Diverse, lively, and just plain fun, Rio is a blast of an album from one of progressive rock’s elder statesmen, Trevor Rabin
Release date: October 6, 2023 | InsideOut Music | Facebook | Twitter | Century Media Store
Without question, Trevor Rabin is a musician who has absolutely nothing left to prove. In the ’70s, he was a member of Rabbitt, a band beloved in his native South Africa and for which his orchestrations won him national awards. In the ’80s, he put together a band named Cinema to try a more contemporary style of music. During recordings for their debut album (titled 90125), Cinema became the pyre from which the then-defunct Yes rose like a phoenix reborn. Serving as one of their chief architects into the ’90s, he turned to scoring films. Decades later, and with dozens of soundtracks and a strong solo career to his name, Rabin saw fit to grace us with Rio.
All this preamble is to say, Trevor Rabin could have easily been excused for putting out a simply good album resting on the laurels of a storied career. The man wrote “Owner of a Lonely Heart” for crying out loud, what more can one person do? But that’s very much not the case, and Rio has ended up one of my favorite progressive rock albums in some time. It’s a vital, spirited album that has real heart and passion, and is a treat from a genre that sometimes gets stereotyped (usually unfairly) as pretentious and emotionless.
While Rio starts off deceptively simple with opening track “Big Mistakes”, it becomes quickly apparent that Rabin never intends to stay in any single sonic lane for very long. “Push” announces itself with a charming, folky prog pattern that carries the song to churning, distorted grooves a couple minutes in, gliding between those poles for its run time. Later on, “Paradise” sets itself up with a big, heartland-rock influenced sound before detouring into jazz and then a little Celtic jig in its final minute. “Thandi” (a personal favorite), balances measured, rock-rooted verses with a world music-inflected chorus and zippy, spidery guitar lines in its intro interludes. The slick blues rock of closer “Toxic” spends about 2 bars a verse diverting to segments that can only be described as carnivalesque. The whole album’s a roller coaster of sorts, and most of the songs are full of unexpected curves.
Of course, all this musical ambition would fall apart if the musicianship wasn’t there. And, as one could expect from a former member of Yes, Rabin is more than up to the task. Indeed, barring the wonderful drum performance from Lou Molino, Rabin handled every instrument here himself, and he excels at all of them. The bass lines (when audible) are slinky and strong, occasionally taking on a melodic character that would do his old band mate Chris Squire proud. The keyboards, be it piano, organ, or synth, are tasteful and expertly handled in solos or as simple backing. And honestly, it’s been a long time since I had this much plain old fun listening to a guitarist just going wild. Be it jazzy solos, the honky tonk country style that anchors songs like “Goodbye,” cheery acoustics, or the frenetic, disorienting style he’s long been known for, Rabin’s guitar is endlessly entertaining.
One key aspect that I haven’t really addressed yet is Rabin’s singing, and I feel like it deserves special mention. The hype cycle leading to this album’s release was not shy about pointing out how this is the first album where Rabin’s voice takes center stage since the ’80s (before this humble reviewer was even born). It was definite cause for curiosity walking into the album, and I have to say, Rabin absolutely kills it here. At his strongest, he sounds like a man less than half his age, even on more energetic songs like “Goodbye” that demand most of his range. The harmonies (bolstered by a couple backing vocalists) are pristine throughout, often delivering some of the album’s biggest earworms. “Oklahoma” hits hard through its cinematic orchestral backing providing a rock solid foundation for Rabin’s emotional delivery. And deeper into the album, consecutive tracks “Tumbleweed” and “These Tears” even dare to make Rabin’s singing the central feature. Together, they provide a genuine late-album highlight, and I’m not too proud to admit that “These Tears” even made me a little bit misty-eyed.
Rio finds itself in an interesting crossroads thematically. A lot of the album feels very nostalgic and retrospective, lyrically speaking. It does make sense, given Rabin’s in his late sixties right now, and I do have to credit him on how honest and without pretense his words feel. His nostalgia doesn’t even fall prey to the usual rosy tint many musicians fall into when talking about the past (the aforementioned “Oklahoma” comes to mind immediately). The full spectrum of emotion looking back over a lifetime is allowed to shine through, and it’s genuinely beautiful.
Musically, though, nothing about Rio feels chained to the past. Sure, you can hear traces of Yes and his film career throughout, but by and large this album just feels like Rabin writing and performing music that he feels genuine passion for. Moments of classic AOR (Album-oriented rock, for the uninitiated) and heartland rock are met at every turn with jazz, folk, African world music, or even other moods. It’s a wildly entertaining album performed by a musician who has always refused to phone it in, and it’s clear that Rabin still has plenty to say musically.
That’s not to say Rio is a perfect album, but the flaws are minor and extremely easy to write off. The sheer diversity of songwriting, dazzling as it is, does make this album feel a little disjointed at times. I wouldn’t dare condemn Rio by calling it the dreaded epithet of ‘more a collection of songs than an album,’ because there are plenty of sonic through-lines to hold the album together. It can just be a little bit jarring during the first listen. And personally, I do feel like there are moments where the bass could be a lot more pronounced. When it cuts through the mix, it’s stellar, but a lot of times it’s a little tough to pick up on. That said, that’s a minor nitpick that won’t bother most listeners, and by all means, the production on this album (also handled by Rabin) is outstanding.
By some miracle, it’s a wonderful time to be a Yes fan. The band itself has dropped two of their best albums since Rabin’s departure in the last two years, and now Trevor Rabin has produced an absolute success with Rio. On a personal level, as someone whose musical paradigm shifted when he first explored Yes many years ago (you better believe “Owner of a Lonely Heart” started me on that path), and whose mother proudly called Yes her favorite band, it makes me deeply happy to hear a man who was instrumental in keeping that band alive still putting out excellent music, solo project or otherwise. By all accounts, Rabin spent years honing this album to what we have before us now, and every moment of that care and attention shines through. Rio feels more lively and heartfelt than most of the recent progressive rock I’ve heard, even from considerably younger projects. And coming from an elder statesman of the genre who doesn’t always get the unbridled respect he has certainly earned, that’s something worth celebrating.
Artist photo by Hristo Shindov
