Classifying themselves as "post-rock, progressive, regressive..." Disappearer hits you hard in much the same way Liquid Tension Experiment does--just with a heavier anvil. But don't let me mislead you into thinking the music is all hot sauce with no sweet spot--quite the opposite. What impresses me about this band is how they drive the soothing velvet melodies right through the beating heart of the roaring amplifiers.
The first heaping plateful from the prog buffet this week is a very solemn, ominous piece called "Goodnight Mr. Frankenstein." The opening is dark as the drums strike first; a foretelling of something seemingly sinister. The bass gives the music its pulse--a lifeline if you will. The emotions that are stirred take you to that infamous eerie laboratory where you get the sense of a mad doctor doing dark things. Disappearer goes right for the jugular with this piece and rather than simply cut it with a scalpel--they tear it with a chainsaw.
My return trip to the smorgasbord yields a tune called "Forget Me Pills." Disappearer certainly likes to paint with dark colors; you can feel the chill settle in over the entire piece. Guitars carry this song but the drums once again pound a stake into your chest. Without using layers of vocals, Disappearer is quite capable of telling a tale with sound. I get a strong scent of Opeth and hints of Tool in the paintbox...
Liner Notes...Disappearer is yet another example of having one's thumb on the pulse of prog. All the instruments played and lyrics written are from the heart, head, and mind of Pedro Coelho Pereira. The vocals and vocoder are performed by the Basement Dweller Choir. Credit is also given to the assistant producer and psychic healer, one Paulo Franco. So basically Pedro is an extremely talented individual who can play and write teamed up with some cool singers, all wrapped in a warm vibe...very progressive--me thinks even Steve Wilson would be proud. Calling Lisbon, Portugal home, Disappearer has been on the prog scene together since 2012, and separately since 2008. Their latest release proves the theory that the sum is greater than the parts...
My final selection from this extravagant buffet is a song called "Psycho Jane." Following what appears to be the band's trademark, the opening feels like a curtain being peeled back slowly to reveal the inner workings of a complex being, pouring out emotions like waves hammering the beach. I get a scent of Uriah Heep in the arrangement and a top note of latter-day Dream Theater in the pulsating, rhythmic beating your senses take. Disappearer is not for the faint of heart--but you shouldn't be afraid of the dark and unknown...
The clip posted below is called "Stuck in a Loop." Disappearer hits you softly at first, poking you in the ears, jabbing you in the ribs...just enough to keep your attention. But the mood suddenly drops, sinking to the bottom of an abyss you can't quite see into. The music is haunting; it's as if I am running knee deep through water trying to get away, only to turn and see I have made no progress despite my best efforts. Disappearer took a backhoe to a dark corner of the prog garden and proceeded to make a clearing into which they planted heavy, emotion laden seedlings. Listening to them reach full bloom is exhilarating and frightening all at once. Learn more about Disappearer at http://www.disappearer.pt/. Feel free to follow them on Twitter at @disappearerband...they can be found on Facebook as well.
The Concert Closet has certainly logged some frequent flyer miles heading into 2015 fellow progheads! This trip to Portugal was especially fun for me because it shined a light on the darker side of prog--and the vision was captivating. Disappearer stays in the somber bushes, but the more you allow the sound to flow over your ears, the deeper your understanding becomes. The emotional pit from which Pedro writes is not just cold, callous, and disturbing; it holds a spark of light for those traveling the dark road looking for a way out. Hope echoes through the sound, and the reverberation resonates deep...until next week...
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