Legends of the Shires

Much ado has been made about the idea of progress, no matter what the subject under consideration, there is this enduring sentiment in modern society that rings as vague as a political slogan about the idea of moving forward. For the past 100 years in the United States, or the colonies depending upon which direction the Atlantic Ocean lies from one's location, it has consumed the rhetoric of much of the body politic. But as with all vague notions, this one raises more questions than it really accomplishes anything. Progress to what end? In which direction are we even proceeding? Who's ideal future lay beyond the horizon? For who's advantage? However, when moving to a more specific subject such as musical direction, the hazy concept of progression takes on a sudden clarity, one that is very well exemplified in the lengthy career of British progressive metal extraordinaire outfit Threshold.

Though always a formidable force in the somewhat ironically stylized craft that they share with the likes of Dream Theater and Vanden Plas, the current year has brought about a rather auspicious circumstance for this band, as long absent lead vocalist of the seminal sophomore offering of this outfit Psychedelicatessen Glynn Morgan has returned to the fold. In comparison to his more prolific predecessors Mac and Damian Wilson, his voice work is a bit more traditionally geared, reminiscent of the airy yet soaring tenor of original Dream Theater helmsman Charles Dominici, but with a tad bit more power and grit. Perhaps the only thing that surpasses the curiosity of seeing said singer back in the driver's seat is the thematic departure that is Legends Of The Shires, Threshold's 11th studio offering, which takes a break from the futurist imagery that has often accompanied their music for a lush and green naturalistic opposite.

Despite the very different album art, which might hint that a stroll down the lyrical road of high fantasy with Tolkien as the guide, what occurs on here musically is a highly excellent excursion into familiar territory. It's a bit larger in scope than past offerings and ends up occupying two compact disks, but this conforms quite strongly to the tuneful and occasionally noodling orthodoxy that defined the 90s material of Dream Theater and a few other lesser known tag-alongs of said time period. The recurring title song/theme "The Shire" (which occurs in three parts at various points of the album) mirrors the smooth, serene, acoustic trappings of "Hollow Years" off of Falling Into Infinity, though the second incarnation of the theme goes a bit heavier and listens like a full length song rather than a prelude or passing interlude. It is this sort of catchy yet contemplative balladry that typifies a significant share of this album's contents.

This isn't to say that the majority of this album is caught in a woodland retreat, as this album does get fairly heavy and arguably manages to land in territory more suited to Six Degrees Of Inner Turbulence or even Odyssey era Symphony X. Of particularly note is the chunky, grooving machine of a song "Snowblind", which hits the bottom end quite hard with a down-tuned riff set and an up tempo beat, though being on the longer end of the spectrum, also has a few lighter twists and turns, not to mention plenty of rock organ and spacey keyboard wizardry. On a similar note, the punchy opening full length song "Small Dark Lines" follows a very similar, though shorter formula and definitely throws in some fist-pumping to go along with the deep lyrical perspectives. Yet among the moderate length to longer numbers, the idea balance of heavy-handed impact and atmosphere is the ode to political cynicism "Trust The Process".

As noted earlier, though the exterior and general theme of this album leans a bit towards a back to nature message, this is a collection of songs that functions as an expansive version of past exploits by this band. Nowhere is this more apparent than the longest offerings to be found on here. The futuristic and multifaceted epic of a piano-driven semi-ballad "The Man Who Saw Through Time" contains the usual deep and perceptive lyrical quirks, but in qualitative terms, stands as one of the most brilliant mixtures of Pink Floyd, Rush and Dream Theater influence to have ever been conceived. "Lost In Translation" treads through similar territory, but with a bit more of a haunting atmosphere where a dissonant set of clean guitar drones indicative of a Queensryche influence replace the piano work, and things get a tad bit heavier. In both of these songs, however, the truly spellbinding element is how the dense keyboard backdrop, heavily harmonized vocals and rhythm section just meld together into an elaborate celebration of sound.

If there is a single word that could properly sum up the nature of this opus, it would be philosophical. There is plenty of skepticism towards the tangled web of modern politics and urbanization, as underscored in the closing afterthought "Swallowed", but it is an album that teaches more than preaches, which always makes for a better listening experience, particularly for the uninitiated passerby turned future follower. In keeping with this universal lyrical approach is a musical package that is fairly accessible by progressive standards. In essence, it is an album that is both excellent yet also stylistically conservative, largely relying upon familiar elements that were quite common during the 1990s heyday of the style. Longtime fans of this band will have zero difficulty in heralding this as worthy, if not the best of their output since Glynn Morgan had his original run with the band. The shires are calling, so let us all basque in that part of the world not touched by the coldness of "progress".