It’s always interesting to explore the music libraries of friends, but maybe especially those of fellow creatives. What songs, albums, and artists help to inspire their own flights of imagination and creativity?
Gregory Spawton, co-founder/songwriter/bassist for Big Big Train, has cited Solstice as one of his favorite contemporary prog bands, so naturally I had to find out how they might land for someone like me—an avid fan of both BBT and ’70s Yes, who isn’t otherwise much of a prog fan at all. Some of it’s alright, to be sure, but much of it, especially the darker, wankier, and/or more technical prog-metal stuff, leaves me absolutely cold.
Thankfully, Solstice is more or less the opposite of prog-metal. There’s virtuoso playing, to be sure, but it’s all in the service of the songs, which are unapologetically uplifting, a shining beacon of New Age-tinged positivity in a world that could surely use a bit more of that sort of thing at the moment.
Solstice was founded by British guitarist Andy Glass in 1980 and delivered just one album before breaking up in 1985, but has reformed periodically over the intervening years and has been quite active over the last decade and a half. As a guitarist, Glass reminds me of 1972-ish Steve Howe in ways that Howe himself hasn’t in decades: superb tone, rhythmically aggressive and delivering bursts of nimble, intuitive soloing. The Solstice lineup in place since 2020 consists of Glass, Jess Holland (vocals), Jenny Newman (fiddle), Peter Hemsley (drums), Steven McDaniel (keys) and Robin Phillips (bass), with Ebony Buckle, Dyane Crutcher and Nick Burns singing harmonies.
The music made by this expansive collective is sunny in the best possible way: powerful, penetrating, and perpetually warm. Most of their songs run in the six- to seven-minute range, leisurely without overstaying their welcome, though they’re not averse to the occasional extended epic.
Clann—which the band dedicates to their clan of family and loved ones—opens with “Firefly,” a musical embodiment of its title, light and airy lead vocals with elastic bass, impossibly warm synths and biting fiddle. Still, the star of the track is Glass, delivering chunky, funk-inflected rhythms early on, then stepping up for a piercing solo near the end.
Next up, “Life” is powered by a pushing backbeat as Holland delivers almost jazz-scat lead vocals up front, over a steady-building prog orchestra of fiddle, harmonies, and driving guitar. “Plunk” is a fun number that opens with a sort of prog-funk jam led by organ and guitar; when they add a full horn section it only increases the funk factor. “Seize the day / Lose the anger / Let it fall away” is a typical Solstice sentiment—a bit vague in its universality, but full of positivity and embellished with an especially tasty / woozy guitar solo.
“Frippa” opens with headlong, nearly frenetic guitar and keys, then the rhythm section kicks in, and finally Holland’s vocals arrive to lighten things a bit, though it’s still heavier than anything that’s come before. Newman gets her innings in on fiddle through the abruptly-ending final jam.
The final new track and sole epic here is named “Twin Peaks,” seemingly for its structure. A sweetly pastoral opening with yearning fiddle and gentle guitar builds gradually to big chords and chorused vocals over a dreamy, airy climax and guitar solo in the sixth and seventh minutes. Everything then dies down for an ambient middle section, with chanting and drums bringing it back in the tenth minute, adding guitar, then keys, then fiddle as the music cycles hypnotically. At 11:30 they reprise earlier vocal sections, delivering a fresh crescendo leading to a bold and sunny Glass solo over ecstatic chanting. It’s smartly constructed, often beautiful, and never less than engaging.
A welcome addition to Clann is bonus track “Earthsong 2025,” a new recording of a song dating back to the group’s 1984 debut Silent Dance, this time with current harmony vocalist Ebony Buckle on lead vocals, her pealing tone bright over very pretty 12-string guitar and fiddle.
Clann represents the third in a trilogy of albums from this latest incarnation of Solstice, finishing the cycle begun by Sia (2020) and Light Up (2022), but I couldn’t tell you exactly what it’s about or how this album completes the narrative. What I can report is that Clann delivers a sunburst of positive energy powered by beautiful performances from all of the players and singers, a collective effort that shines brightly in an era where there is already more than enough darkness. (Thanks, Gregory.)