With Mike Portnoy back in Dream Theater, the members of the Neal Morse Band were genuinely unsure whether there would be a follow up to Innocence And Danger at all. Happily, Mike managed to find a short spot on his schedule and, with the band mindful of the time constraints, they quickly amassed material for L.I.F.T., a thirteen-song cycle that takes us on a journey of discovery, loss, despair, and redemption. With such a strong concept, the music just flows, and the result is one of the Neal Morse Band’s strongest outings to date, packed with uplifting moments, great riffs, and a mix of modern and classic prog that will lighten all but the darkest of days.
Quite svelte compared to some of Neal Morse’s titanic efforts, L.I.F.T. finds the band dealing in shorter, sharper songs for the most part, with only five of the songs cracking the six-minute mark. It starts on an epic note, however, opening with the aptly titled Beginning, which takes its cues from a mix of early Genesis and Andrew Llyoyd Webber – the latter represented in the way the music swells towards a series of mini-crescendos, each evoking a sense of a journey about to be undertaken. Largely instrumental, once Neal has delivered a short vocal prelude, the band leap into action, with nimble guitar runs and energetic keyboard parts all underpinned by Mike Portnoy’s athletic beats. As is so often the case with the Neal Morse Band, you can’t escape the notion that the whole band were wreathed in smiles throughout the recording process and it’s a real joy to hear the energy with which they tackle the track .
Having set a suitably optimistic tone for the record, Neal leads us into the bouncy pop-rock of Fully Alive, which lifts a trick or two from Breakfast In America, cross-pollinating it with elements of Genesis and Caravan. It’s slightly let down by the refrain, “It’s like I’m living fully alive, for the first time” which, while you don’t for one second doubt the sincerity of the sentiment, feels simplistic – especially given the depth and quality of the music. Still, when it’s as wonderfully uplifting as this, it is a minor gripe.
It’s followed by a remarkable four-part cycle, the first part of which is the rather lovely, acoustic-led I Still Belong. Reminiscent of Steve Thorne’s atmospheric take on prog, it finds the band take a back seat, with guitar and a restrained string arrangement doing the heavy lifting. A short, sweet piece, it segues directly into the expansive prog of Gravity’s Grip, which places Eric Gillette’s blazing guitar right to the fore via some dizzying lead work. Gravity’s Grip is merely an instrumental prelude to the bruising, metallic Hurt People. Driven by a hulking great riff, the perfect complement to the acid-etched vocal, it’s a monstrous workout that acknowledges the vicious circle of abuse that stems from and leads to a fractured life. Intelligent, articulate, and played with passion and conviction, it’s one of the most thrilling, heartfelt, and incisive songs of Neal’s impressive career and, whether viewed on a personal or societal level, it’s a timely plea for people to seek the help, support, and love that they need to break the cycle.
After so tumultuous a piece, The Great Withdrawal finds Neal taking refuge in the eerie ambience of Pink Floyd, the opening lines of, “It’s the mother who said she loved me and the father who never knew me, my sister left the cradle, an empty seat at the table, it’s never one thing, it’s many” delivered with gravitas as he explores why people pull away from the world around them. Slow burning and powerful, it builds to one hell of a solo, the band working as one to give the song’s powerful message the backing it so richly deserves.
Providing a necessary palette cleanser, Contemplation is a whimsical little keyboard piece with a Baroque feel to it. It paves the way for the darker confessional that is Shame About My Shame. A track that taps into the simplest of emotions, Shame About My Shame focuses once again upon how behaviour is cyclical as we become trapped by our actions. However, lest it become too dark, a remarkable solo drives the piece away from its initial hopeless outlook toward the release that comes from unburdening your fears – whether through discussion or faith, it doesn’t really matter – and so we come to the positive refrain of Reaching. Digging into a similar chord progression to Genesis’ Turn It On Again, it’s a vibrant, pop-prog rocker with gospel elements in the opening lyric and an arrangement that cleaves closer to the expansive theatricality of a musical than a standard rock workout. Honestly, it’s difficult not to be swept along by the sheer joy of it all, and the band certainly appear to be having fun throughout.
Calming things down a touch, Carry You Again opens on an acoustic note, allowing something of a reset after Reaching, slowly building out to incorporate elements of U2 and Pink Floyd circa Coming Back To Life. It’s followed by the brief segue piece, Shattered Barricade, before we return to Fully Alive Pt. 2 which, as the music swells, turns the title into a mantra of purest hope.
The album wraps up with its longest song, the eleven-minute Love All Along, which concludes the album’s spiritual journey. While the messaging here perhaps is a little heavy handed, as with so much of Neal’s output, the power of the music and the positivity it elicits is so universal that it’s difficult not to be swept up in it all regardless of belief.
A prolific artist, Neal Morse has the power to inspire others with his positivity and passion. At its core, L.I.F.T. is a story of redemption and, whether you choose to see it from the Christian perspective, or whether you simply see it as an individual choosing to break the cycle of abuse within which so many find themselves trapped, it is an uplifting narrative underpinned by some wonderfully expansive progressive rock. In this era of social media, it’s easy to feel hopeless but Neal’s message – “it’s not how you start, it’s how you finish my friend, because you, you still belong” -is more important than ever and it is an absolute pleasure to spend an hour in his company contemplating what that might mean. 9/10
