Steven Wilson Resurrects Progressive Rock in Germany
The concrete expanse of Düsseldorf in Germany unfolded with the precise geometry of post-war reconstruction, all hard angles and practical purpose. This metropolis on the river, pulverised during Allied bombings and rebuilt with German efficiency, was not where dreams naturally extended toward the cosmos. The city’s modern, business-like identity seemed almost contrary to the expansive, philosophical explorations of Steven Wilson’s music, like trying to capture a mist within the strict lines of a Bauhaus blueprint.
Yet there we were, on a mild May evening, as shadows stretched across the Rhine. The Mitsubishi Electric Halle stood as a testament to the city’s industrial resurrection, its utilitarian frame housing something less practical: progressive rock’s spiritual rebirth.
There was a certain symmetry in Wilson’s choice to bring the ‘The Overview’ tour to this location. Some fifty years ago, these same walls vibrated through the cosmic explorations of Pink Floyd, whose psychedelic music then defined what progressive rock could achieve. Just before the performance, I saw the crew performing final checks, tuning guitars and giving the equipment a final check, like priests preparing an altar for a ceremony that has been performed for generations.
The irony was not lost on the audience – a cross-section of ageing Floyd disciples with their worn Dark Side shirts, shoulder to shoulder with younger converts in pristine Porcupine Tree merchandise. We had all gathered for a wake that had become a rebirth.
Let’s not mince words: conventional wisdom has long maintained that progressive rock died somewhere around 1977, when three-chord punk cast the genre’s complex constructions into the Thames. Or perhaps it held on until the early ’80s, when synthesisers and commercial demands swept away the last complexities. Either way, prog spent decades as the favourite musical corpse, occasionally revived but never truly alive. Except that this wasn’t entirely true, was it? In Düsseldorf, Steven Wilson wasn’t so much exhuming prog’s remains as revealing that it had never really died – it had simply gone underground, evolving in the darkness. If two entities daily prove progressive rock remains alive in its true form, they are Wilson and the equally formidable Pain of Salvation. While the latter infuses prog with raw emotional urgency, Wilson has positioned himself as both curator and innovator of the form, preserving the legacy while pushing the boundaries.
At exactly 8:00 PM, the hall darkened. The audience, previously chattering in a dozen languages (Düsseldorf’s Japanese community was well represented that evening), lapsed into reverent silence. A subtle electronic hum gradually grew, then burst into the opening movement of ‘Objects Outlive Us’, the first epic from ‘The Overview’. Wilson appeared with his excellent band: the incomparable Nick Beggs, whose Chapman Stick work continued to defy physics – a remarkable transformation for a musician who once brought ‘Too Shy’ to the top of the charts in 1983 with the new wave pop sensation Kajagoogoo. The contrast between that tight, commercial pop sound and the cosmic explorations he now undertook with Wilson could hardly be greater, like a traveller who had exchanged the glittering surface of a kiddie pool for the unfathomable depths of the ocean.
Next to him stood keyboard wizard Adam Holzman, whose fingers danced across the keys with a precision he had refined as an accompanist to none other than Miles Davis. In 1985, Holzman was hired to provide keys on Davis’s legendary ‘Tutu’ album, after which he remained with the jazz great for four years. That jazz legacy vibrated through his playing, with structures seamlessly flowing into one another as he created galaxies of sound from his position. The ensemble was completed by the precision-perfect drumming of Craig Blundell and newest addition Randy McStine, whose guitar work complemented Wilson’s with mathematical precision.
The two-part structure of the evening’s performance felt deliberate and effective. The first set consisted exclusively of the album ‘The Overview’ played in its entirety – just two compositions, each extending beyond the 20-minute mark, each revealing Wilson’s renewed commitment to the grand tradition of long-form compositions in progressive rock. The music unfolded like cosmic origami, complex patterns gradually revealing themselves through the expanse of each piece. When Wilson began the album’s title track, the industrial functionality of the venue seemed to dissolve. Suddenly, we were not in a converted exhibition hall but floating through the void described in Wilson’s lyrics. Beggs and Blundell created a rhythmic foundation that was simultaneously solid as bedrock and fluid as mercury, while Holzman’s keyboards added textures that would make Richard Wright himself nod in appreciation.
After a brief intermission, the second set offered a journey through Wilson’s extensive catalogue. ‘The Harmony Codex’ served as a bridge between his most recent works, while ‘King Ghost’ cast its ethereal spell over the audience. When the band launched into ‘Luminol’, the energy shifted dramatically – Blundell’s drumming formed the backbone of this instrumental powerhouse, with Beggs and Holzman exchanging virtuosic passages that elicited spontaneous applause. A brief technical malfunction during ‘Dislocated Day’ – a resurrected Porcupine Tree gem – only served to emphasise how seamlessly the band recovered, with the front speaker outage lasting barely 20 seconds before the wall of sound was restored. The temporary imperfection felt almost fitting for a piece exploring themes of fragmentation and reconnection.
‘Harmony Korine’ carried the moving quality that made Wilson’s early solo work so distinctive, while ‘Impossible Tightrope’ and ‘Vermillioncore’ showcased the heavier dimensions of his sonic palette, garnering appreciation from the audience.
The encore delivered the most emotionally resonant moments of the evening. ‘Pariah’ created a moment of collective vulnerability in the hall, its layered vocals blending into something that seemed greater than the sum of its parts. When the band launched into ‘Ancestral’, the epic closer from ‘Hand. Cannot. Erase.’, it felt as if we were witnessing the culmination of everything progressive rock was meant to be: technically ambitious but emotionally devastating, complex but accessible in its humanity. The visual production deserved special mention – Wilson has long understood that progressive rock is as much about creating immersive experiences as it is about technical virtuosity. Tonight’s projections transformed the utilitarian walls of the hall into portals to distant galaxies, with imagery reminiscent of Kubrick’s ‘2001’ while establishing its visual language.
Most remarkable was how seamlessly Wilson’s compositions blended across eras. Instead of representing different phases, they revealed a consistent artistic vision evolving organically over decades. There was no concession to nostalgia – merely a continuum of musical exploration. As we filed out into the orderly streets of Düsseldorf, the contrast between the pragmatic exterior of the city and the cosmic journey we had just experienced felt like an artistic statement in itself. Perhaps progressive rock’s greatest achievement was not its technical complexity or conceptual ambition, but its ability to transform even the most utilitarian spaces into vessels for transcendence.
In a world increasingly defined by algorithm-friendly three-minute songs, Steven Wilson’s musical overview reminded us that some journeys cannot be abbreviated – they must be experienced in their full, uncompromising scope. That evening, in a city rebuilt from ashes, progressive rock was not merely alive; it was rising like a phoenix.
