Radiohead’s Ok Computer was labelled a progressive rock album in certain quarters, a label that likely made frontman Thom Yorke uneasy, who turned to more ambient textures throughout the 21st century. Bandmate Ed O’ Brien’s Blue Morpho, on the other hand, is unapologetically proud of the genre: of the seven tunes here, only three keep to a radio-friendly length. Closing number “Obrigado” lasts a monstrous nine minutes in total.
By prog rock, we of course mean the more commercial side of the spectrum; Genesis and Yes over instrumental maniacs Emerson, Lake & Palmer. Paul McCartney‘s co-writer, Paul Epworth, serves as an album collaborator, steering O’Brien back to the vocal melody whenever he veers too far into blues excursions. “Blue Morpho” may open with Brian Eno-esque bird chirps, yet the scintillating vocal leaps and cinematic strings make for a lush listening experience.
A gentle guitar runs through “Sweet Spot”, embellished by Phil Selway’s feathery drum patterns. “You know lightning strikes,” O’Brien sings out, dropping fragments of clipped images into the audience’s attentive ear. The musicians change gear with “Teachers”, a bass-heavy samba piece painted with crisp aural shapes, compiling a crazy smorgasbord of percussion, precision, and power chords. “Teachers” is matched for craziness by “Solfeggio”, a droning keyboard figure. There’s nary a vocal nor a lyric to be heard; loop after loop carries the direction onward and forward.
In an almost artful throwback to Peter Gabriel and Foxtrot, “Thin Places” features a fragile flute performance, etched neatly against a lingering piano echoing in the background. Clearly, the notion of a solo record is to give O’Brien a chance to express a musical style that Radiohead wouldn’t condone; a difficult challenge, given how expansive the Radiohead catalogue is.
By that measurement, “Obrigado” is the most successful experiment: acrobatic thumps and jaunty keyboards rooted in the holistic environment the guitar player now finds himself in. The O’Briens, en famille, lived in Brazil for a period of time, so the infectious adoration for the country seeps into “Obrigado”, a dreamlike escapade. By the end of the tune, a backwards drill-like solo decorates the eardrums, a riff (presumably played by the artist himself) discombobulating pundits aching for a more settled pop tune.
It would be unwise to describe Blue Morpho as a downbeat record in the way The Bends and The King of the Limbs were; the dreariness at hand here seems more Brendan Behanesque than something you would find in a Tolstoy novel. In every unhappy cadence comes a happier sentiment. The singer/guitarist recently re-grouped with Thom Yorke and the other Radiohead members for a legacy tour that paid tribute to their nine records with mature detail and introspection. O’Brien has proven through Blue Morpho that he is as vital at curating new hooks as he is delving into past ones.
O’Brien can’t match Yorke as a rock vocalist, so he steers clear from that style in favour of a “stop/start” singing style that’s as much narration as it is ad libbing. “Incantations” could have worked as a poem if lyricists O’Brien and Epworth had chosen to go down that route. British artist Eska joins as backing vocalist, fleshing out the idiosyncratic world Blue Morpho inhabits. Awsa Bergstrom, similarly, takes on some of the intricate vocal duties on “Teachers”.
An artist’s work is their own to paint; collaborators can add to or subtract from the overall exhibit, knowing that the one credited is leading the charge. From 1993 to 2016, O’Brien primarily served as a sideman in Radiohead, and now seems comfortable grabbing the spotlight for his own artful purposes. Blue Morpho sounds like the beginning of an impressive journey for Ed O’Brien.