appalling" to "It's not his best" to "er... actually, it might be" and back to "don't be so wishful: it's not his best".
If this review has any purpose beyond spreading the word that Fish has a new album out², I hope it's a warning against preconceptions and an appeal to give the music, and especially the lyrics, more than one chance to penetrate.

It'd be naïve to ignore the context in which Fish wrote these lyrics, namely the departure of his fiance, Heather Findlay of 'prog' band 'Mostly Autumn', in late May 2007. This was another reason for my initial dislike. The material seemed too personal, and I have a strong aversion to people criticising ex-partners in public; I'd thought better of Fish. Yet that too was a flawed preconception, and it seems the album's concept was determined well before it was mirrored by real life.

There's a fine balance. I don't listen to music for mere transitory entertainment, 'just a bit of fun': I demand more substance. Yet nor do I seek discomfort, or to be unproductively reminded of unhappy times in my own life. If '13th Star' had been no more than an bitter declaration of Fish's grievances, I wouldn't have wanted to hear it. Though there are clearly raw emotions in the lyrics, framing them in a slightly abstract narrative somehow adds sufficient distance, and it feels like a fictional protagonist singing about a fictional lost love, not Derek singing about Heather. Whether that's strictly accurate is a different matter....

That pre-existing concept (yes, it's a concept album, but don't worry about it) still defines the basic structure, being the story of someone seeking love/fulfilment within the mundane cycle of everyday life, and failing; the protagonist is left looking for his 'thirteenth star' alone ('Misplaced Adulthood', anyone?). According to the 'Making Of...' DVD, ~80% of the lyrics were already completed by the time of the break-up, so the subject matter and direction apparently predate events and emotional responses they seem to document. An interview segment from April 2007 casually mentions an intended happy ending, so clearly the narrative arc was amended to incorporate Fish's strong feelings, but it's not the overt attack on Findlay that I'd thought (though read whatever you wish into the first line of '13th Star': "With a heart full of sky,..."). Apologies for doubting his integrity.
The only remaining uncomfortable moment is in the 'Fish TV' promo at the end of the 'Making Of...' DVD rather than on the album itself. A video clip of questionable relevance shows Fish singing 'Just Good Friends' to Findlay³: "what would you do if I went down on my knees to you...?" (which he did (twice), under Micklegate in York). I really wonder why he included that.

The music itself is a minor problem. As a non-instrumentalist, Fish is slightly dependent on his collaborators. When that was Mickey Simmonds on the early solo albums or Steven Wilson on 'Sunsets On Empire', it was fine, but this time his primary partner was bassist Steve Vantsis on his first ever writing project. Unfortunately, it shows: the music is competently workmanlike and enjoyable, but in places it's a little predictable, particularly in terms of song structure. I'm not really complaining, and '13th Star' is consistently preferable to, say, 'Fellini Days', but it doesn't particularly challenge the listener; it doesn't sparkle.

Naturally, the immediate highlights are the full-on 'rock' tracks, 'Openwater' (especially the verse keyboards), and 'Dark Star' played at a neighbour-rattling volume. In an earlier draft, I was going to name 'Where In The World' as the album's low point, the obligatory maudlin ballad to skip (there's one on every Fish album). Yet in context, it works, just not necessarily in isolation, which illustrates that '13th Star' is indeed an 'album' album: a coherent composition with an emotional curve rather than a bunch of unrelated individual songs.

In terms of technique, Mark Wilkinson's cover art may his best ever (though the booklet layout work still looks cursory, even amateurish), but the subject matter is disturbingly 'proggy' – angels sailing into a stormy sea, exaggerated starscapes, even a ****ing sea serpent. Dangerously Roger Dean-ish. I'm glad the special edition digipack comes in a plainer slipcase, but presumably the Wilkinson artwork will appear on the retail edition, and deter potential buyers who'll naturally question the album's apparent mainstream credibility.
Yes, I know genre pigeonholing is annoying and it shouldn't matter if journalists and mainstream rock fans falsely associate Fish with crappy retro 'prog' or 'neo-prog' acts, but this is marketing, and first impressions do matter. I loathe 'prog'. If my first exposure to Fish's career was seeing this artwork in a jewel case in HMV, I would not buy it. Simple as that.
Heh. I've just realised that I primarily associate the pictorial content with albums by second-rate 'neo-prog' bands, the artwork of which was very probably influenced by Mark Wilkinson's early work for Marillion and Fish! The original remains the best, but still, the association is unfortunate.

Two final, isolated thoughts:

• I don't have anything specific to say about it, but the beautiful production work by Calum Malcolm deserves especial mention.
• Why does '13th Star' (the song) begin with the intro to 'Sugar Mice'?

2: The special edition of '13th Star', featuring the CD in a three-panel digipack with a full-colour booklet and 'Making Of...' DVD, all within a decorative slipcase, is available now, solely from Fish's webstore and concerts. The standard retail edition is expected at the start of 2008.

3: It may be from the Berlin concert in October 2006, the last time they appeared together on stage.

Apparently so: at the time of writing, it's the lead item on the BBC News home page's 'ticker tape'.

Whatever; it's good to see Fish capturing a bit of publicity with the same shamelessness novelty as his former bandmates; he just happens to mention his imminent new album '13th Star' and tour, and there's a prominent link to the website (and hence webstore).

The hardcore fans' reactions seems to have been characteristically* OTT – 'grown men crying', and all that, but it is kind of cool that it happened in that very Market Square, in Aylesbury, the band's birthplace.

Incidentally, I haven't mentioned that there's a non-retail limited edition of '13th Star' exclusively available by pre-order from the webstore or from the merch stall at concerts. It's the CD album plus a 'Making Of...' DVD, in a digipack with slipcase and enhanced booklet. Order now for despatch in early September.

*: no, to be fair, that's Marillion freaks; Fish's fans are less scarily obsessive.
The forum thread at Marillion.com already runs to 27 pages of squabbling.

They've announced that they're working on ~80 minutes of new music for what is expected to be a 14-track double album provisionally entitled 'Paradigm Shift'.

Double album, eh? Kind of 'proggy'? NO.

The subject matter could be a slight concern:

There's no suggestion of a completion or release date, but they have said that they won't be rushing into a studio before supporting Porcupine Tree's European tour in the autumn, so several new songs are likely to be performed and refined live before they're recorded.

Actually, that's rather the point: I'd grown up with negligible real interest in music, so saying Maiden was a favourite is distinctly faint praise; it's more a matter of them having appeared on BBC Radio 1's 'Friday Night Rock Show' fairly frequently at the end of the Eighties, and my being able to find several of their albums in my local lending library. Still, it's undeniable that 'Live After Death' was the first LP I ever bought, and I think I bought (or copied... sorry) the entire back catalogue up to 1990's 'No Prayer For The Dying' on tapes. It's no coincidence that I went to university that year and lost interest in Maiden, being introduced to Queen, Bowie & Jethro Tull. Oh, and girls. ;)

I don't think I've heard a Maiden single song for over fifteen years, but a little late-Spring cleaning uncovered my tapes archive (aka a cardboard box I couldn't lift, so had to open) at the weekend, so whilst working at home yesterday, I played 'Piece Of Mind', 'Powerslave', 'Somewhere In Time' and 'No Prayer...' back-to-back. I'd almost lost the will to live by that point, but I noticed a couple of interesting moments in the hours of noise, so I am continuing with the other albums, if not quite so intensively.

It's remarkable that the music is utterly unfamiliar – it's as if I'm hearing it for the very first time, which may be an indication of how much attention I really paid in the Eighties. I've mentioned before that I have a good long-term memory for music I like, but evidently not this.
There's one marked exception: 'Seventh Son Of A Seventh Son'. Weird. 'Infinite Dreams', 'Can I Play With Madness' and the title track are startlingly familiar. I presume that was my favourite album; I'm almost te