With their 2005 release, Octavarium, prog-metal virtuosos Dream Theater have managed to capture both the attention of critics and of fans new and old. Blending elements of their established brilliance with a brand-new finesse and newfound sense of the hook, DT gets away with freewheelin’ instrumental solos and tight, precise full band productions. The band’s ability to border on pretentious while remaining accessible is one my favorite things about them; they’ve got talent oozing out of their fingertips, which perhaps lets them go nuts instrumentally without much criticism. On that note, though, one main criticism of this record is John Petrucci’s distinct lack of extended soloing, hard-and-heavy riffing, and general noodling. Yeah, there are some solos—some seriously awesome solos at that—but I can’t help but crave more gee-tar pyrotechnics, since I know he’s quite capable of them. Oh well, the rest of the band fills up the space admirably. James LaBrie has shorn up the loose edges on his voice and brought in some new tricks, while John Myung—historically the quiet bass player stereotype—actually features more prominently on a few tracks. Drummer Mike Portnoy and keyboardist extraordinaire Jordan Rudess do their usual admirable (and awe-inspiring) job at their respective instruments. The first half of the record unfortunately doesn’t hold up well by itself—but the second half will blow you away. So, let the opining commence. . .

The Root of All Evil, the third song in Mike Portnoy’s battle with the bottle tunes, sounds eerily reminiscent of the first song in the series, The Glass Prison. The latter is an absolutely brilliant tune, and as much as I enjoy the former, the ideas are recycling themselves and it shows. Badly. Not to say it’s all horrible—the industrialized elements of the tune, with filtered piano, heavy drumming, and driving riffage from Mr. Petrucci all sound great. Congrats to Portnoy for sticking with it to conquer his alcoholism, but if we have to hear all twelve steps . . . oh man. Still, it’s a noteworthy tune. The Answer Lies Within supposedly gives a positive message, but it comes off as depressing. If the answers to life are within me, then I am screwed. Instrumentally, it’s nothing terribly complicated, but the way the instruments blend and become nearly orchestral sounds scrumptious.

These Walls, however, makes up for all the shortcomings of the previous two songs with its hard hitting instrumentals and an emotive, powerful vocal performance from Mr. LaBrie. Anthemic and convincing, the song highlights many of the band’s strengths. Clocking in at seven and a half minutes, the song extends itself without going overboard and getting overlong. Some swirling guitar work, combined with blended keyboards, the song keeps a fairly low profile until the building prechorus. Tear down these walls for me, stop me from going under, sings LaBrie passionately; you’re the only one who knows I’m holding back . . . Sure, the lyrics are nothing to write home about—it’s standard “help me overcome” type stuff, but the instrumentation more than makes up for it. Thank goodness this song falls in the tracklisting where it does; without it, the first half would be pretty awful by Dream Theater standards.

I liked I Walk Beside You better when it was Pride (In the Name of Love). Seriously, boys, what’s up with the U2 impersonation?! James: You are NOT Bono. Please don’t ever try and sing like him when you could blow the roof off with your larynx. Mike: you could put in a more inspired performance with a pair of dry spaghetti noodles as your drumsticks. Mr. Myung: Did you actually come into the studio the day this was recorded? Jordan: way to douse the song in Aunt Jemima’s Maple Syrup, buddy. And finally, to Mr. Petrucci, you own the Edge. Play like it next time, all right?

Enough said about that, I think. Thankfully, the negativity ends here with the start of the second half and the frenetic, cathartic Panic Attack. A frenzied bass line collides with Metallica-like guitar (it reminds me of Master of Puppets more every time I hear it) shredding to start the song, further emphasized by lightning quick drumming. LaBrie’s spiffy rhythmic delivery accentuates the song’s heavy emphasis on the beat, like the racing of one’s heart that I imagine accompanies panic attacks. The brief choral appearance (I suspect it’s Jordan’s keyboard) hearkens back to the Scenes From a Memory days; I wonder if the flashback was intentional? Certainly, this song falls into the vein of the heavy tracks from Train of Thought or even Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence; I know some fans complain about the heaviness, but I wish DT would go heavy more often.

An industrial-like intro leads off the techno-influenced, prog-metal approved Never Enough. Some spacey effect adds an extra zip to LaBrie’s vocals while Jordan goes wild on his keyboards, jumping from effect to arpeggio to another effect. Petrucci sounds a little more subdued for much of the song; his hard-hitting riffage is there, of course, but he waits until the bridge to really let loose. Ah, there’s that solo we’ve been waiting for! Portnoy pounds the drum heads dutifully as Myung skillfully maintains his low-end responsibilities. LaBrie and the effects are really the stars of the song, though; LaBrie sounds awesome, reaching to the top of his range without sounding strained and adding some welcome emotion to his delivery. Some chattering in Arabic and snips of 9/11 newscasts open Sacrificed Sons, a powerful, epic-style tune with chilling vocals by LaBrie. It feels like a dirge, with the lyrics referencing the 9/11 terrorist attacks, but in a good way. Bombastic solos from John Petrucci (YES) and Jordan Rudess highlight the instrumental bridge, which serves as the perfect transition between the two halves of the song (the first half runs at a slightly slower, more subdued pace; the second half is more dramatic, frenetic, and angry). The second half features minor orchestral additions, which add to the overall sadness and horror the songs sings of, as do some of the vocal layerings. Clocking in at over ten and a half minutes, Sacrificed Sons proves one of Dream Theater’s most effective tracks, not just on Octavarium, but of all the compositions they’ve written over their illustrious career.

The title and closing track, a twenty-four minute stunning epic (how interesting that twenty-four is divisible by eight . . .), was conveniently divided into five sections. The first, “Someone Like Him,” takes a few minutes to get into gear, but once it gets off the ground, the listener is completely swept up in a whirlwind, a twister created by excellent songwriting, an acute sense of timing, and the band’s ridiculous ability to play as one machine. Section two, “Medicate (Awakening),” triggers memories of some of the softer moments of Six Degrees; the movement retains its individuality through an entirely new sense of rhythm and later, the escalating keyboard soloing. The third (and my favorite) section of Octavarium, “Full Circle,” contains a section of whirling, carnival-like delivery of cultural references:

Sailing on the seven seize the day tripper diem’s ready jack the ripper owen wilson phillips and my supper’s ready lucy in the sky with diamond dave’s not here I come to save the day for nightmare cinema show me the way to get back home again

So far, I see references to the familiar pirate’s phrase (disguised by a pun), a few familiar cultural idioms, the London serial killer, an actor, a toolmaker, a Beatles reference, a Van Halen/David Lee Roth reference, and a familiar superhero refrain. The next section has more to decipher:

fly off the handle with careful with that axe eugene gene the dance machine messiah light my fire gabba gabba hey hey my my generation’s home again

Another common phrase at the start; what sounds like a mother’s chiding; Gene Gene the Dance Machine was a song or something from back in the day; a Doors reference; the gabba gabba bit sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it; the my generation bit is slightly reminiscent of Neil Young or The Who. Drummer Mike Portnoy wrote the lyrics for this portion deftly and cleverly; I wonder how long it took to piece these together in puns or if he wrote it as a stream of consciousness? By this point, the song has adopted a dark feeling of escalation. It all comes to a head in section four, “Intervals,” which features heavy Metallica influence on the riffage and a chilling spoken delivery by LaBrie. Swirling licks, machine-gun drumming, and then that final agonized yell from LaBrie: trapped inside this Octavarium! Trapped inside this Octavarium! Trapped inside . . . Each time he screams, a new level of anger/desperation enters his voice, leading the song through its climax. And finally, the “Razor’s Edge” winds the song to a gentle, nearly orchestral close, somehow fitting perfectly with the screams only moments previous.

Other than the front cover, which looks disturbingly similar to the cover of AC/DC’s Family Jewels DVD, the packaging for Octavarium is absolutely spiffy. The theme of eight carries through superbly in the artwork, giving the album as a whole a pleasant sense of continuity. The first half of the album lacks the flow other DT projects have benefited from, but the second half more than makes up for the stumblings of songs one, two, and four (especially four . . . ugh). The second half is strong enough to make the album four stars, but the first half is pretty average. So, to even things out, I’ll call it a 3.5 star album (round it up to four) and recommend it for the second half’s brilliance.

***½ stars (rounded UP)

Great Music to Play While wondering what the heck an Octavarium is

Recommended: Yes