Peter Hammill ‎– The Future Now

In hindsight it's easy to recognize this as the beginning of a new direction for Hammill. It helps to remember that this was 1978, and the punks had made prog rock, with its pomp and grandiosity, a favorite target. Much of the prog camp felt threatened and dug in their heels. Others took the young upstarts seriously and reconsidered their own approach, opting for a new direction that was more raw and stripped down: Peter Gabriel's second album, Robert Fripp's "Exposure" (on which both Gabriel and Hammill appeared as vocalists), and this, the seventh solo album by the Van der Graaf Generator front man.

Recorded in a small home studio with only eight tracks and very few guest musicians, the production here is bare bones. In truth it sounds a bit dated now - some of these synths, drum machines and effects have not aged so gracefully. And his delivery often falls more on the side of declamatory ranting rather than singing (think the Fall's Mark E. Smith), which is too bad because Hammill is an incredible singer. He can be way over-the-top, but this lack of restraint takes the form of passionate intensity. The man had always been about bearing his soul, but here he seems to tear away the final curtain. It makes you cringe sometimes, but for the right reasons. At the same time, there is a certain tenderness and vulnerability that is heartbreaking.

The other thing he seems to have borrowed from punk was a renewed sense of outrage. His work had always had a cynical edge, but here it was amped up several notches. The music biz comes in for some scathing criticism, whether record company jerks (Pushing Thirty), infantile pop stars ("Trappings"), pathetic has-beens ("The Mousetrap"), creepy fans ("Energy Vampires"), or the industry in general ("The Cut"). On the second half he sets his sights on politics, and is just as pissed off. And in the eye of this storm sits "If I Could," simply one of the most beautiful lost-love ballads of the era.

I've always been left with the impression this album (on the basis of sound, instrumentation, wordiness, grimness and general 'glass half-empty' feel) is a good partner or bookend to Peter Gabriel's second outing. Lots of layered vox, cheap piano, the odd shoestring harmonica and a rebellious chorus or two keep the enterprise from floundering or sounding too stock. PH was heading on a downward curve but rock-bottom was nearly a decade away. Everything here has a weary, grimy (not that kinda grime!) post-protest tint. Less Art, more Alt., and not overburdened with potential singles despite the brevity of the songs.