Live Review: Steven Wilson

Attending a Steven Wilson performance is akin to viewing a piece of ethereal artwork in flux, its shape and motions unpredictable and riveting. Many of his tracks start out inviting and sensuous, unfurling sylph-like with sparse notes plucked on a keyboard, guitar or flute, then suddenly bursting forth and ensnaring hapless audiences in a ferocious assault of the senses, leaving them astounded and dazed.

The show opens with a half-hour-long 'film' in lieu of support acts. Brooding men in suits and piercings, youths in hoodies and unaffected teens file silently down below to the cool sanctum of Billboard as if to watch an art installation at a gallery. A huge moon fills the projection screen behind the stage. Clouds and facial expressions flit past its surface as a continuous eerie hum pierces the room. Everyone is strangely hushed and stationary for a music gig from one of progressive rock's luminaries.

The Porcupine Tree founder and frontman is here to promote his third solo album The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). His diminutive wiry frame takes the stage last alongside diversely skilled bandmates, many of whom reprise their roles from the previous album tour, Grace For Drowning. “I know that One Direction is in town, and I thank you for having such discernible taste,” he jokes after the opener.  

There are haunting gems in tracks such as Luminol, Drive Home and The Raven That Refused To Sing. With each track characteristically running between seven and 15 minutes duration, and awash with feverish crescendos of unadulterated passion onstage, it is sometimes difficult to know where one ends and the next begins. But Wilson exults in the avalanche of soundscapes that effortlessly segue and bridge gulfs between jazz, '80s pop, rock'n'roll, punk and heavy metal. The Watchmaker and The Pin Drop roundly reinforce this album as one of Wilson's more gothic offerings, with the dark subject matter of murder, loss, grief and supernatural vengeance at the heart of each narrative. He is one hell of a storyteller. “One of my favourite topics is serial killers,” he relishes, before unleashing Raider II, a song about the infamous Denis Rader, accompanied by eerie, squirmy visuals in the style of The Blair Witch Project. To lighten the mood, he performs Harmony Korine – named after his friend and Spring Breakers director because it is similarly “twisted but poetic”.

Thanks to the four-channel surround, the sound quality is remarkably sharp and clear. The system enables the isolation and directional control of individual instruments for maximum effect, producing crisp layers of sound rather than a cacophony. Indeed, the best way to appreciate Wilson's recordings is with surround sound, or better yet, live.