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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful
Format:Audio CD
I have the advantage, at least I think it's the advantage , of coming to Greg Weeks The Hive without any preconceptions of what it would sound like, having heard absolutely zilch by his day -job band The Espers. So whether this album sounds like the Espers I cannot tell you and if that earns me undying scorn from Espers aficionado's then so be it. Actually despite this being billed as a solo outing The Hive features band mates Otto Hauser and Helena Espvall as well as regular contributors Jesse Sparhawk, Margaret Wienk (aka Fern Knight) and Orion Rigel Domisse so it's a fair bet it sounds something like The Espers
What I can tell you happily is what the album does sound like and whether in my opinion it's any good or not .And here's where I can crawl into Esper,s fans good book's because I rather like The Hive .It becomes rather predictable and slightly wearying over the course of 11 tracks and around 45 minutes of music but it does contain moments of ethereal beauty , spurts of sonic inventiveness and a couple of corking tunes.
Mixing in an array of exotic instrumentation- mellotron, autoharp , contrabass, Wurlitzer, flute, concert harp and errr psychotropic? Weeks creates a dense fugue of sound over languorously strummed guitars and furtive percussion. On the best tracks something else peeks it head out from the miasmic curtain of sound to take the song somewhere else. On "Lay Low" it's a nicely striated guitar , harmonies and Weeks voice which is often little more than a slightly apologetic mumble abruptly breaks it's shackles and goes all high register. This is the albums best song by some distance but "The Lambs Path" is lovely as well with keening flute and I quite like the way "Burn The Margins" wigs out a bit in the middle eight even if part of it does sound like a smoke alarm on steroids and "The Wait" is gloriously hypnotic . I even like the incredibly dour cover of Madonna's "Borderline" ( incidentally mixed on the same console as the original song ..so there) which bleeds the songs of any light or joy and turns it into a requiem mass. How to reinvent a song completely . Nicely done , though I'm sure not to everyone's taste.
Neither will be the nine minute title track which has great harmonies and a decent melody ...but nine minutes of it? Some of The Hive is spectacularly dull( if that's not an oxymoron ) "Funhouse" belies it's title by being as much fun as acute toothache and "Donovan" is too affected and wilfully eccentric . Yet despite these and the fact the album remains locked in a one paced rut The Hive is an album I would happily recommend ...See I've just done it . It's analogue recording ( in Weeks own studio) shows loving depth and a steely commitment to soniferous perfection . Preconceptions or not , this is an on the whole an admirable album.
What I can tell you happily is what the album does sound like and whether in my opinion it's any good or not .And here's where I can crawl into Esper,s fans good book's because I rather like The Hive .It becomes rather predictable and slightly wearying over the course of 11 tracks and around 45 minutes of music but it does contain moments of ethereal beauty , spurts of sonic inventiveness and a couple of corking tunes.
Mixing in an array of exotic instrumentation- mellotron, autoharp , contrabass, Wurlitzer, flute, concert harp and errr psychotropic? Weeks creates a dense fugue of sound over languorously strummed guitars and furtive percussion. On the best tracks something else peeks it head out from the miasmic curtain of sound to take the song somewhere else. On "Lay Low" it's a nicely striated guitar , harmonies and Weeks voice which is often little more than a slightly apologetic mumble abruptly breaks it's shackles and goes all high register. This is the albums best song by some distance but "The Lambs Path" is lovely as well with keening flute and I quite like the way "Burn The Margins" wigs out a bit in the middle eight even if part of it does sound like a smoke alarm on steroids and "The Wait" is gloriously hypnotic . I even like the incredibly dour cover of Madonna's "Borderline" ( incidentally mixed on the same console as the original song ..so there) which bleeds the songs of any light or joy and turns it into a requiem mass. How to reinvent a song completely . Nicely done , though I'm sure not to everyone's taste.
Neither will be the nine minute title track which has great harmonies and a decent melody ...but nine minutes of it? Some of The Hive is spectacularly dull( if that's not an oxymoron ) "Funhouse" belies it's title by being as much fun as acute toothache and "Donovan" is too affected and wilfully eccentric . Yet despite these and the fact the album remains locked in a one paced rut The Hive is an album I would happily recommend ...See I've just done it . It's analogue recording ( in Weeks own studio) shows loving depth and a steely commitment to soniferous perfection . Preconceptions or not , this is an on the whole an admirable album.
1 of 1 people found the following review helpful
Format:Audio CD
A sombre flute, the clunking toll of a bell, a solemnly plucked acoustic guitar ... cue medieval clichés: misty moats, drawbridges, hooded monks, damsels in distress. But hold on, it's not Led Zeppelin IV ... a shimmering drone, Mellotron, and suddenly all manner of spiralling antiquated synths and warped B-movie effects. Thus begins 'You Won't Be The Same Ever Again', the opening track of Greg Weeks 'The Hive', and it is this oddball fusion of synthetic textures and baroque folk that flickers and sparks throughout the album.
Variously described - rather unappetisingly - as drone-folk and chamber rock, Greg Weeks is member of the Espers, whose medieval-inflected prog is very much prevalent in his solo work. The interplay of fuzzy guitar lines, moogs, Mellotron and Rhodes conspire towards the kind of baroque 60s psychedelia that the Flaming Lips toyed with on parts of 'At War With the Mystics' and 'The Soft Bulletin'. A more synthesised, buzzing soundscape than that of his acid-folk contemporaries, Weeks' solo output has echoes of Midlake, minus the Fleetwood Mac impersonations, and a hint of Beach House's waltzing slowcore. 'The Hive' also bears similarities to the Notwist's funereal electronic-tinged indie and is a lusher, more accomplished cousin of Tunng's Wicker Man conceit.
Most of 'The Hive''s highlights feature in the first half the album: the Portishead-ish gloom of 'Lamb's Path', for instance, with its little bursts of guitar distortion adding bite to the cello and glockenspiel. 'Lay Low' is yearning, jazzy space rock with a dash of Stereolab, while the dream pop of 'Burn the Margins' is augmented by blissfully dissonant keyboards and abrasive spurts of guitar noise. The invariability of pace, however, makes 'The Hive' a little repetitive, particularly in the latter stages. The lengthy title track, for example, is an eight-minute, po-faced dirge; its unironic, hokum paganism begs for some Monty Python-esque medieval cheer in the vein of The Holy Grail.
The title track apart, 'The Hive' is largely less expansive - more pop orientated - than the Weeks' work with the Espers, though it lacks the anchoring beauty of Meg Baird's Sandy Denny-esque singing. Weeks' vocals are stretched a bit thin over the course of one album, especially on its more ponderous moments, and are best treated - as on 'You Won't Be The Same Ever Again' - with some shrewd double tracking. By contrast, the delicate, drifting 'Not Meant For Light' frames his voice in a more intimate context, and is more affecting for it. But this lightness of touch is conspicuously absent elsewhere on the album, as Weeks manages to turn a pointless cover version of Madonna's 'Borderline' - one of those unfortunately apt titles for a bad song - into a turgid, plodding bore. There is much to admire on 'The Hive', especially in the rich musicianship, but it is an album let down by some poor moments.
First published at The Line of Best Fit.
Variously described - rather unappetisingly - as drone-folk and chamber rock, Greg Weeks is member of the Espers, whose medieval-inflected prog is very much prevalent in his solo work. The interplay of fuzzy guitar lines, moogs, Mellotron and Rhodes conspire towards the kind of baroque 60s psychedelia that the Flaming Lips toyed with on parts of 'At War With the Mystics' and 'The Soft Bulletin'. A more synthesised, buzzing soundscape than that of his acid-folk contemporaries, Weeks' solo output has echoes of Midlake, minus the Fleetwood Mac impersonations, and a hint of Beach House's waltzing slowcore. 'The Hive' also bears similarities to the Notwist's funereal electronic-tinged indie and is a lusher, more accomplished cousin of Tunng's Wicker Man conceit.
Most of 'The Hive''s highlights feature in the first half the album: the Portishead-ish gloom of 'Lamb's Path', for instance, with its little bursts of guitar distortion adding bite to the cello and glockenspiel. 'Lay Low' is yearning, jazzy space rock with a dash of Stereolab, while the dream pop of 'Burn the Margins' is augmented by blissfully dissonant keyboards and abrasive spurts of guitar noise. The invariability of pace, however, makes 'The Hive' a little repetitive, particularly in the latter stages. The lengthy title track, for example, is an eight-minute, po-faced dirge; its unironic, hokum paganism begs for some Monty Python-esque medieval cheer in the vein of The Holy Grail.
The title track apart, 'The Hive' is largely less expansive - more pop orientated - than the Weeks' work with the Espers, though it lacks the anchoring beauty of Meg Baird's Sandy Denny-esque singing. Weeks' vocals are stretched a bit thin over the course of one album, especially on its more ponderous moments, and are best treated - as on 'You Won't Be The Same Ever Again' - with some shrewd double tracking. By contrast, the delicate, drifting 'Not Meant For Light' frames his voice in a more intimate context, and is more affecting for it. But this lightness of touch is conspicuously absent elsewhere on the album, as Weeks manages to turn a pointless cover version of Madonna's 'Borderline' - one of those unfortunately apt titles for a bad song - into a turgid, plodding bore. There is much to admire on 'The Hive', especially in the rich musicianship, but it is an album let down by some poor moments.
First published at The Line of Best Fit.
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