Unfolded Like Staircase

Matthew Parmenter writes all the songs, sings, does keys, violin, sax, and orchestra chimes. Jon Preston Bouda is electric and acoustic guitars. Matthew Kennedy is bass, and Paul Dzendzel is drums and percussion. What we have is four long pieces or musical acts each being divided into movements or scenes. We open with «Canto IV», superbly, forcefully launched with a determined, I've-got-something-to-say-angst attitude. It stomps over you with that Led Zeppelin «Kashmir» progression. At times you can hear Traffic when Parmenter's sax slips in, and a lot of Kansas washing over you. Parmenter's vocals are compelling and strong, and you are gripped quickly. He even uses a modified howling late in the CD, calling to mind Warren Zevon's «Werewolves of London». It is not overdone in the slightest. Guitars are on the precision level of Crack the Sky and Wishbone Ash, but expressive in the vein of Pete Townshend or Brian May. Parmenter's vocal dramatics and dynamics approach Freddie Mercury, yet hover around that Alan Parsons Project, Tales of Mystery and Imagination macabre tone. You can hear that Echolyn well-wound watch timing and crispness throughout. When the mellotrons go awailing, you are instantly transported into vintage Crimson-space revelry. The lyrics are a disturbing, dark descent into some poor soul's miasma of confused regrets. Parmenter is a 20th century Dante. Angst, introspection, and fever-dreamed psychobabble relentlessly pummel your brain into ashes and bones. Parmenter has peered into the Cosmic Egg's Crack. What he relates is far from pleasant. Herein resides epic prog rock, full of passion and pain. «Unfolded Like Staircase» is a dark monolith casting a very long, imposing shadow across the barren wastes of this thing we call reality. — John W. Patterson.