It's prog Jim, but not as we know it...
Now that's the kind of nickname I'd like to have – The Magnificent Duke. It conjures up images of an adventurous gentleman; someone who divides his free time between doing heroic deeds and relaxing on his Chesterfield with a fine cognac and an oversized cigar for company. It's like Sergio Leone's 'Man With No Name' (played by Clint Eastwood in the Spaghetti Western trilogy) kicking some arse in a Saville Row suit - and I rather like it.
There is, of course, a story behind the name; a story surrounding one Jorge Stibero and his rather bizarre musical background. For most musicians, the route into the world of music treads one of three well-worn paths: 1) they follow in the footsteps of their musical parents, 2) they form a band with friends at school, 3) they receive an instrument as a present- the rest, as they say, is history. Not for Jorge - that would be far too conventional. Jorge left Portugal for Glasgow (for the weather presumably) with intentions to create a trilogy of records in tribute to a series of novellas penned by his parents: The Magnificent Duke, Duke Pandemonium and The Death Of The Duke. As a sign of parental gratitude, this is quite touching, and certainly beats a trip to Clintons Cards and a near-dead forecourt bouquet from your local estação de gasolina. Some would say that a complete lack of musical experience would be a hindrance to such ambitious plans, but Jorge doesn't exactly think like most people - hardly surprising when you consider that both of his parents were professors of parapsychology (the study of psychic phenomenon in case you were wondering). He moved one step closer to his goal when, at a New Year's Eve party in 2000, he met kindred spirit Brian Jessop; finding that they shared a lot of the same musical views and aspirations. This led to the formation proper of Marmaduke Duke, with the pair heading off to record the album, directly onto 8-track, in a cow shed on a Scottish farm. I think it's fair to say that this is not your average album, recorded by what is definitely not your average band.
However, all is not what it seems. You see it turns out that Marmaduke is actually a side-project of Simon 'Biffy Clyro' Neil and Sucioperro frontman JP Reid, and the unlikely duo of Jorge and Brian are merely fictitious characters plucked from the playful imagination of K! scribe and 'Book Of Fuck' author Ben Myers. Now this isn't the first time that musicians have released music under the cover of pseudonyms - Green Day once appeared be-masked under the moniker 'The Network’, and to avoid contractual breach Ryan Adams went under the name 'Warren Peace' (chortle) for punk band The Finger- but why musicians from two relatively obscure bands require (or warrant) such secrecy is beyond me. Still, as Sheryl Crow once said, if it makes you happy...
'The Magnificent Duke' is split into three sections: When The World Explodes/Implodes/Corrodes, with each designed to soundtrack the Duke's three subconscious personalities that arise as he descends into schizophrenic madness in the first of the three books. So what we have is a concept album of sorts, and one that has prog written all over it. It just remains to be seen whether this will be part of the new-wave of prog championed by the likes of The Mars Volta, or the slightly dodgy 'druids-at-dawn' prog of the 70's, championed by people with green beards and pupils like dustbin lids. Well if it is prog Jim, it's not as we know it, because even for a genre that is defined by experimentalism, this defies classification.
The album sections are successful in the fact that the songs within are easily distinguishable by way of their similar style and feel, even without the curious conformity of track names (Explodes are all 'the X and the X', Implodes are 'an X and an X' and Corrodes are 'X and X').
When The World Explodes, as the name would suggest, is the most frantic and aggressive of the three. It is dominated by an art-rock take on the warped stoner groove of QOTSA ('The Red and The Number', 'The False and The Cinematic'), with the jagged post-punk of The Blood Brothers also making sporadic appearances ('The
Kill and The Kure'). 'The Human and The Jigsaw' is a psychedelic hallucination; an unsettling swirl with a surprisingly catchy chorus that sets the scene before the world finally explodes with the scuzz-punk of section closer 'The Beaver And The Rabbit'.
When The World Implodes is a collection of mostly acoustic numbers, serving as a perfect foil to the harshness of the previous division. The guitar skips in sequences through the slightly jazzy 'A Fox and A Cake', with Simon's repeated pleads of "do you think there's another way?" driving home the emotional weight. The flange-guitar of 'A Conspiracy and A Devil' is a masterclass in laid-bare acousticry, as is 'An Eagle and An Eye'; a beautiful ballad wrought with sorrow and regret. Less successful is 'An Imposter and A Magician', which sounds like the jolly of a Medieval Minstrel.
Last, and unfortunately least, we come to When The World Corrodes. This strange instrumental section is almost entirely devoid of treble and melody; a collection of fuzzed rumblings that grind their way through a viscous sea of dirge. 'Paul and Alexander' is backed by percussion that sounds like (and probably is) someone banging an item of cutlery against an empty glass, building up to a stomp that is bizarrely similar to Orbital's 'Are We Here' (off their 'Snivilisation' album). You'd better make sure that all loose objects are secure before the ground-shaking 'Village and Minotaur' pounds out of your speakers, as it will proceed to loosen fillings, rattle doorframes and set off all car-alarms within a 50-feet radius. 'Blunder and Haggis' brings the album to a close, and is notable for two further reasons; firstly for having one of the best track names of all time, and secondly for combining doom with a disco beat - kind of like Har Mar Superstar doing Electric Wizard. The songs aren't bad, and as pieces of sonic experimentalism they work fine, but for the most part they just act as all-too-frequent intermissions, detracting from the flow and overall feel of the album.
The whole thing is finished off with some truly fantastic artwork and packaging - the embossed inlay card is particularly impressive, although I wouldn't advise licking it (or putting it anywhere near your mouth for that matter), as it smells dangerously toxic. Bereft of text or labels, the CD is solely adorned by a pastel print of The Duke atop a magnificent steed - simple, but very effective. The press release states that the true power and worth of 'The Magnificent Duke' will only be appreciated in 20 years time, and perhaps they're right, as the very essence of it's nature will mean that it's subsequent appeal is limited - it's just too strange for most. That said, you have to admire and appreciate it for what it is; a diverse collection of outside-the-box thinking from some uncompromisingly talented musicians. Whoever they are.