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‘Mr. Beck’, you ask? No, you dope, I’m just talking about the other Beck. You may refer to this guy as the ‘classic’ Beck if you like, because he’s been around since 1985, but ‘classic’ indicates that he’s not exactly the freshest turd in the stool. In fact, Beck has had an uphill struggle ever since appearing on the pop music scene back in the 80s. The punks don’t like his pseudo-intellectual, power-love, pseudo-Jesus ranting. The goths don’t like his hair and the Bowie thing. The new fans go for his fusion of heavy metal with artful songwriting, but I’m going to get into that again.
Having been described as a ‘neo-classical’ artist in the past by Richard Macready, I will say that it is a bit difficult to pin down the flavour of this album, as it sounds like a weird mix between the prog-rock sides of some of The Flower Kings’ albums, and the emotional vulnerability of some of Prog Sphere’s.
For example, ‘The Plague’ opens with a gloomy, slow-moving, slow-grinding, slow-rocking intro that reminds me of the shoegazing end-times prog kind of thing that I occasionally come across in the metal world, though it goes on for a not-too-elevated