“LTB has a unique and distinctive style that may confuse reviewers who wish to strictly pigeonhole musicians into distinct genres, making comparisons seem inadequate.”
These are the daring words used by The Lukas Tower Band, a formation hailing from Germany that recently celebrated their 40th anniversary, to promote their fourth effort A Prophecy. As I do like a musical challenge from time to time, I decided, after many months of having read the press statement in our pipeline, to finally pick up the proverbial gloves and see (or rather hear) if I could possibly achieve the apparent impossible.
In my quest to narrow down LTB’s style into befitting references and precisely matching musical categories, I could have opted for the easy way by first acquainting myself to the band and their music through the various album reviews already featured on DPRP. To challenge myself I decided to do it the hard way around and experience the album completely blank before I finally read the words of my colleagues. To ultimately discover that when comparing notes, the review of Age Of Gold basically captures the eclectic nature of A Prophecy to a T.
My own notations have a slightly different set of references. But in essence, the current line-up of LTB — Wolfgang Fastenmeier (guitars/composer), Thomas Willecke (drums), Markus Lamek (keyboards), Miguel Pires( bass), Regina Willecke (flute, saxophone), Paola Ottaviani (vocals) — have stayed perfectly true to their unfathomable style. And again deliver an astonishing concoction of flamboyant musicality that to dazzling effect fuses canterbury, folk, prog, jazz, fusion, and funky psychedelic rock into one tasty fascinating 70s resonating whole.
This in opener Rue De Revestel starts with clear impressions of Yes that, as so often on the album, rapidly make way for impressions of free flowing, jazzy prog/rock which thanks to the tuneful melodic deliveries of Ottaviani reminds of Nubdug Ensemble. A musical decor that quickly changes to vibrant Starbuck and then of Solstice when elements of rock and excellent melodic guitar enter the scene. Eyes See Heart Knows brings lounging jazz subtleties and beautiful sensitive bass play. Ottaviana’s high octave range results in appealing impressions of Renaissance. The swinging ballroom jazz and groovy melodic fusion outbursts that sparkle with dynamic guitar are in the finest early Journey /Santana tradition.
I am slowly becoming aware that the challenge set to befittingly capture LTB’s uniqueness in a few sentences is getting increasingly harder by the minute. The cleverly composed Opening Day goes on with crafty enigmatic symphonic designs in likeness to Tantra to which psychedelic saxophone adds complementary elements of The Flock. The beautiful resting point intricacies of Prophecy brings engaging Canterbury folk, highlighted by outstanding flute and pristine vocals by Ottaviani. Her pronunciation of lyrics, as before based on adaptations of romantic poetry by the likes of William Blake, George Byron and William Wordsworth, is not always on point here as far as accents go. However, the moving melodic purity of her enchanting voice makes one easily forget about this.
Demandingly complex yet always surprisingly presented in an easy accessible natural flow, the next compositions present another stunning run of diversely twisting and turning jazz/prog anomalies. Groovy dynamics, surprising musical arrangements, and strong virtuosic fusion playfulness — I could listen to this for weeks on end. Particularly Seven Nights, which in a jazzy Yes setting flirts with Canterbury and Gentle Giant before raw sax-driven Flock rock finales the song.
At the same time, however, I also realise that I need to throw in the towel when it comes to the challenge of adequately pinpointing LTB’s broad musical spectrum. Especially when the thoughtful schizophrenic display of Solitary Reaper started to pick my continuously bewildered ears with a multifaceted array of bombastic fusion, explosive rock, comfortable jazz, alienating Artnat improvisations, danceable rhythmic beats, and cacophonous sax outbursts in baffling Andy Lind fashion.
Considering that A Prophecy has slowly but surely won me over after countless visits with its intriguing mix of inventive jazz-oriented retro-prog-rock, it is the oddly appearing prog-orientated daredevil in me who accepts this defeat with great pleasure. If on occasion you have a like-minded adventurous sense for artistically complex, accessible prog rock and enjoy the perpetual sensation of being musically challenged, then my reserved prediction is that A Prophecy might well be the startling album you should absolutely invest your time in. I’m sure glad I did.
Jan Buddenberg: 8