There’s an intangible element too, the sound is decidedly euphonic, helped to a large degree by the processing applied to the singer’s voice. It is this uneasiness that gives the album its fragility, a sense of deliberate faltering, a creative unsteadiness. One section may lean towards electronica then shift away towards a full-blown prog rock guitar solo, then decide not to bother. The music actually gives the impression of having been constructed, taking diverse elements and melding them together. For all the bands playfulness and imagination, it never strays far from this. The overriding feature of the album is its melodicism. Not the orthodox way of working, but employing internet relationships appears to work for them. James and Soulos last met twenty or thirty years ago whilst Stuart, Skene and James met up at a Steve Hackett concert three or four years ago. The members have all been to Stuart’s studio, but never at the same time. They work pretty much through file sharing, with the principal member being Stuart who originates much of the music.
The band does not exist in the conventional traditional sense either. SJS happen to be the initials of the projects main-man Stuart Stawman, whereas the groups other key members are Doug Skene, Graeme James and Chris Soulos, giving another potential reason for the band’s name.
There’s some debate as to whether SJS are a band or a solo act. On this album, the groups second, Aussie neo-proggers SJS deliberately create a frangible sound that suggests that it would be brittle to the touch. On Jon and Vangelis’ second album, The Friends Of Mr Cairo, Jon Anderson’s voice often sounds like crystal glass. Is it possible for a sound to be really breakable? You occasionally come across music that suggests that it is.
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