Review Summary: TRAPPED INSIDE THIS OCTAVARIUM
For all the emphasis that Dream Theater put on the elaborate octave motifs throughout their eighth album, what ends up standing out about Octavarium is how much it contrasts the preceding Train of Thought. Just as that release had cranked up the heavy, this one opts for a softer sound informed by their seventies prog and alt-rock influences. There’s even a little pop sensibility highlighted in some of the more accessible songwriting, making one flash back to the days of Falling Into Infinity. Fortunately, them not doing so under duress makes for more natural sounding results and ironically greater commercial success if its Top 40 placement was anything to go by.
“The Answer Lies Within” and “I Walk Beside You” are the most prominent displays of this outlook in action, a ballad seeming to invoke “The Spirit Carries On” with life-affirming tranquility and an upbeat pop rocker straight from the U2 playbook respectively. The tracks generally amount to saccharine fluff, the former is basically a high school valedictorian’s speech set to mellow orchestration, but their earnest performances make them hard to get too worked up about. “These Walls” is a more workable compromise, offering some solid heavy/soft structuring and a swelling chorus.
That said, there are still a couple heavy tracks to work with, not quite as blistering as anything off the last album but still shaking things up nicely. The opening “The Root of All Evil” may be my favorite part of the AA Suite, letting its percussive build explode into a volley of pummeling mid-tempo chugs and sardonic vocal lines. Meanwhile, “Panic Attack” is the mental illness-themed frenzy that I wish more of the Six Degrees tracks had been, driven by erratic riff patterns, disorienting shifts, and intense climbs that frequently find their way into my head during those moods.
Alas, Octavarium follows in Train of Thought’s footsteps by having its own song that threatens to bring down the whole experience. “Never Enough” follows the thrust of “Panic Attack” well enough and is competently played, but the imitations of Muse’s “Stockholm Syndrome” get to be too much. LaBrie’s attempts to channel Matt Bellamy’s warbles are about as awkward as his Maynard-isms and the beat-for-beat structuring is about as forced. The lyrics complaining about bitter fan entitlement also don’t lend to the lift coming from a place of love, leaving a bad taste that just seems uncomfortable for everybody involved.
Fortunately, the band ultimately sticks the landing with the last couple tracks coming out the most ambitiously. The ten-minute “Sacrificed Sons” almost feels like a warmup to the colossal title track with its more direct structure, but the drawn out verses and cinematic scope are appealing in their own right. Said title track puts its twenty-four minutes toward a spacey beginning that sets up a series of increasingly anxious movements culminating in a violent breakdown. Throw in lyrics that mix an awakening coma story with all the references they could think of to symbolize the passage of time, and you’ve got one of the band’s strongest long numbers to date.
On one hand, Octavarium can feel like business as usual as it ultimately evens out to about the same quality as the last two releases and sustains their momentum in similar fashion. On the other hand, I appreciate how each of these releases brings its own flavor while displaying the band’s distinct character. This album’s lighter flavor is a refreshing palette cleanse from the last one’s heavier range and the more accessible songwriting is successful even with its sticklers. And with this album laying the groundwork for the band’s 20th anniversary tour, it’s easy to see why they felt like celebrating.
