Published on Aug 20, 1999
It’s always fun to see an artist experiment. Sometimes it falls
flat, sometimes it works, but knowing that someone is going outside
the envelope of their past work is worth a few bonus points in my
book. Alan Parsons’ post-Project career has been a lot of
experimentation. Some of it worked, some of it didn’t, but it’s all
been different, varied, daring, while still keeping the layered
sound that his production is known for. His new CD,
The Time Machine, is no different.
Once again, the central core of Parsons’ post-Project work
remains the same. Guitarist Ian Bairnson and drummer Stuart Elliot
have been with Parsons since the mid ’70s. Bassist John Giblin and
vocalist Neil Lockwood return for their second go-round. In a
pleasant surprise, former Project vocalists Colin Blunstone and
Chris Rainbow return after many years’ absence. The vocalist corps
is rounded out by Parsons semi-regular Graham Dye, and three new
guest vocalists, all of whom are an interesting variance from
Parsons’ normal sound: Tony Hadley, formerly of Spandau Ballet,
English singer-songwriter Beverly Craven, and in a very strange
twist, Maire Brennan, formerly of Clannad.
Needless to say, this
is a departure for Parsons. But it works; it may work, in
fact, better than anything he’s done since the 1987 breakup of the
Project. Brennan’s vocal work on “Call Of The Wild” is delicate,
breathy, and the full undertones of her ethereal voice are brought
out by Parsons’ production. Tony Hadley slides into the Parsons
sound as easy as if he’d been bred for it on “Out Of The Blue,” and
Craven’s “The Very Last Time” is minimally produced and arranged,
with brilliant piano by new keyboardist Robyn Smith. Craven’s voice
is not at all what you expect on a Parsons CD; it’s bluesy,
expressive, and the song itself is acoustic. It’s a long way from
“Sirius/Eye In The Sky”, but it works.
The regulars respond as well. In the instrumental department,
“H.G. Force Part I & II” is a brilliant piece of work, the
Jarre-like synthesizer and drums sandwiching the album neatly.
“Rubber Universe” may be the catchiest vocal-free piece on a
Parsons CD since “Hawkeye” on 1985’s
Vulture Culture. Both of these show the excellent writing
ability of Bairnson and Elliot, performers who are heavily
underappreciated both as composers and as guitarist and drummer.
(Ian Bairnson, for example, got bored a few years ago, so he
learned how to play saxophone — well enough he provides all the
sax lines on this CD. This is what the guy does when he’s
bored.)
And in vocals, “No Future In The Past,” the Beatlesque “Press
Rewind,” and Blunstone’s “Ignorance Is Bliss” all excel. Special
note should be given to the first two; both are unusual for
Parsons, the first hard rock, the second an almost guitar-band
sound. Only on “Call Up” does the sound falter, and that a minor
consideration. (Another guitar line or a bit more musical
complexity would have solved it nicely.)
In short, Parsons has deviated from his standard sound, taken
some chances, and come out a winner. Parsons is still trying to
secure an American label for this release; meanwhile, go break your
piggy bank and order the Japanese import (with English liner notes)
from Thoughtscape Records. It’s worth every penny.