“Time’s a thief, you used to say.”
So, it’s to be nostalgia, then? The first and only time my teenage internet moniker ended up on a parcel was in 2008. I’d won a competition on either ProgArchives or the Mike Portnoy forums (it’s honestly funnier that I don’t recall which). Enclosed was Frost*’s Experiments In Mass Appeal CD, and despite ‘improving’ my audio set-up such that I can no longer play CDs, examining its condition shows that I made very, very good use of my free copy.
Frost* look back on a different era with rose tinted glasses: ‘neo prog’, which is itself the long shadow of prog rock’s golden years. A mostly UK-based movement headed by bands like Marillion, IQ, and Pendragon, neo prog is a partial facsimile genre that amplified certain aspects of prog’s sound: high octane keyboards, am-dram vocals, and tracks made into epics for their own sake. Prog metal plunders the same tropes, and it doesn’t get away with it, but neo prog takes the uncanny to another level. When you marvel at how neo prog bands have reproduced the idea (and not the sound) of Genesis or Yes, it’s hard not to say that “nostalgia is a hell of a drug” – and goodness knows I want a hit from time to time. Cynicism aside, neo prog pulls a worldwide fanbase for its colourful, indulgent and upbeat sound, and it’s hard to argue Frost* aren’t the best it’s got.
Milliontown is still the pinnacle of neo prog, released twenty years after its own heyday. Frontman Jem Godfrey used his talent as a producer and songwriter off the back of his 00s pop hits (for Atomic Kitten, Shayne Ward, Play, among others) to realise Frost*’s sound. His voice, keyboards, and ear for fresh sounds made Milliontown a vibrant thrill ride. Off the back of its success they supported Spock’s Beard, The Flower Kings, and Dream Theater, putting them firmly on the modern prog map. Two years later Experiments in Mass Appeal focused on short(er) tracks and a thick synth-meets-guitar distortion sound (which Muse would nab and drive into the dirt over the years). Frost*’s new record Life in the Wires is their third since their hiatus ended in 2016. This is their strongest record of their current era, and undoubtedly their most indulgent.
The flow of the record is excellent, front to back. Openers “Skywaving” and “Life in the Wires (Part 1)” run the gamut of what Frost* do best: Godfrey’s airy vocals compliment buoyant keyboard rock with hefty bass and intricate drums. As the bridge of “Life in the Wires” extends there piano carries the transition into “This House of Winter“, developing into a naturally paced and very dynamic track. It’s the first (and not the last) time Godfrey shreds in duet with guitarist John Mitchell (also a prog stalwart with many projects, Arena being the most well known). “The Solid State Orchestra” continues the trend of progressively-weaved riffage that doesn’t strain your attention. Its second half is the record’s first emotional peak, doesn’t overstay its welcome – they aren’t seek excess in every passing moment, and the songwriting works so well as a result. Already these four tracks exceed the quality of Falling Satellites and Day And Age.
The record continues without skipping a beat with “Evaporator”. This track is the longest yet at eight minutes and justifies it, focusing on a driving rhythm that keeps the verses urgent. When this beat cuts for the chorus the tension is made palpable through grandiose chords that ring like thunder. In these moments you can really marvel at the detail in the production of Life in the Wires. From here onward, begins the record introduces the central theme. If you want to read into it, a story is being told that picks up from Day And Age’s world. Roughly speaking, it’s a search for meaning and authenticity in a suffocatingly digital world. Unlike the previous record, there’s no moments where the storytelling takes over (the unfortunate “The Boy Who Stood Still”). Only the “LiveWire” longwave samples that connect the album’s tracks from “Evaporator” onwards expose this continuity. By making these radio samples both humorous and ominous, Frost* balance the ageing allure of the analogue era against the frigidly digital.
The middle of the record is a mixed bag. Soft tracks “Strange World“, “Absent Friends” and “Sign of Life” struggle to deliver the emotional gut punch they hope for. I certainly don’t come to neo prog for the downtempo tracks, but it’s an uphill battle to make something sentimental amid so much pomp. Nobody tunes into prog for its lyrics, but “Idiot Box” strays into a tired Black Mirror-sentiment of “TV bad”, which Porcupine Tree thoroughly relegated through Fear of a Blank Planet five-teen years ago. “Idiot Box” is otherwise good fun – imagine if Dream Theater managed to write an actual single. Speaking of prog metal “School (Introducing The All Seeing Eye)” is the heavy instrumental intro to the even heavier “Propergander”. The latter sadly squanders the promise of the former, as the orchestra-hit riffs just take me out of it.
If you absent mindedly started spinning Life in the Wires, it’s about now that you’ll realise you’re spinning a double album. The indulgence continues with “Morals and Consequence” which takes us back to peak Frost* action. Soaring choruses, high octane verses, and instrumental passages with those amazing keyboard and guitar solos, so entwined that you’ll wonder what sounds come from where. “Morals and Consequence” is up there with Frost*’s greatest moments, so it would be a shame if listeners didn’t persevere through to disc two for it.
If you’re still here, then, welcome to the deep end: “Life in the Wires (Part 2)” continues the threads from the opener, absolutely brimming with solos, soft breaks, and crazy turns. Unlike Day And Age where the band avoided soloing, this time Godfrey (quote) “fancied a bit of a rinse”, and every left over solo ended up here. It’s really up to you what to think of the track, but I found myself looking forward to it after many spins. By spreading out the record’s true ending out with the final track “Starting Fires”, they keeping the final moments of the record refreshing, and importantly avoid the worst of the overwrought “Supper’s Ready”-type ending that has plagued prog since Foxtrot.
At ninety minutes, Life in the Wires is certainly an inconvenient length, and the middle stretch doesn’t cater to what I want to see Frost* flexing. Even still, the record is close to their best (it’s difficult to dethrone Milliontown given its legacy), full of strong moments, crisp production, and brilliant flow between tracks. Life In The Wires may be indulgent and nostalgic, yet Frost*’s talents make it both a blast from the past and a breath of fresh air.
8/10
Life in the Wires releases through InsideOutMusic and can be pre-ordered here.