Haken: “Fauna” (2023) – Album Review

Summary

Fauna is Haken’s best work since Affinity, perhaps even since The Mountain. Evoking the animal kingdom as thematic ruminations on the human condition, the band has crafted an engaging series of musically-rich tableaux, with content often both puzzling and precipitating, but always entirely compelling. Fauna is a fantastic record that bridges many of the band’s eras whilst forging ahead along their unique evolutionary trajectory.

Album Info

Introduction

Haken frustrates the hell out of me, which is one of many reasons why they’re one of my favorite bands. And why I really dig Fauna a whole hell of a lot.

Well, that’s it for our review, thanks for visiting The Park tonight, and we hope to be seeing y–

Oh. You’re still here. Well, get comfortable I guess. Allow me the dignity of elaboration.

The Dignity of Elaboration

I discovered Haken right around when Affinity came out, and I pretty much dismissed the album outright. For whatever reason, it didn’t connect with me. I also, rather reductively, assumed it was yet another prog metal/heavy prog concept album ruminating about man’s self-destructive conflicts with technology. That trope had long-since played itself out in my head.

So that was my not-so-much-as-a-by-your-leave exit from Haken, which lasted for about a year. Intrigued and inundated by numerous prog vlogs, I finally relented somewhat and gave The Mountain a listen. Loved it. Aquarius followed soon after, with the same result. Skipping Visions entirely (no worries, we circled back on that one later) I gave Affinity another shot.

I’m so glad I did, as my earlier dismissal was a disservice. I appreciated the album infinitely more so than before, proving that some rewarding music often needs to percolate and ruminate before its pleasures come to light. Sometimes the brain-soil needs to be cultivated before the craft, nuances, and rewards of engaging art really begin to sprout.

To put it less formally (albeit less maturely): rewarding artistic works are often grow-ers, not show-ers.

Every time a new Haken album comes out, I like to sit on it for a few weeks before I start flapping my jaws. I’ll immerse myself in the album without forming any preliminary judgment: the full album a few times, then a song here, a song there, read the lyrics, kind of let the whole stew simmer in my pot of a noggin.

I do this because Haken always challenges me. Always. Here’s a band that rarely does whatever’s “expected”. When I expect a zig, they zag. If I’m ducking away from an expected giant mallet, they drop an anvil. DS9? They’ll B5 you in a second.

Looney Toons and 90s sci-fi television, all in one allegory chain. My god…

Say what you want about Vector and Virus (and entirely so many people have), but even if they aren’t my favorite Haken records, they still hold up to repeated listens, each time a rewarding experience. Yeah, it’s easy to write them off as “too djenty”; I know I did. Listen again though. There are deeper layers to discover.

ANYWAY… this brings us to Fauna, Haken’s 2023 release which, at the time of this writing, has been available for the last two-and-a-half months. Way to stay timely, Mills. Well at least now you know why. I held back until I gave the album room to breathe. For my own sensibilities, Haken needs vegetative space before it starts to bud and flower.

As such, this is a really strong album from the band. Fauna is their best work since Affinity, probably even since The Mountain. Evoking the animal kingdom as thematic ruminations on the human condition, Haken has crafted an engaging series of musically-rich tableaux, with content often both puzzling and precipitating, but always entirely compelling. Fauna is a fantastic record that bridges many of the band’s eras whilst forging ahead along their unique evolutionary trajectory.

Review

The musicality of this record is insanely rich; you don’t need me to praise the virtuoso musicianship of the band or Ross Jennings’s outstanding vocal showmanship. Both elements permeate Fauna (and pretty much any Haken album). Here they are complemented by complex, fascinating, yet often poignant lyricism that pushes morphogenetic concepts throughout the record: genetic memory, the connective tissue between all animal life throughout existence, even at a cellular level.

Lest you think Fauna is a heavy prog dissertation of conceptual biology, all of this high-falutin’ talk and intricate musicality serve these unifying themes in a highly satisfactory and affecting manner. For example, album opener “Taurus” leads you to think the album will continue leaning into the heavier prog elements of late (and it does), but it also connects by delving the darkest corners of humanity, linking wildebeest migration patterns to that of wartime refugees fleeing their homeland.

Such allegorical depth persists in three distinct cinematic interpretations. The Blade Runner shout-outs in “The Alphabet of Me” are unmistakable. Callbacks to snakes, tears in the rain, burning half as long and twice as bright, paper (origami) dreams, references to being “retired” or defined by your years… it’s all there. Drawing connections between our replicating DNA (the titular Alphabet) and the cloned replicants from the film, “The Alphabet of Me” is arguably the most contemporary sounding tune on the record. Almost a bit Imagine Dragon-ish at times, with touches of rap cadences and millennial whoops, the melodies and instrumentation successfully challenge expectations; not exactly subverting them, but easily widening the net.

(Not for nothing but “it’s time to wake up and die or regenerate” is an apropos descriptor for the band’s prevailing ethos.)

But the film explorations don’t end there. Celebrated directors David Lynch and Steven Spielberg also receive their nods; the former in “Elephants Never Forget” and the latter in “Island in the Clouds”. At just over 11 minutes, “Elephants Never Forget” is the big epic number on the album, and it’s masterful as hell. It hearkens back to the band’s debut album Aquarius in both subject matter and melodic construction. One could certainly draw parallels between a messianic mermaid and John Merrick, the so-called ‘Elephant Man’ about whom Lynch filmed his 1980 masterpiece.

The music makes no attempt to hide its carnival attraction origins, but its hurdy-gurdy jerkiness segues into and out of the softer, more melodic motifs of Merrick looking beyond the horrors of his own existence, tapping into some genetic memory of a better, kinder world:

I, hidden by a veil of dignity, woven by a thousand threads of ire
I choose to live a life of secrecy in my ascendancy
If I should fail in pleasing you, could I create myself anew?
Would I be measured by my soul? Could I be treasured in your home?

His “noble beast of dignity” is vocally, musically, and lyrically represented by the evocation of a proud, lumbering mammoth marching through a Pangeatic temporal landscape, amid references to the 23rd Psalm and Merrick’s own poetry. “Elephants Never Forget” ultimately celebrates the innate nobility and dignity of all life, channeling our morphogenetic temporal chain into a beauty that transcends the horrors of the now. This track is profoundly moving and powerful.

This drives us into “Island in the Clouds”, a retelling of Jurassic Park from the dinosaurs’ perspective.They are fully cognizant of their return to existence, aware of the secular gods that pulled them back from oblivion, ostensibly for their own self-absorbed gratification.

I’ve seen the way you propagate
A need for empty paraphernalia
So fall upon me
Too blind to see the error of your ways
In this smog of blame

The song explores parallels between science and faith, creator and creation, and heaven and earth. It’s a thrilling number, with a guitar break evocative of a Tyrannosaurus’s roar, audio elements like finger snaps (“Eureka!”), ticking clocks, and mechanical-sounding vocals on the bridge underscoring the science and engineering that brought these creatures back from oblivion. Life finds a way, indeed.

Moving beyond the cinematic sphere, we encounter “Nightingale”. Released about a year before Fauna, “Nightingale” bounces between jazzy verses, heavy choruses, and math-rock interludes, whilst espousing the virtues (and bemoaning the struggles) of indulging one’s creative impulses. Struggle is an apropos descriptor; the larger, heavier more involved outro feels like an eruption of both frustration and liberation.

“Sempiternal Beings” might be Jennings’s most impressive vocals on the album, like an atmospheric synth dreamscape, with almost a woodwind quality (if winds had that kind of range). The song has an abundance of busier musical elements, but it coalesces into some of the most satisfying musical moments of the record. The daisy chain of life returns as a motif, from the jellyfish of the primordial ocean to questioning the cycle of birth, death, rebirth, and lineage. The lyrics repeatedly reference Medusa, our gorgon sister radiating both the beauty and terror of existence. The entirety of humanity might be traced back to a single jellyfish floating in a murky ocean the dawn of Earthly existence, after all. Potential energy as powerful as a lion’s roar, but also maddening in its implications. One hungry flounder could have eradicated all human existence.

“Beneath the White Rainbow” allows us to catch our breath, slowing things down for a spell before eventually ratcheting up the intensity. It’s a dense, puzzling track about hunted forest animals, attempting to escape destruction via mimicry and camouflage, experiencing growth, loss, despair, and sacrifice. Although never dissonant, this song fails to resonate with me. The craftsmanship is there, there are moments to appreciate, but it doesn’t gel into something wholly satisfying.

“Lovebite” erupts with thick staccato guitar riffs, morphing into soulful, slinky verses that lead into a heavier chorus section. There is a very precise, clockwork feel to the song, like a spider’s web, or a droid’s binary language (referenced by a quick bit of astromech droid excitement). 80s pop elements make themselves apparent, with full-on nods to Hall & Oates, The Police, and even Phil Collins and Phillip Bailey. By making parallels between the mating habits of the black widow spider and everyday human insecurities about their sexual/romantic partners, “Lovebite” is the closest thing Fauna has to a pop single. And a good one.

The album closes with “Eyes of Ebony”, a tribute to guitarist Richard Henshall’s late father, one of the band’s earliest supporters who passed away in 2021. With references to Poe’s Raven, Dylan Thomas’s raging against the dying of the light, two Pink Floyd songs, even the band’s exquisite album The Mountain, “Eyes of Ebony” is a subdued, thoughtful, heartfelt closer. Haken provides a somber but ultimately touching send-off to the White Rhino at the gates of Valhalla.

And in closing…

Skillfully crafted, Fauna serves as a testament to Haken’s ability to create a Lagrange Point of impressive musical virtuosity, poetic lyricism, and affecting emotional content. Despite continuing the heavier prog elements that characterized their more recent albums, Fauna broadens the picture by interweaving them with diverse stylistic flourishes. The result ultimately encapsulates Haken’s essence: always elusive, perpetually engrossing.

The primal allure of Fauna persists, presenting an unfathomable yet approachable sonic wilderness.

Did I really need two-and-a-half months to get here?

What similar albums does ChatGPT recommend?

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

Here are five album recommendations for people who might enjoy Haken’s Faana, based on its musical style and themes:

1. Dream Theater – “Octavarium” (2005): With its intricate and adventurous song structures, progressive metal stylings, and thematic depth, Dream Theater’s “Octavarium” album should appeal to fans of Haken’s work.
   
2. Opeth – “Ghost Reveries” (2005): This album represents the band’s peak period of blending heavy death metal sections with beautiful and haunting melodic passages. Opeth’s mix of heavy and soft dynamics should resonate well with fans of Fauna.
   
3. Between the Buried and Me – “Colors” (2007): Known for their seamless blend of various genres and high levels of musical virtuosity, BTBAM’s “Colors” should intrigue Haken fans. This concept album flows as a single piece of music, and it’s filled with rich, complex melodies and transitions.
   
4. Steven Wilson – “Hand. Cannot. Erase.” (2015): As a progressive rock mastermind and former frontman of Porcupine Tree, Wilson’s work on this album carries an emotional weight and narrative depth similar to that found in Fauna. The album is centered around themes of isolation in the age of the internet.
   
5. Leprous – “Pitfalls” (2019): Leprous, like Haken, is known for their progressive elements and emotional delivery. “Pitfalls” is an album that dives deep into personal struggles and the human condition, delivered through a beautiful mix of progressive rock and more experimental elements.

Remember, part of the beauty of music is exploring different sounds and styles, so even if these albums are not exactly like Haken’s Fauna, they each offer their own unique musical journey that you may enjoy.

Output from ChatGPT, OpenAI to Mills, 26 May 2023