Like a great many other
like-minded individuals, I have to say that Devin Townsend's seminal
Ocean Machine album, 'Biomech', came as such an incredible
paradigm-shift that it could be described as life-changing. Here and
now I am 38, a father, a husband, a
former-music-journalist-turned-comic-book-writer and a bunch of other
things to different people, but I remember the first time I let this
album wash over me with startling clarity.
Twenty years ago I bought
the CD on the strength of hearing a few moments of one song
('Regulator', to be precise), which was playing on the stereo in
Noise Annoys, the little rock and metal record store where I spent a
chunk of my teenage years and a lot of money. Like many other stories
you may hear about experiences with Ocean Machine,
I was familiar
with Devin's time with Steve Vai (the 'Sex & Religion' album) and
the furious insanity of his Strapping Young Lad band, but nothing
could prepare me for the seismic and spiritual journey that I was in
for.
I remember laying down as the album began, the opening moments
of 'Seventh Wave' washing over me with its wall of guitars and
phenomenally dense mix. The song quite literally took my breath away.
So many things about it about it, the tuning, the melodies, the mix
of the vocals, everything felt right. Fresh. New yet welcomingly
familiar, strange yet bizarrely warm.
'Life' followed next, its swell
of euphoria sweeping me away. It progressed through 'Night', 'Hide
Nowhere', and the sublime 'Sister'. '3am' and 'Voices in the Fan'
opened my mind to a world where heavy music could be heavy and
ambient at the same time, while 'Greetings' and 'Regulator' burrowed
deep into my psyche.
I'd had a long day, so by the time 'Funeral' and
'Bastard' swept from the speakers, I'd slipped into a semi-dream
state which had the music sweep deeper through me. This wasn't music.
It was as though somehow Devin had tapped into some kind of ethereal
hive mind and shared the recordings he had managed to capture. When
the 12 minute ambient piece 'The Death of Music' played, I was on the
edge of sleep, lost in the strange images the album had given me.
As
that finally drew to a close, the bonus track 'Thing Beyond Things'
added further depth to the state of tired bliss, immediately
cementing itself in my mind as one of the most beautiful things I had
ever heard. The raw, shocking scream that ends the album snapped me
out of my odd dream-state, returning me to reality so I could try to
process what I had just encountered.
Here, twenty years on from its
release, that magic, that sense of awe and wonder that flooded me
during that first listen, it's all still there. A vein of Ocean
Machine's wonder runs through all of Devin's work and has kept
listeners like me captivated for a very long time. He continues to
evolve and grow and move on, but for many of us it can all be traced
back to this thing of pure and absolute joy.
I met him on the SYL 'No
Sleep 'Til Bedtime' tour (the Sheffield date at the 'Otherside'
venue, a tiny sweat-hole of a place) and had a brief chat. I got to
say thanks to him for Ocean Machine (and got my copy signed), and I'd like to say thanks for
everything that followed it.
Thank you, Devin. I'll
see you in March.
I always love gigs where I'm not the only bald guy
in the place.
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