3. Arriving Somewhere But Not Here (Deadwing)

Well, we finally got here. This song has been predicted everywhere in the entire spectrum, from the shocker at #36 (instead we got the title track from the same album), to #1. Eventually, though, it had to settle at a spot. We got it into the top three, which is a title to be revered. These three songs are on such a level, I can't even begin to convey it to you guys. Arriving is the weakest of the three in my opinion, but that says absolutely nothing against it. This embodies everything that Porcupine Tree is about. Steven Wilson's clever lyrics as well as perfect vocalization of said vocals, guitars to make you cream yourself, technical prowess to a degree that Dream Theater would envy, and it is the very centerpiece of Deadwing. An album that's very widely considered one of Porcupine Tree's best efforts to date.

Make no mistake. Arriving Somewhere But Not Here is a behemoth of a song. Standing at twelve minutes long, it's a hulkering giant among its album, although the title track comes close at nearly ten minutes. And as I mentioned before, everything is in place for it to be the number one song. Hell, it's one of my top ten favorite songs of all time. That speaks a lot about its quality, because I like to think I have extremely high standards. Indeed, my top ten songs ever are all perfect. And it's hard for me to find an imperfection in Arriving. It's twelve minutes long, and not a second of it is wasted. It starts off as an incredibly mellow piece of music, but gradually what it's about starts to sink in. That this titan here is about a horrible tragedy. Much like Heartattack in a Layby, although that song is more about the tragic aspect of tragedy. Arriving is more about its tragedy's effect on the grand scheme of things. And you can find parallels throughout it to the entire album. Indeed, if you come up with any theory about the meaning of Deadwing, it has some connection to Arriving. That's what a titan this song. It's not exaggerated when it's called the centerpiece of the album. It's even the fifth song out of nine on the album, falling exactly in the middle of the album. But that's what it ends up being.

Look at In Absentia and Fear of a Blank Planet for a second, two other very obvious concept albums. In Absentia has no centerpiece whatsoever. It flows from beginning to end, with each song being just as important as the last (except maybe The Sound of Muzak, Wedding Nails, and possibly even Heartattack in a Layby). Fear of a Blank Planet is less cohesive, with one song in Anesthetize that's a centerpiece, but the concept doesn't revolve around it. That album is divided into two or three stories, and Anesthetize is just one of them. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe it makes the album more solid and balanced as a whole. But what we give up here is one song that's so incredibly good, and superior to the rest of its album sans The Start of Something Beautiful, that it's a worthy sacrifice. I can't stress that enough, what a representative Arriving is lyrically of its album. Deadwing is a ghost story, first and foremost. Or so it's called, and that's what we definitely see in Deadwing, Lazarus, and Glass Arm Shattering. Arriving is about a car crash and a resulting death. Coincidence? Then there's the emotional themes. We've got the relationship between two people, which we experience in Mellotron Scratch and The Start of Something Beautiful. Here, we have a person who's obviously reacting to the crash in one way or another. They go through a lot of different outlooks on it, but the underlying one is "All my dreams... sacrificed". Then fitting in with what Deadwing does in my opinion, in starting out with a kickass hook to draw you in, Arriving has the best one-liner in the band's catalog: "Never stop the car on a drive in the dark". It's eerie and hauntingly effective.

It doesn't stop lyrically. Musically, Deadwing is an extremely divided album, as we've observed. Minus Lazarus, the first half is very heavy, and minus Open Car, the second half is very mellow. Arriving doesn't fall into either of those categories. It starts very melodic, then starts building up more and more, until it completely climaxes in the solo. The solo, of which I might add, is performed by Mikael Akerfeldt. In Opeth style, it's an extremely dark, gritty, and rather thunderous solo. And a great one, too, as you can imagine. Like Dark Matter, though, the residential instrumental section of the song isn't just a guitar solo. It's a ton of instruments in all their grandeur, and they create a mesmerizing middle section of the song. Bottom line is, though, it consists of a number of soft and heavy sections. Then you've got the song's actual ending, but after the experience, you can see why Deadwing actually does have two halves in the way it does. It's ALL because of Arriving. Deadwing's got a pre-Deadwing, and a post-Deadwing. No way around that. The heavy stuff is obviously the more light, upbeat stuff, as we see in Deadwing and Shallow. The mellow stuff at the end, though, is dark, melancholy, and often very depressing. Mellotron Scratch and The Start of Something Beautiful, anyone?

So as we've established, Arriving has a ridiculous gravity, and it's an epic in every sense of the word. Whether you approach the word from a progressive standpoint or not, you can't escape the attachment that Arriving has to it. With the solo, the length it is, and the themes which connect to both humanity and the supernatural simultaneously, Arriving is epic. So just like Trains but even moreso, Arriving attains perfection. I haven't denied that any song starting with the top five is perfect. Because they all are. I suppose the reason that the other two songs are ahead of it is because of personal reasons. I can connect a little more to Anesthetize and Heartattack than I can to Arriving, but that's just me. You can't objectively compare this song and the other two here, they're just that great. Hell, Arriving used to be #2 on my list, but another song managed to surpass it, but that's just life. That's just testament to how Porcupine Tree is capable of achieving greater than perfection. I suppose so that you can understand exactly how perfect is, I've got to dissect it. I have no problem with that.

So now, as we start Arriving in terms of what its opening music sounds like, let's touch on yet another thing that it does perfectly. The atmosphere. It is always incredibly appropriate. Whether it's the eerie feel that actually comes with the accident, or the thundering solo that comes from the resulting rage of said accident, the song will always perfectly match it. So as you can imagine, the beginning of the song is very dark and quiet. The beginning is extremely memorable. It opens up with the sound of Barbieri scratching over his keyboards, and starting to create a very ill atmosphere. By his lonesome, at least at first. You'll also hear what sounds to me like the ticking of a clock, although it's obviously a percussion effect. It's an extremely strong effect, and that'll take you right into the song. Hell, you'll be feeling it right when you hear it. You'll get taken to a scene in the summer, at the side of the road, on a dark night, where something horrible is happening. Arriving instantly lets me drift off into that.

You could say that I have sentiments to this song, and I'd definitely agree with you if you said I did. Anesthetize, Arriving, Heartattack, Trains... I have attachments to all of these songs for some reason or another. Mainly because Porcupine Tree write their songs in such a way that I can connect them to my own life. Trains and Arriving, though, instantly draw me back to the summer where I first heard them. And that just sweeps me away, right there. So less than a minute into the song, while it's still completely instrumental, Arriving already hooks me. You can only imagine how it's going to go when the vocals set in. So about fifty seconds in, we've still only got that percussion effect and the keyboard. Eventually, acoustic guitar comes in. That's the only guitar we've got early in. Steven and Wesley in the DVD enter, and they only make the song more alluring. You want to know what's about to happen. Colin enters on bass, and Steven begins to explain.

Never stop the car on a drive in the darkNever look for the truth in your mother's eyesNever trust the sound of rain upon a river rushing through your earsArriving somewhere but not here

The atmosphere that Arriving sets in at this point is otherworldly. One line into the song: "Never stop the car on a drive in the dark", and you're completely captivated. At least, I am. Because the way I see it, Arriving is one big mystery. We know right away that someone is dying. We also know that there's a lot of reaction to that. A lot of rhetorical questions are being asked, but the exact nature of what occurs is a complete enigma. Hell, I know I've said that it was a car accident. Or more specifically, a drunk driving accident. But there's tons of evidence that it's something more than that. And we don't even know what happens afterwards, although we can speculate. Just that very first line already starts a complete cloud of illusion over everything. I can't get over how good a job it does, hooking you in. I can't even tell it's a foreboding, that is, an ill omen, or a warning. You can also see it right now, someone driving down the road very late at night, and stopping because something is wrong. Maybe because there's an obvious drunk driver nearby, who he probably could have dodged if he hadn't stopped. Or maybe that's just a warning to all of us. So that we don't end in the same fate as this unfortunate person. Or another possible theory to it is that it's based on the idea that you're going down the road, not knowing exactly where you're headed, and well, it's a drive in the dark. That's obviously a stretch, but it's something that Steven could very easily work into the song's overall message. Steven's vocal delivery of this whole thing is perfect, too. It's the kind of thing in which he's talking in a very serious tone of voice, but we don't know exactly how he feels about it yet. You can detect a sort of pain in his voice, though, so that might help to give you some evidence.

Next line is equally epic. "Never look for the truth in your mother's eyes". See, here is yet another thing that Arriving does perfectly. The lyrics. Each one just builds on the other, one after one after one, making the last one more relevant. And what it leads to is a very rich and complex song, in which every single line can be interpreted as an incredible one liner. And I'll actually reveal it now. Arriving has my single favorite lyrics of any Porcupine Tree song. That's because it gives an emotional delivery, a sense of mystery, and ill omens all at the same time, together with warnings and some of the most terrifying imagery ever put into lyrics. Like that one. "Never look for the truth in your mother's eyes". That just gives the sense of you having absolutely no one that you can trust. There's a few reasons for that. Maybe it's that your "mother", for instance, is betraying you. Or, there's horrible things in the world. That your mother doesn't want you to realize. Then you go down your path, and have to learn all the terrors of the world on your own, and by the time you do, you've already become corrupted by them. That's very possibly a theme here.

Maybe it's death that's the thing you never really knew about. What exactly awaits you in the beyond, how soon it might be, et cetera. Either way, you might not be ready for it when it comes, as that line right there gets at. It can be just juicy figurative language for no one telling you the truth, but that's definitely the way I perceive it. Then after that, the equally forbidding, "Never trust the sound of rain upon a river rushing through your ears". Probably the most stick out word from that line is "rain". Indeed, when I draw myself into Arriving's environment, something I picture is being in the car before the accident takes place, and slowing down due to rain pouring down on the windshield. Then again, here's another thing I like to interpret a number of different ways. The whole thing about going down the road, not knowing what you're doing? It's your mind that has control over you when you do that. You've got this wild, inner mentality to you that's preventing you from doing the logical thing, and that's the rain that pours down onto the river inside your brain. Perhaps that's what's occurring here. Steven tells you not to trust that. And then...

Arriving somewhere but not here. That's all the clarity we get. It's so crucial, that it became the title of the song, yet we don't know who is arriving where instead of what place. Of course, we can get clues just through the way Steven sings it. The way he stresses the "somewhere". That's obviously the afterlife. What kind of afterlife it's going to be, though, is the question. I suppose if we're still looking at the song from the non-conceptual aspect, that it's going down the wrong road in life, but otherwise, the song is just told from the perspective of an observer who had strong attachment to the person who's dying here. They want this person to come home, which is obviously where they're en route to. Unfortunately though, they die in an unexpected way, and they're not going to be coming back. They're going to be going to some other place. Heaven? Maybe not. Maybe they'll be coming right back, actually, as I'll get into very soon. Steven keeps the pace of this incredible, though. It's slow, but it's eerie and almost ghastly at the same time. And his vocal... oh my god. Sends shivers right down my spine. As such, he transitions to the next verse.

Did you imagine the final sound as a gunOr the smashing windscreen of a car?Did you ever imagine the last thing you'd hear as you're fading out was a song?Arriving somewhere but not here

What I love about this song is that while Steven plays his acoustic guitar, Barbieri never stops. He keeps the song dark, and kind of ominous at that. You couldn't have a better atmosphere for this, since this verse is very obviously talking about someone's last moment, and how unexpected death really is. Only way to get more atmosphere than that is to stop the song at a random moment, but Dream Theater already did that, so this is the next best thing. If you listen to those beginning two lyrics and aren't instantly haunted, then it's safe to say you don't possess a soul. Face it, when we go through our life, we don't plan ahead, thinking that every moment might be our last. We don't prepare for death whenever we go somewhere, and as such, there's a number of surprises that could await you at any given moment. It's very easy to die, yet it's something that's elusive and unpredictable.

At any given moment though, the final sound you might hear is a gun. You might be shot down, or you might have your windscreen smashed down unexpectedly and die in that way. Except, there's just more things that we can draw from this, just based on Steven's vocal tone. He sounds completely miserable and hopeless. He's not just giving you a warning, like you could sort of sense from the beginning. He sounds extremely sad. And to me, it sounds like he's addressing the person who was guilty for the accident here. Which as I mentioned before, is most likely a drunk driver. He's asking if the guy ever imagined that someone close to him would die unexpectedly, by way of gun or by smashing windscreen. Those two obviously being malicious and intentional things, whereas a drunk driving accident is just that, an accident. But still, you get where he's coming from with that. So with that, it's also possible that the guy in the car pulled over to do something, perhaps even to help someone, and got shot themselves, ending up in even worse trouble.

So with that, it just makes the whole living each moment like it's your last idea more relevant if we're looking at it from a moral standpoint which I said was a possibility throughout the first verse. Steven follows it off with one even darker verse, though: "Did you ever imagine the last thing you'd hear as you're fading out was a song?". Probably the second best line in the entire song, that one is just touching. Again, Steven sounds to me like he's looking at it from a pitiful standpoint. He's saying that that's a very sad thing to have happen to you, to just have one insignificant song playing as the last thing you can hear as you die. Where do we hear about a "song" elsewhere on the album, though? Mellotron Scratch. And then there's "fading out". It's interesting to hear Steven say that, because when you think of fading out, you don't think of dying. You think of disintegrating and fading into the air. Not really... dying, per se. Oh, but I will explain. In a few moments.

All my designs, simplifiedAnd all of my plans, compromisedAnd all of my dreams, sacrificed

That is the only thing that Arriving really gives you in terms of a chorus. Obviously the actual line of "arriving somewhere but not here" isn't it, but this right here is rather relevant. There's really two characters who we can think of here, and that's the person who died, and the person who's telling this story. This person is now talking from the first person, so this is of course their real thoughts on the matter. Makes it appropriate for a chorus, then. But yeah, all of their plans have been given up and all of their dreams shattered. All because of this very incident here. To put it simply, the narrator here had his/her thoughts, dreams, and plans all revolving around the person who died, and when s/he actually died, that just instantly shattered everything. Arriving is, therefore, his/her emotions. Those emotions consist of warnings, forebodings, mourning in pity as we see in that last verse, and anger as we see later. So that's where this person's trauma comes from.

Where have we seen effects like that on a person? Deadwing. Shallow. Halo. That's right, the first half of Deadwing was all about the person and how crazy they've become. We saw in Mikael Akerfeldt's vocal sections in Deadwing how paranoid s/he (probably she) is. Then in Shallow, the extent of her social phobia. Halo is essentially about how inwardly revolved she's become at this point. That she's obsessed with her religion now and it controls her every aspect. Mainly because of this; she's gone crazy starting from this incident. But wait, wait. Deadwing is a "ghost story", as it's always been called. How the ghost actually became a ghost is rather well revealed here, wouldn't you say?

That all fits into place. As natural science has it, ghosts are generally being that still have strong attachment to the world and are not yet ready to travel to the beyond. Dying in an unexpected way would obviously do that to you. Same with having a mutual attachment with someone, as we observe here. So Deadwing is told from the same perspective as the person here, and Arriving is a look at the past, then. Assuming the album isn't in completely random order, which honestly wouldn't surprise me. The ghost comes to visit her, but she feels generally haunted by it. Obviously. Yet eventually the ghost is able to get through to her, and they start to enter a bit of a loving relationship all over again, as we see in Lazarus. Then again, it doesn't exactly end well, as we see in Glass Arm Shattering, but that's a different story.

So what was that about "fading out"? Indeed, that's exactly what the guy did come dying. Faded out as he heard a song, but evidently, he came back to the world in a different form. The actual death is looked at for the last time there, though. And believe me, Arriving will follow the appropriate atmosphere at all times. It's that good of a song. The chorus comes in, and it's eerie as ever. Steven on hopeless vocals, acoustic guitar, bass, and Barbieri not being done. That all adds up. Yet when the chorus is done, we're almost exactly four minutes in, the song completely flashes and Steven switches over to electric guitar. Gavin becomes a bit more active on the drumming, and the song no longer relies on an ominous and haunting atmosphere to make its presence felt. Now in the switch to electric, we feel more of the narrator's emotions. As well as maybe the perspective of someone else.

Ever had the feeling you've been here before?Drinking down the poison the way you were taughtEver thought from here on in your life begins and all you knew was wrong?Arriving somewhere but not here

Who knows what perspective the first line of that is told from. It's obviously something that's extremely important towards understanding what this entire verse means, but who knows what its actual meaning is. I definitely take a lot of things from this song from Steven's vocal tone, though. You know you've got an amazing vocalist on your hands when you can understand the entire song by just listening to HOW he sings it rather than WHAT he's actually singing, and indeed that's the case. But you get no real implications from that here, except he's not as sad anymore, and sounds a little more serious. Almost angry, for that matter, although we'll see actual anger towards the end of the song. From here though all we can really draw from it is a slightly more serious feeling, so it might be the narrator being pissed off at the drunk driver/murderer, but I can't really find any evidence for that. At least, in this verse. Then again it's actually one of the most relevant things if you're looking at it with the idea of someone going down their own path, not knowing exactly where they're going.

Just think about that -- ending up where they started, and just beginning to get a feeling of that, when it's too late for them to change their mind. And then "drinking down the poison the way you were taught" is just what they've realized they've been doing. When someone in their life told them to do something they went along with it and are only now realizing that all of life as they understood it was wrong. It fits hand in hand with the idea of "never look for the truth in your mother's eyes", right? So I'm not going to hide it. I don't actually know what this entire verse means. Coincidentally though, it's my favorite one. I just love a Porcupine Tree lyric that can make me sit and think about it and draw theories about it, yet I'm never able to settle for a conclusive one. This verse does exactly that.

Let me explain it the way I've always thought about it, though. In that breath of transition from second to third verses, something drastic happens. We can tell that from how dynamic the switch is from acoustic to electric. It's probably not a change in the narrator's perspective, since I see no evidence in the verse of him/her talking to the one who's guilty for this. So, think of it this way. "Ever had the feeling you've been here before?". That's directly talking about where the guy who died is at this point. There's two possibilities for that: either he's in the emergency room, or he's been reborn as a ghost. I definitely don't think it's the first one, since there's evidence for that in the end of the song, and you can't really follow that through in this verse. Unless the medicine he's told to swallow is the "poison" he's been told to take all his life, but that's never been the way I've interpreted it. Let's just say that now he's "alive" again, looking at the world. He's a bit jarred in the head, but he gets the sense that he's somewhere where he's been. Now he's looking back at the vague recollection he has of that moment where he actually died, though. He was doing something that he had been told to do all his life. I sometimes got the sense because of the "final sound as a gun" thing, that he was pulling off the road to help someone and got shot for it, but who knows. That's basically what was happening, but now that he's dead, he's getting the opportunity to look back at the world. And now that he can, he's just thinking that everything that he had done up to that point was wrong. Because he did something and got punished for it, since he ended up getting killed for it. So that's how he arrived somewhere else but didn't come home. He went to the beyond, but only for a moment until he could return to haunt the world as a ghost. Very interesting outlook on it, in my opinion. And while it's a stretch of imagination like all my theories are, it's in my opinion quite a plausible idea.

I suppose now would be a good moment to take a short break from my lyrical discussion of the song and switch over to how impressive it is musically. Gavin is consistent throughout on his drumming, which is kickass, Barbieri is still there except not quite as prominent as he was throughout the first part, and Steven and Colin are creating a riff that is downright addictive. Although it's only been about a minute or so, by the time the song makes its transition from that verse to the next chorus, you feel it's been this catchy and heavy for a long time. It's a great feeling. Mainly because it's gone out from that first little solo, and now Steven is just making it last as long as he can. When he gets to the chorus though, you focus a little else on the lyrics and how awesome the actual music is, though. Could also be because "Ever thought from here on in your life begins and all you knew was wrong" is the best line in Porcupine Tree's best song lyrically. When the chorus hits, though, the band kicks it up a notch on guitar and keyboards. It just grows more and more in the tension. As it does that, though, you get to looking at it from a different perspective. As you can see, based on my outlook on the song at least, we've gone from the narrator's perspective to the ghost's. The chorus, which was the narrator's thoughts on everything, are the ghost's as well. So he's thinking the exact same thing as well. His designs were simplified, his plans were compromised, and all of his dreams were sacrificed. Except to pave way for the middle section of the song (yes this is the eighth or so post and we're only in the middle of the song), the sacrificed part is cut. It's just:

All my designs, simplifiedAnd all of my plans, compromisedAnd all of my dreams

I originally didn't like that, but it's a good groove that gives the song the momentum it needs for the instrumental section. Which is second in my opinion, only to Dark Matter's exit solo, while Anesthetize takes third place. The guitar and bass both come to a halt for a moment after that, and then Colin takes over on a fuzzy bassline for a little bit. That's not going to last very long, though. Soon Steven comes in and takes over on guitar, and starts playing what sounds like the bassline from before, except he's taking it just a step or two further. After that break in tension from earlier, you can just feel the intensity building up more and more, until Gavin starts getting even more agile on the drums than he was before, and the guitar gets even heavier. You know at this point, that there's far more than one guitar there. Steven Wilson, as good as he is, can't play that. Indeed, enter Mikael Akerfeldt. The frontman of Opeth, delivering a touch of damnation (no pun intended) onto the song that can only come from him.

So you've heard that Deadwing is a metallic album. It's because of this. Every bit of darkness that the entire song captured is all thrown into this as well, except on a much heavier note than it was at the beginning of the song. This is what the entire album has been building up to. It's arguably the very climax of the entire thing, even though we're barely halfway through the album. That's how incredible this moment here is. Akerfeldt gives this song such a tremendous presence, you get the sense for how little Deadwing would be in general if not for Arriving. It's just that good of a solo. It's a bit on the long side, that's true. Yet in the two or so minutes that it lasts, it never at any moment gets old. It's got something in it for everyone, the way I see it. If you aren't a fan of death metal, you don't need to worry, as Akerfeldt never enters on vocals (although Steven's touch on Opeth's song Bleak is fantastic so maybe he should have), and it's still an extremely rhythmic and thought out solo. And oh my god, Gavin's drums. That's perhaps the best job he's ever done at it, except for maybe the middle of Anesthetize, which is an equally ridiculous and awesome solo.

Eventually though the solo gets a little lighter. Akerfeldt knows that he shouldn't be dragging this out unnecessarily long, but he keeps the solo intrinsic while it lasts. As he makes complete musical oblivion out of the atmosphere, he starts fading into the background while Steven starts to play the actual Arriving theme again. It's a little heavier than before due to Akerfeldt's touch, but you're returning to the scene of the crime, so to say. In Akerfeldt's last farewell though, he keeps going on his riff, while Colin's bassline propels it even further into the foreground. Then those two as well as Barbieri, draw it to a close. Now, I'll be honest. When I first heard Arriving, it was in a YouTube video that has long since been removed. It was a part one which didn't have a part two, and it all stopped at a little over eight minutes, where that solo ends and the song is left in silence for a brief second. Now I knew the song was twelve minutes long, so I couldn't help but horribly yearn to hear what the second part sounded like, but that's just a ridiculously climatic finish. I can't even begin to imagine how the band could have made that better, but it's fantastic.

So, that leaves what's left of it to be considered the "aftermath". That's always the sense that watching that video gave on the song for me. That that solo was the finish, and everything that's left was just the coda to that. Because face it, there's nothing that can actually come after a gallant solo like that. The song reaches that moment of silence I talked about earlier, as Barbieri who just recently became active again, brings it to a close. And now we're left with Barbieri as practically the sole musician here, except Colin, who isn't really doing too much. It's an aftermath to something incredible, no way around it. And of course, in its overall delivery, it sounds quite similar to the very beginning of the song. Rest assured though, Arriving isn't going to just fade out like that, though. It's got some more insight to treat you with. It's almost an unexpected moment, as the song grows slightly more tense, and then Steven completely breaks out and starts back up.

Did you see the red mist block your path?Did the scissors cut a way to your heart?Did you feel the envy for the sons of mothers tearing you apart?Arriving somewhere but not here

Thankfully, the band doesn't play the song in the way it was played at the beginning. That is, mellow and eerie. Nothing against that at all, in fact that's one of the things that contributes towards making Arriving the masterpiece it is. But after a tempest like that solo, we're definitely not in the mood for being haunted with melody anymore. We want some heaviness, and the fourth verse is played exactly the same way the third verse is. Which is all well and good. Here, in any case, we can pay some more attention to Steven's vocal style. It's sung rather similarly to how the third verse was, but we can still sense hints of emotions in it. He's still incredibly stern, and serious. You can feel anger running down him, passion, and a kind of connection throughout the whole thing. So, here's my theories.

If we want to keep looking at it from the standpoint of going down a road towards nowhere, then the "red mist" that he talks about here is anger. Anger directed at something, which is what fuels the fire for going the wrong direction, following someone's advice blindly. That's what ends up blocking your path in the end, and it takes shape as scissors that slice through your body, and it tears you down. I sincerely doubt that Steven would go through all the trouble of writing Arriving just for a theme like that, but hey, it's a possibility. Porcupine Tree music is all about interpreting it the way you want to and as it speaks to you, so I'm not going to say what's right or what's wrong. Plus anger is definitely something that you can feel hear. When you see Steven perform this song on the Arriving Somewhere DVD, it almost looks like he's violently spitting as he sings that, which implies he's definitely angry and that's a driving emotion behind the verse. Of course, Steven is too good of a vocalist to yell and growl to express anger, as we've seen in Even Less and Hatesong, so he just talks directly to the murderer/drunk driver here, as if he's standing right in front of him with his finger in his face.

"Did you see the red mist block your path?" That's something to ask someone, as if to make them feel guilty. The red mist could still represent rage, but that's exactly what he's trying to point out. That he feels enraged because of this incident, and it's this drunk driver's fault. Did the scissors cut a way to your heart? That's a figure of speech right there, most likely. That can probably be reworded, though, as "Have you ever felt scissors cutting through your heart?". Same thing as last, this is the kind of hell that he's caused him as someone who was extremely close to the person who died. As a perfect way of rounding the whole song up together, he asks "Did you feel the envy for the sons of mothers tearing you apart?". I don't need to go in-depth into that, but it's essentially the same idea. He's asking if he feels guilty now, if what a ****ing waste of existence he is has set in yet, does he realize how evil what he did was. It's a strong and rather emotional way to finish the song if that's the case.

There's also the possibility that we can take this literally, though. Once again, though, I like to think that the death which occurred was instantaneous and the person immediately switched to being a ghost. But let's say, however, that he was found still alive. He'd probably be taken right to the emergency room. The red mist? Blood. Then the people operating on him, trying to restore him back to health, they're literally trying to cut through him to his heart, to restore him. They're "tearing him apart", but as that occurs, he feels envy for them. Because these people are truly sons of mothers. They're living human beings who are going to keep going in their life while he's going to die and he knows it. Much as I hate to say it, it's very possibly what's going on here. It's another one of Steven's enigmatic touches, so for all I know it could be either of those theories. It's all up to the way you view the song.

Arriving somewhere but not here...

So, where has he gone? To the emergency room instead of home where the other person wanted him to go, possibly. Or to the afterlife, where maybe he's resting there. Or maybe he's been reborn as a ghost, which is a big mystery left here to uncover. That's why I love how Steven uses the word "somewhere". It gives a sense of the unknown. And musically, Arriving now draws to its finish. There's one final guitar riff to treat us off, though it's actually a bit overshadowed by Barbieri's synth job towards the end. The man is truly remarkable on keyboards, I tell you, despite how little credit he gets for it. It's a beautiful way for the song to finish off, and as the centerpiece of the album, Arriving has been faded into well and faded out of well. That haunting note at the end of Halo which goes right into this song, and then it ends like that, going right into Mellotron Scratch.

Oh god, Mellotron Scratch. Yes, Arriving just has that much of a presence and gravity to it that I feel it's necessary for me to discuss the song that comes after it again in a different light. It's about a person who's rather depressed, to put it bluntly. Mellotron Scratch is just beautifully melancholy like that, so with the lyrics what they are as well, it's definitely the impression you get. But let's get to something else. Notice how the girl there cries at the sound of mellotrons? Indeed. The connection that we find to that in Arriving is the person and the last thing he hears as he's fading out is a song. Probably because he had the radio on at the time and he's listening to something that happens to have a mellotron in it. Mellotron Scratch, in that case, would then be told from a first person and a third person perspective at different intervals, but its chorus ("the scratching of the mellotron / it always seemed to make her cry") would definitely then be about her after this accident. Because she probably knew somehow that the guy who died was listening to that song with a mellotron in it when he died, and she knows that. So just the sound of mellotrons brings her back to that moment of horror, and that's how she gets her ghosts (once again, no pun intended). Now I know someone will immediately bring up the idea that perhaps it was the girl that died in the accident, then. That's not true, since once again it's told from different perspectives in Mellotron Scratch, and the way I see it, the "ghost" that we see in at least three songs is definitely a male. And the person whom he's haunting is definitely a female. I see no other way around that. But yes, we can't figure anything out unless we've got Arriving.

Arriving Somewhere But Not Here is the alpha and the omega. At least as far as understanding Deadwing goes. That's been my emphasis throughout this entire writeup, trying to figure out what Deadwing means. Obviously I've not been successful, and I never will be until that movie comes out. But here's what I can tell you. You have to start all your investigations into the album from Arriving. Otherwise you'll have no clue what's going on. Then you've got to go back to Arriving. There'll be stuff you still haven't cleared up, and since this song is the centerpiece of the album, you've got to figure it out and get your other ideas from it. It contains what you can think of as the climax of the album in its solo, yet its probably the first song chronologically in the whole album. Mainly because you get the sense of it being a flashback (and Mellotron Scratch still being the aftermath of it), even before the title track which you get the sense of it being an overture. But that's what it is. I couldn't think of any better way that Deadwing could have been structured. And its structure completely relies around a force known as Arriving Somewhere But Not Here, which is the living, breathing representative of all that you can hear from Deadwing. You learn something in the album, it's got a connection to this song. But this song doesn't derive all of its merit just from how contextually well it fits. It's my favorite lyrics by my favorite songwriter. It takes a beast of a song to be able to do that. It's about the mystery of death, one of the greatest philosophical topics you can think up, but it's clouded even moreso by Steven's songwriting, which hit its pinnacle as of yet in this song. When you factor in what a technical giant this song is, you see what I mean. Arriving is a model of perfection and one of the greatest songs that we will ever know in our lifetimes.

2. Heartattack in a Layby (In Absentia)

It's very rare when you get to hear a piece of music and it completely tears you down on the inside. A piece of music that, when you're in the best of moods, you can listen to it and immediately, you'll come away from it with a different emotion than when you started. There's very, very few songs that can actually do it. Usually the happy emotions inside you are too strong to be pierced by any kind of music, but then again, there are some extremely powerful exceptions to that rule. But you get to wondering, is that a good thing? Is it really a good thing to be able to listen to a song and feel like **** afterwards, because it's just that heart rending? That's one of the controversial things in the music world, and one of the things that prevent most songs from being "objectively" good. Because some people hate anything that has to do with depression, while others just dwell in it. There are people like me who lead incredibly depressed lives and become easily distraught by things in their daily lives, and they just need something that they can relate to. When life becomes too much for them to turn to, they turn towards their music. And then, there's the whole group of songs that are sad, but their message wears off after a while. Those aren't the ones that you look for, you need the ones that are truly staying. The ones that were written with the most feeling, from a most personal level. This is why I'm a fan of Radiohead, Porcupine Tree, and Modest Mouse. Bands with generally very depressing lyrics, but songs that were actually legitimately well written, and by songwriters that know how to touch you on a deep, poignant level. To be able to get to you like that is the sign of a master class songwriter. That is why Isaac Brock is a genius. That is why Thom Yorke is a genius. And that is why Steven Wilson is my favorite songwriter of all time. Because Steven Wilson wrote Heartattack in a Layby. The song in my heart that I consider the saddest of all time except for Street Spirit (Fade Out).

You will see me comparing Heartattack in a Layby to Street Spirit a number of times in this writeup. And if that is a problem because you have never heard either of them, then that personally doesn't bother me because you are purposefully denying yourself of a musical experience. That is because those two songs are just that sad. Neither of them exactly fit in with the rest of their albums. The Bends, for instance, can be fairly paranoid, but Street Spirit just goes way over what you've seen yet, and for that reason, Thom Yorke can't claim ownership of that song. I don't blame him for that. I wouldn't either, it's too good of a song. Hell, if I wrote Heartattack in a Layby, I'd go overdose on some prozac and then wouldn't claim it either, because it's just too much. Some of you guys questioned me as to why I put it so high on my list, all this time. Some people in general, question what is so great about Heartattack in a Layby, and why some circles consider it to be one of the finest Porcupine Tree songs ever. They cite reasons, such as that it's "too simple". "Too short". Hell, Heartattack in a Layby is the single shortest song on In Absentia, and one of the shortest on this list in general, yet this is where it is. And yes, from an external standpoint, Heartattack looks like a fairly simple song. It's little more than Steven Wilson's vocals on top of acoustic guitar, but with those two instruments put together, it can destroy you. It can destroy every last bit of joy that lingered in your heart, and make you feel like committing suicide. It can call you from any situation that you're undergoing in your life, and make you want to come back to it. So that you can have something to relate to. Maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm just ****ed up. But that is the sheer power Heartattack has over my soul and will only maintain.

Heartattack in a Layby is not simple. **** that. It is ANYTHING but simple. I get to thinking at times that I know why it hits me like a ton of bricks in the way that it does sometimes. I think that I know it all. But then I come back to it later and I find I don't know anything. That it hits you in so many different ways at the same time, that you come away feeling devastated from it. Maybe it's the lyrics. Maybe it's the numerous times in this song in which the speaker blatantly lies to himself, telling that he's going to live to see the next day and grow old alongside his lover. Maybe it's the piano and the acoustic guitar when blended together, each note of which penetrates my soul and goes straight to my heart. Maybe it's Steven's beautiful harmony vocals at the end, when he falsely declares to himself that home is waiting for him, that his significant other is at home waiting for him. Maybe it's the fact he uses literally four layers of vocals at the end, in the most beautiful display ever put on tape. Maybe it's the sound of the ambulance, which the speaker can only shun because he feels he's beyond that. Maybe it all collectively hits me. I honestly do not know. This song is beyond my understanding. Steven and Barbieri literally employ every technique imaginable to break you apart, and it works. Oh god, it works.

Yet Heartattack does this, and it's the #1 song of In Absentia. Though I'll tell you a little secret: Heartattack in a Layby might not have anything to do with the concept of the album. If it is, it's a very loose connection that maybe I'm only the one who can see. I've always thought of it as a victim of the killer in all the misery that he's brought to feel. But it's the contrast you get presented with in In Absentia that make it all the more touching, and which makes it my favorite album of all time. Look at the beginning of the album. Trains. The song in which you can listen to and relive all your childhood memories in. The song in which you can recall all your nostalgia from, in a wave of euphoric happiness. As I've already talked about in that writeup, the anthem of a boy who would later become a psychopath. But at that time, someone experiencing incredible happiness. He had his decline as he became an infectious pervert. Gravity Eyelids and Lips of Ashes, all that. Then he got married and had his midlife crisis. He began to kill people. The Creator Has a Mastertape. An important song, that ends with an eerie but important message: "Pills and chloroform / All the pages torn...".

Yes. Pills. Steven put that innuendo at the end of The Creator for a reason. It wasn't just something that was to woo you like it (admittedly quite well) does. It was an important message to us all, forewarning what horror was going to occur. And here, in Heartattack in a Layby, we have the victim of this. That's right, to my knowledge The Creator gives no hint of the killer slaughtering anyone with pills and whatnot. Inside itself, that is. Maybe there was someone he was associating himself with at the time, however, who got close to him. And perhaps took a few too many of the pills he had to offer. Those pills could go straight to his heart, in a dangerous burst of fire. Or, maybe, they could be mixed with alcohol. An experience that causes internal bleeding, something that we could definitely associate with the idea of "heart attack". In my mind, this association needs to be made. I find it to be extremely important that the album transitions from ethereal happiness from Trains, to someone giving their account of suffering and dying through Heartattack in a Layby. I therefore find it necessary to believe that the killer has a connection to this.

But don't get me wrong. Heartattack isn't about the killer. It's one of those songs on In Absentia that's about something else. And for all I know, maybe there was no intentional connection in there. It could just be one of those other songs like The Sound of Muzak or Wedding Nails that we just associate with the place it is in the album. Which for all its intents and purposes was good if that were so, since Heartattack is the perfect bridge between The Creator Has a Mastertape and Strip the Soul. The reason it's not directly about the killer, though, is for more than just because it's a person suffering who we know for a fact isn't him. It's because the person in this song is all of us. He stands for all of us who leave our home after becoming enraged with someone close to us. Who ignorantly take it for granted that we're actually going to return home safely, when in reality, we don't know that at all. This poor person here, and this song as a whole, stands for human mistakes, despair, and delusion. That's right, things that come from humans. Humanity is something that the killer, in Collapse the Light into Earth, Trains, and Prodigal demonstrates. But not humanity on this level. Heartattack in a Layby is transcendental in its depiction of humanity.

Let's go back to the associations with Street Spirit, since I intend to use them a bunch in this song. This song and that one are the two saddest ever to me, so I'm justified in it, considering they use such a similar technique. They both start with a very soft little riff, that's a little repetitive. Yet repetition is a method which it uses to get a point across. A point that's just plain hurtful to witness. In both songs, I consider it to be the riff that's used before the song takes it to the next level, when the vocals enter. Because to me, in both cases the vocals are what really begin to affect you. Heartattack in a Layby has about seven layers of things that emotionally derange me towards the ending, but for now, you just wait for the vocals to enter. Which isn't that long; only about twenty seconds in. Already you get the sense of a horrible tragedy about to occur.

I pull off the road east of Baldock and AshfordFeeling for my cell in the light from the dashboardHissing from the road, the smell of rain in the air conMaybe check the news, or just put a tape onLighting up a smoke, I've got this feeling inside meDon't feel too good

Steven Wilson has described Heartattack in a Layby as being about a man who's having a really ****ty day. That's about the most real thing that you can possibly sing about and hit home with. Hopefully none of us can relate to Street Spirit in which you feel like you're staring straight at the devil (well, I do, but I digress), but we can all relate to having a terrible day. The first thing we learn about this man, though, is that he's in his car out on the road. That's not the only thing bothering him; there's something much greater that's on his mind, but we learn all about that in due time. The thing is though, that thing which is on his mind is probably the main reason he's on the road in the first place. But I digress. Let's look at the small details first and then work our way up.

We start off with that same little acoustic riff that we had before. That's really all that we have right off the bat, but then once we got to the vocals, we get Steven's most heartfelt performance ever recorded. Yes, even moreso than Stop Swimming or Collapse the Light into Earth, this song surpasses the both of them. It sounds like his normal vocals. But it's just so much more than that. Believe me, you won't feel like you're just listening to one of his other songs here, because this is just so much more poignant and touching, I can't even begin to describe it. All the while, you start to put yourself into the position of this guy who's on the road having a **** day, all because of Steven's voice. It has its own lure, an atmosphere of sorts, which it draws you into. Where you will be depressed as hell, let me tell you. But that's what Heartattack in a Layby is about. It's about a situation that starts bad, and starts getting progressively worse. There is such a tension in his voice, which he will just make you feel more and more as the song goes on. Maybe it won't completely hit you the first time you listen to the song, but believe me, give it time. It'll sink in. And when it does, it's like a ton of bricks. That's the beauty that just vocals and an acoustic guitar have.

You can almost see it in that verse, on its own, that he's got some condition and it doesn't look like it's going to get any better any time soon. He pulls off the road to get on his cell phone. Why, you ask? Who knows. But obviously, it's not for any good reason. The way I look at it though, is that he's just had a bad day, but he feels there's something wrong with him, so then he just pulls over and happens to take out his cell. The background to that feeling that's just building up inside him, is the sound of rain pouring down, and his air conditioner. And the smell of that, I suppose. You could say that it all sounds like a hissing kind of sound. Right now, though, he doesn't really feel like it's that much of a problem to him. He fiddles with his radio, deciding whether he should turn on some music or listen to the news. But it doesn't get any better. He lights up a cigarette to help himself relax, but the feeling inside him is just intensifying. It's a steady decline.

In transit from verse to verse, though, Steven keeps it as gorgeous as it can possibly get, until it very nearly pushes the limit. The small instrumental part in between verses is just the extent of pain that music can cause you. And I mean that as an emotional thing, as in you just listen to those chords, and it strikes you right in your heartstrings. That's just what the chords on top of what Barbieri puts on top of it, does. Let's get to something else -- the sound that Steven makes at the end of that. He gets done with that last line, and then makes a sound like "yo-de-yo-de-yo-de...". You hear that, and it immediately flashes a horrible red alarm for you. You know that something is horribly wrong. And to me, it's the sound of an ambulance. Nothing can be worse or more horrifying than that, right? That's just the impression you get when you hear it. It's the first case of Steven using a second layer of vocals in this song, and the way it's faded out of is bliss. Soon after, though, Steven proceeds to the next verse.

If I close my eyes and fell asleep in this laybyWould it all subside, the fever pushing the day byMotor window unwind, I could do with some fresh airCan't breathe too well

Not as long of a verse as the last one, but after that hauntingly beautiful cry that Steven just made, it's an amazing way to follow it up. And once again, the tension of this song is just building up, and if you can't feel how heartfelt this emotion is yet, keep playing it, until it completely breaks you down. Then just keep playing it more. Steven's voice is just that ethereal, and will never stop the meltdown it'll cause you. Here, you can just tell it's getting worse and worse for this guy. The pending heart attack in a layby is going to happen, but you can tell that he's starting to accept it slightly here. Here he's pulled off into a service station beside the road, and gets to thinking he's tired. If he could close his eyes and just drift off, maybe he could wake up and all those feelings would be gone. Is that it?

I've always seen even more to that, though. When I said that he's starting to accept that there's something tragically wrong with him, I meant that, and here's where you start seeing that. He might be trying to do something to help himself, but he realizes at the same time that there's a problem with him that's not just been existing now. It's been weighing him down for a while, and once again, just like in Arriving, you get a sense for that just because of Steven's voice. He's a powerful vocalist and can convey any number of different emotions and ideas just by singing like he normally would, and here's yet another perfect example of that. The guy realizing that he has some kind of fever, but he's kind of thinking at the same time that he should just lie down and let it consume him. Maybe he's actually looking at that and doubting it. I wouldn't know. Nonetheless, it's yet another beautiful line.

He finds shortly after, however, that that's not working to fix his problems. So the next thing he does, is he tries to get some fresh air. He rolls the window down, but he realizes something else. There's a sensation inside him that's burning, but at the same time he can't breathe. So he's getting killed in two different ways, as well as internally, as we're about to see. That's something that works well when you look at it in the context of the previous line. Where we starts to accept that there's something horribly wrong with him. So yes, this is his realization right here. Steven's voice stays as beautiful as ever throughout, with each of his words striking a million daggers through your heartstrings. Especially the way he says "can't breathe too well"... that's just beautiful. Then there's another one of those short little instrumental parts, where the ambulance sound continues.

Now, another word about the ambulance. Remember when you heard it in between the first two verses? That was a signal, something lighting up inside the guy's head. A red alarm of sorts, to tell him that he needs to get help, immediately. Maybe he heard one down the road or something and got him thinking. Here, though, is where he probably got to calling one. Again, I interpret that last verse as him starting to accept the fact that he's in the middle of his death. How can you possibly push the sadness meter even more? Trust me, Steven figured it out and he doesn't hesitate for one second. Think of what makes this song sad. That ambulance sound is pretty damn tragic, right? The guitar is pretty sad too, right? Steven's vocals are beautiful, wouldn't you agree? Think about being hit with all three of them at the exact same time, along with another layer of inner, unparalled trauma. Along with the growing tension, that can only lead to a horrible climax. That is what Heartattack in a Layby then pushes itself towards.

I guess I should go now, she's waiting to make upShe... waits... for... me... Home... waits... for... me...To tell me she's sorry, and how much she missed meShe... waits... for... me... Home... waits... for... me...

My hat is off to that. The last minute and a half or so of Heartattack in a Layby is the most devastatingly tragic thing ever put into music. It almost beats Street Spirit and its lifelong encounter with the devil. Almost. The reason for that, is that Steven reveals another aspect about the narrator that you probably didn't know about. The piano leads into this, and then Steven puts in three layers of vocals. You thought that Heartattack in a Layby was simple? You couldn't be more wrong. This is one of the most intricately put together moments in music that I've ever had the pleasure of hearing. It couldn't have possibly been easy to do this. You've got Steven on vocals, on the ambulance sound, and on the backing vocal of "She waits for me... home waits for me...". All at the exact same time. That needed coordination. Coordination is an aspect of complexity, and that's what Heartattack is capable of doing, without ever getting excessive in the slightest. Now you see why it's my second favorite Porcupine Tree song, and one of my top ten of all time. Because of the internal breakdown that happens to me whenever my ears bear witness to this orgasmic spectacle.

So wait, what was that little aspect that Steven added into the song? Ah, yes. "She waits for me... home waits for me". Except it's not sung like that. It's sung in a constant loop under the vocals, as "She. Waits. For. Me. Home. Waits. For Me", which says a lot. You thought this song couldn't possibly go any further in its wave of despair, but it finally pushes the absolute limit with that. You find that the narrator has someone extremely close to him, and maybe he's going to join her here. Or, maybe, he's STILL somewhat in denial that he's completely ****ed over. Think about it. He wants to get home, and he still thinks that there's a chance he can make it. Home is waiting for him, and his wife is there, waiting for him as well. At least, that's what he's hoping for. That's what he's trying to tell himself that he can get back to, even though he knows deep down inside that he's going to die. There's no escape, he's never going to see her again.

But lo and behold, his mind is thinking that. The ambulance is down the road, probably coming to pick him up. But then Steven's got one more layer beyond that, and that's his actual voice. It represents everything that's going on at one time, and it's an organic, heartbreaking combination. He's saying to himself, "I guess I should go now, she's waiting to make up / To tell me she's sorry, and how much she missed me". Now we see, most likely, what it is that pushed him over the edge and caused him to get an attack like this. He's lying down, getting fresh air and whatnot, in the layby, but nothing's really working. So he tells himself that he should just get going home, and there his wife will be waiting for him. She'll tell him that she's sorry and missed him. Why's that? Who knows. Probably because he stormed out of the house in a rage due to something she did. There were daily problems, which probably didn't amount to anything anyway, but then he went to go take a little drive to calm down. Evidently, he's not going to come back, and is never going to see her again, so that they can tell each other they're sorry. Can it get sadder than that?

Yes, it can. Who says that my theory holds true? There's another possible explanation for this entire verse as well as the one that follows. Remember when I said that he had come to sort of a realization and was now in acceptance of the fact that he was going to die? It's possible that this whole entire verse agrees with that exactly. "She waits for me / Home waits for me"? Well, guess what. We don't know what "home is". Where she is, or anything about her, for that matter. Who knows if she's still bound to the same planet he is? He may just be lying there, thinking that he's onboard to the afterlife. That his real "home" is waiting for him. Where she lies there, in slumber, waiting for him to join her. So when he says, "I guess I should go now"? Yeah, she says he should just go die, now, because she's there in heaven, to tell him that she's sorry for having been away for so long. She missed him, and he missed her, because guess what, she died a long time ago. That's an extremely possible interpretation of the song. Obviously, Steven is extremely tight lipped about all his songs, and Heartattack in a Layby is no exception. My point is, however, that that's an extremely likely possibility.

I guess I'm just burnt out, I really should slow downShe... waits... for... me... Home... waits... for... me...I'm perfectly fine but, I just need to lie downShe... waits... for... me... Home... waits... for... me...

Now the song chooses to push it even further. To explain perhaps a little more, even if it's not going to clarify which of the two scenarios I spoke of is the actual one. It does give some hints, however. First of which is when he says that he's just burnt out. It's Steven's lyric choice that makes this song as breaking as it is. It's enough to say that this guy is going to die, but that he's just accepting it like that because he's tired of living, is something even more altogether. It's that underlying tension to Heartattack in a Layby that makes it the saddest song in Porcupine Tree's library. Because it never ceases. Not for one ****ing second. It puts death in the most horrible kind of gravitational light you can't even describe it. It's complex. **** simplicity, Heartattack in a Layby might be the most complicated song in Porcupine Tree's discography. Just because of this moment here. All because of what Steven has done, up to this point. Everything. Not one second of the whole thing wasted.

Never mind. The guy is burnt down, and says that he really should slow down. That's something that works just fine under either interpretation of the song. Either he's generally burnt out on life and is ready to go to the afterlife, or he's just reflected on everything now, in his misery. He's burnt out and should slow down. Something he could definitely think if he was back on the road, trying to get home. She... waits... for... me... home... waits... for... me... can this song get any more tragic? Yeah, and it's about to get there. Tension grows even more as he says "I'm perfectly fine but I just need to lie down". So, you can think of that as either him keeping up his denial, or keeping up one of the sickest kind of acceptances you can imagine. He might be telling himself that he's just fine, even though he knows for a fact that he's in his dying breath, as he's in the process of dying of a heart attack, or it's a figure of speech. He might be fading out right there, telling himself, it's alright. I'm fine, let me move over. So I can die more comfortably. That's horrible. That is just ****ing horrible. You can't possibly listen to that and not feel like you're right in that guy's shoes. I don't care what your life experience is, if you have a functional heart and soul, you attach yourself right into that naturally. Because this song is just that strong.

Let's attach it to In Absentia again, though. I suppose in either of the two scenarios you could think of it as appropriate, though if his wife is alive it probably makes more sense. Let's say he stormed out the house and then got on the road, and probably his first stop was right where the killer lives. He's a big man, though, and probably not the person that the killer would just try to chop down. Plus, he's not the type of person he's interested in raping, so he gives him some pills. Causes internal bleeding, which is pretty immediate. Probably because it's a terribly poisonous combination, but then he goes somewhere else. The night starts to dawn on him, and then he pulls off the road. Because there's something wrong with him, and he knows it. And it's just getting worse and worse. Until it brings him to this. If you think of the song this way, you can't possibly forgive him just based on Collapse. This is how humanity suffers. This is how humanity dies. This is the human evil, the human trauma, and why they needn't be going on. And it's all that bastard's fault for this entire song. How does the guy react?

We'll grow old togetherWe'll grow old togetherWe'll grow old togetherWe'll grow old togetherWe'll grow old togetherWe'll grow old together

Pure denial, that's how. This is beautiful, but it's even more haunting than it's been. Once again, though, it works in either of the two scenarios. How it fades out, though, is just like what you'd imagine it. In something that destroys even the implementation Glass Arm Shattering used of a similar technique, the layers just build up more and more. The ambulance is more prominent, the "She waits for me... home waits for me..." is even more in the front, but Steven manipulates his voice to draw you right into the moment of his inevitable death. We'll grow old together. She waits for me. We'll grow old together. Home waits for me. It just keeps growing, while that backing music, which is essentially the same as the little instrumental interludes, just gets more and more horrible. You can feel how weak Steven's voice is. He's simulating the true death, until finally, it all shatters. We'll grow old together... that all breaks, along with the "She waits for me...", etc. He stops being able to speak, because the heartattack has landed its final blow. His heart finally fails, then he can't think anymore, so so much for the backing vocals. As for the ambulance, though, it just keeps going. Yo-de-yo-de-yo-de-yo-de-yo... how can you not think that an ambulance. It's so tender and well placed in there, you can't possibly explain it any other way.

But what was I saying about how it works under either scenario? Yes, if he goes up into heaven, then he'll be with his wife for eternity. Then they can grow old there. But on the other hand, maybe he actually STILL thinks that he can make it home to his wife, because he needs to. He needs to talk to her. Then maybe it'll be alright, then maybe he can actually live out the rest of his days. I think that's what Heartattack in a Layby is trying to communicate to us all. That this isn't how you should behave. You need to keep on good terms with the people you love, because you never know what sick, messed up mother****ers are out there. People who would do this to you. People who would dissociate you utterly from everything that you love and care for, by letting you die. It's songs like this that make you actually realize how death truly is the most evil thing in existence. This is suffering. In musical form. And it's otherworldly.

So, is it appropriate that this song took the crown as the #1 song from In Absentia? Absolutely, and I almost crowned it as the #1 song in the band's discography. That is how amazing this song is. Nothing can compare. Trains is almost as good. Plus I love Blackest Eyes and Prodigal to death. It's my favorite album of all time, and it's only appropriate that my favorite song from it would be something that's completely mind blowing, and Heartattack in a Layby is just that. Did it blow your mind in the way that you would naturally expect? Probably not. This song is anything but progressive. Hell, it's the shortest song on the entire album. Plus, look at it. We just spent an entire concept album talking about a serial killer. This song, on the other hand, is lightly, if at all connected to said serial killer. Plus, In Absentia is an album filled with heavy and metallic riffing that took the direction of Porcupine Tree to a whole new level. Heartattack isn't representative of that. It's sad, short, quiet, and soft. Albeit complicated, but it's still hardly a rock your face off song. So why does it take the top spot?

You may be forgetting another underlying aspect of beauty within In Absentia, that makes it the titan of the album it is. It's that it's incredibly dark. That's the reason it uses the metallic riffs to communicate its points. The midlife crisis in Wedding Nails, as well as the mental destruction that takes place within The Creator Has a Mastertape and Strip the Soul, which is also communicated through the killer's destruction of other humans... all because of the album being such a dark ****ing collection of music. That's what the album is all about. In Heartattack, however, Steven decides to use another method to convey darkness. He makes it the saddest song he's ever penned. Stop Swimming, Feel So Low... this is beyond all of that. Heartattack is the true ballad of his, and for that reason, I would consider it to be his signature song. Because he's a human being that can describe to you exactly what it means to be human. And to die as a human, which is what this is all about. If you want to see the signature of Porcupine Tree as a band, that's where my #1, Anesthetize, comes in. In terms of Steven Wilson as a musician, though, there's one reason he's my favorite of all time. That reason is Heartattack in a Layby.

1. Anesthetize (Fear of a Blank Planet)

...Okay. There's a lot for me to say about this, as you guys all know. Most of it consisting of my stream of consciousness interpretation of this absolute masterpiece of a song, but I've got to put things into perspective. Porcupine Tree have been going at it for a long time. Since 1987, as a matter of fact. And twenty years later on their newest album, Fear of a Blank Planet, they release the song that I consider to be the absolute most amazing thing they've ever put out. And as is fair, I place said song at #1 on my list. This is an extremely risky thing to do, putting a song on a band's newest album at the top. If the #1 song comes from the very newest release, this says a lot about the future of the band's stuff, if you ask me. That #2 came from their third to last and #3 from their second to last, and then #1 on their actual last... that's an incredibly pleasing thing to behold. It can only mean good things for the future. So even if this song in and of itself is the most pessimistic thing ever, I'll start this thing off on an optimistic note and say this: Anesthetize is my absolute favorite Porcupine Tree song and is a contender for the greatest song ever. In my eyes, at least. But it may not maintain that #1 spot forever. Porcupine Tree is quite able to release material that surpasses it. Or maybe not. I couldn't tell you.

Isn't that an exciting thought? That Porcupine Tree can just keep releasing material that very easily knocks off the rest of the stuff from their discography? It just excites me more and more for that upcoming album that should hopefully be coming out in 2009 or 2010. Maybe Anesthetize won't be #1 then. It might be surpassed by some other mind blowing epic, or some other heart breaking piece of music in the likes of Heartattack in a Layby, a song that got in the top five and was also a song that I considered for the number one spot. Or it might be a mixture thereof. Then again, that'd be overkill because Anesthetize already perfectly fits that description. I guess the first thing that deserves attention is the fact that it's eighteen minutes. That easily makes it the centerpiece of Fear of a Blank Planet. Something that comes to represent the entire album as a whole. And indeed, it's like it has its own gravity. You get to dividing the album into two parts, much like Deadwing, of what comes before and after this song.

But where was I? Oh yeah, the fact that Anesthetize fills the role as both the depressing song of the album as well as the epic. Those are obviously the two demoninations of their albums which I like most. Look at the top two songs on Deadwing for instance: Arriving and The Start of Something Beautiful. I don't lie when I say that Anesthetize mixes the two worlds together amazingly. It IS of course the two things that Steven does best. He's said the sad songs are the one he finds the most beautiful. Plus we've already established how great he is at making long prog songs, so when you put the two together, you end up with a masterpiece. Plain and simple. But why is it that Anesthetize is actually, quote on quote, "depressing"? Here is the only explanation I can offer: it is almost too real of a depiction of the teenage life that we know of today which is in a steady decline and will end in disaster. From beginning to end that is exactly the essence of what Anesthetize captures.

Yet this would be nothing more than a perfectly normal song, were it not written by Steven Wilson. Anyone can write a song about the decline of society as far as teenagers and such are concerned, but only Steven can breathe life into it and make it feel truly real to you. That is because even though he's in his forties at this point, he can actually relate to the world as he sees it today, and he understands. He understands why teenagers as he knows them are in the steady decline that he observes. It is partly because of technology, and that's something that Fear of a Blank Planet puts a lot of emphasis on. When you're on your Xbox, your computer, or your cell phone for too long, you start to get drawn into that world and detached from everything else, and then that's what really does ruin you as a human being in actual society. It's partly because of pills and prescription drugs. Another form of detachment. But then, let's say we're actually going back to society after being indulged in our own little worlds and not being able to relate to it for long enough. That's EXACTLY what we're going to feel. Detached from everything. We can be standing there in our own little fake relations with other people, but not able to feel anything from it. Because that's all your relationships become after that period of time. Artificial.

Detachment is exactly the thing that Anesthetize talks about in its eighteen minutes of instrumental and lyrical grandeur. Exactly it deals with things on an entirely more personal level. I'll say it once more: Fear of a Blank Planet is divided into three sections. The title track, Anesthetize, and the My Ashes/Sentimental/Way Out of Here/Sleep Together section. All of them are rather independent of each other in the way I see it. Then again, the title track is a lot more general. It's told from a first person perspective for the majority of it, but you never really get immersed into it and feeling what Steven talks about in your own guilty type of way or anything. It's just a catchy, kickass song that nearly made the top ten, but is great in its own right. The four song section tells a story from beginning to end, but it ends in a rather extreme way through Way Out of Here/Sleep Together, so you likely aren't going to become as emotionally drawn into it as you would like to be. Moreover you'll just be jamming to how heavy a majority of those songs, and My Ashes and Sentimental, the ones that are slower and a bit more lyrically driven, they're not really as easy to relate to. Great songs, but they lack a bit of that imagery which Anesthetize conveys to a t. And detachment is a big theme in all of those songs. Anesthetize is the one that actually evokes Steven's power to write a song and actually make that all truly surreal/real to you, though. He does by telling a three part epic story about a teenager who's just like us. Except he's done whatever to himself and feels himself fading away, and then when he comes back to society as we know it, he's a zombie and his life has been completely thrown away. THAT is Anesthetize in a nutshell. Yet a nutshell isn't how we do it here. It's an eighteen minute prog song, dammit. To exactly explain why this clicks with you as much as it does, let's start with the actual meaning of the title. "Anesthetize" obviously means to induce anesthesia.

anesthesia (v)loss of sensation and usually of consciousness without loss of vital functions artificially produced by the administration of one or more agents that block the passage of pain impulses along nerve pathways to the brain

We don't need to literally interpret every part of that, but there's some big things in there which made Steven choose it as the title for this song here. For one thing, the loss of sensation. That's the very thing that causes isolation from the society around you even while you're a part of it, so that's obviously a big thing. There's also a loss of consciousness in here, although that's not an extremely major part of the song thematically. Another thing that's also not extremely important there but nevertheless existent in the definition is the blockage of pain impulses in the nervous system. Well, that's exactly what we use pills and prescriptions for in real life. To cure ourselves of pain. It doesn't necessarily have to be in our nervous systems, but that's what we use them for, basically. To get away from the pain that anything in the world causes to us. Anesthetize, then, is about the disaster that results from such indulgence going too far.

Yet once again Steven will make it incredibly real once said disaster hits and a life is ruined. Then with the backing piano that comes in at that point, your mind will be completely blown. That's what I love about Anesthetize. It's an eighteen minute three part epic, and not one second of it is wasted. From the first second, it gets your attention, and it never lets up. It's got three guitar solos, one performed by Alex Lifeson, a rather sullen first part, a quite heavy second part, and then an extremely depressing and melancholy third part. How convenient, because Steven in that time period manages to capture every single one of the many things that he does well in his songwriting, without one moment of weakness. Anesthetize is elegant like that. You'll constantly be paying attention to the lyrics, but musically it's incredible as well. Starting from the very beginning. At this point, I would like to ask the few of you who are daring enough to read this writeup, to start the song on a quality pair of headphones. Begin with that surreal voodoo of a riff that opens the song up, immerse yourself in the bassline oncurring, and then listen and wait as Steven opens up the lyrics.

A good impression of myselfNot much to concealI'm saying nothingBut I'm saying nothing with feel

Excellent. Steven opens with a great deal of emotion, and places a lot of emphasis on the word "impression". Really stresses the dramatic impact of the word out, and it's a great feeling. If you remember, Steven has said that in the creation of Fear of a Blank Planet he took influence from the book Lunar Park. First line of that novel: "You do an awfully good impression of yourself". And the way I understand it, that was an insult based on a Halloween costume or something or other. So how does that fit in with the very first line of Anesthetize? Ask yourself in the first place what a costume is. Something to hide your identity into, correct? You can hide yourself away inside one for whatever reason, but the very essence of it is a fake vision of yourself to broadcast to the world. Yes, I used the word fakeness. Something that comes into play a bit throughout Anesthetize. Particularly in the first line, at least in the way I see it. So that's exactly what Steven chooses to get at from the very get-go.

It's a good impression of himself, this fakeness that he demonstrates to the world, and acts in his place. As that occurs, what you can best describe as the "real" him is sleeping inside. Or dead, or whatever? Yeah, that would be right, dead. Because he says right then that there's not much to conceal. There's nothing inside that fake and hollow, empty shell that he has to give to the world, so what does it matter. He says nothing, and there's no emotion to what he does have to say. No relevance in the world, and no thought behind it. Because again, sensation is something that he lacks. Getting back to the title at hand, here.

So, now the question is. Can you relate to that? I can understand if you can't, because Anesthetize isn't close to being done with the imagery that it presents to you. If that is the case, however, what were your thoughts at the time? You might not have been able to say anything relevant at hand, but there was definitely a function mind going on behind all of that. Maybe the thoughts were something like this.

I simply am not hereNo way I...Shut up, be happyStop whining please

Not a very unusual statement to make. Steven keeps the song entirely in the first person because once again, he's stressing something. This is something that you ARE supposed to relate to. Maybe the beginning extremities are a little too much for you to sink your teeth into at a personal level, but these thoughts are exactly what you can recognize from your own existence. Throughout that entire verse, there's been a very tight set of drums and guitar, but it just reaches another level of eeriness once it reaches this "chorus" of sorts. Anesthetize has three different choruses, one for each part, and this is the one for the first part. It's meant to be a sort of recurring thing, because you KNOW that no matter what you do, you're in your own personal sort of decline.

As I was saying about that as a statement, we all know how common it is to say "I'm not here". That you're there, living in the world, but existing as a sort of lifeless and thoughtless being, and not really contributing anything to the society that you're a part of. How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead with a rather similar statement inside it, anyone? So in a way, this chorus right here is a set of reactions to what you've become. You try to hide it away from the world that you're a part of, but it's impossible. Eventually you crack. Because inside your head, you're thinking: "I SIMPLY AAAAAM NOT HEEEERE!" Yes, that was a rather accurate depiction of the way that Steven sings it. He wants you to feel how ****ed up he is, and how bleak and desolate that he feels. He then forms another thought: "No way I...". But he doesn't have the words to complete it. Now the next line, whether it's from him or his parents or anyone else is unknown, but that's not so much the issue. It's a contrast to that whole thing. This is a direct example of that theme from Fear of a Blank Planet's title track that it enters towards the end: "Bipolar disorder / Can't deal with this boredom".

Someone deep down inside him is telling him that he needs to shut up and stop his whining, and be happy. That is typically something that you would expect a parent to say. The fact of the matter is, that a number of them only pretend that they can see the actual problems that you face. They're too far removed from the actual issues that teenagers face in our world, of which there are many, because that was a part of their life far too long ago. They reason that you have so much more than they ever did in their lives. Example, cell phones, computers, Xboxes, all that other technological stuff. But while that can addict you and give you entertainment for a long time, eventually it's going to wear thin. Eventually you will realize the meaningless of your own existence and become desensitized to everything around you. If that's what your entire world is wrapped around, that is. Who knows what the social status of this guy is, or what the extent of his lonesomeness in the world he lives in is, but that's obviously the problem. It's something that his parents can't understand, in any case, whether it's they who are talking to him now, or himself to himself. It's easy for them to tell him to stop whining, but either way he's trying to convince himself deep down that he has everything as well. It's obviously a failure though and it's merely a conflict in thoughts. Such is the damage of social anesthesia.

And because of who we areWe react in mock surpriseThe curse of there must be moreSo don't breathe hereDon't leave your bags

Now we go back from his thoughts, back to what he actually experiences in what can be referred to as his actual life. He refers to himself and people that are like him as "we", groups himself inside that type. Or stereotype, whatever you choose to call it. Again, that just shows you more and more what his opinion of himself is. He continues the parallelism with himself and the other desensitized sheep around himself, and takes about "the curse of there must be more". That's a relatively straightforward line right there. Teenagers, in that they get one possession after another, but they never have enough of 'em. Or beyond that, they get all the material possessions that they ever wanted, but they find something lacking at the end, because they're locked in their own little zone and dissociate themselves from all of the world. Steven says after that, "So don't breathe here / Don't leave your bags", which is a particularly haunting lyric. To me, it just follows off from what Steven was talking about earlier with the curse. So that's about it.

The song returns to that chorus again, which is as amazing as before. As dark, as atmospheric as ever, and you're about to have the perfect musical representation of everything that's supposed to be going on. From the teenage problem, to the treatment that he's about to receive. All courtesy of a special guest by the name of the Snow Dog. Also known as Alex Lifeson. The chorus ends in roughly the same way as it did earlier. It reaches its climax, with Steven calling "Stop whining, pleeease" and then it breaks loose. You feel like you're being immersed into a wave of static electricity, which is most likely due to the effect he puts on his guitar there. A moment of acoustics for just a brief little bit, but then the song comes back in full swing, on an extremely note. While Gavin hammers down on his drums, a new guitar enters. It's a bit lighter than it was previously, but what's about to begin is an incredibly dynamic solo which is supposed to represent a complete transition from one state of mood to another. Mainly brought on from prescription drugs and whatever other things the teenager is doing here to give himself treatment.

At about 4:57, the bass gets a bit heavier, and then the song shifts in its delivery. The synth becomes a bit more active here, although it's only for a quick few bits. And although Lifeson takes a short little break in between the two sections, he's not done by any means. Plus there's always Gavin, who hasn't stopped for one second through this whole thing. As it nears the six minute mark, Lifeson is still going strong. He, and the keyboards draw this entire instrumental section to a close, then suddenly the song becomes remarkably heavier. Gavin changes his drum beat around, and Steven returns as the lead guitarist. So in the end, that was an incredibly good solo. And you can feel through the entire thing if you're a Rush fan like I am, how very similar it is to the guitar work in their songs. While it's probably not even my favorite instrumental section in this song, it does an extremely good job transitioning from the first part to the second part, and you end up drowning yourself in it. You end up losing yourself in the drugs that activate someone in the way they do here. Obviously, when this song is played live, Lifeson isn't with them, but Steven Wilson and John Wesley do a great job of doing this part of it. They don't copy it note for note, which is a good thing. Only Alex Lifeson can play that part there and make it meaningful in