Give It Back, the latest effort from The Pineapple Thief,is not a new album as such, but rather a collection of re-recorded songs from the band’s storied past, designed to take advantage of Gavin Harrison’s presence and new arrangements. With the track listing suggested by Gavin, Bruce and the band decided that, rather than simply apply the new drum tracks to the original songs, they would rework and re-record the material to bring it more effectively up-to-date. The result is a selection of material that, although familiar, has been developed in line with the band’s own sonic evolution, making for an album that flows much more effectively than any typical compilation. Featuring twelve tracks, Give It Back is available in an inviting array of formats – a standard digipack CD (reviewed here), a two-disc set featuring surround sound and high-res versions on blu ray, and on vinyl.
Listening to these songs is an interesting sonic journey. The Pineapple Thief have long had a number of touchstones, some more obvious than others, and listening to tracks from across the band’s catalogue gives a sense of the band working through their influences, seeking out their own identity in the process. As such, Wretched Soul, which opens the album, does much to recall In Absentia-era Porcupine Tree, a comparison increased by Gavin’s presence behind the kit. A dynamic opener, it offers some tastefully crunchy guitars, offset by Bruce’s enigmatic and restrained vocals. The gorgeous Dead In The Water similarly has a Porcupine Tree feel, driven by jazzy percussive elements and given greater weight by the carefully multi-tracked vocals. An airy, rather beautiful piece, it nevertheless offers no small amount of tension as the electronic elements simmer just beneath the surface. That subtle hint of menace emerges rather more fully with the stabbing riff of Give It Back, a darker, harder track built around Gavin’s oppressive toms and with a remarkable, string-laden conclusion. The pace changes with the sweeping, neo-prog of Build A World, a heart breaking song of loss and regret that blossoms into a more dynamic piece, driven by a sparkling riff. The production here (as across the album) is nothing short of astounding, and the considerable separation between the various instruments results in a sound field that envelops the listener, especially during the quieter passages. The Floyd-esque Start Your Descent makes strong use of the fretless bass to provide a more fluid core, over which the synths run free. It’s an interesting song, which echoes the emotional direction taken by a number of rock bands (Feeder prominent among them) at the start of the century, and it is arguably less successful than the other tracks here, precisely because it could so comfortably sit alongside a number of similar offerings. The first half picks itself up, however, with the schizophrenic 137, which whispers to the listener in the darkness, caught in the progressive wake of latter-day Opeth and Porcupine Tree.
Opening the second half, the elegant Shoot First adopts the dynamic of A Perfect Circle, mixing it with the emotional arc of Muse’s early outpourings to no insignificant effect. With its memorable melody and impressive musicianship, it’s a brilliant song and it’s easy to become lost as the lush instrumentation swirls through the mix. In contrast, Boxing Day is a piano-led ballad which, although beautiful, lacks the presence of the other pieces on offer. Fortunately, the tense Warm Seas is on hand to push the album forward with its crunchy guitars, layered vocals and massive central build up. A track with a particularly strong vocal performance, it has the listener sat on the edge of their seat throughout. As the last notes of the preceding track dissipate, something rather more melancholy waits in the wings in the form of Someone Pull Me Out. A gorgeous offering, driven by Harrison’s percussion, it expands wonderfully as it reaches a chorus that seems to drift off into infinity. Another piece the band allow to build slowly, the defiant Last Man Standing feels like a long-lost Jeff Buckley composition – something from Sketches For My Sweetheart… – and it stands as a late album highlight. Turn up the volume and relish the subtle percussive flourishes and dark synth undertones that fill out the mix. It leaves the gentle strains of Little Man to see the album out with some beautiful acoustic guitar, drawing a veil across the sky and leaving you very much wanting to go back and explore the band’s entire catalogue once more.
Any good compilation should make you want to seek out more of a given band, and this is certainly the case here. The band, galvanised by Gavin Harrison’s remarkable presence, deliver a bravura performance that sees them fully inhabit familiar pieces, imbuing them with new life in the process. With typically excellent attention to detail in the mix and master, it’s an album worth turning up, as remarkably different levels of detail emerge depending on the volume at which you listen. However, you listen, it’s an album that wraps its arms around the listener, and to listen from start to finish is to lose yourself, as if to a dream. A subtle, slow burning album, Give It back is a treat for fans and a remarkable introduction for newcomers – mark it essential and grab a copy as soon as you’re able. 9/10
