Vaxis II: A Window of the Waking Mind arrives later than any of us hoped for (at 3½ years, this has been the longest gap between C&C albums yet), which only raises expectations; after such a successful opening to this chapter of their career, could they do it again? The short answer is yes, depending on how you plan to judge it; Vaxis I was going to be a hard record to top and, in some respects, C&C don't even try to do so. The most obvious difference is in its length, with Vaxis II clocking in a whopping 26 minutes shorter than its predecessor; it's smart to go a bit more concise, in my opinion, as keeping the majority of songs short and sweet (save for the closing trilogy, but we'll get to that) allows for a much more direct experience. Having already established some of the narrative also allows for its second volume to deal somewhat in callbacks, as intro The Embers of Fire directly recalls Vaxis I's hit Old Flames.
As for the music, much of it leans hard into the group's more harmonious impulses, as evidenced by its pre-release singles; if you've enjoyed the soaring hard rocker Shoulders, or the twin blasts of stadium emo Comatose and The Liars Club, you'll be pleasantly surprised to discover there's more where that came from. The album's first song proper, Beautiful Losers, is a melodic mid-tempo number that offers more layers the deeper you listen, which has long been the major hallmark of the band's best material. Love Murder One has a thicker, more percussive feel that throws off serious '80s vibes and sounds incredible with good headphones. One of the album's most heartfelt moments follows with the plaintive and slightly warped-sounding ballad Blood, while Our Love matches its emotional intensity with a sparse arrangement that serves as a stark reminder of just how important an instrument Claudio Sanchez's voice is.
That track's electronic flourishes are as good a segué as any into one of the other chief differences between the two Vaxis volumes; synths play a larger role on Vaxis II, especially on The Disappearing Act. Easily the album's greatest departure, stabbing, warbling synths take the lead while the band locks in around the din where they can, creating something that's a little chaotic and unexpected, and yet it's so committed to its motif that it actually kind of works. It also features just a dab of auto-tuned vocals, which is weird to hear from Sanchez but not egregious enough to take away from the quality of the song; it shows up again on Bad Man, which throws off just a bit of a Weeknd vibe that's surprising not so much because it happens but because it sounds almost natural. I can see these two tracks becoming somewhat of a talking point amongst fans, who will undoubtedly debate whether or not they're too poppy, but I'm here for them because they save the record from getting bogged down in sameness. As it stands, much of what's on offer here are variations on what we've heard before and, even though there are few bands who could ever hope to strike the same balance of technical and melodic prowess, getting an album that stays in the same place track after track is a sign of a band that's too comfortable where they're at; Coheed and Cambria are more than happy to get a little uncomfortable.
All of these concise and quick songs, those first ten that comprise the first half hour of Vaxis II, turn out to be appetizers; starting with Ladders of Supremacy, C&C expand everything as the album launches toward its conclusion. Clocking in at nearly seven minutes and incorporating some classic rock bombast alongside some tempo changes and tasteful electronic touches, Ladders of Supremacy ratchets up the prog tendencies and delivers a truly stunning about-face from what preceded it. It flows seamlessly into another of the early singles, Rise, Naianasha (Cut the Cord); marrying the more accessible tones from the earlier tracks with some breathing room that allows the song to stretch past five minutes, it's very much in line with the songs on Vaxis I in terms of scope and style.
However, nothing compares to the album's closing title track; one of the longest songs in the band's storied discography at just under nine minutes, Window of the Waking Mind runs an impressive gamut of styles. I could give you a play-by-play, and I started to type out what I was hearing as I was listening, but I gave up before the song reached its halfway mark because I could no longer keep up; suffice to say, if you are or have been a fan of this band in any sense of the word, you're going to find plenty of reason to be awestruck by this incredible achievement in creativity. Oh, and its final minute brings us back to Old Flames yet again for good measure.
Somehow, by dipping their proverbial brushes into a wider array of colours, Vaxis II comes very close to accomplishing more in its 53 minutes than Vaxis I did in 79; its variety offers an overall experience that's less likely to lose your interest as you dive deeper into the track list. With a leaner approach and a focus on hooks, it ends up being the less daunting and more welcoming record, one that's more conducive to repeat business. Whether it's outright better than Vaxis I depends on your personal preference, but it's sort of a moot point; whether you enjoy their stadium-sized singalongs or their dizzying prog epics, Coheed and Cambria are in the midst of the most rewarding and exciting phase of their career well over a decade after conventional wisdom would tell us they were past their prime.
June 24, 2022 • Roadrunner
Highlights The Liars Club • Ladders of Supremacy • Window of the Waking Mind
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