Live Review: Steven Wilson

It's only been two years since Steven Wilson last graced this stage, but with a fanbase as obsessive as his, too soon is not a notion that enters the equation, and rightly so. It took 16 years of touring until Wilson first reached our shores with his now-defunct project-come-band, Porcupine Tree, and while we've become somewhat of a mainstay on his touring schedule since, such opportunities can't be taken for granted. Anyone fortunate enough to have caught his four prior visits over this past decade will likely vouch that every one of Wilson's tours is a unique aural and visual feast not to be missed.

A short film titled Truth sets a cynical tone before Wilson and his four bandmates take the stage, kicking the first of tonight's two sets off with Nowhere Now and Pariah. From the get-go it's obvious the seating layout is an error in judgment on the promoter's behalf. The arrangement, which along with the rather steep price-tag of the divided 'sections' is likely responsible for the surprisingly low turnout tonight, has a rather awkward effect, Wilson commenting, "How I love to play to seated audiences... I feel like I'm playing to the floor." He advises us that some of the songs this evening will have to be stood for, but these pleas fall on deaf ears for the first set. This initial round sticks within the terrains of recent long-player, To The Bone, and the prior, Hand. Cannot. Erase., with In Absentia treat The Creator Has A Mastertape, being the sole exception. As usual, Wilson doesn't seem too concerned with the 'hits' (he jokes it's because he doesn't actually have any) but for the most part it's really not that kind of crowd, and each of these somewhat atypical aural excursions is received with delight. 

After a brief intermission things take a turn for the better, with many among the audience gravitating toward the front barrier and taking a stand against the security's feeble pleas to return to seats. The result is a complete shift in the whole atmosphere of the performance, and with the Porcupine Tree epic Arriving Somewhere But Not Here commencing the next phase of the journey, it couldn't have come at a better time; the song's majestic movements are rightfully embodied up front. Wilson introduces Permanating with a short rant on the subject of pop once being a genre deserving of respect and gives some brief instruction on the art of disco dancing; "If the only concerts you've attended in recent years are King Crimson and Opeth, then you may be in for a shock," a fitting quip if only the former mentioned would ever grace our shores with their esteemed presence. 

Intent on daring, Wilson displays the breadth of his dynamism with Song Of I and Detonation, two of the deepest and darkest among To The Bone's sonic expressions, and the results are utterly bewildering. Any doubts as to his ability to still potently channel the tormented genius of the human condition are certainly silenced by these most haunting meditations. As if twisting the blade further still, In Absentia's devastating Heartattack In A Layby follows suit; it's hard to believe just how well this song translates from its delicate studio counterpart, but tonight's performance is a certain reminder that Wilson doesn't settle for half measures. The explosive Vermillioncore then further flexes the musical muscle of this gifted assembly before the climatic Sleep Together lays us to rest.

We're right on curfew Wilson tells us when he and the band return for an encore. This would spell bitter trouble in the case of most (Nick Cave scrapping his exquisite Push The Sky Away at Riverstage last year notably comes to mind), but thankfully he forgoes pleas for The Sound Of Muzak, skipping the catchy Porcupine Tree classic in favour of the far more profound To The Bone closer Song Of Unborn, leaving the onerous optimism of its final lines, "don't be afraid to die, don't be afraid to be alive, don't be afraid..." to trail us out into the dark of night.