Under The Headlights begins in a similar vein [to The Tide], before exploding into a glorious chorus, like the musical accompaniment to a time-lapse sequence of a lotus flower opening. This is the Blackheart Orchestra with the safety catch off, and going big, and it’s a thing of beauty.
Every now and again, at some point during the career of a musical act, there comes a point which carries with it a sense of significance, of musical evolution and a real feeling of career growth. Or otherwise, if the moment is squandered, of course. The Blackheart Orchestra – the ambitious duo of multi-instrumentalists and vocalists Chrissy Mostyn and Rick Pilkington (he’s no relation to me!) – find themselves very much at that place. This album, to me, represents one of those peculiar musical ‘crossroads’, which might not involve Robert Johnson with a demonic midnight assignation, but certainly represents a choice between straight on to the next level, or a right or left turn onto the musical ring-road which is signposted ‘Safe And Comfortable Career Ahead – Please Watch Your Speed’. The Blackheart Orchestra have arrived at said junction, given a cursory glance right and left, and promptly put the pedal to the metal and driven straight on. This, make no mistake, is the album the Blackhearts (as we should not call them of course, given the lack of Joan Jett anywhere in proceedings) have always had tucked away in their locker, but have only now let loose. Why the significance of this moment, however, and what makes this album the important career statement it is? Well, let’s look into that.
The previous Blackheart Orchestra album, Mesmeranto, was a finely crafted and meticulously put-together album, built from the ground up with the fine touch of a Steely Dan or Mike Oldfield, and also came across as a conceptual high-point lyrically, with its whole ethos arising from the passing of Chrissy Mostyn’s mother during the album’s creation, and becoming a fully-realised concept album based around the theme of death and loss. It might not have exactly been a record you could file in your local library under ‘comedy’, but this weighty and mature listen built on its predecessor Diving For Roses by way of greater sophistication, thematic consistency and general deftness of writing and performance. Not a note was out of place here, the whole thing being assembled in the manner of an incredibly detailed ship in a bottle – a work such as this demanded a patient and endlessly careful eye. However, if there was one criticism which could be levelled at Mesmeranto, for all its sonic perfection, was a slight loss of the sense of adventure and carefree experimentation which marked much of the Diving For Roses album. When Mesmeranto appeared, it was meticulous within the self-imposed boundaries of its own limitations, but the impression lingered that just maybe those bars might have been better broken or at least bent apart on a few occasions. The grit in the oyster which forms the pearl, if you will. That grit has now appeared in some style, leading to the gem which is Hotel Utopia.
Anyone feeling that same vague, almost intangible feeling of missed potential with Mesmeranto need have absolutely no qualms here, as this record effortlessly blends that ever-evolving thematic maturity with the sometimes welcome sonic palette used on Diving For Roses. Only much more so. If there were hints of the band being in any danger of inhabiting a cage of their own devising, those fears have been well and truly dispelled, as the tiger has not only found the gate of its enclosure, it has picked the lock and gone roaming around the zoo in search of new areas to conquer. The Blackheart Orchestra have never before managed to blend so many differing sounds, styles and influences into their melting pot, and it is immediately obvious that this record is, up to this point, their magnum opus, as it were. And as with its predecessor, it carries the same conceptual integrity which manages to bind these disparate elements together into a unified whole. If Mesmeranto was musing on the jolly fireside fun of death and finality, Hotel Utopia rocks up with a whole dissertation on the theme of what comes after that. Or not, as the case may be. Yes, folks, it’s a concept album about The Afterlife. And once again, you might be pleased to hear that there isn’t a whole lot in the way of laughs and giggles going on; this is heavy-duty Floydian conceptual heft, and who among us doesn’t want that?
Opening with The Tide, musically one of the closest things here to Mesmeranto‘s considered introspection, there is little hint of the roller-coaster to come, but it doesn’t take long before we’re at the front of that queue and strapping ourselves in. Under The Headlights begins in a similar vein, before exploding into a glorious chorus, like the musical accompaniment to a time-lapse sequence of a lotus flower opening. This is the Blackheart Orchestra with the safety catch off, and going big, and it’s a thing of beauty. Chrissy deploys her distinctive voice to great effect, here evoking Dolores O’Riordan of The Cranberries in her often quirky delivery of certain big notes, while elsewhere on the record the spirit of Kate Bush is alive and well and calling itself ‘Mostyn’. Indeed, that very Essence Of Bush arrives in the next song, the ironically titled Safe, running up a hill and bringing the magic of Hounds Of Love right into the 21st Century. After that we’re treated to Warning, a grim take on the way our world is effectively being driven to hell in a handcart by a reckless and foolish population (or leaders of same, at least), with a superbly delivered musical accompaniment which is at times melodically reminiscent of Pure Reason Revolution’s classic The Bright Ambassadors Of Morning (or perhaps that’s just me). It’s a tremendous four-song start to the album, but nothing to prepare us for the next track, Astronaut, which is as close as you’ll get to the Blackheart Orchestra going metal. Honestly. We’re not talking about Slayer here I must stress, but when the chorus comes in with the line ‘he’s gonna be an astronaut!’, the accompanying riff is a thing of such considerable power that you are simply swept along with it. It’s a difficult thing to imagine a mosh pit breaking out at a Blackheart show, but you might just visualise it here. This is the Blackheart Orchestra as you might never have imagined them, unbridled and unconstrained, and it is one of the most joyous moments in their catalogue to date. A career-defining song, without too much of a stretch at all, and an album highlight without doubt.
Space, and the reader’s patience, precludes detailed analysis of each and every track here, but highlights abound. A Dangerous Thing has Mostyn sounding so beguilingly yet unnervingly sinister that you briefly feel you might need to to walk into heavy traffic to avoid her, while Translucent and the enormously uplifting Raise Your Heart emphasise the Orchestra’s ‘rock chops’ yet again. Dust is an utterly remarkable piece, especially if you happen to enjoy music to plunge you into a bleak and hopeless Dark Night Of The Soul (and who among us doesn’t?). The immediate impression is that it is a male vocal, and the assumption might be made that Rick has made a dash for the mic and done the lead vocal – but the truth is far stranger than that, as it was in fact played, and sung by Chrissy, at double tempo before being slowed down by half. The result is a voice which sounds vaguely male yet simultaneously disembodied, as if coming from the cosmos directly, appropriately so as it delivers one of the most profoundly, soul-suckingly depressing pieces of music this side of Leonard Cohen on a bad day. Death is inevitable, and pretty soon we will all be dust, so all that happens before will be rendered pointless. Or something along those lines at least. It’s hopelessly bleak, and of course that is exactly the intention – and who would I be kidding if I said I didn’t love a bit of existential gloom now and again. Hell, I’m a huge fan of Peter Hammill, a man who once wrote a song examining the fact that all we are as humans comes down to ‘four pails of water and a bag full of salts’. Including – of course – his deceased lover. Naturally. So I’m right on board when the Blackheart Orchestra emphasise that dark part of their name. To paraphrase an old Yellow Pages TV ad – sometimes they ARE just there for the nasty things in life! And a good thing too…
There is one final song which has to be given special mention, that being the nine-minute closer The Flood. Again, one of the things which was missing from the last album was that one ambitious piece which stepped outside of the comfort zone, stretched out and unfolded all of the aspects of what The Blackheart Orchestra can do in one lengthy sitting, and here we have it. Opening as a very reflective piece sung with the most minimal of accompaniment, it grows in intensity, adding instrumentation a la Tubular Bells or Stairway To Heaven, culminating in Rick allowing his inner guitar hero room to roam the streets and terrorise the locals as he solos as if his very life depends on it, before things come down again to birdsong and fade out. It’s a brilliant piece, and one which is certain to become a huge fan favourite unless I have completely misjudged matters!
The Blackheart Orchestra may have never released what could be called a poor album, as their attention to detail and craftsmanship would not easily allow for such a thing, but I can confidently say that Hotel Utopia is their best album to date with some room to spare. It’s the first release which has seen them combine their potential for wild eclecticism with the professional sheen of a master craftsman, and it is wholeheartedly recommended. If you are new to the Blackheart Orchestra, and want to get just one album, then you should make it this one without a moment’s hesitation. And let’s face it, you might as well get it right now – because, well, pretty soon we’re going to be just dust and all that, you know…
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