Review Summary: Dream Theater’s compelling dark-horse
Speaking from personal experience, Awake is one of the most challenging albums that Dream Theater has ever released. It’s not a dramatic outlier by any means, operating with many of the same tropes as Images And Words, but it feels like a shadowy doppelgänger in a way. The hopeful aura has seemingly evaporated with a much more cynical attitude in its place while the atmosphere is beset with disorienting passages and existential themes. “Innocence Faded” comes the closest to its predecessor’s shine with bright fanfare and trade-off chorus, but even that has a rather cautious delivery to go with its jaded lyrics.
This contrast is further emphasized by the heavier tools that the members have applied to their playing. Fitting for an album released in 1994, Petrucci moves over to seven-string guitars that emphasize the crunch without dumbing down the rhythms and perpetually intricate leads. LaBrie also expands his repertoire, rounding out his croons with caustic snarls that feel like a cross between Steve Perry and Dave Mustaine. It risks coming off silly but ultimately reflects the singer at his peak.
It also helps that the band pushes to their dynamics to even more nuanced ends. “Lifting Shadows Off A Dream” sees their softer side at its most synergetic. Anchored by John Myung’s simply stirring bass line and cryptic lyrics, the track is soon reinforced by airy synths, jangling guitar reminiscent of U2, and beautiful vocals before coming to a rare uplifting culmination.
The album’s overall layout also proves interesting as its dense seventy-five minute runtime is essentially divided into halves both centered around a lengthy epic. The front half’s three-song suite is an especially wild showing as the extended instrumental madness on “Erotomania” descends into the ten-minute slow burn of the paranoid “Voices” and ultimately finds a semblance of grounding with the acoustics on “The Silent Man.” “Scarred” risks feeling slapdash later on between its quiet bass intro, hectic verses, and swelling chorus but somehow manages to make it all come together smoothly.
Through it all, Kevin Moore makes the biggest impact on this album’s tone. His presence is never undermined by the heavier makeup, putting in a variety of keyboards and effects alongside a slew of samples that feel perfectly suited to his often confessional lyrics. There’s something to the tense claustrophobia that “6:00” sets up and I absolutely love the bitter rapid-fire lines and pulsating chugs that define “Lie.”
It all culminates with the closing “Space-Dye Vest,” a song unlike any other that Dream Theater has ever released. It plays like a lullaby at first with a simple piano melody matched by restrained vocals but stacks on emotion after emotion through the lines of mournful post-breakup delusion, vulnerable samples, and a heavy climax that eventually ends as it begins. It’s a heartbreaking track that’s even more so when considering Moore’s subsequent departure, making it seem more like a secret genesis of Chroma Key. Better or worse, things would never be the same without him.
While Awake may not have the immediacy of its predecessor, its dark-horse status makes for one of Dream Theater’s most compelling efforts. The extra aggression could risk off coming silly for such a grandiose project, but the angsty tone makes sense from a reactionary view and the heavier instrumentation is in line with the times without feeling dated. Even if the presentation differs, that forward thinking spirit remains undeterred.
