Think Like A Key 2023
The Leopard And The Lamb
Shining a light in the gloom, purveyor of whimsical doom returns, resplendent in sonic regalia.
In his halcyon days as part of KALEIDOSCOPE and FAIRFIELD PARLOUR, Peter Daltrey’s psychedelia didn’t seem to explicitly embrace pessimism, yet a dark streak always ran within the singer’s writing; it’s hardly surprising, then, that he is universally respected and appeared on a few records by other artists, most notably on AYREON albums. His solo career, which started with “Dream On” in 1995, has been impressive too, even though the last solo platter of fresh material issued under the Briton’s name appeared in 2002, because what followed “The Last Detail” was either collaborations or released under the Link Bekka moniker. Here’s why “The Leopard And The Lamb” feels so different and at the same time – time being of the essence as a riverbed of current affairs – so typical for the veteran’s oeuvre.
It will suffice to take a look at this record’s cover to see Daltrey dissolve today’s gloom with his music, and it will be enough to tune into hypnotic opener “Here Is The News” to sense the timeless relevance of Peter’s pieces, as electric strum and synthetic waves create infectious, effects-stricken cosmic-folk panoramas where the Londoner’s parchment-dry vocals dwell, spreading worry and wonder in equal measure before taking off to deliver a fetching chorus. But while the baroque-tinctured “High On A London Bus” casts a sad smile back to the paisley age of flawed innocence, “Painting Portraits” wraps solemn nostalgia in English fog, a flute and harmonica motifs cutting through faux-symphonic magnificence which “The Spirits Of Hyde Park” adds an electronic layer to, and which “The Man Who Had It All” and “Black Cab” switch to a much lighter, upbeat mood. However, the strings-drenched serenade “Point Of View” negates any frivolity to grip the listener’s soul in emotional vise – as do the majestic “The Time Of Trees” and “The Song You Never Heard” that are awash with orchestral opulence – leaving the organ-driven “The Diary” to stream introspective despondence all around.
Still, opposing the “I’ve had my share of small success and big defeats” kind of melancholy, the handclaps-helped “Petticoat Lane” shines like a sun on children’s faces, yet the album’s titular track marries drama to reverie to sign off with a flourish. “I tilt at windmills”: Daltrey may admit as much – only his efforts aren’t quixotic, as the satisfactory process can never be futile.
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