The definition above sublimely describes not only this wonderful album, but its genius architect Thomas Thielen, whose work I first became enriched by with 2015’s Fragmentropy. This album is his second released on the Giant Electric Pea label and is a very worthy addition to the label which includes IQ, Solstice, John Wetton, and Renaissance.

There are some reviews where I try to capture an overall mood or theme of the album for the reader, others where I will delve a bit deeper to try to break down each individual track. There is no hard and fast rule to this process excepting that I write how and where the music takes me. Quite honestly if I were to try to undertake a detailed breakdown of the nuances, subtleties, mood changes, and thematic panoramas of each track of this album you would still be reading this review in late June, for what we have here is, quite honestly, a work of such sweeping vision that it is impossible to write or experience as normal. It is a work which demands that the listener immerse him or herself without any conscious pre-decision or preconceived ideas. You must simply experience it.

One thing that does bear stating is that one of the first attributes of Thielen, who plays every single instrument on this album again, is his voice has a more than passing resemblance to a certain (later period) Mr Bowie. There, however, any similarities are submerged within the cornucopia of themes, moods, velocities, and instincts of music which almost defy description, making it particularly difficult for the poor old reviewer.

So, let us try a breakdown of the opening track, The Same Old Everything, which clocks in at a mighty 13.5 minutes. As with every track on the album, the utterly beautiful, at times achingly fragile, vocals are at the heart of everything. There are some gorgeous synth effects, ethereal key chords, and guitar solos. Parts of the track are simple and very touching, whilst others burst into energy without any warning before the mid-section slows down so much as to almost bring proceedings to a close before that wondrous voice reasserts itself over footsteps and ghostly guitar chords. There then follows a passage of pure and utter chaos, exploding madness before it all calms down again with some gorgeous female choral voice effects. As we reach the denouement beginning with anthemic thumping drums leading us into a voice-led finale packed with dense chords.

That is just the first 13 minutes. So, let us state unequivocally that this is complex, demanding, and intelligent rock music at its best. If we must categorise it, let us call it art rock in its purest form.

The Light At The End Of The Light contains some lovely jazz riffs on drums and is a rather menacing piece of music akin to travelling through a very long tunnel with moments of reflection, others of noise, and taking with you a huge change of mood, hope, and fear.

I love How Not To Speak, which is only just over two minutes long, so the shortest track by far, but is something that Richard Wright himself would have been proud to place on a classic era Floyd album. It has a gentle, evocative piano with the voice taking over, but running out of time. A pure joy to listen to.

On The Idiot’s Prayer, we have some magnificent guitar licks, very reminiscent of a certain Mr Rothery in his pomp, before this segues into a closing section with some of the most disturbing screaming voices you will hear this side of eternal damnation.

The Scars Of The Sky is simply bonkers. A pulsating bass at its heart, with vocals and voice effects soaring above, it is somewhat chaotic in parts and in others singularly simple, heartrending vocals against chords before exploding into life again. This is a discordant track putting across admirably the chaos of modern life and our impact on the planet and societies. It is the kind of track all parents should threaten their naughty offspring with at bedtime if they don’t behave themselves, a rollercoaster of music with a huge chaotic close.

Beyond This Pale Face quietens matters down somewhat, but it does have a pretty pacy rhythm underpinning it. There are some very dark passages inside this, and these are very expansive in certain passages.

A Relevant Lovesong has some more acutely lovely vocals and voices. In parts, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and there are some very interesting and trancey club-like dubs and effects.

Finally, Tell The Neighbours We’re Fine is orchestral, very dark, and the vocals take your breath away once again.

This is one of the finest albums I have heard in a long time, not just in what is turning into a mightily impressive 2022. Don’t try to pigeonhole this. Simply immerse yourself in the pretty intense world of the genius who produced it. Very highly recommended.