It’s only fitting that a man who’ll utilise anything from a keytar to a Steinway grand piano to a Moog Polyphonic Synth should enlist a singer just as willing to push the creative envelope to get the performance he wants. By his own admission, Jordan Rudess knew nothing of Joe Payne – formerly frontman with The Enid, now operating under the name of That Joe Payne – when they first met on a prog cruise.
But the Dream Theater keyboard player was hugely impressed by the British singer’s incredible voice and megawatt charisma. And Payne is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to unlikely personnel choices here.
Permission To Fly is Rudess’ 20th solo record, and it features lyrics written by his daughter Ariana – “The essence of the album is informed by the tumultuous events of 2023-2024, with motifs of peace and anti-violence woven throughout,” he says. If that wasn’t unique enough, the guitar parts on the album are played by Steve Dadaian, a world-class cosmetic dentist by day,and a stellar six-stringer by night, if this is anything to go by).
Yet Permission To Fly works despite – or rather because of – the unlikely mix of people involved, and Rudess takes a similarly maverick approach to its songs. Moments of trippy histrionics are balanced by weighty hooks and classy melody lines. These songs revel in the unpredictable.
They confounding the listener… then offer something they’ll be whistling an hour later
Eternal, for instance, is a mind-bending wig-out which mutates from a Zappa-esque motif into the kind of power ballad chorus that demands a black-and-white video featuring a wind machine.
The hook of Into The Lair sounds like it could have been lifted from some Andrew Lloyd Webber musical extravaganza; but it also features an extended, Steve Vai-esque solo that would have the average theatregoer fleeing for the exits.
Rudess and his colleagues have the knack of confounding the listener one moment, then offering something they’ll be whistling an hour later. It’s not an easy trick to pull off, but they repeatedly manage it.
Permission To Fly is loaded with these kinds of moments across its nine tracks. It’s colourful and rich on the lovely Haunted Reverie, then suddenly unhinged on The Alchemist – its erratic multi-vocal middle section leads into a melody that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on Genesis’ A Trick Of The Tail, before deliberately driving itself off the road once again into a ditch of percussion and revolving, stabbing keyboard parts.
It’s that sort of record. Roll on album 21.
Permission To Fly is on sale now via InsideOut.
