The concept of a truly immersive listening experience is a tricky one. Inevitably, certain types of music lend themselves better to the format than others; whilst addressing the balance between a sort of extremist novelty (think Flaming Lips), and barely-present subtlety (the ill-fated Silverline DVD Audio series), is a challenge that has proved elusive to many. However, if there is one artist to whom surround sound authoring has come naturally, it is Steven Wilson. Not only is his own surround sound work remarkably detailed (he appears to think in 360 degrees as standard), but his remix work on the back catalogue of everyone from Gentle Giant to King Crimson has proved equally adept. As a strong advocate of an immersive musical experience, Steven is also careful to ensure that surround editions of his albums are laden with extras, making the discs desirable even to those who have yet to add 5.1 to their home theatre set-up.
Originally released as a standalone blu ray back in in 2015 (as well as in a variety of other formats), Hand. Cannot. Erase is now being reissued by Kscopeas a digipack featuring both CD and bluray. For those with only the CD version, it’s certainly worth the outlay for, not only do you get the stunning 5.1 mix of the record, but also a variety of stereo extras including the entire album in instrumental form, six alternate version tracks, a studio documentary (filmed by Lasse Hoile), a photo gallery and a bonus track. In short, it’s a feature-stuffed disc that adds a ton of content to an album that ranks as one of Steven’s finest works to date.
Fire up the blu ray and, after the Kscope splash screen, you get the album cover art overlaid with menu options and with a looped track featuring the sounds of children playing in a storm (from the intro to first regret . The menu is functional and easy to navigate, offering access to the various bonus features, a track listing and an audio select menu offering a choice of DTS 5.1; 96/24 5.1 LPCM and 96/24 stereo LPCM. Hit play, and you head into the album, with each track represented by text and an eerie selection of photos. It’s not exactly necessary to leave the screen on whilst listening, but the attention to detail is appreciated.
Hit play and, right from the start, Steven shows off the advantages of surround sound in progressive music, the various layers of first regret subtly filtering through the speakers as the track builds. The sub-woofer gets a good work out too, the tribal rhythm that runs through the piece slowly filling up the room as it comes into ever-sharper focus before quasi-orchestral mellotron announces the arrival of the epic 3 years older. At the outset, a gorgeous pop song that sees stabbing guitars and percussion placed firmly to the fore, as it progresses, synth elements and reverb fill out the surround speakers. The mix is truly immersive and brings the best out of the track, marking it out as a strangely timeless piece of prog whimsey, reminiscent of Caravan, Pink Floyd and Genesis, with just a hint of Jeff Beck in the guitars. A multi-faceted piece of music, Steven initially resists the temptation to play with expectations, allowing the song to run dead straight until banks of vocal harmonies fill out the sound, before Steven and his band take the listener on a journey that embraces explosive, metallic elements, jazz sensibilities and even hints of industrial, all of which are afforded greater clarity in this stunning, widescreen mix.
Another track that makes good use of electronic beats cleverly placed in the rears, the title track is a rippling, forward-thinking-yet-folky piece that slowly builds into a marvellously warm song that seems to radiate life and love. In contrast, the muted trip-hop of perfect life, narrated by a female voice (Katherine Jenkins), seems claustrophobic, the electronic percussion mixed to the front to allow the ambience space to swirl around the hazy narrative. When Steven’s disconsolate vocal does arrive, its delivery seems to belie the title and it soon fades into routine, a spiritual successor to the gorgeous postcard from grace for drowning. The track carries a similar ambience of ennui and gentle longing before expanding into a glorious, full-blown Floydian epic and it’s a remarkable piece of work, which ebbs and flows, encompassing liquid slide, split male / female vocals (Ninet Tayeb), banks of harmonies and layers of synth, all of which seem to wrap the whole in gossamer-fine silk.
Having lulled the listener into the dreamscape of routine, Steven rouses them with the crunchy, metallic-prog of home invasion, an energetic track that sounds like Opeth, Meshuggah, King Crimson and Miles Davis thrown into a blender. The sound is huge, the surround speakers used to carry the pulsing organ whilst banks of flaming guitars erupt from the front speakers with real power. With the first half a lengthy instrumental, it benefits especially from the surround treatment, each element gaining its own voice from the separation. When the vocals do arrive, you can feel the musical scope of the piece scale back a touch to allow them their own space, the track a masterclass in mixing from one of the generation’s most innovative talents. Emerging from this, the industrial-strength instrumental, Regret # 9, sees rhythmic synth used to grand effect, as Steven creates a fantastic backdrop for Guthrie Govan’s phenomenal prowess on the guitar. Once again, the surround sound work here is astounding, especially when Steven lets the bass slowly absorb everything in its path.
The short, folky transience (reminiscent of Steve Thorne)provides a segue into the massive, thirteen-minute long ancestral, a track that, at the outset, recalls nothing so much as Portishead. As sinister strings echo through the rear speakers in a manner rarely heard since dummy, the trippy piece gradually expands to absorb the universe, much aided by Ninet’s enigmatic vocals, and the end result is simply captivating, its endless expanses allowed to echo and shimmer around the surround speakers. The storm clouds gather once more for the piano-led Happy returns, rhythmic synth and echoing, wordless vocals spinning through the surround speakers before acoustic guitar leads the track in a Porcupine Tree direction, Steven appealing directly to the heart with a naked, vulnerable lyric. The short, sweet ascendant here on… provides a brief coda that segues directly out of the previous track. A lovely piece of music with ethereal choirs, the gentle patter of rain and the voices of ghostly children, it quietly closes the door on the listener and brings the album to an emotional close.
With Steven Wilson, the surround sound choices, albeit meticulously developed, are emotional rather than technical and, as such, add a great deal to the experience of listening, even to an album you know well. If you only have the CD or vinyl, this is a fantastic opportunity to re-evaluate a stunning record and experience it, arguably, in the format its creator intended. A lush, grandiloquent work of art, hand. Cannot. Erase. Remains one of Steven’s most highly-rated works and with good reason. Essential for those not already in possession of a surround version, this reissue is beautifully packaged and filled with more than enough extras to justify a second purchase. 9.5
Special features note:
The special features on the disc add considerable value to an already impressive package. As an artist who deftly layers his music, the option to listen to the album in instrumental form is a welcome bonus that allows the listener to fully appreciate the depth of Steven Wilson’s compositions. The alternate versions of tracks are less impressive than the extended cuts found, for example, on the stupid dream surround disc and it’s questionable whether fans will listen more than once to these curios, although the stripped-down version of first regret does shine a spotlight on the haunting piano refrain at the core of the piece. Finally, the documentary adds insight to the recording process and makes this as complete and generous a package as possible
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