For years now, I've been buying CD's that have the word "REMASTERED" plastered all over the front, but there's no real universal standard for what that word actually translates to as a listening experience. Sometimes, it's compression that makes the music louder and brighter while losing dynamic range in the process; for example, I bought a New Order singles compilation a few years back that jumped out of the speakers, but with a brittle harshness that made me put it on the shelf in favor of the old pressings. After all, I have a volume knob for a reason.
However, there are times where the remastering process genuinely cleans up the sound without removing the essence of the recording, allowing you to hear even the most hoary chestnut of a track with new ears and a renewed appreciation. And over the past few years, I've had those aural experiences mostly through the work of Steven Wilson. For over a decade, Wilson was the focal point behind the band Porcupine Tree -- their 2002 album In Absentia is one of my favorite 21st Century records -- but he's currently known for his ace solo career as well as his wizardry in the studio as an architect of some of the best sonic reinvigorations of work by Yes, Jethro Tull, XTC, Opeth, and others. Here, I'd like to focus on Wilson's work on two specific albums, both released within a year of the other.
In The Court Of The Crimson King is the 1969 debut of the British collective spearheaded by guitarist Robert Fripp known as King Crimson. Featuring vocals by the recently deceased Greg Lake (before he departed to form Emerson, Lake, and Palmer), In The Court Of The Crimson King could be considered to be the first album to fit the nomenclature of Progressive Rock, a root of the rock & roll tree that focused less on dancing and blues-based structures for Apollonian lyrical themes and knotty, complicated songs that drew from jazz and folk and cutting-edge technology. And at points, it also rocks like a motherfucker.
Pretty much every edition I'd heard of this album was compromised by the aural limitations of the era, like three weeks of plaque on bright and shiny teeth, but when I saw that Wilson crafted a 5.1 remaster from newly found source material, I knew I had to take the plunge. And sweet Jesus, to think I was listening to an album that was born before I was. First, both the stereo mix and the 5.1 mix had a striking clarity when compared to the mixes that had been standard for so many years, like blowing cobwebs off crystal. In particular, the surround sound setting created an enveloping field of purpose and intent, with every breath and strum placed for maximum impact. And most importantly, it allowed me to approach the songs as if I were dropping the needle at the inception, which, for all intents and purposes, I was. "21st Century Schizoid Man" was nimble and menacing, "Epitaph" was sweeping and epic, and the title track was a towering monument to mystery and mysticism. In short, I was blown the fuck away.
And then I listened to Wilson's mix of Chicago's second album.
Chicago first hit the scene in 1969 -- as did King Crimson, an ocean away -- but at that time, the American jazz-rock ensemble was known as Chicago Transit Authority. CTA released their double-album debut that year, and followed it up in 1970 with another (!) double album, under the truncated band name Chicago. While plenty of hits came from that sophomore effort -- such as AM radio staples "Colour My World," "Make Me Smile," and "25 or 6 to 4" -- the sound quality left something to be desired, and no subsequent mix, from the '70s Quad mix to the '00s 5.1 mix, was able to rectify the muddy sonics.
Last year, Rhino issued a press release stating that Steven Wilson would be tasked with whipping up a new stereo mix -- sadly, not a new 5.1 mix -- from the original master tapes, and understandably, the kind of people that would be excited by this news were excited. Wilson's mix was released this past Friday, and once again, he's managed to work wonders with the materials at his disposal. I keep coming back to the word "clarity" to describe Wilson's biggest gift to the material, but there's also a jaw-dropping level of space that Wilson's mix gives to the instrumentalists, from Peter Cetera's nimble bass playing to Terry Kath's virtuoso guitar lines, that allow the listener to feel each member's contributions while also seeing their convergence into one body of creation. In particular, "Fancy Colours" and "25 Or 6 To 4" are real showcases of Wilson's sonic upgrade, with Cetera's urgent tenor and Kath's powerful solos fueling a band at the height of a power they would never quite achieve again.
It's a shame that every major catalog artist can't benefit from Wilson's alchemy, whether it's a lack of solid master tapes or the fact that there's only one Wilson and so many hours in the day, (He's still making great music under his name, so we can't lose Wilson the artist in the archival process.) But if you are a fan of classic albums receiving the full promise of the remastering process, start looking for the name "Steven Wilson" in the liner notes. Hell, I didn't even talk about what he did with Aqualung by Jethro Tull...but that's for me to know, and you to find out, isn't it?
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