A few months ago TDW released a single called “We’ll Shine Again” with Soul Secret. Its primary purpose was to raise money for the World Health Organisation, but as I listened to the hopeful “We’ll shine out of the darkest prison … beyond pain and sorrow, Eden we’ll find, we’ll shine again”, I had a lightbulb moment. Where I associated Soul Secret with playful musical range accompanied by intermittent reflections, with TDW, aka Dutch progmeister Tom de Wit, I experience deep word-heavy reflections accompanied by an intermittent playful musical range. I did ask Tom if this album was born out of Covid-19, but recognising that the title is, as he put it “weirdly current”, “The Days the Clock Stopped” actually relate to his own personal experiences of 11 years ago, not least with medical, mental and physical issues. Composition started three years ago, which tells you something about the depth of the man, and also how busy he is in both his work and in his mind. In his fascinating pre-order video, Tom promises “a ride in itself”.
TDW is not just a name. TDW is a band which has been releasing music since 2008. Tom is also behind Dreamwalkers Inc. The common core is progressive music. I was surprised to learn that Tom’s previous works have never been devoted to personal issues as here, but fictional characters and events, and metaphors. Tom is far from alone here in this venture. The entire cast numbers 22, amounting to Tom himself and three band members, nine guest musicians at different points and nine choir members. So, expect something epic. The start smacks of symphonic black metal. A sombre tone is set. The whispering and quiet voices of “Clockstop” put us in in a hospital. The beat flutters. The clock is ticking irregularly. Tom tells his story with reinforcement of the choir. “I only feel the clockstop taking place …. The chains that tie you down, your lesson in humility will start right now”. The scene is the emergency room. We’re now in the ward. Tom reflects on “the life that I had and now it’s gone. A code of conduct in its place”. This reminds me of my own hospitalisation in 1994, and the similar sense that I was no longer in control of anything. Musically, Tom represents the routine hum of the hospital but also the individual helplessness and in his case even a sense of rage. As theatre can be, this is very real in its representation. Tom gives full reign to his reflections in “Clockstop – Insight 2”, a fulsome classic style prog track. The clock ticks again gently or perhaps it is a fading heartbeat as “Sleepless Angels” tells the story from the viewpoint of Tom in a daze“. He may not last the night” can be heard faintly. We can now hear the sound of a pulse. The situation is getting urgent. The world is slipping away. The music is fast and hard. “As silence fills my ears and darkness fills my soul” – this is a prog metal inspired story of a body breaking down. Harshness mixes with realisation, the chorus mixes with both subtle and flowing guitar work. As ever with Tom de Wit, it’s theatrically presented like a West End musical. The cello introduces sadness to the scene which has been one of flailing helplessness. Along with the ticking clock and the dark symphonic tones and the words, it tells us that the venue is now the intensive care unit. Rocking symphonic choral prog metal then becomes the vehicle for “Death and Her Brother Greg”. The energy belies the theme. “We’ve taken your number today” cries Tom, and he’s not talking about hospital bureaucracy. I sensed fight in the confusion. These insights are from a mind and fading body.
I found that reading the lyrics first paved the way for listening to the music. In particular, noting that “No Can Do” was 18 minutes in length indicated a critical stage. Bordering on death still, “No Can Do” takes us through four stages: Awakening, Mind Games, Sleep, Presentation and Awakening (Reprise). Like the confused mind, the music sways through guitar-inspired prog energy and sad vistas, none more so than the mystical “Sleep” section. “I’ve fallen off this world It spins around me now and then. I see your purpose now I’ve lost beginnings and the end”, pronounces Tom. The music and words become cynical and harsh as “Presentation” suggests that our narrator’s death will be airbrushed away. Keyboards, guitar and other chicanery present a colourful force, accentuating the counterpoint between the individual’s struggle and confusion on the one side, and impersonal protocol on the other. “No Can Do” is a powerful and vivid piece which reflects a multitude of thoughts and a mind in turmoil. The choir and the samples add to the outerworldliness and both real and imagined conversations which are taking place around the man who is convinced he is dying, yet struggling to grasp his environment. We’re in a dream but the surroundings are real. “Clockstop – Insight 4” is a clever piece. The music reflects the monitor. Now there is clarity. Strength and resolve return. Like the onset of a new spring, the music takes on a new crispness and colour as the sick Tom tells of “a whole new game plan” in his notes. The track is a mix of choral symphony, Kraftwerk and dynamic prog. It’s still introspective but we are now looking outside. And so to the Epilogue, a male / female duet with choral interjections. I guess Tom felt the need to draw up a conclusion, and this is it, but somehow I felt we had already had that with “Clockstop – Insight 4”. Still, it’s a good eclectic piece of prog with delicacy, symphony, rock-metal melody and vivacity, and harmony all mixed in. And fittingly, we hear in the distance “You made it … you survived” at the end. I don’t think that’s spoiling the story. There is a bonus track on the CD version of this called “All We Could Do”. It’s another sensitive piece with wonderful harmonies and entirely fitting to the album, so a nice way to finish.
“The Days the Clock Stopped” is hugely personal and intriguingly insightful. This isn’t the first time I’ve listened to music about a near-death experience but I think it’s the first time in a progressive style. It’s no light matter, either in the subject or the delivery. TDW gives every ounce of breath, energy and emotion into this 81 minute epic. It’s dense, stifling and intense. This all makes it difficult yet there’s something calming about the ticking clock or pulse. It’s 100 per cent honest. Imagination abounds in the music and there’s sensitivity and expression in the words and reflections as we share the chilling sense of being in a hospital room with someone who’s dying. As you’d expect there are plenty of very dark moments both musically and lyrically. My impression was that sensitive reflections outweighed the power, and for me whilst the music was intertwined in the intensity of the story, it got a little lost in there too.
(7.5/10 Andrew Doherty)
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