Yet another band that owes a huge debt to Genesis. Spry Hackettsian leads, lush Wagnerian textures, subdued acoustic segments, and allegorical lyrics, vague or overt. Not a note on this album—recorded last year—suggests that the three-man core membership might even predate the British neo-progressive groups that formed in the late '70s (more on that to come). After a sixteen year-long period of inactivity (from 1983 to 1999), bassist-keyboardist Ernest Wernars took a listen to his old Genesis albums and got fired up enough to buy a synth and begin noodling around. Drummer Paul van Velzen was rarin' to go, but another year elapsed before guitarist Jos Wernars (who now plays bass, so his brother can focus on keys) reentered the fold, fulltime. The three amigos enlisted vocalist Stephan Christiaans & guitarist Peter de Frankrijer, with Eamon's Day finally appearing in 2003, wrapped in a slick-sounding dressing.
Ah, yet another singer whose vocals are inoffensive, and quite bland. At the bottom of the inside front cover of the lyric booklet reads the line, Please, God, make Neil Morse come to his senses!!! Yes, his name is spelled that way. Well, guys, Mr. Morse's pipes would give at least this much more oomph to the proceedings. Stephan Christiaans' vocal performance sounds as though his tonsils played a game of toss with a sore throat lozenge throughout recording, thus leaving the other four guys the task of hooking the listener. Typically retro stuff: herein lies some very solid playing, it's just that the arrangements are so passé, nowadays. This is terrain that Marillion, IQ, Arena, and umpteen other acts have covered umpteen times before. [There's a signpost, up ahead: you've entered The Derivative Zone.] A better, more expressive singer would have really improved the overall feel of the title track and "Sea Song." Each piece has a vigorously played intro section, a short bass break (or three), a solo piano interlude, a pocket chorused guitar solo—if this is all sounding like a stuck record, then that's the case. The evidence is in the grooves, pun intended. The jaunt that precedes the final chorus/outro of "Sea Song" is a little more bombastic, owing more to Yes than the moody shadings of Genesis, but then Christiaans has to take the mic, again. Oh, well. "The Tunnel" is a little better, a shorter, uptempo "pomp ballad." Nice solo by de Frankrijer.
Unfortunately, by the time the "epic-epic" rolls around, one has had just about enough. "Life In Progress" is close to one half-hour in length, and not a one of its nine phases is entirely instrumental (woe is moi). Just when the band sounds like it's going to kick things into high gear for some guitar shreddin,' bass pumpin' & keyboard soarin' action, the tension suddenly resolves into a lull, a bridge to the next chapter. Around the ten-minute mark, Ernest Wernars indulges in a long, Banksian solo with a nice, phat analogish sound. There simply weren't enough of these kinds of moments, and for that, Eamon's Day will be just another neo-prog disc. Four stars for the instrumentalists—clearly a set of passionate players who can call on the chops when desired or required; two stars for the vocals.
Oh, back to the band's backstory: back in the mid-70s, this Dutch quintet—then a trio—chose the name Saga! This was obviously before a certain Canadian fivesome tagged that handle, but these two groups apparently operated for years, unaware of each other's existence. Since the Dutch edition called it a day in '83, it's hard to see how they wouldn't have known of the guys in Toronto, who'd racked up several big-selling singles by that time, and had really made a mark on nearby Germany's rock charts.
Tracklist:
1. Eamon's Day 10:16
2. Sea Song 15:33
3. Happy Suburbia '78 5:17
4. The Tunnel 6:09
5. Life In Progress (Phases I-IX) 27:26
Total Time ~ 64:41
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