Caligula’s Horse – Charcoal Grace

Progressive Metal | Progressive Rock

75%

 

The main critique of progressive music from those that don’t gel with the genre often boils down to it being pretentious and self-indulgent. Prioritising complexity over accessibility, cold technical skill over raw feeling and emotion. Intricate doesn’t necessarily mean interesting. Sure, you can sit back and appreciate the skill and craftsmanship that went into creating a piece of music, but that doesn’t make it an engaging listen by default. While I grew up with this kind of music, I absolutely understand where the criticism is coming from. Even the most ardent prog fan has their limit, beyond which lies records that take an exceedingly long and convoluted route to ultimately say little of consequence. 

However, perhaps contrary to what you might expect, in my experience the best prog is usually the most over the top and grandiose. The sprawling rock operas with ambitious storylines, songs with shifting time signatures that follow some mathematical formula, that sort of thing. The kind of prog that feels most self-indulgent to my mind is that which which is complex for no other reason that complexity’s sake. Albums that instead use their intricacy it as a tool to build towards a greater purpose, whether that’s telling a story, evoking a feeling, or setting highly specific songwriting hoops to jump through – that’s where the magic happens. 

When Caligula’s Horse released their last record, Rise Radiant, I struggled to connect with it. At the time I put it down to it being a heavier outing as a whole, often favouring brute force over the melodic side that had thus far set them apart in the scene. While I still feel that way to a degree, in hindsight I think a lot of it’s problems stemmed from a lack of focus. Following on from 2017’s masterpiece In Contact, a collection of stories about the nature of the creative spirit and how art connects and inspires us, it felt rather directionless by comparison. Complex for complexity’s sake, heavy in sound but without anything heavy to say. 

At its best Charcoal Grace sounds like the band at their most cohesive and purposeful. Inspired by the way the pandemic shone a light on both the best and the worst of humanity, it speaks of the specifics of the stillness and alienation of that period, as well as painting with broader strokes about the responsibilities we have for each other and themes of connection and human nature. The mighty monster of an opener ‘The World Breathes With Me’ takes a big picture view of the disorder and disconnect of that time, ultimately ending on a newfound understanding of the importance of our place in the wider world. It’s a journey you hear echoed in the way the heavy riffs give way to a sublime soaring solo, and how the hushed menace of the verses is replaced with the cathartic titular refrain at the climax. Album highlight ‘The Stormchaser’ meanwhile opts to linger a little longer in the darkness, venting full blooded ire at those that chose selfishness over community (“You’re fighting for nothing but you, While we stood against the storm“). Between the off-kilter cascading melody, the way the track explores the full range of Jim Grey’s incomparable vocals, and the towering impassioned fury of the bridge, it feels like a real hall of fame moment for the band. 

At the album’s heart lies the eponymous 4-part Charcoal Grace suite, which channels the broader themes about reckoning with a loss of faith in humanity, into a self contained story about cycles of abuse. While it wouldn’t be right to say that this is where the album lost me, I do think this centrepiece requires the most time to properly digest of anything in their discography. Musically I like the slow burn of ‘Prey’, the Tool-esque opening of ‘Vigil’, and the raw seething anger of ‘Give Me Hell’ (“I would bear this hate into the depths to see you choke on it“). Sam Vallen’s ferocious shredding at the end of the suite manages to drip with venom while still keeping the band’s signature melodicism intact. But there’s a lot to unpack here lyrically, and each layer of meaning you uncover feels like a hard won victory.

While I feel like I’ve a way to go before Charcoal Grace -both the suite and the album as a whole – finally clicks for me, the sense of ambition and how emotionally charged it feels at every turn is enough to convince me that it’s worth investing my time. This is by far the Brisbane band’s heaviest record in every sense of the term and in truth I’m still processing it. While I can sit here listening to an album on constant repeat for days on end before committing words to a proper review, sometimes a record needs more than just time spent with it. Sometimes it also needs time spent away from it, the kind of fresh perspective that you can only gain from returning months or even years later with a different frame of mind. When I return to this record later in the year I imagine my thoughts on it will read a little differently. Right now however I can at least express my admiration for this album’s scope and vision, even if I’m not seeing the full picture just yet.