Fashion? Pah. A tribute of sorts to the power of good music against marketing, the rammed expanse of the newly enlarged Academy is testament to the ascent of PORCUPINE TREE, whose fifteen year career has evolved independently of mere trends. Granted, the band’s latest home on esteemed metal label Roadrunner means that their profile (and perhaps rock credibility) is higher than ever but still, they’re hardly household names and placed at a shifting point midway between the prog, metal, psychedelic and melodic rock camps, there is no danger of the band ever settling easily into a comfortable niche.
Understandably the set draws chiefly from latest release Fear of a Blank Planet and new EP Nil Recurring, with the highlight a full workout of the 17 minute Anesthetise, while the archives are raided for rare outings for Signify’s Dark Matter from 1996 and, rarer still, 1995’s The Sky Moves Sideways.
Despite the cosily harmless look of the individual band members there is much extreme heaviness on display, complete with stunningly dextrous complexity that would make Tool drop what they were doing to watch, all underpinned by the phenomenal drumming of Gavin Harrison. Occasionally the band indulge their more purely melodic side, but the appearance of an acoustic guitar isn’t always a cause for cheer. When singer Steven Wilson introduces the excruciatingly twee Lazarus as “the only Porcupine Tree song my mum likes,” it shouldn’t really be a matter for much pride. When they mix the power and the melody, as they do most potently on the exquisite Blackest Eyes, it’s a spectacle to be savoured.
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Behind them, a video screen shows footage of hoodied teens popping pills and looking misunderstood (though this is seemingly more of a social comment on conformity than any ‘woe is me’ emo-ism). As effective as the visuals can be, they do draw attention somewhat to one of the perceived problems of the band, that of their lack of conventional rock star charisma. About them there is the general air of geography masters rocking out (albeit in hugely proficient fashion), and the almost contemptuous lack of effort with which the musicians display their craft makes you occasionally wish for a degree of scuzz or rough edge.
As with Rush, one of the band’s influences, as a live spectacle it’s almost too polished. Porcupine Tree are, after all, from Hemel Hempstead. But then that’s no criticism at all really, a little like chiding Amen or Slayer for not polishing their shoes correctly. Porcupine Tree simply are what they are. They are, in the words of the cliché, all about the music and, ignoring the odd turgid moment, that music is incredible.
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