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As much as artists hate to subscribe to the idea that popular trends are embedded deeply into their art, it's quite inevitable that they should appear in one form or another. After all, art is a consequence of human behavior -- of action. It might be a vessel for intellectual and spiritual expression, but the physicality is a necessity. Be it through sight, sound, taste, touch, or smell, these are the channels with which we communicate to and with the world. The body's presence provides a very limiting factor in our ability to express ourselves creatively, and many have dedicated significant parts of their lives to overcoming this oppressive barrier. Increasingly, the artist's dilemma concerns not a struggle between art and survival, but the more abstract concept of uniqueness in art. Even those who choose to be staving artists find it increasingly difficult to stake a claim in originality; critics, and the public at large, are always looking for "the new big thing," and very few are capable of making the cut.

I am not about to drift off into the metaphysical realm, nor deliver a point by point criticism of modern critique of art. Rather, there is a very real phenomenon in the artistic world, which many will know as the "sophomore slump." To put it precisely: many artists are able to find success with their first creation, be it commercially or otherwise, and then never reach the same level of breathtaking creativity again. 

In music we see this frequently, and I believe it's often regarded as a consequence of expectation. It can logically go both ways: the artist becomes worried that they will not be able to recreate magic with the whole world watching, and subsequently stumble during the returning performance; likewise, the listeners become so obsessed with the music that they don't embrace an artist's natural inclination for change and immediately find anything different to be disappointing. Additionally, the internet has blown down any global barriers that previously existed in the music industry and now there are millions of bands at everyone's fingertips, just a small click away. Bands are made and destroyed over night, and the longevity of any genre is in constant question as attention spans are seemingly at an all time low. Wait too long to follow up a promising release and no one will be there to care.

This modern perspective can be analyzed, and within a genre it's very possible to understand the dynamics in such a way that the artistic content of a band rises to the forefront. Unfortunately, not everyone is born a brilliant artist, and with the amount of music being made these days, it's statistically valid that just about all of it is going to be made by amateurs. And this accounts for much of the "sophomore slump." On occasion a band will strike a chord in just the right way at just the right time and a light bulb clicks in the heads of thousands of people across the globe. More times than not, the people who find themselves in this situation are amateurish in nature, and thusly a difficult decision must be made: keep playing the same music over and over again and accept mainstream success, or attempt to find artistic footing and reach critical acclaim? Very few are capable of both, and very few have actually succeeded in both. It's much more common to see one or the other, and we often see bands risk the artistic route and fall flat on their faces. 

Boston's Caspian are a band that I believe belongs to the second category -- those seeking artistic validation and unconcerned with general public acceptance. The music the create actually conveys this attitude; it appears to either instantly connect with listeners or instantly turns them off. The polarizing agent is rare enough to warrant consideration -- certainly these four men must be doing something right if so many people either adore their music or vehemently despise it. For the most part, Caspian downplays its artistic inclinations as much as possible, instead attempting to craft an objective experience. At first glance this approach might seem at odds with an apathy for public approval, but we must keep in mind that the band is largely narrative in nature. Caspian looks not to conquer the world, but rather to remove any obstacles that may prevent a listener from enjoying The Four Trees to his fullest potential. The sign of a great storyteller is his confidence and welcoming appearance; he himself wishes not to stand out, but rather to let the story be the main attraction. It is along this path that Caspian travels, choosing objectivity whenever possible to free themselves of cultural shortcomings.

Remarkably, I find myself unable to really comment on The Four Trees itself. Undoubtedly, this work of art is a conceptual masterpiece, highlighted by Jonathan Brooks' glowing review. If viewed in the correct setting, the music is secondary to the larger narrative that drives the hour long experience. Of course, the music isn't too shabby either. 

One of the largest appeals of the music itself is the rich spontaneity that emanates from its core. Too often we find instrumental bands who have killed their art with over-calculation; the free-flowing form of the music is suffocated until it can no longer move. Caspian shows itself to be at the top of the game in The Four Tees, as the album progresses in an uncontrived manner and yet still paints a cohesive portrait of the band's powerful and engrossing tale. The variety employed is dazzling. From the glorious heights of "ASA" and "Moksha" to the tantalizing conclusion of "Some Are White Light" and the warms undercurrents of "The Dove" and "Our Breath in Winter," The Four Trees covers all its bases, even dipping into a darker pool for "Brombie" and "Crawlspace." This is life: emboldening and hopeless. The conceptual contrasts marking this work is mind-blowing; every second is jam-packed with some kind of exhaustive experience. With an awe-inspiring performance to boot, The Four Trees is the next progression in instrumental rock.

Caspian sits among a select few in this world, those genuinely self-fulfilled by the music they create. It was only a mere three years ago when his band had spread its wings and begun to experience the exhilaration that the world held for them, and by now they're well on their way to soaring high above their peers. This is a level that few have dared, and even fewer have succeeded in reaching. There are only a few artists in every generation who are capable of reaching out and moving people in a way that is completely independent of the music it actually creates. I claim not that Caspian has reached this point, but considering its trajectory, it is a distinct possibility that we shall someday witness the band's popularity completely overwhelming their own artistic desires. At that point they'll have the all-too-difficult task of maintaining a balance between commercial success and art, and afterwards we'll truly see what this band is capable of. In the meantime, as long as Caspian stays true to themselves, the sky is the limit...

-Jordan Volz