Cats In Space - Atlantis (Album Review)
UK rock sextet Cats In Space are back - in the biggest of ways - with their fourth studio album, Atlantis. Songwriter and guitarist Greg Hart promises that compared to previous outings, this LP “has more symphony” (a delightfully Spinal Tappian claim, making reference to the orchestrations by renowned arranger Mike Moran). While it remains a mystery as to whether or not it was recorded in Dobly, Atlantis is certainly the band’s most grandiose statement to date, as the band persist in indulging all the musical excesses of classic seventies rock (think Queen, think ELO), with no acknowledgement of the four full decades that have since passed. Of course, this sort of enterprise is the purest of love affairs and each of these songs has been crafted with the utmost care. Every guitar break, synth wig-out and quadruple-tracked vocal is era-perfect; this is the majesty of Rock, writ large.
The release marks the debut of new frontman Damien Edwards whose background in musical theatre makes him the perfect fit for the band. With the ability to glide effortlessly from portentous tenor to histrionic banshee wail, he’s got the range - dahling - that most rock singers would sell their soul for. There’s probably a concept right there for the next album; working title: Damien’s Deal (With the Devil).
Stellar opener ‘Spaceship Superstar’ smacks instantly of rock opera, boasting a Blue Öyster Cult chug and plenty of futuristic-yet-vintage keyboard runs, while the equally energetic ‘Revolution’ is a Queen and Sweet mashup with particularly pleasing sweeping vocals. It’s best not to dwell on the delicious irony that anything remotely revolutionary could be occurring here, of course, and just get on board for the ride. Next comes the wonderful ‘Sunday Best’, which is all ELO eccentricity, extolling the virtues of putting one’s best foot forward (preferably in one’s very best glitter-encrusted boots). This musical terrain has been mined before - most notably by Jellyfish and on the Take That hit ‘Shine’.
The hitworthy AOR of ‘Listen To The Radio’ is a textbook blend of Journey and Survivor, giftwrapped in a three-and-a-half-minute package. This is followed by the record’s big ballad ‘I Fell Out Of Love With Rock ‘n’ Roll’, the Steinmanisms of which find Edwards in his element. Crucially, at just over four minutes, it doesn’t outstay its welcome (although it does threaten to descend into a full-on ‘Hey Jude’ outro) as it bemoans the damaging rise of that evil baddie, grunge.
Atlantis’ B-side wastes no time matching the calibre of its first half, with the flamboyant prog epic ‘Marionettes’, which starts like something from a Magnum LP before swerving into madcappery akin to Danny Elfman’s tunes from Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. ‘Queen Of The Neverland’ initially seems more straightforward but similarly has some musical surprises up its sleeve. Things then kick back a little with the talkbox guitar of ‘Magic Lovin’ Feelin’’, which is freewheeling and melodic - basically Boston on a very good day.
The acoustic jangle of ‘Can’t Wait For Tomorrow’ provides a further pocket of calm before the Manfred Mann keys of ‘Seasons Change’ herald more melodic pomp, executed to kitchen-sink perfection. ‘Atlantis’ closes the record, serving as the end credits to this most cinematic of musical odysseys. The song acknowledges that the attempt to resurrect the past is as futile as the search for Atlantis itself but the point of a record like this, of course, is to remind us that the most important thing is to make the journey.
And what a thoroughly enjoyable trip it has been. An album of original material that pays homage to about thirty bands all at once, this is a rock history lesson that will have Messrs Vance and Freeman backflipping in the beyond. The fact that it is almost completely musically irrelevant is, in itself, an irrelevance. What matters is its spirit: a distillation and celebration of a lost age, painstakingly but joyously rendered. Atlantis cements the band’s unparalleled passion for all things bygone and warns every rock tribute band in the world that they are merely terrestrial mortals, whereas these cats are, well… Cats In Space.
Review by Rich Barnard.
Life is full of surprises. At a time when the majority of people would be content to retire, potter about in the garden, and leave new music to the young folks, erstwhile Heartbreakers drummer Stan Lynch is back with a new band and an impressive new record. The other surprise is that the Italian Frontiers label, usually the home of all things AOR and melodic hard rock, continues a welcome expansion into other musical realms. The Speaker Wars and Frontiers seem like unlikely bedfellows, but the label is to be commended for landing this particular release. More please.