Hey hey hey, been a while since I've posted something like this. But now that we're in the thick of the offseason, I figure now is a good time for people to try new things, including music. 

Last time I did this, I spotlighted a female-fronted Doom metal band, Oceans of Slumber. This time around we're crossing the pond to appreciate an unusual but remarkable musical talent, Steven Wilson. Born in 1967, Steven Wilson is one of the greatest living exponents of progressive rock. I first became aware of him through my love of Swedish melodic-death-metal-turned-prog band Opeth, with whom Wilson worked. In fact, Wilson is largely credited with inspiring and shaping Opeth's startling but seamless transition from growl-heavy death metal to a sound that's far more complex and progressive, incorporating elements of jazz fusion and other sundry genres. Steven Wilson exhibits much of the same virtues that I admire in the more recent Opeth output, such as his commitment to atmospherics, complex melodies, tragic narratives, and mid-song tonal shifts. 

I'm going to give you two Steven Wilson songs here, with brief descriptions and annotations, but for the most part whether you like him or not is between his music and your ears. 

First up is a song from his excellent album The Raven that Refused to Sing. This song, Drive Home, is the first of his I ever listened to. As soon as I heard the opening plaintive peal of Wilson's guitar, I was transfixed, and maybe you will be too. The song tells a story of a man who suffered a car crash that killed his significant other, an event so traumatic that it interfered with his perception of reality, causing him to lose track of where and when he is in his own life. But as hopeless as the man's situation seems, the song suggests hope: "Love can make amends, while the darkness always ends. You're still alone, so drive home." 

The next song I offer to you is from his album Hand Cannot Erase. This song, Routine, is a collaboration with singer Ninet Tayeb, and features a more complex array of sounds, tones, and tempo, shifting often as if to present distinct chapters of the larger story it conveys. The story, much like Drive Home, is a tragic one, though like Drive Home it offers solace and potential for growth and healing. In Routine, a woman has lost her child and husband and attempts to sublimate her grief into obsessive cleaning and tidying up, maintaining a front that everything is under control while her mental state unravels. Ninet Tayeb's impressive vocal performance takes central stage as she embodies the central character's struggle with loss, and eventually comes to accept it. Steven Wilson's lyrics are an excellent summation of the impossibility of coping with the loss of a loved one as he sings, "Don't ever let go, try to let go." 

Is it uplifting music? Not really, but then I always feel better after listening to a sad song, maybe because I feel seen, because I feel someone else has experienced what I have and spun something beautiful out of it.