Go Nad…….
When you think about it logically, Nad Sylvan is almost perfect for the concept album. Anyone who has seen is wonderful interpretations of Genesis songs as part of Steve Hackett’s band would surely agree that if there is drama to be found in a song then Nad is the man to find it (indeed without being to glib, so natural does it seem to him, you almost suspect that Sylvan could find the drama in poring his corn flakes for breakfast).
This theatrical element was very much around in 2015’s superb collection “Courting The Widow”, and he liked the idea so much that the Swede has returned to the story a couple of years later for “The Bride Said No.”
But whilst the narrative is a continuation, in most other respects Sylvan has changed things up this time around. “…No” is very much a record that says yes to experimentation, and yes to bringing in many disparate sounds into its mix.
“The Quartermaster” seems to belong in a musical, and in its spoken word section the C-bomb is dropped because it fits – and this is very much in keeping with the ambitious chance taking on the record itself.
“When The Music Dies” – one of a number to make fine use of the female harmonies – has an eerie opening, at odds somewhat with the lush, warm and welcoming stylings of its sonics elsewhere.
The absolute jewel here is “The White Crown” largely, because it is the perfect example of what Sylvan can do. A little fey, perhaps, with a touch of the minstrel about it initially, it also boasts a crushing hook as if to prove that you’d best never typecast him.
Likewise, “What Have You Done” with its gorgeous piano and vocals from Jade Ell, builds to an incredible crescendo, with two guitar solos – one from Guthrie Govan and the other from Steve Hackett. Those names alone surely indicate the calibre of people that Sylvan was able to call on to assist him here (the cast – an operative term considering the tone – also includes Roine Stolt and Tony Levin to name but a couple of the vastly talented musicians on parade).
“The Bride Said No” is not a record that knows any boundaries whatsoever, but one which still manages to be accessible. To that end, “Crime Of Passion” is one of its more immediate affairs. “French Kiss In An Italian Café”, on the other hand, with its electronic influences is nothing like what you’d expect.
At only eight tracks, this is still a weighty affair – the closing title track clocks in at over 12 minutes for example, but that cut is just about perfect as the final act, if you will, given that pulls together all the disparate threads to the record, with something approaching abandon.
The album that it gives its name to is a fine record that clearly has seen every second planned. This is Nad Sylvan stretching the limits of your perceptions of him – and probably his perception of himself too – and it sounds superb.
Rating 8/10
