G3 Live in Concert [Import]

Basically these two guys represent a sort of "Axe University" school of musicianship. Imagine your favourite professor, in cap and gown, lecturing you: "This is how it's done. This is an octave bend; this is two-handed tapping; this is choking - and you may be able to do it as fast as this if you work hard, sonny . . ."

And actually it's all terribly impressive. What's so intimidating (as people used to say about Yes back in the 1970's) is that they can really do this stuff live on stage. It's frankly dazzling. They're the Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Ludwig van Beethoven of electric guitar. Wherever the axe evolves to in the future, these guys will have defined it. Like those two classical worthies, these guys have taken everything that went before and melded it into an academic discipline that learned men and women are already writing treatises on. Everything that comes after will either build on it, dilute it, or set out to tear it down.

That's the good part. The bad part is that it's indescribably boring. Compared with these guys, the pages and claptons and hendrixes of this world are just guitarists. And yet, Page and Clapton and Hendrix could say more in a 20 second lead break than the professors can manage in 20 minutes. Neil Young could convey more emotion playing the same note 20 times in a row than the academics can manage playing 20 notes in a second!

The exception on the strength of this album is the understated and charming Eric Johnson. He's a kind of acolyte - possibly a past student of Satriani's - who hasn't let pure abstract technique overcome his natural flair for melody, tone and phrasing. His three solo tracks are a refreshing break from the remorseless attack of heavy metal without theme or lyric that accounts for over half this album. I mean, just how do guys who write earnest but interchangeable instrumental compositions come up with titles? . . .

"Hey, Bill, I can't decide whether to call this one 'Attack of the Killer Aspidistra' or 'Plasma 659'. What do you think?"

"Dunno, how'd the lyrics go?"

"Ain't got no lyrics, jus' like all the others."

"OK, why not call it 'My Cat's Got Chiggers'."

"Hey, thanks man, that gives me the idea for another riff!"

It has to be said, nobody who's grown up with prog rock is going to really dislike this. It contains three well-chosen tracks by each of the three front-men with faultless scratch-band support, followed by three jams on rock standards where the guys trade licks with ane another. Bits of it are tuneful, bits of it are stirring, bits of it could inspire you to take up the guitar yourself, bits of it are frightening enough to make you chuck your Strat in the pond.

On the other hand, one of the several solo albums by the three virtuosi is probably a better investment. And if you like great tunes, virtuoso solo-ing and impossibly tight ensemble playing, why not take a mega-risk and try "A Way A Lone", the Tokyo Quartet's dazzling recording of the Barber and Britten string quartets? Like pomp-rock before it, prof-rock is struggling to ape the sonic & thematic range, intellectual ambition, technical accomplishment and raw emotional power of classical music - still without success. If you share that vision, try the real classics.

This review is going to collect unhelpful votes like a dog collects fleas, but remember . . . they'll be existing converts to this impressive but soulless perfectionism.

* 'The Crying Machine', from Vai's 'Fire Garden' album; If you don't have this, GET IT NOW. Everything on it is a pleasure to listen to!