Big Big Train – Woodcut Review

Artwork by Robin Mckenzie

Do you like beautiful things? Your answer to that question is surely “yes, of course,” but also likely involves some concept of “beautiful” that might be up for discussion between individuals. Here at Last Rites, for example, you might see the word beautiful right next to a word like “ugly” or “despondent” or even “brutal,” and certainly “dark.” And that conversation flows because we’re all familiar with the intersection of that Venn diagram, no matter how many sets one might introduce.

One of progressive rock’s longest running and most loved bands, Big Big Train, has become renowned for many things but above all for cultivating this space. Their music teems with expressive melodies and harmonies, instrumental prowess and singing talent, inspiring stories of historical events and the lives of the people at the heart of them from mundane to heroic, and imagery of picturesque vistas and landscapes, all of it most often described with words like “beautiful” and its myriad synonyms. They’ve approached the darkness at the edges of beauty before, touched on themes of sadness and melancholy and heartbreak and longing, but never quite so deeply and intimately as they have on their most recent album, Woodcut. And the results are breathtaking.

Whereas fans are surely aware, the newly interested might appreciate some light, mostly more recent history in understanding just how the Train arrived at Woodcut. Founded by Greg Spawton and Andy Poole in 1990, Bournemouth, England’s Big Big Train began a now decades-long journey marked by inspirational, emotional, and elaborate melodic progressive rock with folk undertones. Most often compared to Genesis and Marillion, Big Big Train’s ability to craft melodies that might also appeal to popular tastes shift them stylistically from neo-prog to crossover prog, although it must be said, this is a band that found its own voice very early on which, over the years, has become one of the most unique.

Instantly recognizable by now, the Big Big Train sound comes down to a couple main things, including lush, beautiful, (typically) long songs with complex arrangements that feel immediate and comfortable. The core of the sound comes via the classic rock and roll arrangement of electric guitars, bass, and drums, in which melodies and harmonies might be carried delicately by one or a few instruments, including keyboards, violin, cello, or brass, or as part of a grand orchestration to reflect the beauty and splendor of thematic content ranging from simple life to machinery and industry to war and especially the underlying human experience; what Spawton calls, “third person storytelling songs.”

A second critical aspect of Big Big Train songs has always been the vocal elements, provided over the years by four lead singers, including David Longdon beginning in 2009 who ushered in the band’s most successful run of records from The Underfall Yard to 2021’s Common Ground. Longdon died in 2021 from injuries related to an accidental fall. His loss dealt an incredible blow to the band, as Longdon was an instrumentalist and songwriter and, as remembered by Spawton, “above all… a first rate and very kind man.” Understandably, there was a great deal of uncertainty about the band’s future. They responded by making 2022’s posthumously arranged Welcome To The Planet as a sort of farewell, followed the next year by a reworking of four of their best songs, epics focused on transformative technology, called Ingenious Devices, with full orchestra and Longdon’s recorded vocals, and determined to forge ahead.

2024 brought vocalist Alberto Bravin into the fold after Spawton and others had recently seen him perform with Premiata Fornieri Marconi and, despite his supporting role there, recognized right away that his voice would be perfect for Big Big Train, and a new partnership was born.

Though enthusiastic about his voice, Spawton and company could not have been prepared for the active role Bravin would take on the new album, 2024’s wonderful The Likes of Us, for which he wrote five of eight songs and contributed not only lead vocals but guitars, piano, keyboards, and brass arrangements, as well. Other band members joined since include Clare Lindley (2021; violin, guitar, vocals, keyboards), Oskar Holldorff (2023; keyboards, vocals), and most recently Paul Mitchell (2024; trumpet, percussion, backing vocals). And so with the new partnerships came a new approach to songwriting, in which the band shifted from sharing files across the globe to sharing space in the same room, and from narrative storytelling to a more broadly collaborative focus on music inspired by personal experiences, leading first to the poignant warmth of The Likes of Us and then to Woodcut.

For a band in its fourth decade, one might suppose inspiration would be in short supply, but Spawton and company seem to have kept the fire by remembering the curiosity that lit it in the first place. Studying the woodcut exhibit at the Munch Museum in Oslo, Spawton and Bravin became curious about the artistic process of it and the stories therein. From those notes Big Big Train’s first ever full concept album was conceived. The band worked together to create Woodcut, a 16-song record designed to tell the story of The Artist across 66 minutes of what, effectively, is a single work in two major movements.

Big Big Train fans will notice a major shift in the artwork for Woodcut, as well. Where every album prior has featured brightly colored scenes, Woodcut’s cover is comparatively stark, black on white, particularly salient in light of the album’s concept. The two-tone woodblock print is an artist’s interpretation of the album’s theme, commissioned from Dorset-based illustrator and printmaker, Robin Mckenzie. Using an actual woodcut for the album cover is an important statement about beauty and truth in art as the world struggles with understanding the real impact of AI on the art we experience. Less dramatically, it makes a poignant statement about contrast, specifically, the symbolic significance of a negative image that becomes a positive one.

Finally, Woodcut is also Big Big Train’s first album with Bravin as full producer which, according to Bravin and Spawton, happened organically as he kind of just did the work where and how it needed to be done until the album was complete (Bravin says he didn’t even give it a thought until he saw himself credited as Producer in the liner notes).

And with that, Big Big Train’s 16th album comes together, a reflection of a firmly established, well-honed musical entity redesigned, refocused, and re-energized.

“More than any Big Big Train album, this one took control of our lives.”
~ Greg Spawton

For evidence of the purported egalitarian approach to song-making on Woodcut, just have a look at the liner notes where you’ll notice a whole lot of names credited for pretty much all the things. Alberto Bravin is the primary lead singer, of course, but every other member of the band has a lead vocal moment. Every member plays multiple instruments (20+ in total counted conservatively). Most have composer credits, including a newly expanded role for violinist Clare Lindley that paid dividends, and four members contributed lyrics to the story.

While it’s true that Bravin “did the heavy lifting,” all agree that Woodcut is the product of a concerted effort in which each member took a personal stake in the album’s story while, at the same time, preserving the spirit of the band in all its various manifestations.

Woodcut tells the story of a block printer called The Artist, his art, and his process. Big Big Train hit all media in fleshing out the story, including music, of course, cover artwork (with an available mediabook), lyrics, stop-motion type animated videos in wood-carving style, and web-based interactive multimedia provided by InsideOut Music. All of that is really neat and testament to the band’s commitment to concept. It’s risky, though. A concept album so well thought out and fully executed runs the risk of depriving the listener of their own experience as it fills in all the blanks for you, imprinting the experience rather than presenting it freely. Make it too cryptic, on the other hand, and the concept is all but lost.

Woodcut resists hand-holding but presents this wonderful story with just enough detail to facilitate relatability and empathy. You may never have made a woodcut or even seen an Albion Press but you can surely relate to the emotional ebb and flow of creative (or personal, relational, academic, or professional, etc.) pursuits from the exhilarating spark of inspiration to the deep ache of unrealized potential, a dream once vividly dreamed turned hazy and tainted by failure. This story could be about any of us.

The use of motifs is critical to the Woodcut experience, as themes connect the listener with the protagonist musically and lyrically in a variety of ways throughout the album, sometimes clearly, sometimes more subtly. Recurring melodic themes are introduced as early as the opening instrumental, “Inkwell Black,” which works to set the scene, especially in terms of contrast between light and dark. Lyrically, the use of woodcutting terminology is obvious with references to ink, blades, cuts, and presses, but just how these relate metaphorically to the artist’s experience is often less apparent, thus allowing the listener to find their own connection (although, sometimes the metaphor is made quite pointedly).

Contrast is equally important, as motifs are cast in both light and shadow, major and minor keys, and sometimes oscillate in time with the highs and lows of the artist’s journey. Again, this allows for an outsider’s view of the process, the high at creativity’s peak and the low darkness of its waning. And again, it’s subtle enough to invite empathy born of like experience, surely relatable to the artists out there but also to the rest of us, highlighting the absurd notion that our productivity defines us, that what we make is who we are, and then of course the tenuous hold that allows on one’s sense of self-worth.

To carve a thousand birds
And never hear them sing

“The Artist” introduces the main character and his story. The music is classic Big Big Train with warm melody and harmony and yet there is darkness at the edges against which bursts of creative energy are symbolized by cannonade from the bass and drums. Bright guitar and keyboard riffs illuminate the artist’s creative spirit, longing for the spark against the struggle of lighting it, but also impart a feeling like unchecked drive, a growing sense of chaos, culminating in the pure energy of its discovery and uncertainty it portends.

Of course, contrast features prominently in the songwriting, as well, where light passages tend toward pure progressive rock, very much the picture of Big Big Train as they have ever been. Vocal melodies run the range from soft to ebullient and harmonies build context, sometimes delicately, sometimes like towering cascades, always bright and effusive. 12-string guitars and assorted keyboards and synthesizers paint vibrant scenes of quiet contemplation and stimulating epiphany. The darker passages on the other hand, though they trace a feeling to some of those earliest songs, such as King Crimson’s “Epitaph” or Genesis’ “The Knife,” they have just as much in common with  contemporary heavies like Grayceon or Hammers Of Misfortune when they dial it back and let the melody take the lead.

“The Sharpest Blade” is Clare Lindley’s most impactful contribution to Woodcut as primary composer and lyricist, and violinist. Composed mostly from the darkest fringes of folk rock, it is a departure for Big Big Train, maybe their darkest song ever. And it is absolutely critical to the story, conveying the bone-deep ache of the artist’s struggle to form his experience into art.

They say what doesn’t kill you
But I say that’s just not true
We fold these fragile hurts
And dig them down deep
But they’re not gone
They want to be free
And when they come
They cut just as deep
And it just takes longer

Lindley and Bravin exchange verses of dark and light, perhaps representing artist and art, and find a kind of resolution in the final verse, though it’s uncertain just what that might mean. “The Sharpest Blade” makes a certain kind of sense when you know the story so far and it’s main character but, even if you didn’t, it still presents a relatable conundrum of coping with frustration and pain and disappointment with which any of us can surely identify.

As Woodcut flows through its first half (essentially the first major movement), it becomes clear that the music has been crafted in service of the story. Ideas are explored slowly and deliberately, layers peeled back and themes revealed carefully so that the Artist’s character develops in light of the artistic process, a sort of character in its own right. This is remarkable especially because this is prog rock, a subgenre notorious for its infatuation with style over substance. And yet there is no gratuitous showmanship here. Rather, even more complex arrangements feel intentional, melodies and harmonies, rhythms and accoutrements layered and interwoven in support of the particular part of the story a song is telling.

Now that isn’t to say there is no virtuosity on display, just that it’s meted judiciously. The players here are renowned for their instrumental prowess. There are songs on Woodcut that demand a repertoire of specialties limited to a particular class of musicians and Big Big Train’s players navigate these with ease. That rock and roll core of Nick D’Virgilio (Spock’s Beard; Steve Hackett; Mr. Big; lots of other bands) on drums, Rikard Sjöblom (Beardfish; Gungfly) on the electric guitar, and Spawton on bass, deliver combinations of rhythm and riff that light up the soundstage. Oskar Holldorff’s keys paint the corners in shades of darkness to fit the mood and, in just the right moments, fill the sky with technicolor fireworks. That they fit these rock staples into so many different shapes and forms for the story is something like magic. This is a band as likely to drift the listener into memories of prog rock giants as it is to dip into jazz, blues, and folk rock, sometimes all within the same song, and every note and beat sounds selected especially for its place in the story.

One of the common pitfalls of prog is that it forgets to rock and, while that’s not always such a terrible thing, it’s not an issue on Woodcut. Sjöblom’s rockin’ riffs are plentiful, if carefully placed, and top notch throughout. He plays delicately, as needed, and with driving power as rock demands. But it is in Rikard’s solos that you’ll find his greatest strengths. There are many of them, ranging from your sort of standard hard rocker to an Allman-esque (or Caldwell-ian, if that’s more your cuppa) Southern rock sweetness to surf rock to a dreamy, contemplation reminiscent of Gilmour. If you’ve been looking for a new guitar hero or just always have room for one more and don’t already know Rikard Sjöblom then he’s your huckleberry. And, as good as he is on his own, he is a band member first and some of Woodcut’s best moments happen when he ascends into madness with the rest of the band for a good old fashioned prog rock instrumental workout, of which there are a few here, each masterfully designed and oriented within the story to reflect some of the most meaningful moments of the artist’s journey.

Woodcut’s latter half, or second major movement, features more of the full-band frenzy mentioned above because it suits the story. There’s more variety in the vocals here, as well, for the same reason. It will be a challenge for anybody to identify any one thing that accounts for the high quality of this album, but the vocals will be a common choice, partly because they are an index of superior songwriting, and not at all because these are the most technically proficient singers in prog, but mostly because they are simply enchanting. One gets the impression that each member took the lyrics the way a method actor takes a script. Add the choice to match singers to the mood and feel of a song, to a specific element of the story, and the result is that rare level of authenticity that pushes good music to great and great to outstanding.

As Woodcut is stood up against other albums by other bands, even great ones, it’s going to become evident that it succeeds on its merits. The magic that these musicians have conjured together is special in a way that will render such comparisons largely moot, because it is the pure product of their selfless and wholly invested collaboration.

It’s all wonderfully exemplified by the way “Last Stand” brings everything together. Motifs are reprised and themes integrated, building to the story’s denouement in grand fashion. As a closing number, it offers something of a statement in its seemingly effortless culmination of all Woodcut‘s musical and lyrical ideas to assure the listener they’ve arrived at just the right place, as if to remind us that even as beauty lies in the eye of the beholder, its immutable truth lies at the heart of the process.

Alberto Bravin – Lead Vocals, Acoustic and Electric Guitars, Keyboards, Moog, Mellotron
Nick D’virgilio – Drums, Percussion, Keyboards, Acoustic and 12-String Guitars, Vocals
Oskar Holldorff – Grand Piano, Wurlitzer and Fender Rhodes Electric Pianos,
Hammond Organ, Mellotron, Synthesizers, Vocals
Clare Lindley – Violin, Acoustic Guitar, Vocals
Paul Mitchell – Trumpet, Piccolo Trumpet, Vocals
Rikard Sjöblom – 6- and 12-String Guitars, Hammond Organ, Vocals
Gregory Spawton – Bass, Bass Pedals, 12-String Acoustic Guitar, Mellotron, Vocals

With guests:
Maddie Wegg – Flute, Clarinet
Brian Mullen – Cello

Posted by Lone Watie

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