La Bocca Della Verità: “[Un]connected” (2023) – Album Review

Summary

La Bocca Della Verità’s 2023 album, “[Un]connected”, offers a contemplative journey that artfully examines humanity’s role in the digital realm. The album melds diverse prog styles while exploring profound themes about virtual existence and its impact on human perception and empathy. Through its masterful fusion of both retro and contemporary progressive elements, “[Un]connected” stands out as an emotionally resonant and commanding presentation on the implications of our ever-growing digital lives.

Album Info

Introduction

You have to love a happy accident.

And that’s how I discovered Italian progressive rock band La Bocca Della Verità and their 2023 album [Un]connected whilst believing I was clicking a link to another album on Bandcamp, and fell in love with the album almost instantly.

It seems fate is inexorable. [Un]connected is the RPI band’s sophomore album, arriving seven years after their 2016 debut release, Avenoth. Before that they spent many years sharpening their skills performing covers of classic progressive rock music, leading up to their science fiction concept album debut.

I have not heard Avenoth (yet), but [Un]connected continues their concept album tradition by examining the role of humanity in the digital world, and how virtual existence can easily wreak havoc upon human perception and empathy. Yet it can also widen the net of human awareness, perhaps inadvertently so.

Heady stuff indeed, and this concept has been heavily mined this year with albums like Riverside’s ID.Entity and eMolecule’s The Architect, among others. [Un]connected fits in comfortably between those albums, finding its own unique voice and perspective to raise questions regarding how the digital retina of the mind’s eye slowly transmogrifies the totality of human perception. And it does so in a package replete with some of the catchiest prog hooks and engaging dramatic (although occasionally melodramatic) storytelling.

A Quick Note

First off, I generally look to ProgArchives when I classify albums by genre, and they categorize La Bocca Della Verità as a Rock Progressivo Italiano band. I have zero interest or desire in challenging this genre classification, but I honestly felt this record fit in more as a spirited retro-prog album with the usual symphonic elements. And yet there were moments of crossover and neo-prog as well. Admittedly, the fact that the vocals are entirely in English play no small part in my assessment therein. So take genre labels as a guideline, not a declaration.

Also, as of this writing I don’t possess lyrics for any of the songs, so my interpretations and analyses could be WAY off. We’re flying by instinct here. Buckle up.

Review

“Connected Ouverture” kicks off the album with a thick atmospheric backdrop, comprised of bursts of electric static, walls of synths, and guitar wails weaving in and out of soundscape, evoking the digital fog of morning being lifted. As the digital environment powers on, the instrumental proper begins, with synchronized guitar and synths locked in rhythm, alongside drum-work that can best be described as extremely melodic. A Hammond organ joins in with a beautifully synchronized Rickenbacker as the entire band converges with a commanding opening statement. This elegant yet drivingly dutiful piece is evocative of digital pulses firing wildly across a microprocessor. The slower, piano-driven midsection introduces a moment of breath, of the flesh and organic struggling within the machine, with an emotional guitar solo underscoring this juxtaposition.

“Winter In Our Mind” generates a frosty, machinelike dissociation, attempting to contextualize human existence as a quantifiable metric. This is a slower, more questioning and emotional number, very contemporary sounding whilst echoing the frameworks of classic symphonic prog. Accordingly this track is a keyboard-driven portrait of the digital pondering the analog; not a ghost in the machine, but a virtual binary in the flesh.

Hikikomori is a Japanese descriptor for social withdrawal, retreating to within the womblike confines of security. As such this is the theme of “Hikikomori Humanity”, a literal ode to emotional disassociation from the actual. The tune begins soft and safe, comforting DX-7 and Mellotron tones resonating like a safety blanket. But the curtain of invulnerability is quickly pulled back and the anger/anxiety elements are pushed to the forefront. “It’s nice to stay in my room. I feel peaceful. Everything’s easy. EVERYTHING’S FINE!”

“Hikikomori Humanity” captures that denial-fueled rage through the strong riffage between the eruption of guitar, bass, and organ, accentuated by an insistent synth wail. The album really takes flight here, showcasing the tangible contradictions between a reclusive digital existence and a tangible lonely organic one. The dueling organ and synth succinctly drive this point home. After all, the virtual mask is just another room to hide in.

“I’m Gonna Buy Something” holds mindless digital consumerism in sharp relief, a hallmark feature of any virtual sinecure. This is 21st Century compulsive consumer therapy refracted through the tone and feel of classic Yes and Genesis. The irresistible call and response sequences throughout the verses promise salvation through lightning sales on overpriced crap you don’t need. And honestly who hasn’t felt this from time to time? Vinyl collectors, I’m talking about us here.

Anyway, this is one of those tracks that feels like it should be a kickoff album single. Short, catchy, rocking, full of hooks and singalong moments, yet bringing engaging theatricality to its combination of retro and contemporary prog elements. The extended instrumental outro is an album highlight.

With its pastoral acoustic opening and childlike sense of innocence, “Lullaby of the Ancient World” transports us into Nursery Cryme territory, with its overlapping vocal lines, prevailing sense of whimsy, and the comforting mellotron reassurance. The equivalent of slipping into a warm bath of delicious classic prog. “Lullaby of the Ancient World” delivers us intto a Proustian journey throughout the past, romanticized as a stylized melodic beauty that really shines throughout its entirely too short two-and-a-half minute run time.

The harder rock side of progressive rock takes forefront in “Blind Trust”. This staccato guitar driven track is thick on riffs, with a trebly bass guitar elevating the proceedings with its infectious grooves, and a spirited Hammond playing along in kind. We have the requisite time and tempo shifts, with Alex Lifeson-styled guitar atmospherics and crying synth lines presenting an air of confused yearning that serves the song well.

OK, let’s get comfortable. “Liquid Suite” is the 15-minute album centerpiece, giving listeners their fill of extended prog grandeur. It opens with a pretty acoustic melody while simultaneously excoriating social media as little more than “likeable” shared images. This movement evokes a bit of Transatlantic here, with a strong measure of epic melodic prog, eviscerating the mores of social media. That catchy pop bubble bursts as we move into the second section, which brings back some of the thunderous riffage of “Blind Trust” before settling into a slower, more sinister groove. What was once a Grand Parade of Lifeless Packaging is now a simple People Showcase, swiping left and right in empty motions of indifferent connection. There’s a bit of Floyd, a bit of Styx, a bit of Genesis, but this one still connects (albeit with a few dramatic conceits that don’t quite land).

The third part switches into up-tempo rage, as the narrator’s internal dialog questions (and/or excoriates) his inability to connect with anyone. Empathy doesn’t exist when tangible mental connection doesn’t or cannot land. The addiction is too real. The music reflects his emotional inquisition with its frenetic pace and dramatic intensity. Fine bass work and vocal melodies are highlights here, especially the a-capella vocal lines manifesting as overlapping emotional struggles, culminating in the narrators suicidal self-loathing. The final 90 seconds is a thrilling instrumental denouement, the suite erupting into its powerfully volcanic conclusion.

The title track softens the mood, with beautiful classical guitar seducing us with its captivating Mediterranean melodies. “[Un]connected” is a heartfelt ballad, gentle yet rousingly orchestral, radiating with a simple beauty and elegance much needed at this point in the narrative. A honest plea for understanding and lasting connection, this track features the finest vocal performance from lead singer Fabrizio Marziani on the entire album.

“Returned (The Last Farewell)” features guest vocals from Ilaria Monteleone, with engaging use of jazzy piano and Gilmour-esque guitar. Monteleone’s vocals complement Marzian’s well, both together adding an air of resolute determination, albeit with minor-key grimness. Massimo Di Paola provides those shimmering piano lines, all of which are impossible to resist.

The central figure wants rest, and fades out into four decades of cryo-sleep. “Cryogenic Hope” revives us with a remonstration of life’s promise made empty, but it also presupposes the evolution of a new existence. Perhaps human consciousness has transcended its original programming or purpose. “Cryogenic Hope” is a jarring and complex number, yet I don’t think it quite generates a musical exposition of its narrative aims. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it filler, but it doesn’t hold my attention as much as the other tunes.

“Like A Amphibious” closes out the album with an epic sense of detachment, a sweeping prog ode that sheds our scales and transitions humanity into its next realm. Just as fish developed lungs and left the water, the delineation between human consciousness, organic flesh, cybernetics, and artificial intelligence is obliterated. This is a powerful closing number (with a bit of iffy spoken-word segments) but it ends our meditation on a rousing and thought-provoking note.

And in closing…

I really enjoyed my time getting to know La Bocca Della Verità and discovering the contemplative journey of [Un]connected. In addition to the enjoyable and engaging fusion of prog styles, I found the themes presented emotionally resonant without engaging in goofy melodrama. In other words, there was never a risk of some “Big Fleet of Humanity” coming to save us from our new Robot Overlords at the conclusion.

For now we may bristle at the effects that social media and virtual existence will have on the human psyche. I’m sure that, millions of years ago, some fish bristled at their newfound pulmonary tracts as they ventured onto land. And any discourse on that level of philosophical examination walks a delicate balance when put to musical accompaniment and melodic delivery. [Un]connected succeeds by enveloping the entire affair in a commanding progressive rock presentation.

What similar albums does ChatGPT recommend?

While it behooves me to remind my readers that every word you just read is 100% Mills, let’s ask our friendly neighborhood AI for some similar album recommendations.

Fear of a Blank Planet – Porcupine Tree (2007)
This album delves into the ennui and disillusionment of the modern generation, touching on issues of prescription drug abuse, technology obsession, and alienation. Porcupine Tree seamlessly blends elements of rock, metal, and ambient electronica, resulting in a hauntingly beautiful soundscape that captures the zeitgeist of the 21st century. For fans of [Un]connected, this offers a similarly reflective look at the challenges of the digital age.

The Source – Ayreon (2017)
Arjen Lucassen, the mastermind behind Ayreon, crafts a sci-fi epic in “The Source.” Set in the Ayreon universe, the album chronicles the demise of a planet and the escape of its inhabitants to a new world. Much like [Un]connected, the album grapples with themes of technology, existence, and human nature, all set to a backdrop of sweeping progressive rock and metal passages with a touch of folk and electronic elements.

Tardigrades Will Inherit The Earth – The Mute Gods (2017)
This sophomore release from The Mute Gods takes a somewhat bleak look at the direction in which humanity is headed, suggesting that perhaps the microscopic tardigrades will outlive us all. Packed with powerful bass lines, compelling rhythms, and thought-provoking lyrics, it’s a must-listen for fans of concept albums that examine the human condition amidst the challenges of the modern world.

The Golden Casket – Modest Mouse (2021)
While not strictly a progressive rock outfit, Modest Mouse’s “The Golden Casket” delves into themes of technology, existence, and the human experience in the digital age. Their characteristic indie rock sound is infused with experimental elements and atmospheric layers, creating a rich sonic palette that fans of [Un]connected would appreciate.

Affinity – Leprous (2016)
Known for their dynamic sound that fuses progressive metal with atmospheric rock, Leprous’s “Affinity” is a journey into the world of human emotions and relationships. With a combination of powerful vocals, intricate instrumental work, and thought-provoking lyrical content, this album will resonate with those who enjoyed the thematic depth and musical explorations of [Un]connected.

Output from ChatGPT, OpenAI to Mills 08 August 2023