Well, here we are. I’m opening the door back into the world of The Flower Kings once again as they continue to bridge the gap between storytelling adventures and, should I say, Yes-like boundaries, keeping us wanting more through some of the most symphonic, daring, and exciting voyages from a band that has been around for 32 years. Swedish maestro Roine Stolt himself has shown no sign of slowing down, continuing to keep us on the edge of our seats with the band’s 18th, yes, you heard that right, 18th, studio album, Hope.
Released on the InsideOut label, Hope reflects the divisions happening in the modern world, a world seemingly on the brink of collapse when it comes to human empathy. The album tackling themes of compassion, optimism, and looking forward to a brand-new day. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a massive expert on The Flower Kings’ music, but I have delved into some of their previous work, including Look at You Now and Love. Not to mention something else during my college years, I tried to get into Space Revolver, but eventually moved on to greener pastures in the mid-to-late 2000s.
Looking back at that time, I realise I probably wasn’t ready for The Flower Kings when I was in college. But now, with Hope, maybe it’s time to go back and see what I was missing. Listening to this album puts you on an incredible voyage as the band creates a progressive and enduring release that feels both ambitious and deeply cinematic.
The opening suite, ‘World Spinning – The Final Curtain’, which is divided into five parts, starts with an epic, almost classical keyboard concerto, while Stolt opens the curtains with his wah-wah guitar textures, revealing a magical and fantastic carpet ride. As soon as the organ settles into its loop, thanks to Larsson’s arrangements, and the guitars burst through the floodgates alongside DeMaio’s drumming patterns, the music takes on a darker aspect, reflecting what was happening during the pandemic six years ago.
You feel the isolation. You feel as though you’re inside a dream, witnessing the downfall of a kingdom with its heaviness and medieval fanfare structure. I believe it might be either Fröberg or Roine himself leading us toward the realisation that something has gone horribly wrong. Mind you, it is not a pretty sight that The Flower Kings are taking listeners into. There’s a Wakeman-esque vibration running through the piece before it bursts through the floodgates and reaches its finale-like, operatic passages.
At times, it feels as though The Flower Kings have created their own take on Disney’s Fantasia and Fantasia 2000, but with progressive music at the centre and a visual sense of wonder that stretches beyond the wildest imagination. You can almost picture animation accompanying these passages, bringing together the worlds of visual storytelling and progressive music.
I know The Flower Kings are going to be compared to both Yes and Starcastle, and I can understand why they might receive those comparisons. However, what they do here feels very, very different from those bands. When we move into ‘In A World of Fools,’ the harp blissfully walks into a mystical forest, accompanied by a folk-lore-inspired jazz arrangement that seems intent on breaking the rules. Its Mellotron dazzle pushes everything forward, encouraging you to close your eyes and prepare for the voyage home.
Then comes ‘Mars & Minerva’, which introduces Greek-like textures that bring to mind the mythology of ancient times. Where do we go from here? The keyboards seem to enter the world of Tomita’s parallel universe, while the guitars float across a heavenly sky, soaring upward into space with a calming yet passionate fusion-esque approach.
I wonder if Larsson paid attention to the sounds of Weather Report and Return to Forever for inspiration, using those influences to help create the territorial background of The Flower Kings’ sound. If that’s true, then the Kings are more than just a prog band, which makes perfect sense in my book. They’re breaking the rules, throwing them into the fire, and creating something that belongs entirely to them.
Now we come to the crème de la crème, the red velvet cake of all red velvet cakes, the 30-minute epic in seven parts, ‘The Gods of Rome’.
This is where Larsson and DeMaio share the spotlight with Michael’s bass playing, creating their own approach to how a prog trio should carry the footsteps of Latte E Miele and Le Orme, while bringing the Relayer-era influence into the fold at exactly the right moment and in exactly the right place.
But what’s this? Is The Flower Kings going into a medieval waltz? Oh, yes, they are. And they do it in the second movement.
You can almost envision this suite being played at a planetarium for the world premiere of the band’s latest album, with the audience being completely blown away and shouting, “What was that?! Replay the show again! This is on my radar!”
It’s always a treat to hear the guitars crying off into the night with their leading bends, riding away into a Camelot-like universe straight out of Prince Valiant’s world. Then the music moves from medieval passages into a fusion-like bossa nova twist that would have made Zappa proud to hear this band from top to bottom.
The third and fourth movements feel as though we’re walking in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by loneliness and a profound sense of loss in the aftermath of a forsaken war, one that seems to have been created by a corrupted madman in an Orwellian universe.
And getting out becomes the hard part. It becomes a survival-of-the-fittest situation that the characters have placed themselves in. The war enters a stop-and-go moment as we witness the maddening emperor’s ideas and The Flower Kings’ vision of the craziness he has brought upon his own country and kingdom.
Then, as the fifth, sixth, and seventh movements unfold, the music moves toward the French Riviera, with an accordion strolling across the streets of Paris in all its beauty. A macabre-like waltz from the violin follows before the music finally descends back to Earth for a hopeful celebration. The townsfolk are finally free.
They have escaped the chaos they endured in that dystopian nightmare, carrying scars hidden beneath the surface while wondering what the truth will reveal in the years to come. I have to say, The Flower Kings’ music on this new album may take a while to get into. You may either get it or you may not, but that’s part of what they want to do. They want to challenge listeners and keep them on the edge of their seats. You may need multiple listens to see if the music grabs your attention, and that’s perfectly fine. And that’s what makes Hope so unique.
It’s quite the ride, a majestic journey filled with twists, turns, symphonic landscapes, medieval imagery, jazz and fusion textures, and progressive-rock ambition. The Flower Kings have created an album that demands patience while rewarding curiosity, and it leaves you wondering where they will take us next as we move deeper into the roaring 2020s.
For a band with 32 years behind them, The Flower Kings still sound hungry for another adventure. And if Hope is any indication, the journey is far from over.
