Cover photography by Michael Nigro

Style: Progressive rock, art rock (mostly clean vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Mr. Bungle, Tom Waits, Genesis
Country: Norway
Release date: 13 March 202

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A band breaking up is hardly a rare thing; personalities clash, musical instincts diverge, it happens. A significantly rarer phenomenon, though, is when two separate bands in the same scene come together – capturing each other in their orbits and interchanging members like a pair of stars in a binary system. Such was the case with Major Parkinson and Moron Police, two oddball Norwegian bands with the same initials who happened to cross paths with one another in the mid-2010s. The former was an artsy ensemble of Cardiacs fans who were aiming to take their quirky, cabaret-prog sound in a darker direction, while the latter was a trio of talented yet immature goofballs in the process of evolving from the “comedy metal” stylings of their youth into something more progressive and ambitious. Eventually, guitarist Sondre Skollevoll and keyboardist Lars Bjørknes would end up joining each other’s bands, forming a powerful partnership that would elevate Moron Police into one of the greatest prog artists of their generation and produce two modern classics in A Boat on the Sea and Pachinko. 

Major Parkinson, too, would end up evolving, albeit in a far less straightforward direction. After the bleak, unsettling Blackbox successfully shook off the last traces of circus-clown whimsy from their early years, they took a hard pivot toward synth-drenched ’80s nostalgia with the kaleidoscopic Valesa Chapter 1: Velvet Prison. Though that album, like its predecessors, had its share of offbeat weirdness, on the whole it was an inspired shift towards the tuneful and accessible, showcasing a serious aptitude for larger-than-life, emotionally charged melody that they had never really demonstrated before. And now, after a rocky few years involving frontman Jon Ivar Kollbotn suffering a heart attack on stage and barely surviving¹, the band is ready with the second installment in the retro, amber-tinted world of Valesa with Viva the Apocalypse!. While some might expect such a direct sequel to simply continue on with the sound established in Velvet Prison, Major Parkinson are nothing if not willing to throw a few unexpected sonic firecrackers into the status quo. All that’s left is to see whether the ensuing explosive spectacle is worth the mess it leaves behind.

If the first chapter was about constructing this neon-flooded, temporally displaced world of retro-consumerist Americana, Chapter II seems set to tear it all down, and it aims to do so with a bang rather than a whimper. Recorded mostly live in the space of just five days, Viva the Apocalypse! feels more focused, heavy, and visceral than its hazy, liminal predecessor, with a slimmed-down runtime and a greater focus on distorted guitars. The ’80s synth textures are still very much present, but while Velvet Prison tended to luxuriate in the atmospheres they created, its sequel melds them with bold, blaring horns and uptempo rhythms to craft songs that are not just danceable but urgently so. Tracks like “Superdad” feel reminiscent of the infectious synth-prog swagger of Kyros, while the title track’s call-and-response chorus between vocals and horns is catchy enough to bounce around in one’s head for days. The album’s first half is an infectiously fun assault on the senses, with banger after banger breathlessly arriving in sequence to form a wild ride that won’t stop until its screeching wheels finally give out. Both chapters of Valesa, in their own way, feel like a big party, but while the first felt like a delirious, youthful night of revelry where an individual moment can stretch into eternity, the second feels like a final, desperate bacchanal before everything ends, one painfully aware of the limited time it has left despite its best efforts.

And said time does indeed run out, as the back half of Viva the Apocalypse! sees the glamorous facade of exhilarating ’80s excess that characterized its first half gradually melt away into something dark and unsettling. The first hints of wrongness are subtle, with “The Doctor In Command” coming unstuck from the established time period and landing in the late ’60s instead, swapping its synths for peppy, Beatles-inspired piano and organ while namechecking the likes of Timothy Leary. The real descent into madness, however, comes in the subsequent two tracks, both of which showcase some of the freakiest and most progressive material Major Parkinson have ever made. The nine-minute fever dream that is “Karma Supernova” is breathtaking in its audacity, leaping from intricate odd-meter jamming to dissonant, chaotic freakouts as though the very universe is starting to shatter, while “Maybelline” is psychological horror in prog form, wielding its leaden, crunchy guitars and shrieking strings like a jumpscare as guest² Claudia Cox’s saccharine singing slowly starts sounding sinister and sadistic. It’s a lot to process, especially compared to the fun, synthy bangers earlier on, and it’s likely to repel as many listeners as it enthralls, but even if not every wild swing hits its target, there’s an undeniable ambition to these songs that feels, in itself, worthy of respect.

Speaking of things that may turn unsuspecting listeners off, Jon Ivar Kollbotn continues to have one of the most singular and polarizing voices in prog. With his weathered, Tom Waits-esque rasp and rumbling low register reminiscent of late-career Leonard Cohen, he’s always been one of Major Parkinson‘s most unique aspects, for good and ill. Though he did pull off some strong, clean, and surprisingly accessible-sounding high notes on Velvet Prison, that register is used sparingly here. Indeed, non-intro opener “Showbiz” gives a first impression of him as an unhinged lunatic, shouting “FREE DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!” at the very top of his voice as though he’s trying to damage it. The man clearly has ridiculous range, but he’s a bit too eager to use it at points, slipping into an unfortunate bit of squeaky falsetto here and a bit of weird goblin voice there. Still, at his best, he’s a distinctive, magnetic performer able to pull off some wild vocal stunts and embody a wide variety of characters. It’s just that, much like the music itself, said distinctiveness occasionally leads to experiments that don’t quite work out.

Minor issues and acquired tastes aside, Viva the Apocalypse! is a great album and a clear high point in Major Parkinson‘s catalogue. Perhaps more than anything they’ve released so far, it channels their eclectic madness into a clear, focused story arc with numerous well-placed melodic reprises, a truly audacious climax, and a denouement that perfectly bookends the album’s beginning. Said ending comes in the form of “Kiss Me Now!”, an expansion of the elevator music heard in intro “Elevator Pitch” into a romantic ballad laden with gently pulsating synths. Cox’s voice reappears, this time sounding genuinely sweet, and as Kollbotn joins her in his soft yet rough-hewn baritone, there is a sense of new life blooming amidst the smoldering, burnt-out wreckage of artifice and glamor. Time will tell whether or not Major Parkinson return to the Valesa universe going forward, but if they don’t, this was a hell of a way for it to go out. I’d still like one of those free drinks, though.

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Recommended tracks: Superdad, Viva the Apocalypse!, Karma Supernova
You may also like: Moron Police, Cardiacs, Kyros
Final verdict: 8/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram

Label: Apollon Records

Major Parkinson is:
– Jon Ivar Kollbotn (lead vocals, additional keys)
– Lars Christian Bjørknes (keyboards, backing vocals, percussion)
– Eivind Gammersvik (bass, additional keys, percussion, sound design)
– Sondre Veland (drums, rototoms, percussion)
– Øystein Bech-Eriksen (guitars)
With guests:
– Sondre Skollevoll (guitars, backing vocals)
– Claudia “Peri Winkle” Cox (violin, guest lead vocals on tracks 8-9, backing vocals)
– Hannah “Halie” Grung (guest lead vocals on tracks 3-4, backing vocals)
– Romi & Paula Barba (“Apocalypse Choir”)
– William Grov Skramsett (trumpet)
– Morten Norheim (saxophone)
– Iver Sandøy (additional percussion)

1. The heart attack started towards the end of the set, and the madman actually performed through it before heading backstage and immediately flatlining. Had emergency personnel not already been nearby due to an unrelated incident outside the venue, he very likely wouldn’t have made it. ↩︎
2. She’s appeared on some of the band’s previous albums, and I’ve seen sources list her as a full member of the band, but the official credits have her as a guest. Interestingly, the same thing seems to have happened to Skollevoll – I guess he wanted to save his creative energy for Pachinko and only appear here as a session performer. ↩︎