Review Summary: A sci-fi musical blockbuster.
Musicals are pretty silly. The concept of people experiencing life, emotions, etc. etc. and choosing to let all those around them know via song and dance is absurd, especially when others spontaneously join in on the rave as if possessed by fate. Boiled down to their basics, concept records are no different; a narrative is at play, and it is brought to life not by the spoken or written word, but through instrumental arrangements and singing contributions instead. As long as the audience pays forward the necessary suspension of disbelief, the reality of “we’ve got a cute little melody coaxed out only by pure bombast” never hits. There’s a time and place for albums that run with that idea and play it straight—consider metal bands that see a dilapidated street corner, growl about it and
voila! social commentary—but there’s a special tier for those that embrace the cheese, acknowledging the inherent ludicrousness and teasing the listener’s necessity to accept the madness. Therein dwells Parius: a progressive rock/metal outfit out of Pennsylvania that relish in their genre’s reputation for ridiculous tales. Their direction is equal parts a love-letter to the giants of the 70s and a modern interpretation of the ‘rock opera’ phenomenon. Throughout the relatively long duration of third LP
The Signal Heard Throughout Space, the Philadelphia gents delve into winding rock passages, head-bangin’ harsh sections, groovy bass lines, emotional clean ballads, and adrenaline-pumping riffing—all held together by a sci-fi tale detailing a space captain’s journey to somewhere where shenanigans predictably occur. All told, it is a beautiful, lovable escape into the fantastical, and it possesses an incredible amount of charm in its genuine delivery.
Parius don’t shy away from their influences; they’re honest when regarding their intentions, with Rush and Dream Theater being discussed the most prominently. Proper opener “The Signal” features both inspirations prominently, opening with booming melodic guitars that rise to a crescendo before transitioning into a heavier, groovier passage whose crunching guitars clash against shimmering piano accompaniments. It’s that balance between cutting loose and restraint that define the songwriting ethos of the band, with their primary talent being their knack for cohesion and general refusal for complexity for complexity’s sake. They’ve certainly got the chops if the LP’s concept necessitates a spectacle— “Spaceflight Dementia” is a wonderful display of resident axeman Ryan Rauch’s virtuosity, his repertoire encompassing razor-sharp riffing and loose, emotive soloing—but it’s the ebb and flow of tunes like “The Acid Lakes of Ganymede” that define Parius’ strengths. Dan Silver’s drumming opens a portal through which the rest of the band follows, quickly morphing from thrilling fills to impeccably understated rhythms to allow surrounding elements to breathe, such as the elegant clean break that eases the tune’s tension before ramping it up once more. The dancing bass of Kenny Rantz leads travelers further down the track’s winding paths, allowing the faster tempo of the second half to gallop onwards with urgency and a threatening low end. When combined, the dynamic shifts of the song are perfectly punctuated with appropriate drama or restraint.
What ultimately makes Parius stand out from the massive crowd of fellow prog acts is their willingness to diversify their runtime. There’s no overarching formula that dominates
The Signal Heard…; its success is defined by its ability to explore different sounds and merge it into a singular song or full album experience. The most obvious example of this is certainly the poppy “Dimension Y” that appears in the second half, which features the bang swerving out of prog entirely and into Depeche Mode territory, building off of electric drums and a bouncing bass riff that serves as the lead. Another B-side highlight comes in the brief thrill ride of “Contact!”, whose nimble pace and shredding guitars would find a comfortable home on a thrash metal release as opposed to a traditional prog outing. The titanic closer “Arecibo” is capable of combining the positives of both, deftly maneuvering from a melodic opening to death metal-tinged riffs and dramatic vocals, then riding the momentum into an anthemic chorus. These triumphant tones and darker sections slowly lead the way to the ultimate climax of the song and the record as a whole; an explosion of harmonious guitars erupt around singer Louis Thierry as the story’s captain desperately attempts to salvage his mission, all the while the backing keys shift from an organ to a blaring synth that merges with the roaring melody. Around every bend, the Philly gents are capable of providing surprises with confidence, be it the pure entertainment of smooth bass jams or the zaniness of the group’s speed metal escapades.
There’s a sense throughout the record that, in a further separation from peers, Parius are
having fun putting on this fancy space opera. Lyrics chronicle an intrepid astronaut tracking down an elusive signal that could possess profound information, all the while being pursued by an otherworldly being known only as the Formulator and his… intergalactic biker gang? It contains all the sci-fi jargon and silly wonderment one would expect, and rather than prompting a hefty sigh, the Pennsylvania band emerge unscathed. Vocalist Louis Thierry provides a lot of the heavy lifting; he holds down all singing duties on the album, embodying any listed role with oodles of charisma, and his vast range stretches from a resonating second tenor to death metal screams and growls. When singing about the captain’s loneliness in “Suspended Animation,” there’s a believable melancholia supplied by Thierry’s voice. In contrast, the villainous biker gang (lol) portrayed in “Contact!” receive a performance that’s appropriately vicious and rough in its delivery, and the Formulator almost always comes paired with menacing harsh vocals. Staged underneath the operatic keys of Sean Gallagher and an old-school production job,
The Signal Heard… begins to crystallize as the 70s blockbuster film its album art depicts. The shifting guitars accentuate the drama or restrain themselves to let the ambiance of Parius’ world unravel, allowing subtle strumming and thunderous riffs to coexist and characterize a crazy space odyssey. There’s a delightful wink and a nod to Parius’ work here—they’re doubtlessly in on the charade—and it makes the ensuing experience all the more endearing. It’s a beautiful, perfectly histrionic adventure into the unknown, and some of the tightest musicianship in the game is piloting the ship.
