One of the hazards of being a devoted follower of both Big Big Train and Yes (mostly the ’70s era) is that I am regularly mistaken for “a progressive rock fan.”
Yeah, well, actually, not so much.
I loved the way classic Yes constructed cathedrals of sound while pioneering long-form rock songs, though to me the secret sauce that consistently elevated the band above its peers was the vocal chemistry between Jon Anderson and Chris Squire. If anything, I’m even more enamored of Big Big Train’s approach, which marries such prog staples as outstanding musicianship and shifting time signatures with superb arrangements and emotionally rich songwriting.
My affection for these two bands means that prog is a genre I’ve dabbled in for 40 years, without ever finding another group I cared for nearly as much as these two. Some groups are technically impressive, some are musically inventive, some write engaging songs, and some sing them well. But an act that does all of these things, while also making music that connects with me on an emotional level, has proven exceedingly rare.
All of which is to say, Karmakanic might seem on paper like more of a natural fit for me than it is. At times the modern prog scene can feel a bit like classic jazz, with different bandleaders assembling different sets of players for different projects. In that vein, Karmakanic is less of a group than an idea, a collective built (and rebuilt) around the songs and vision of bandleader / bassist Jonas Reingold, whose most notable gigs have been with The Flower Kings, Steve Hackett, and The Fringe (his trio with Randy McStine and Big Big Train’s Nick D’Virgilio, who both guest here).
Beside earning rave reviews from a lot of folks whose opinions I respect, Karmakanic’s latest album Transmutation features guest shots from a number of players I really enjoy. D’Virgilio—who plays on the epic title track—is a particular favorite, an absolute powerhouse who nonetheless never overplays, always molding his work to serve the song. I’ve been a McStine fan since early days and love seeing him in the spotlight as touring guitarist/vocalist for Steven Wilson and Porcupine Tree. Other prog luminaries dotting this album’s credits include Hackett (guitar), John Mitchell (vocals, guitar), Simon Phillips (drums), Craig Blundell (drums), and Andy Tillison (keys).
It’s an impressive roster of players that raises hopes and expectations that are largely fulfilled.
Opener “Brace For Impact” is a driving, heavy-duty instrumental workout with Reingold’s big, greasy bass work counterpointed by Tillison’s resonant Hammond and spidery guitar from Krister Jonsson as Phillips bashes away underneath. It’s not subtle, but it’s definitely entertaining.
“End Of The Road” opens with delicate piano, introducing a rather sunny theme that’s then reintroduced by the full band, with bright, layered acoustic rhythm guitars. As Mitchell’s vocals come in, you’re reminded why he’s sung and played with half a dozen prog outfits (Arena, Frost*, the John Wetton Band, and Asia among them); his keening, slightly gritty voice is engaging and emotive without being especially distinctive; it’s malleable and adaptable. Halfway through this 10-minute track they execute a sharp tonal shift from sunny guitars to a rather math-rock-y drums-and-keyboards theme before Luke Machin busts out with an aggressive, inventive guitar solo. Later a nice reprise-and-crescendo wraps things up.
“Cosmic Love” features one of the smaller lineups here—Blundell (drums), Reingold (bass, keys, guitars, backing vocals), Mitchell (vocals), and McStine (guitar, backing vocals)—and opens sounding like a bonus track from an ’80s Genesis album. The verses have real drive and unsurprisingly feature Reingold’s bass prominently, and the chorus spotlights a filtered guitar sound reminiscent of Open Your Eyes-era Yes. Mitchell’s vocals, meanwhile, show a strong Wetton influence on this progressive pop number.
After some Floydian found sound, “We Got The World In Our Hands” opens with more sunny chords and an almost fanfare-style guitar, bass, and drums theme that makes for high contrast when Mitchell comes in singing about “Facing daemons on a dead end street.” It’s a message-y song about assuming responsibility for the state of the world, solid enough in a ’90s Yes / AOR sort of way, with especially good chorus harmonies and a tight-and-twisty guitar solo in the sixth minute that feels like McStine’s work.
“All That Glitters Is Not Gold”—the second track in a row to employ a familiar cliché as a title—nonetheless features ominous overtones, with accordion adding a surprisingly effective extra note of menace. After the chorus they move into some chunky heavy-metal chords that feel a bit out of sync with the rest of the album, but a sax solo breaks that up nicely, then becoming a counterpoint to the pummeling rhythm section at the song’s dark finish.
Next up, “Gotta Lose This Ball And Chain” opens with a pretty 12-string guitar bit before developing a steady pulse, with electric guitars gathering momentum. It’s a philosophical number about finding your purpose that’s lit up in the fifth minute by an erupting, rather Gilmouresque guitar solo.
The closing title track is a genuine epic, clocking in at 22:51 and flowing seamlessly from segment to segment. It’s beyond a doubt the highlight here, with D’Virgilio, Hackett and Tillison on board and both Mitchell and Dina Hoblinger contributing lead vocals. In the 15th minute it develops into a knotty jam that finds D’Virgilio running wild on his kit as the rest of the band devolves into controlled chaos; Krister Jonson solos nicely on guitar, Tillison jumps in with a ripping Hammond solo, and then in the 19th minute, they cut to just Hackett on acoustic guitar before Mitchell comes back in. In the final minute they recycle the grand theme that opened “End Of The Road,” adding mellotron for density of sound and finishing with another big guitar solo leading to the final crescendo.
In the end, Transmutation feels like a strong album with at least one notable weakness. The musicianship is stellar throughout, especially on the title track, and the instrumental component of the songwriting is powerful and mostly seamless through all its shifts in tone and tempo. The lyrics are where the album falters; while sincere and heartfelt, they’re also heavily populated with clichés. When the musicians get going on a tasty jam, it hardly matters, of course, and the title track alone is worth any prog fan’s attention.
Speaking of whom, maybe you should just go ask a real prog fan—that’s fair, too [shoulder shrug emoji].
