image courtesy of Dreadnaught

Album Review of Dreadnaught: Northern Burner

Maine experimental progressive rockers Dreadnaught return with this all-instrumental production, Northern Burner. The disc dropped in December 2021, celebrating the band’s 25th anniversary. For those who like their progressive rock playful and weird (hence the term “experimental”), Dreadnaught is the poster child for that musical subgenre. And, once again, with the release of Northern Burner, the band has unleashed an album that seems interesting at first and then rewards those who will afford it multiple listens with song-to-song familiarity turned on its ear via unexpected twists and turns.

On disc-opener “Pink Light,” there’s a thumping bass setting the baseline (bassline?) for the layered guitarwork with distortion slathered on top. “Pig and Pony” opens things up a little bit early on, though that airiness is filled with an electronic recurring ditty and, again, that thumping bass.

“Rum Cake,” though quite short, is a haunting journey as if down a long hallway, stumbling along… perhaps looking for rum cake? Or maybe after having a bit too much rum cake? Or just too much rum?

It leads into the 8-minute-plus “Monsignor Bananas,” which seems to assemble musical phrases from all of the previous songs, and, while it diverges into a variety of different directions, the song periodically returns to previously introduced musical themes. It’s also worth noting that, as can so often be the case in longer-form Dreadnaught songs, this, the longest track on the disc, sports dramatic tempo and mood swings.

“Fantasy in a Pink Light” is the spaciest song so far, very airy and open, with the sounds of wisps and softly played instruments echoing as if in a big, nearly-empty concert hall, slowing things down so much that the song is either a palate cleanser or a test to see if the listener will drift off to sleep and miss the rest of the album.

It leads into “Sundown at the Barnyard,” which, with the way it starts slowly and picks up energy, seems to almost mimic sunrise at the barnyard (oh, so close!), with the energy picking up and building toward a climax as the song carries on – again, repeating instrumental themes found in previous songs. Less than halfway through the song there’s an almost psychedelic rock guitar solo that stands out, if only because it resembles earthly music on an album that’s almost entirely ethereal and otherworldly. Of course, if you’ve learned to expect anything from Dreadnaught’s music while reading this review, it’s that the psychedelic guitar will return. It does return later in the song. And near the end, “Sundown…” makes another transformation, providing a sequence that channels a square dance. Not just the square dance music, the entire dance.

“Pony and Pig” opens mostly rhythmically before finally recalling the main themes of “Pig and Pony” about halfway through. The song becomes more expansive as it moves along, as if turning a small listening room-type musical theme into an expansive one suitable for an amphitheater. Interestingly, Dreadnaught chooses to close the song with a big Hollywood-style musical close.

Album-ender “Throwing in the Towel” has the sort of expansive, “well that was fun” flavor of a closing credits number from a movie, fading out to signify that the show is over. Get up from your seats and go home. Of course, if you’re already home, maybe go to the fridge and get a snack.

In the end, if you’re open to the more experimental, cutting edge of music, Dreadnaught’s music will grow on you. Or it may just never strike a chord with you. And even if you enjoy it, as I do, you’ve gotta admit it’s odd. But it would also make for a very interesting, certainly very fun live performance. With that in mind, Dreadnaught actually did follow this release with a couple of live performances “of the album in its entirety and other choice cuts” in early 2022.

Dreadnaught’s promotional material promotes the disc with the statement: “25 years, millions and millions of notes, and cases and cases and cases of High Life beer later we bring you Northern Burner, a musical transfiguration spanning the barnyard, outer space, and make believe.” Of course, I get the space reference, and the whole thing’s make-believe. Even upon multiple listens, I’m not sure I hear the barnyard, aside from the sunrise over it, but that’s the beauty of Dreadnaught’s music – it is whatever you think it is, whatever your mind’s eye hears. (And yes, I know eyes don’t usually hear, but when listening to Northern Burner, they do.)

More Recently

Dreadnaught’s bass player and producer Bob Lord has released another solo album, The Six Observables, which was just recently released, in July 2023.

photo by Nate Hastings; photo courtesy of Rock Paper Scissors

Album Review of Dreadnaught: Hard Chargin’ (Red Fez Records)

Rick Habib (drums), Justin Walton (guitar), and Bob Lord (bass) have been at it as Dreadnaught for more than two decades now, and it’s hard to know what to make of them exactly. Sure, you should call what they do “progressive,” but the music on Hard Chargin’ really runs the gamut of what one might expect from a progressive rock album. And then it goes beyond. Not exactly quirky. Perhaps more like eclectic. The band’s style is regularly called experimental rock. And yet, still, at its core, Hard Chargin’ is a chance-taking progressive rock album, clearly rooted in seventies prog rock – if you look at the work as a whole – yet likely to make you question that at any given moment.

cover by Brett Picknell; image courtesy of Rock Paper Scissors

The album kicks off with a bang; “Have a Drink With Dreadnaught” is a fun number, charging forward like a keyboard-and-guitar-filled, almost-radio-friendly progressive rocker from the ’70s. “Gaudy Baubles” then follows with a more quirky, funky, funhouse melody, meandering through its own ’70s prog rock neighborhood, again alternately guitar- and keys-driven, mixing in some serious distortion for good measure.

Probably the coolest song on Hard Chargin’ is “Takin’ a Ride With the Fat Man (Fatta Fatta Puck Puck).” Almost barn dance, hillbilly country early on, it progresses through dissonant stages and soaring rock sections during the course of its 8 minutes and 39 seconds, an opus with pauses and soaring notes you might expect from a band like Queen blended together with odd, quirky, funkiness. This song is its own journey. I almost wish there was a shorter “radio version” I could place on some of my playlists (since I’d rather not devote nearly 9 minutes of a personal playlist, one I might listen to during a breakfast out or a walk through a park, to a single track), but it’s well worth the ride when you’re in the mood for it. An interesting work, this song alone is worth the price of admission. But, of course, there are many songs of interests on this album.

photo by Nate Hastings; photo courtesy of Rock Paper Scissors

If you can make it through the artistically-interesting-but-nonetheless-screeching opening, “Express Delight” evolves into an interesting multi-instrumental journey held together by a chunky guitar line. The brief “Gets the Grease” could easily have been lifted from an experimental jazz release. And “Mummies of the Cobbosseecontee” checks in at 10:42, the longest song in the collection, twisting and turning throughout, harsh guitar entreaties bringing it back to earth amid musical forays eliciting visuals ranging from tropical rainforest to energetic road trip to soaring rocket launches; this is a song that likely only an actual progressive rock musician will be able to fully appreciate, the twists and turns are just so many.

Through it all, in true progressive-experimental fashion, the disc is tied together with a trio of songs entitled “That’s the Way That You Do It.” The first instance, “That’s the Way That You Do It (My Way)” comes early in the disc and deploys a harsh, robotic, rough sound. “That’s the Way That You Do It (Your Way)” is positioned late-mid-album and sports a relatively Hee Haw-ish vocal howl. And the energetic, theatrically rocking “That’s the Way That You Do It (Our Way)” closes the album. It’s cool conceptually, the trio of “That’s the Way” tracks serving as a common thread running throughout the album.

photo by Nate Hastings; photo courtesy of Rock Paper Scissors

Even after dozens of listens like I’ve given it, I doubt you’ll have a favorite song. You’ll have favorite moments, you may have favorite sections of songs, but it’s difficult to remove a single track from the album. Hard Chargin’ is meant to be enjoyed in its entirety, in order.

For a band that’s described in its own bio as “friggin’ weird” and “utterly deranged” – I’d probably have chosen words like “creative” and “experimental” – this is a noteworthy piece of work. Seriously, if you get a chance, and especially if you like to explore the boundaries of new and unique, primarily-guitar-based, experimental/progressive rock, give Hard Chargin’ a spin. Though it will remind you of ’70s prog rock, I guarantee you’ve not heard anything else quite like it.