Hard to believe, but it has been ten years since I first fell into the world of Stick Men’s music through the release of Prog Noir. That album gave me a proper education in going beyond the Crimson textures that Tony Levin, Pat Mastelotto, and Markus Reuter have carried forward while keeping Robert Fripp’s hypnotic adventures alive through their music.
Nearly 20 years into their journey, the trio has released four studio albums, along with live recordings and EPs, continuing to explore the boundaries of progressive and experimental rock. With Stick Men, you never quite know what to expect or what the band will come up with next, and that is part of what makes their music so fascinating.
Their new album, Let’s THRAK Again, honours Crimson’s 1995 masterpiece, THRAK, without actually containing any tracks from the original opus. Instead, the trio takes the dynamics, textures, and complexity associated with that era and puts them under an industrial microscope. The result puts you in the hot seat, waiting to hear what they’ll come up with next.
This isn’t simply about honouring their roots or paying tribute to the mastermind who helped shape futuristic, tribal rock. It’s about keeping alive the spirit, power, and intensity that King Crimson carried in its belly. There are somber melodies placed within a cold, breezy lullaby that feels like wandering through the heart of a forest, and ‘Haggin Triptych’ almost feels like a continuation of where ‘Inner Garden’ had left off, carrying that same atmospheric spirit into a different landscape.
Between Reuter and Levin, there is almost a cat-and-mouse chase between their Chapman Stick and Warr instruments, while Mastelotto leads the way by pushing the trio into fast-paced, high-temperature territory. ‘Swimming in Tea’ dives headfirst into complex time signatures, creating a robotic nightmare that feels like swimming through a pool of Jasmine, Lemon Grey, or Blue-Flower tea, just enough to keep you wide awake and running.
When I think of ‘Dark Birthday’, I picture the trio channeling the Neo-Tokyo landscape of the 1988 cult classic Akira, complete with post-rock and Police-esque vibrations that recall Andy Summers’ ‘It’s a Camel’ from Zenyatta Mondatta. From there, the track heads straight into sludgy, doomy Black Sabbath territory, evoking the swirling Vertigo-era sound of Master of Reality. It’s almost as if Robert himself were handling the production in a parallel universe, allowing ‘Fandango’ and the whirlpool of terror on ‘Komodo’ to unfold to make your ears pop out!
But when it comes to the opening title track, you can almost envision the spirit of Bartók hitting you from all cylinders, with a nod toward ‘Fracture’ rising from the tombs of hell during the Starless period. Stick Men pull out every stop sign in the street, fire up their engines, and hit the road at 900 miles per hour with no intention of backing down. Their motorcycles rev up as they prepare for the ride that’s about to begin.
Is it challenging? Yes. But that is how Stick Men have always laid down the law: throwing the rule book into the fire, making zero apologies, and staying true to their word. Let’s THRAK Again doesn’t simply look back at the Crimson legacy, it takes that spirit and gives it another life through the distinctive chemistry of Levin, Mastelotto, and Reuter.
After all these years, that is what makes Stick Men so compelling. They continue to push forward without forgetting where they came from, and Let’s THRAK Again is another example of that balance. It may challenge you, surprise you, and occasionally leave you wondering what the hell just happened, but isn’t that exactly what a Stick Men record is supposed to do? Now, turn it up, strap yourself in, and get ready to THRAK like crazy on this mo-fo.
