Dream Theater, Metropolis Part 2

Tim Gallant, December 13, 2002

You are nearly certain that it has become pointless to go to a music store. You walk in, surrounded by atonal alternative, dance drivel, and hip-hop hype. Evidence of a post-modern, post-musical worldview. Even most country is turning into pop schmaltz. I mean, Shania’s new album is country? What country is that?

But you make a turn into the aisle that you never thought you would examine very closely. It’s on someone else’s recommendation, but still…. Your fingers glide over the D’s: Dio, Dokken – “I can’t believe I’m in the metal section. Look at the gory artwork, and some of this stuff must be outright Satanic. I still have a hard time believing any of these guys can actually play music with real chords and real melodies.”

But, if you’re in a store with a decent selection of music, there it is: Dream Theater. There’s Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence, the new release, which apparently is selling in stacks without any radio support. Double album. Well, you’re not ready to get in that deep just yet. Oh, here we are: Metropolis Part 2: Scenes from a Memory. Interesting collage on the cover. A bunch of portraits create a larger face. You pick up the CD and take it to the cashier. The clerk doesn’t seem to have any glimmer of recognition.

The wrapper is off by the time you hit the car, and you slide it into the stereo. Sounds like a ticking clock, and then a . . . hypnotherapist? Okay, the music begins. This was in the metal section? It sounds like folk. A simple vocal and acoustic guitar. For a couple minutes. Here comes some noise. Well, it’s still melodic. Hey, there’s some craft here. These guys are musicians. And where’s the screeching distortion?

You flip open the booklet. What’s this? Cast of Characters. Chronological Key. You’ve stumbled across a dinosaur – a theme album. You thought those went out twenty years ago.

Presently the music is slow, guided by a piano. Now the guitar cuts in, hard rock but not overbearing. The music is complex, creative and listenable. Without love / without truth / there can be no turning back / Without faith / without hope / there can be no peace of mind.

So what’s this all about? The story-line employs the power of memory to unravel the murder of a young woman. Bit by bit, you put the pieces together. You thought the album was about repressed childhood memories. A dubious concept to begin with. But in fact it’s about . . . reincarnation. The patient is torn into madness because of his memories of a previous life. His cure lies in the power of recall.

You sigh and you listen. The guitar weaves around the vocals. Aural landscapes.

Finally the music ends, well over an hour after it began. You sigh again. After hearing this, you really don’t feel like listening to any three minute radio jingles. You’ve lost your taste for them. Even rock music can be visionary, and you have the proof in your CD player. But reincarnation?

“We’ve forgotten what we’re doing with music,” you reflect ruefully.

It takes someone with a messed-up worldview to remind us that music is art. Nothing new, perhaps. Jubal was a descendant of Cain….