Review Summary: A celebration for a legend.
Despite break-ups, line-up alterations, hiatuses and other obstacles, Magnum have defiantly staved off the onset of Father Time at the behest of the dynamic Clarkin-Catley duo--the former, an axeman defined by a modest approach capable of delivering earworm hooks like second nature; the latter, progressive rock’s perpetually-wizened storyteller whose voice carries a fantastical whimsy as it tells tales of love, triumph, historical accounts of soldiers and distant adventures. Their dependability and subtle ability to adapt throughout the years has always been an unsung success story, and it’s something cemented by the arrival of the group’s twenty-third full-length release--a feat of incredible consistency worthy of acclaim in of itself. Yet it strikes a somewhat melancholic note on this go-around; Tony Clarkin, arguably the creative soul of the project, unfortunately passed only a few days before
Here Comes the Rain officially debuted, transforming the record into an unintended swan song for the talented guitarist. In that regard,
Here Comes the Rain is a glorious encapsulation of what made Clarkin and his merry band of prog-rockers so resolutely ageless, featuring another set of finely-constructed earworms dripping with 80’s rock flair and touched up with modern sensibilities.
Of the U.K. gang’s modern era,
Here Comes the Rain is likely the most straightforward of the lot, but this doesn’t sacrifice the cornerstones of their signature sound--a crossroads where Styx-esque dramatics and progressive flair intertwine with the hard rock greats of yesteryear. If anything, frontman Bob Catley sounds rejuvenated, delivering resonating choruses on “The Day He Lied” or conquering the atmospheric “Broken City” with his resonating, sage-like baritone. Clarkin’s wizardry pokes through in the gritty, old-school rock riff that propels “Blue Tango” and its accompanying soloing, as well as a melodic flourish that heightens the drama of “I Wanna Live.” When he’s not deservedly flaunting some virtuosic soloing, he’s laying down the groundwork for strings to sweep through, such as in “After the Silence,” or tying together gentle acoustics in the title track to support a delicate piano lead, allowing a bouncing bass and the graceful swelling of the orchestral components to shine in the spotlight. His connection with Catley remains electric, and their chemistry undoubtedly forges the bedrock of the album.
As no-nonsense as the record can be, it doesn’t preclude Magnum from indulging their usual cheese-infused methodology. The aforementioned strings doubtlessly benefit from this; their prominence in the mix defines
Here Comes the Rain and, in the case of tunes like “After the Silence,” they act as the central feature, supplying ample energy with their uplifting tones. It grants the title track its whimsical aura, dazzling the scenery with cascading notes that merge with the frolicking piano lead, and they enhance the emotion of “Broken City”--an album highlight where subtle ebbs and flows craft an understated, gloomy ambiance that Catley’s wondrous performance perfectly embodies. In a production typically characterized by restraint, the additional symphonics insert some much-needed bombast to accentuate the atmosphere or provide a foundation for Clarkin’s riffs.
Despite being relatively subdued in the progressive rock department,
Here Comes the Rain compensates with its pristine pacing--one of the band’s more streamlined runtimes in a hot minute--and commendable variety, supplying the listener with plenty of ballads and throwback rockers that recall the AOR days of old. “Blue Tango'' is an idyllic demonstration of the latter, but “The Seventh Darkness” takes proceedings a step further with a rollicking hard rock riff, resounding horn accompaniments, and a bridge populated by Clarkin and a featured saxophone trading solos, both granting the track an unabashedly
fun feeling that induces a spell of spontaneous dancing. It might be somewhat cheesy--ditto for “Some Kind of Treachery,” whose soaring refrain and triumphant strings sound tailor-made for a ‘raise your lighters’-type song in a filled-out stadium--but that’s the price of admission for a Magnum album; authentically theatrical arrangements and delightfully old-fashioned aesthetics are expected.
There’s perhaps somewhat of a disappointment involved in Magnum playing to expectations rather than being more explorative, but in terms of leaning on pure songwriting strengths,
Here Comes the Rain is the consummate modern experience of the band. The heart of the group shines through as it always has--Catley show-stealing with his reinforced, charismatic voice and Clarkin’s artfully-simplistic earworm riffs leading the charge--with an underlying somber tone due to the Tony’s sudden passing. If there were ever to be a send-off for a guitarist that had persevered through the years, developing and redefining their style as changes came and went, the uplifting nature of Magnum’s latest record fits the bill immaculately, and it stands as a testament to Clarkin’s enduring legacy. Every track, from the pounding rhythm of “Borderline” to the pure entertainment that is “The Seventh Darkness,” is tailor-made for a relaxing, old-fashioned rock-out-loud listening session--a fitting send-off and celebration of a legend of the genre.
