Today's news is filled with disgust, along with horrified, grief-stricken parents and exuberant politicians dancing on top of dead children. The administration is preventing moms from feeding their babies and is equally determined to eliminate the American consumer in the name of the false god Mother Gaia. There is suffering and death in Ukraine. Globalists who have visited Davos are auditioning via LARP (Live Action Role Playing) to be the Antichrist. We are in the midst of a time to test the souls of men.
These are also the times that we need art more than ever before. Choose one or more of the following types: literature, music, painting, acting, dancing, sculpture, or whatever you like. They can provide relief from the everyday and chaotic moments of life. They remind us that there is a world beyond the ordinary and the gruesome.
It comes with a cost, and one that is more costly than a blister on your finger or perhaps blisters around your thumb. There's a reason that so many people in the arts over the years have drifted into, or surrendered to, insane permutations of various types, including suicide, chemical addiction, and self-destructive behavior. People who choose the high wire–trying to reconcile the creativity that is a gift of God and doing what is necessary to avoid falling into the inevitable madness that happens when man's imperfection is intimately connected to God’s holiness–do so at their own peril. Some seem to be able to find the perfect balance and live full lives without falling and burning for a while before their deaths.
That leads us to Robin Trower. In the 1970s, a period dominated by music lovers who favored musicians who were proficient in their chosen instruments, British rock and blues guitarist Trower briefly took the guitar spotlight. He wasn't a showman. Trower allowed his Fender Stratocaster to do the talking, and his bassist, James Dewar, who died in the mid-1990s, did all the singing. However, Trower packed arenas on the strength of his music and his vocals, as in his most well-known record (1974's Bridge of Sighs)—also equally solid material that consisted of both vision-inducing and fire-fueled slow songs that were anchored and punctuated by his mastery of the heavy blues technique and tone. Even though Trower's popularity waned in the latter part of the 1970s, he didn't seem to worry about it, instead focusing on his own muse with a steady flow of albums and constantly performing for his faithful fans.
Trower's latest album, No More Worlds to Conquer, was released in May 2022. It's among the most impressive albums he has released over the course of many years. After a few albums on which Trower did the majority of the work, even the singing, he has again turned the vocals over to his bassist, now Richard Watts. Watts's sluggish tenor brings some burning funk to the mix and is a feature that long-time Trower fans have come to know from his 1970s albums Caravan to Midnight and In City Dreams. The overall mood of the album is reflective of night music that is perfect for the times in which one contemplates the more profound aspects of life.
Trower isn't the most popular choice for everyone. It's easy to imagine the typical Dua Lipa fan recoiling in shock at the appearance and sound of an old man who hasn't recorded a Top Ten album in 46 years and is playing in a style that is currently out of style. For those who have ears to listen and hearts tuned to the soul, Robin Trower's No More Worlds to Conquer is a refreshing remedy for the current craziness plaguing everyone.
