Review: Panic Room, Fleece

“It’s a momentous day for our country, so the pub is the best place to be,” quips Anne-Marie Helder. “This time tomorrow we’ll know whether we can afford to continue to tour in Europe.” She’s probably not feeling quite so chirpy now that turkeys (i.e. the uneducated white working class) have voted for Christmas. But tonight it’s time to party in front of a sparse if enthusiastic audience. Unless you’re a band with a huge heritage, you play prog-metal or your name is Steven Wilson, life can be tough for those who sail the topographic oceans of progressive rock. But Panic Room are clearly used to hard slog for modest returns and each member has gigs with other artists (Mostly Autumn, Fish, etc), which must help to cushion what can hardly be a profitable enterprise. The upside, of course, is that they get to do what they love – in this case delivering two lengthy, career-spanning sets with no support act.

Last time Panic Room were at the Fleece, they did the contrasting acoustic/electric set thing. This time they’re all about the rockier end of the spectrum. It’s loud, it’s heavy, it’s almost-but-not-quite metal at times, while leaving plenty of room for instrumental and rhythmic subtlety amid the bombast. Performing in front of a fetching bouquet, bejewelled Helder relishes the opportunity to demonstrate her impressive vocal range. The exquisite summery anthem Sunshine showcases the clear style familiar from Mostly Autumn, but she can also call on reserves of bluesy grit while doing battle with Dave Foster’s guitar.

Foster is a guitarist’s guitarist whose sonic palette ranges from tasteful David Gilmour-esque atmospherics to full-on shredding when required. Tucked away at the back of the stage, professorial keyboard player, and co-writer of much of the band’s material, Jonathan Edwards proves an unflashy team player who prioritises melody and texture. The accomplished rhythm section of Yatim Halimi (bass, backing vocals, crowd participation enthusiast) and Gavin Griffiths (drums) trade in effortless complexity, but this too is never at the expense of the songs.

Unusually for prog, these highly personal songs often centre on relationships (Tightrope Walking, the almost jazzy The Fall) and difficulties of communication (Start the Sound). Along the way, Panic Room dip into blues and even Middle Eastern sounds with Apocalypstick (from the equally slyly titled Visionary Position album).

A gargantuan Nocturnal closes the show and answers the question of how they proposed to top Promises, which climaxed the first set so effectively. The punters show their polite appreciation, as prog audiences are wont to do, prompting them to troop back for an extended version of the quirky Sandstorms. Now they’re off to record album number six and promise to return next year – unless, of course, they become one of the more egregious victims of Brexit.

All photos by Mike Evans