I have waited six years for Iona to put out a new studio album. Six long years. That's a long time to be patient with a band instead of just forgetting that they're still around and moving on to other things, but this UK-based progressive outfit has had a special place in my heart ever since my freshman year of college. With Celtic and jazz influences, they've managed to create some of the most transcendent and beautiful records I've ever heard, which makes them a favorite band to put on when I want to relax without listening to something dumbed down.

I can still recall the giddiness I felt the first time I listened to 2000's Open Sky (which was probably the first full album that I downloaded from Napster, and putting it that way makes it seem like a long time ago!), which stretched the definition and scope of what an Iona "song" could be, and I eagerly followed them into the land of thundering 9-minute instrumentals and lengthy, ethereal trilogies that expressed wordless praise to an infinite God. It had been over 4 years since Journey into the Morn, which was Open Sky's predecessor, and there had been two excellent live albums to fill in that gap. Waiting for their next full album would prove to require more patience, as all we got in between was The River Flows a box set repackaging their first three albums (remastered), plus a disc of odds and ends called Dunes. Lovely stuff, but not their next masterwork. I guess life happens - they severed ties with their labels in both the UK and America and created their own vanity label, lead singer Joanne Hogg had a few kids, and a few other members worked on their solo careers and played random gigs across Western Europe. But dude... six years.

And now we have The Circling Hour, a 65-minute, independently released Iona epic which suddenly arrived in my mailbox this September after I had preordered it without any expectation of a due date in the near future. Iona albums generally aren't ideal for the car, since they can have long stretches of quiet meditation, but my wife and I had to be in Orange County for a concert in a few hours, so we gave it a test run in the car's CD player. Ironically, it turned out to be the Iona album most suited for car trips. Journey into the Morn may well be the most accessible Iona album, with the most potential "singles", but despite the way that The Circling Hour's songs sprawl out a little more, it's very much the album where Iona lets loose and jams - drummer Frank Van Essen and guitarist Dave Bainbridge are pretty much the stars of this show. I have a deep love for the role of percussion in several genres of music, so with most bands, I'd be thrilled at this development... but this is Iona, and I'm used to putting them on to mellow out? What's going on here? Where's the soothing ballad, the latest "Murlough Bay" or "Open Sky" with its shimmering beauty for listeners to bask in again and again? I guess at some point, a band known for playing progressive rock has to get back to the "rock" part of the equation. But man, this one threw me for a loop, in exactly the opposite way of how most rock bands like to throw me for a loop.

I'm not saying that there isn't some beautiful music here. The lilting voice of Joanne Hogg fits this new context well, as the band bursts forth with lilting dances of praise and wonder on an album dedicated to the beauty of God's green Earth. The elements of nature are so present in these songs that it's tempting to play the "New Age" card the first time you hear some of these lyrics. I hate that criticism of Iona, so I don't like to even bring it up, but when taken out of context, some of these songs do seem like beautiful things are being revered just for their own intrinsic strength. Listen to the album as a whole - the tie-ins to Christianity are clearly stated, which serves to ground the album in much the same way that the Gaelic version of "Be Thou My Vision" and the solemn reverence of "When I Survey" gave context to songs like "Encircling" that might have otherwise sounded like strange spell-casting. But this rhythmic dance, which takes off a few minutes into the first track and, aside from short instrumental bits in the middle of a few songs, doesn't let up until the contemplative trilogy of "Wind-Water-Fire" near the end of the album, might be a bit of a shift for fans who were used to Iona's more directly reverent and liturgical side, as seen on The Book of Kells. Then again, it's this ability to use universal observations of beauty and later bring it around and ascribe that beauty to God in creative ways that has earned them so many European fans who aren't necessarily Christians, but just enjoy gorgeous music. I'm confident that those who enjoy Enya, Clannad, or some of the more Irish-influenced efforts by The Corrs could get into this, regardless of one's individual religious beliefs.

Empyrean Dawn
The mystery of creative thought
The wonder of the human frame
Of spirit and of soul...
If you complained about Open Sky going for nearly ten minutes before you heard even a single note of Joanne's lovely voice, then you'll love how this track opens immediately with just Joanne, singing a quiet verse of a hymn that frames the album thematically: "How wonderful this world of Thine, a fragment of a fiery sun." At the end of this verse is a dramatic moment that will startle you about as much as the intro to "Heaven's Bright Sun", where the whole band breaks in with a loud bang and suddenly goes into a "big rock show" finish even though it's the beginning of the song - it's nearly two minutes into the song before this coalesces into the main rhythm and melody of the song, and I think that two minutes might have worked better as a separate intro track, but whatever. The song itself expands upon the hymn that Joanne started with, galloping along with acoustic guitar and bodhran, and a rhythm not unlike their classic song "Treasure". Truth be told, it feels a bit lightweight by Iona standards at first, especially with a chorus entirely populated with "La la la"s (though Joanne does harmonize nicely with herself here), and the track doesn't really hit its stride until Frank van Essen whips out a lovely, calm violin solo close to the six minute mark, which is followed by a lovely burst of sunshine in the form of a Dave Bainbridge guitar solo. The song escalates from there into a lovely climax, which drops off at a false ending and then picks up again, bringing more strength to the main melody of the song until it finally reaches its true crescendo at close to eight minutes.

Children of Time
The music calls and the gates unclose
Onward and onward the wild way goes
O fading phantoms of pain and mirth
We die in the bliss of a new birth...
Like some of Iona's best rhythmic tracks ("Today", "Revelation", "Kells", "Wave After Wave", etc.), this one is defined by a dependable drum cadence, which resonates through the verses with its constant tumbling sequence - Ba-da-bum, bum, bum, bum, ba-bum-bum PSH! Joanne's keyboards lightly trickle through these falling boulders, with her lyrics seeming to have trouble sticking to the rhythm first, but it all eventually congeals into a chorus which does a lovely little celebrative dance. The song has a really solid hook, and despite being drawn out to the usual "prog rock" length, it's probably one of Iona's more single-worthy tracks, assuming there were a radio market for this sort of thing. It's a beautifully performed song, with the only weak spots being some introductory lyrics that are difficult to hear at the beginning of the song, and the way that the verses kind of flounder a bit, not really segueing into the simple chorus of "Oh, children of time!" in a satisfying way. It's kind of like the lyrics are just wandering about, stream of consciousness style, and then Joanne trails off a bit, and then, oh hey, let's do the chorus again! Despite that, it's still one of my favorite tracks on the album.

Strength
Like the strength of a bird, flying into the wind
Like the strength of the wind, lifting the desert sand...
This is the first Iona track in a long time that I feel is a bit of a dud. I hate to say that straight out - it's not a wholly unpleasant tune. It's just way too straightforward by Iona standards. With its lyrics, which talk about the strength of various elements of nature and of the human spirit, it seems poised to be the next "Today", but the song unfolds a bit too carefully to really reflect the sense of joy that Iona's upbeat songs usually do. That same chord progression and verse structure goes on for far too long without changing much, too - like the strength of this, like the strength of that... OK, when are you guys going to finish the analogy? Initially, it's answered with the void of a wordless "aaaaah" and a guitar solo where a chorus should be, and finally that void is filled in with a reprise of the first verse from that hymn that we heard in the first track, morphed a bit to fit the melody and rhythm of this song. The drumming is constant but fairly static until the final push at the end, and Bainbridge's guitar work is credible, but also a bit repetitive, so the best element of the song is really the layering of Joanne's voice (which they should be careful not to rely on too much since it's not something that can be recreated in concert). There's some glimmering keyboard work which is nice when the bridge finally offers a change in the melodic scenery, but it's a bit buried under the business-as-usual rhythm. I just kind of get tired of this drawn-out mantra by the time its five minutes are up. Sorry, Iona, but you've done better work.

Wind Off the Lake
All sails grow from you
In your soul, in your soul...
Here's where things get really progressive on us. And if you're an Iona fan, that's not at all a bad thing. From the dense, multi-layered "Man" to the fog-shrouded jig "Castlerigg", they've unleashed some fine trilogies on us over the years, and this one, while a bit lacking in the lyrics department, continues that tradition well enough. It feels a lot like "Castlerigg" at first, when a lively, ethereal jig played by the drums and electric guitar gets started after Troy Donockley whispers, "This time, I see it!", but it soon morphs into a tour de force of guitar prowess as both Dave and Troy get to unleash some stratospheric guitar solos over the course of this song's generous eleven minutes. The biggest surprise is the vocal section of the song, which matches the main motif of the guitar solo as Troy (yes, Troy - not Joanne as you'd have normally expected!) sings the few lines of the song that there are to be repeated. I don't get what this business is about sails growing from me, but dang if this track doesn't make me want to be out on a boat in the middle of nowhere with the wind and sunshine beating against my face. Troy, Dave, and Frank play off of each other wonderfully here, with the guitars, drums, and various pipes and flutes shifting back and forth between 6/8 time and 4/4 time. The song eventually breaks through the cloud cover and falls silent, leaving a lengthy section of Joanne's quiet, misty keyboard ambience and echoing vocals to finish things off. Think the last section of "Encircling" minus the flute and harp and any actual lyrics, or the middle section of "Songs of Ascent, Part 2", you'll have the right idea. She seems to be teasing at the melody from "Empyrean Dawn" with her indiscernible angelic vocalizations here, but I can't be sure.

Factory of Magnificent Souls
No one ever asked questions with marks as sharp as these
They pierced the veins of Jesus, who was one of the least of these
And no one ever gave an answer with as gentle a word as this
You took violent indignation, and You killed it with a political kiss...
Now that's an odd title for an Iona song. (It became even odder when it was misprinted in a magazine interview with Dave Bainbridge as "Factory of Magnets for the Soul." LOL.) Iona's done many a song about islands, being named after a Scottish isle, but I don't think they've done something quite like this song since "Dancing on the Wall". It definitely has the same slightly political tone to that early Iona tune (which was a bit of a wallflower until it was beautifully transformed on the Woven Cord live album), but it's transformed into a cute little acoustic dance with a zig-zagging rhythm and some pretty little bits of Troy's pipe playing here and there, just to add to the Irish-ness of it. It's almost a shock, coming on the heels of an expansive song like "Wind Off the Lake" that was largely free-form and devoid of lyrics, and now Joanne's singing in much more verbose and descriptive language about an island where cruel injustices have been carried out against mankind, and yet where redemption is clearly visible. Wary listeners tempted to play the "new age" card should find the band's beliefs coming into clear focus here, and I think it's a great way for the band, after exploring the more aesthetic beauty of God's universe, to then state how their Christian beliefs relate to this in a compelling but not overly preachy way, acknowledging the ugliness that sinful man has tainted the universe, but also affirming the sovereignty of God's grace and the way that He lovingly created those humans one by one.

Sky Maps
It must have been a morning like this
When Galileo looked into infinity
From within and without...
Keeping things upbeat (aside from a brief, lovely intro where the piano plays the song's main musical theme over what sounds like backmasked acoustic guitar) is this glorious little jam session where Troy's whistles and whatnot trade riffs back and forth with more of Dave's magical guitar soloing, with Frank and the band's bassist Phil Barker working furiously in the background to create a steady current of rhythm for the band to play in. There are sections of the song where the music is mostly just Frank and Phil, actually - an extreme rarity for a band whose calling card is usually the more melodic and exotic instruments that Dave and Troy can play, as well as Joanne's ethereal keyboards. Like "Wind Off the Lake", this one uses lyrics only on an impressionistic level, with Joanne repeating the phrase "Notice how" several times before finally leading into a verse which paints a gorgeous word picture despite its brevity: "Notice how the air it clears, in a city like a museum of hosts, the sun and moon, as they melt the wall, the well-worn wall." Over a gentle but breathtaking interlude of piano and violin, she goes on to invoke the likeness of Galileo looking into space and being awed by the vastness of God's universe, which leads the band into the second half of their jam session. For my money, it's the most sublime track on the album, and the track most likely to go down in Iona's history as an enduring live favorite.

No Fear in Love
Like this great arc of sky, a window to infinity
A bright and deathless morning waiting for me
Love to be imprinted on my heart, like notes upon a score
The music eager to open heaven's door...
This track is also a bit more straightforward in its approach, with Joanne's introductory verse just kind of hanging out there in the either before an echoing drum rhythm creeps in to join her. It soon develops into a lovely cascade of voice, acoustic guitar, piano, and percussion, with the lyrics about the indestructible, enduring nature of genuine love mirroring earlier "romantic" Iona favorites such as "No Heart Beats" or "Murlough Bay". Even when Iona puts on a "romantic" atmosphere, there's still something extremely reverent and holy about it, so it maintains a lot of gravity even when Joanne utters a statement so seemingly commonplace as "There is no argument to win or lose." It's love in each of its three facets - the soft and delicate melody provides the eros, the wisdom in the lyrics brings in the philia, and the band's overall reverent disposition makes the agape an implicit, inherent quality. As is common with Iona, the good stuff comes in threes.

Wind
Here's where things finally get mellow and reflective and stay there for a little while. This is really the first track of a three-part "Wind-Water-Fire" trilogy, and it's wholly instrumental, serving mainly as a spotlight for Frank's violin, which draws out slow, shimmering strands of stardust in a still night sky (I pulled that analogy out of thin air because this piece is strongly reminiscent of Open Sky's "A Million Stars").

Water
As one musical piece breathes into another and Joanne sweetly breathes an angelic "Aaaaaahhhh", the mood becomes strongly reminiscent of the band's "Snowdonia" suite. The condensation process begins to happen gradually as light drums, almost sounding like tabla, fade in underneath, and the violin begins to match up to their rhythm. Before we know it, we're sinking deeper into the vast ocean, the waves distorting and reflecting the moonlight above, creating an ever-deepening, echoing climax that gets louder and louder, until finally breaking into...

Fire
The circling hour and the flaming gate
Release the fire of Heaven's Sun
To birth the new, consume the old
To purify the heart's desire...
The most ingenious section of the trilogy brings an abrupt change in mood, as the tribal thumping of drums in 10/8 time begins, and the band jumps into a slamming, explosive series of guitar bursts, hearkening back to some of the rhythmically tricky jam sessions in pieces such as "Songs of Ascent, Part 3" or "Bi-Se I Mo Shuil, Part 2". This goes on for a few minutes before falling away just as suddenly as it appeared, giving way to a calmer section in 6/8 (or is that 6/4?) time which contains the song's only lyrics, picking up where "Children of Time" left off in terms of referencing the album's title and giving clues as to its meaning. (I don't even know what that meaning is, but the moon is an image seen a few times in the CD booklet and on the actual disc itself, and it's a celestial body used to mark time, so do with that knowledge what you will.) Joanne eventually goes back into "angelic one-woman choir" mode while the piano loops through its simple, starry melody again and again and Dave's final guitar solo grows louder and higher-pitched until the whole thing bursts and falls back to Earth in a silent, glimmering cloud.

Fragment (of a Fiery Sun)
Where all things serve Thy great design
And life's adventure has begun anew
The life of all...
The final track appears to be a reprise of the gentle verse that opened the album, bring things full circle (pun intended), with the gentle touch of violin, piano, and guest vocalist Heather Findlay to make sure Joanne isn't left hanging out there all by her lonesome. It's not quite a complete piece, just a fragment as the title implies, so as endings go, I'm a bit under whelmed with it - though I once said about the title track from Beyond These Shores, so maybe if I give it time, it will come to mean more to me. It's a bit corny to let the album trail off on the words "Life's adventure", but grand, sweeping phrases like that are the bread and butter of most prog rock bands, so I won't dwell on it.

Speaking as a seasoned Iona fan, I'll have to say that The Circling Hour isn't Iona's best record, or the ideal place for a new fan to start. I'd rate it a solid B, knowing full well that it's stacked up against no less than three A-grade albums in the band's catalogue. I think It's more listenable from front to back than The Book of Kells or the self-titled album, even if I can't guarantee the album will be remembered for as many classic Iona songs as those early efforts. If you're new to the band, start with Journey into the Morn or Beyond These Shores, then try Open Sky, and then track this one down. That oughta work best.

ALBUM WORTH:
Empyrean Dawn $1
Children of Time $1.50
Strength $0.50
Wind Off the Lake $1.50
Factory of Magnificent Souls $1.50
Sky Maps $2
No Fear in Love $1.50
Wind $1
Water $1
Fire $1.50
Fragment (of a Fiery Sun) $.50
TOTAL: $13.50

Band Members:
Joanne Hogg: Lead vocals, keyboards
Dave Bainbridge: Electric and acoustic guitars, e-bow guitar, keyboards, piano, bouzouki, mandolin, Hammond organ, wind chimes, backing vocals
Troy Donockley: Vocals, Uilleann pipes, low & high whistles, tin whistle, tofran, bouzouki, e-bow guitar, slide guitar, keyboards
Frank Van Essen: Drums, drum pads, violin, viola, bodhran, shaker, darabukkas, finger cymbals, tambourine, djembe, tom toms, backing vocals
Phil Barker: Bass

Websites:
http://www.iona.uk.com
http://www.myspace.com/ionauk

Recommended: Yes

Great Music to Play While: Reading or Studying