Onwards to last spring, and the final installment of the trilogy arrives, fittingly it is an album wrapped-up in the mythological and magical significance of numbers. The Nine is a set of questioning lyrics from Tim Jones, set to a group-composed, soulful musical dreamscape, from an idea by the returning Kevin Hodge, who this time contributes just acoustic guitar to the record. Joining Kevin and singer Tim, is the now permanent fixture of John Simms on guitar, guitar synth and keyboards, along with Mark Dunn on bass, Paddi on drums, and finally Maxine Marten on backing vocals.
Opener Signature languidly ascends on the back of a simple piano line and John's arpeggio guitar. "To be truly famous, you have to be truly misunderstood" sings Tim at his most contemplative, as he takes us on a long trip that would seem to be a plea for a lost spirituality, a reference to the loss of connection with nature in this modern age. "The mind is a matter, as a matter of fact. While the bees die we are glued to our screens," is one of many clever and thought-provoking lines.
Days split into numbered segments, "defender of regular hours", The Emperor hip-sways through the consciousness, almost metronomic, the song cleverly repeats the formula again and again. Time stands still while moving. This is songcraft at its best. In his best Dickensian fashion, Tim, as a cosmic Uriah Heep, narrates a tale of troubled souls, trapped in a world of corruption, intolerance and greed on Delivering The Goods "to the high and mighty".
This is an album where the music, good as it is, finds itself secondary to Tim's psychedelically politicised and acerbic wordplay. Following a comical and almost music hall diversion about our ginger No.2-in-line (Prince Harry – for non-UK readers –Ed) and pre-destination, and then a thoroughly nasty scenario of druggy oblivion set to a contrasting, woozy backing, replete with lots of "ooos" and "aahhs" from Maxine, we have Timelessness, a poetic treatise against our control by the so-called freedoms of capitalist society, ending with another great line or two from John.
The numbers theme returns on The Crunch, the protagonist saying: "I won't live by numbers", being alternately "magnetised", "hypnotised" or "suffocated" by numbers, and all ending with "death by numbers". Given what I do in the "real" world, that makes me smile.
Nine, of course is A Most Remarkable Number, and this cinematic sashay, with some lovely, sonorous bass from Mark Dunn, gives Tim the chance to extrapolate on the remarkable properties of the number 9.
We end with The Truth Inverted, which reprises the musical theme from the beginning, Tim letting us know in a "Dickens does the narrator from Joe's Garage" style, that although the "truth is out there somewhere", it is in a "bleak and desolate place". Another fine short solo from John, raises the song from the slough of despond, and Tim ends with the declaration of a thoroughly malevolent God, who must have gotten out the wrong side of the bed that day!
This is not a particularly joyful or hopeful album, but as we get older, the optimism of youth is often subsumed by the "shitstem" (®John Lydon). However, overall this album is a fine example of great, if somewhat downer lyricism, topped off with some fine playing from the band.
(Reviewed by Roger Trenwith - Dutch Progressive Rock Page - (www.dprp.net)