Wobbler: Hinterland

Then take a look at the length of the four tracks on Hinterland. With the exception of the brief introduction, "Serenade for 1652, they range from 12 to 28 minutes. It's clear that Wobbler is all about the kind of long-form, suite-like and episodic compositions that represented the best—and occasionally the worst—of its progenitors.

But while its roots are clear, Wobbler manages to incorporate elements of its own country's folk music into the diverse mix, lending it a personal complexion. In the same way Gentle Giant incorporated aspects of Baroque and Renaissance music into its blend of odd meters, idiosyncratic arrangements, and solid rock rhythms, so too Wobbler finds ways to pull together a multitude of elements into a potent blend. It doesn't exactly say anything new, but it will undoubtedly appeal to fans of the aforementioned 1970s bands who pine for the days when they were not only filling halls, but selling a lot of records.

Thanks to the reach of the internet, progressive rock has been undergoing something of a renaissance in recent years. But while sales of remastered/expanded reissues by classic bands are doing surprisingly well—and a whole subculture of lesser-known contemporary bands are selling enough records to justify their continued existence—few of these bands have actually reformed with any degree of success. King Crimson, under the watchful eye of Robert Fripp, refuses to look back, only forward. Yes has toured with its most revered lineup for a few years now, but it sounds as old and weathered as it looks—as does ELP.

And so the mantle falls to younger bands like Wobbler to keep the flame alive. Like Genesis, none of Wobbler's players have the kind of virtuoso tendencies of Fripp or ELP's Keith Emerson, but they're more than capable of navigating their own headily complex arrangements. And they've done their homework well. By incorporating the sounds and aesthetics of a wide range of groups, they've created something that sounds at once like all of them—and none of them. Contrapuntal acoustic guitar duets recall Gentle Giant, Karl Hultgren's bass the edge of Yes' Chris Squire, the haunting mellotron and jagged guitar early-1970s Crimson, and the detailed Hammond-based arrangements Emerson at his best. Johannessen's vocals are the only weak point, but in their very innocuousness they are easily ignored.

Ten years ago a band like Wobble wouldn't have stood a chance. But with a burgeoning progressive scene where festivals like NEARfest sell out in a matter of hours, albums like Hinterland have a chance at a real audience—and real sales.

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