The Afterman
by Roland McIntyre
Where next for Coheed and Cambria’s epic rock saga? Roland McIntyre examines the latest chapter
Review essay: Coheed And Cambria: The Afterman: Ascension / The Afterman: Descension
The creation of a fictional universe is, for the most part, an essential element to any saga. The existence of characters, locations, and events implies the existence of a totality with its own rules, physics, boundaries, and limitations. These universes can mimic our own, but in the science-fiction sphere tend more towards the fantastic, gaining a level of recognition that has seen the likes of Star Wars become co-opted into our cultural psyche at such a deep level that their themes resonate and spread beyond the boundaries of their original media into other genres.
Throughout their eighteen-year career, New York's Coheed And Cambria have used their blend of traditional metal, post-hardcore and progressive rock as the medium to deliver a soundtrack to a sprawling science-fiction epic called The Amory Wars, depicting a conflict across a series of planets – linked by an energy source called The Keywork - known as 'Heaven's Fence.’ An expansion of the prog-rock cliché of the 'concept album', the band's first five albums represent a 'concept-discography': from the introduction of 2002's The Second Stage Turbine Blade, in which we meet the principal characters of the saga: Coheed Kilgannon, his wife Cambria, brother Jesse and son Claudio (who serves as an avatar for the concept creator and band lynchpin, Claudio Sanchez), all of whom are embroiled by their pasts in a despot's plans for supremacy over Heaven's Fence. The saga reached a conclusion in the fourth album No World For Tomorrow, and received - in true George Lucas fashion - a prequel in 2011's Year Of The Black Rainbow. Albums typically see a flurry of musical styles, as muscular metal accompanies battle sequences whilst shimmering pop soundtracks demote the lighter interludes. It's a cinematic narrative which has been augmented by comic books and prose, and so the ending of the saga and the rolling of the end credits beg the question: where next?
The next step for the saga is best answered by referencing another off-shoot to the band's concept – that of the comic book medium. Each album associated with The Amory Wars was expanded by either a comic series or novel fleshing out the events in greater detail, meaning that even though a saga has finished, the universe of Heaven's Fence is firmly established. This has allowed the band to revisit the universe and produce a different-yet-related story arc, in a similar vein to how Ridley Scott talked of 'Alien DNA' within his Alien prequel-yet-not Prometheus. Therefore, across a double album released in two parts, we're presented with the story of the titular Afterman, astronomer Sirius Amory, and his initial exploration of the energy source linking and nurturing the planets of Heaven's Fence.
In comparison to the concept of The Amory Wars, The Afterman: Ascension and its companion piece The Afterman: Descension imply a smaller, more personal saga: whilst The Amory Wars took five albums (including a surreal introjection from a fourth-wall breaking 'Writer' character in Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV: From Fear Through The Eyes Of Madness) to reach its conclusion, two albums seem brisk. Whilst the band's lyrics often reference events carried throughout the saga, revealing a convoluted web of characters, bit players and history, The Afterman: Ascension is very much the story of one man.
Ascension: If He's Not Here, Then Where?
The establishing shot of opening track 'The Hollow' uses a sparse, lonely keyboard melody to frame a short conversation between Sirius and his only companion - his sentient ship computer AllMother - that highlights his isolation, and as he asks “'You'll stay with me, won't you?”, there's a shared uncertainty about what's to be discovered. As the conversation ends with a robotic voice reassuring him that “I'll be there every step of the way,” the melody changes to a signature, recurrent motif: a sweeping melody that the band uses across albums, in many variations, to denote the passing of time between songs – often months or years – and for the initiated, it's a spine-tingling moment linking a smaller story to a familiar universe.
On entering the Keywork, Sirius is faced with the first of a number of its inhabitants - Key Entities - he encounters over the course of the album. 'Key Entity Extraction I: Domino The Destitute' begins with Eastern-tinged drama and gives way to a galloping guitar interlude and a controlled frenzy that, whilst typical of the band, is jarring given the lull of the introduction. Story-wise, this is intentional – it's here we learn that the entities of The Keywork are souls containing the same energy they did in life, and Domino's was not a good one. Sirius relives the tale of a failed boxer who made corrupt choices despite the advice of his brother, and there's a pleading tone to the lyrics (“Turn about-face I implore you brother, don't walk away from me, for this is our war”) carried amid a spiralling sense of urgency, tension and inevitable doom, and culminating in the frantic narration of a lost boxing match which drives Domino's fall from grace and sets in place a fatal sequence of events. What's particularly striking is that at seven and a half minutes long, the song shoots along at a pace that belies its duration, whilst never sacrificing the sense of drama.
By way of a sub-plot, at this point we're introduced to Meri, Sirius' wife back home, on the title track 'The Afterman'. Given the use of the band's signature 'time passing' motif, it's apparent that Sirius has been gone long enough without contact to be considered missing, and there's a lilting, dreamlike quality to the pinched harmonics of the guitars and strings that suggests Meri inhabits the middle ground between hope and grief, lamenting “if he's not here then where?” It's once again strikingly cinematic, evoking a more palatable version of the melodrama demonstrated in Michael Bay's Armageddon, and as the character relates “your selfishness has robbed you of the man you could have been”, it reveals a pulse of warm emotion that sits outside the narrative, viewable as much as a regretful ballad as an episode in a tale.
It's in this connection with the simpler themes that The Afterman: Ascension sets itself apart from the expanse of the band's earlier work. A five-album saga with supporting media is a tall order to digest in anyone's book, and whilst there's plenty for the rabid fan to digest, it's a gambit that runs the risk of alienating the casual listener and straying into self-indulgence. The band have been no stranger to excess in the past: only two albums in The Amory Wars sequence forego a movement in multiple parts such as 'The End Complete I-V', and whilst there have always been obvious singles and soaring choruses, this album sees that coalesce together in a shorter time-frame, suggesting the band find as much in restraint as in detail.
The possession element of the story continues as Sirius explores The Keywork, encountering a second entity in 'Key Entity Extraction II: Holly Wood The Cracked' – once again a negative entity, this time the spirit of a murderous socialite named Holly Wood. Driven by a low-slung, simplistic guitar riff which calls to mind 1980's sleaze-rock such as Motley Crue, it's perhaps a little too generic, and although temporarily lifted by what's probably the most accomplished chorus of the album, it's used too sparingly to be fully effective and is the most throwaway track as a result.
There's something of a second assault upon encountering 'Key Entity Extraction III: Vic The Butcher'. Sharing a similar tone to the tale of Domino, but with much more open hostility, Sirius experiences military general Vic burning his home to destroy evidence of his war crimes, taking the lives of children living in the area as collateral damage, having first hung his accuser, a soldier under his command known as Sentry. There's a frenetic violence to the track, and the echoes of what seem to be children's screams can be heard via distorted, nightmarish backing vocals on the chorus. In a way, the listener is drawn into the action: the chorus of “one eighty four, let's burn it down” implies complicity, and the force of a rather huge chant-along chorus seems almost militaristic. The song ends with an interlude in which Sirius' sentient computer suggests the possessions have taken a severe physical toll on him, ending a list of vital signs with “Sirius, you are not well”.
As AllMother emits a warning of the approach of an another unidentified entity, there's a gradual swell of acid-funk that evokes The Mars Volta, and as Sirius begins to make his peace with the selfishness of his actions in his last moments, contemplating “this tragedy's all mine, this hurt won't go away,” it becomes clear that the latest spirit, 'Key Entity IV: Evagria The Faithful' is healing his wounds, using the last of her energies to do so – a sign that compassionate souls retain their qualities in The Keywork. As this realisation comes to pass, similarities between Evagria's energy and that of Sirius' wife become apparent, and this track bears a similar dream-like quality to 'The Afterman' as a result.
Left alone in The Keywork for now, in the downbeat electro-folk of the closing 'Subtraction', Sirius contemplates his relationship with Meri, and there's a resignation to the line “subtract me from your heart” that suggests that though he lives, he's staying where he is. It's a downbeat end to the album, and less of a cliff-hanger than one might expect from work so influenced by Star Wars, but given that it's essentially an album about individuals and their actions, it's quite a realistic one, and paves the way for some of the themes and revelations of its companion piece.
Descension: I'm Alive, and Its Homecoming
2013's The Afterman: Descension sees the tale of Sirius' exploration take a homeward turn, but not without some final drama in The Keywork. The chiming 'Pretelethal', picks up with Sirius still under the waning protection of Evagria The Faithful. Physically healed, but able to contemplate what he has left behind, he's left to lament “who will repair this broken heart?” It's a subdued first track - ethereal, and laced with sampled dialogue that suggests communications have been resumed with home as Sirius resigns himself to an eventual death.
It's at this point that Sirius meets the last of the Key Entities – still under assault from Vic and Holly Wood, “Key Entity Extraction V: Sentry The Defiant” sees the one soldier who, in life, saw and exposed Vic's crimes step in to his aid. A lurching, mid-paced tumult based upon jagged riffs that rises to its feet over the course of six minutes to become fully upright amid calls to “be defiant, the lion...don't close the coffin yet,” it represents a high-point for the series: taken out of context of the wider narrative, it's a pointed reminder of how, if used effectively, assumed strength can be drawn from metal music, and as a plot point, allows Sirius to do exactly the same – denoted by the coda depicting a risky escape from The Keywork.
Back on terra firma, The Afterman: Descension sees Sirius contending with more worldly concerns, as 'The Hard Sell' sees his soul under attack again – not from mystical entities, but from his conscience. Having decided not to go public with his actual experiences, and instead fabricating a plausible but impressive set of findings, he finds himself lauded as a visionary and celebrity. The song sees the band hit a swagger somewhere in the middle ground between Pink Floyd and Metallica, and there's a palpable, erudite bitterness to Claudio Sanchez' delivery of lyrics such as “Their ears forsaken have given up on art” that suggests his giving voice to an educated man unravelling at his choices might not be a stretch to deliver. It's also perhaps both album's best example of a jumping-on point – as much pomp and pop as vitriol – and wearing the familiar rock clothing of the struggle for authenticity – particularly evident in the accusatory chorus of “you're selling out to be in.”
'Number City' sees the most serious subject matter of the album dealt with in a surprising fashion: a cavalcade of 80s funk-pop strangely reminiscent of both Prince and Hall And Oates details the efforts of a medical team attempting to revive Sirius and Meri after a car accident – what is superficially a bubblegum pop song with a chorus of “Honey, replace my heart” becomes almost literal and figurative amid a production that sparkles, despite the sampled ambulance wails. It's unfortunate that one of the more memorable songs of the set sounds incongruously placed – apologists will no doubt bring up the fact that it appears to be flash-forward, a cinematic jump-cut, but this isn't immediately apparent and pacing and flow suffer as a result.
“Gravity's Union” provides the backstory to its predecessor, as Sirius flies “headfirst into the light” after a heated conversation with Meri in which he learns that he's too late to rekindle any relationship, and that Meri is involved with, and pregnant by, another man. The soundtrack is fraught as a result, the closeness Sirius craves offered only in blunt force trauma as vehicular impact ensures their “lives are one colliding.” Not dissimilar to the spiritual beatings Sirius endured on the last album, there are echoes of the violence, but with no sign of resolution, and as the mocking outro – to be “caged, locked in perpetual motion, carving your wounds right open” - the saga begins to reach its deepest recesses as a surgeon, 'Dr. Straight', manages to save Sirius, but not his wife. Whilst the sturm und drang of the chugging soundtrack well expresses the band's strength, it's moments like this – when characters are explicitly named – that is arguably the lyrical achilles heel, as the casual listener can be dragged out of their own connection.
It's at this point that the respective albums interchange their content, as the more grounded character of Meri Amory sees her life flash before her eyes prior to entering the Keywork. It's a flash-back to her thrill at an initial meeting with Sirius, and as such is a deft slice of FM-radio rock that manages to sound dated within the context of the story: there's a pleasing, dizzy nostalgia to it, overlaid with some strangely-ethereal samples which suggest it might not be quite the straightforward summer track it appears to be.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, Sirius' pain is reflected in the contemplative, deceptively laid-back acoustic folk of ‘Iron Fist’ which heralds a couplet of songs that traces his initial regret at passing up a life with Meri for his headstrong desires – “this cursed iron fist,” and spirals downward into the funereal ‘Dark Side Of Me,’ by which point the listener is pulled into Sirius' mind-set – as he realises “I gave up everything for all the wrong things”– via a tasteful slab of 90s-style grunge-tinged rock that sees the band discard their more technical inclinations momentarily for something more straightforward.
It's at this point – arguably the darkest of the album – that the set comes full circle, with a final exchange between AllMother, the sentient ship computer, and Sirius, which suggests that the two are once again on a voyage to The Keywork, this time so Sirius can assist Meri's soul. It's a return trip that sees AllMother question why a human would return to the site of so much quantifiable pain—and whilst it's a suitably ham-fisted example of the 'AI-learns-about-love' trope, it scrapes through given the themes explored previously, the certainty of the decision reflected in the deliriously spritely closing track '2's My Favourite 1'.
The Afterman: Descension represents something of a curve-ball given the cosmic mysticism that makes up its predecessor – expectations for the story to expand in more fantastical ways don't really materialise, and the universe is distilled down into the story of Sirius and Meri. It also suggests parallels to Claudio Sanchez' own life – credibility of ideas and the absence from family life are, after all, just two among many typical neuroses of the touring artist. Ultimately, it's a story which simplifies itself as it progresses – perhaps asking questions about what really matters in a universe; or perhaps through a sense of having already taken that voyage. That said, the ominous keyboard tones at the end of the album – tones which call to mind numerous John Carpenter movie soundtracks – provide a hint at what is to come in the universe, as well as what has come before in a musical sense.
Taken as a whole, The Afterman albums certainly demonstrate the flair of the band's repertoire, and whilst there's the usual schizophrenic genre-hopping, it feels as if the lack of adherence to The Amory Wars has freed up the band. What's particularly striking is the economy of the songwriting, and it's arguable that the lack of need for exposition spotlights the emotions inherent in the songs as a result. Whilst not always completely effective as individual albums, as a whole, The Afterman provides a greater number of emotional hooks – amid the celestial beings, possession and angst, there's kitchen-sink soap opera as well: satisfying a need to ground the eventual 'Hero's Journey' monomyth of The Amory Wars, and in a way, ensuring that the building blocks of a fictional universe are rooted in very real human emotions. It's only through real connection at a personal level that such a universe flourishes and blurs into our own: not every science-fiction franchise inspires people to mark their religion as 'Jedi Knight' on census forms, whilst few people will shed at a tear at a low-budget cash-in movie shamelessly ripping off E.T The Extra Terrestrial. It's this connective level that Coheed And Cambria appear to be tapping into, albeit gradually, now that the main saga is out of their system, and have produced arguably their best works to date as a result.
Review essay: Coheed And Cambria: The Afterman: Ascension / The Afterman: Descension
The creation of a fictional universe is, for the most part, an essential element to any saga. The existence of characters, locations, and events implies the existence of a totality with its own rules, physics, boundaries, and limitations. These universes can mimic our own, but in the science-fiction sphere tend more towards the fantastic, gaining a level of recognition that has seen the likes of Star Wars become co-opted into our cultural psyche at such a deep level that their themes resonate and spread beyond the boundaries of their original media into other genres.
Throughout their eighteen-year career, New York's Coheed And Cambria have used their blend of traditional metal, post-hardcore and progressive rock as the medium to deliver a soundtrack to a sprawling science-fiction epic called The Amory Wars, depicting a conflict across a series of planets – linked by an energy source called The Keywork - known as 'Heaven's Fence.’ An expansion of the prog-rock cliché of the 'concept album', the band's first five albums represent a 'concept-discography': from the introduction of 2002's The Second Stage Turbine Blade, in which we meet the principal characters of the saga: Coheed Kilgannon, his wife Cambria, brother Jesse and son Claudio (who serves as an avatar for the concept creator and band lynchpin, Claudio Sanchez), all of whom are embroiled by their pasts in a despot's plans for supremacy over Heaven's Fence. The saga reached a conclusion in the fourth album No World For Tomorrow, and received - in true George Lucas fashion - a prequel in 2011's Year Of The Black Rainbow. Albums typically see a flurry of musical styles, as muscular metal accompanies battle sequences whilst shimmering pop soundtracks demote the lighter interludes. It's a cinematic narrative which has been augmented by comic books and prose, and so the ending of the saga and the rolling of the end credits beg the question: where next?
The next step for the saga is best answered by referencing another off-shoot to the band's concept – that of the comic book medium. Each album associated with The Amory Wars was expanded by either a comic series or novel fleshing out the events in greater detail, meaning that even though a saga has finished, the universe of Heaven's Fence is firmly established. This has allowed the band to revisit the universe and produce a different-yet-related story arc, in a similar vein to how Ridley Scott talked of 'Alien DNA' within his Alien prequel-yet-not Prometheus. Therefore, across a double album released in two parts, we're presented with the story of the titular Afterman, astronomer Sirius Amory, and his initial exploration of the energy source linking and nurturing the planets of Heaven's Fence.
In comparison to the concept of The Amory Wars, The Afterman: Ascension and its companion piece The Afterman: Descension imply a smaller, more personal saga: whilst The Amory Wars took five albums (including a surreal introjection from a fourth-wall breaking 'Writer' character in Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV: From Fear Through The Eyes Of Madness) to reach its conclusion, two albums seem brisk. Whilst the band's lyrics often reference events carried throughout the saga, revealing a convoluted web of characters, bit players and history, The Afterman: Ascension is very much the story of one man.
Ascension: If He's Not Here, Then Where?
The establishing shot of opening track 'The Hollow' uses a sparse, lonely keyboard melody to frame a short conversation between Sirius and his only companion - his sentient ship computer AllMother - that highlights his isolation, and as he asks “'You'll stay with me, won't you?”, there's a shared uncertainty about what's to be discovered. As the conversation ends with a robotic voice reassuring him that “I'll be there every step of the way,” the melody changes to a signature, recurrent motif: a sweeping melody that the band uses across albums, in many variations, to denote the passing of time between songs – often months or years – and for the initiated, it's a spine-tingling moment linking a smaller story to a familiar universe.
On entering the Keywork, Sirius is faced with the first of a number of its inhabitants - Key Entities - he encounters over the course of the album. 'Key Entity Extraction I: Domino The Destitute' begins with Eastern-tinged drama and gives way to a galloping guitar interlude and a controlled frenzy that, whilst typical of the band, is jarring given the lull of the introduction. Story-wise, this is intentional – it's here we learn that the entities of The Keywork are souls containing the same energy they did in life, and Domino's was not a good one. Sirius relives the tale of a failed boxer who made corrupt choices despite the advice of his brother, and there's a pleading tone to the lyrics (“Turn about-face I implore you brother, don't walk away from me, for this is our war”) carried amid a spiralling sense of urgency, tension and inevitable doom, and culminating in the frantic narration of a lost boxing match which drives Domino's fall from grace and sets in place a fatal sequence of events. What's particularly striking is that at seven and a half minutes long, the song shoots along at a pace that belies its duration, whilst never sacrificing the sense of drama.
By way of a sub-plot, at this point we're introduced to Meri, Sirius' wife back home, on the title track 'The Afterman'. Given the use of the band's signature 'time passing' motif, it's apparent that Sirius has been gone long enough without contact to be considered missing, and there's a lilting, dreamlike quality to the pinched harmonics of the guitars and strings that suggests Meri inhabits the middle ground between hope and grief, lamenting “if he's not here then where?” It's once again strikingly cinematic, evoking a more palatable version of the melodrama demonstrated in Michael Bay's Armageddon, and as the character relates “your selfishness has robbed you of the man you could have been”, it reveals a pulse of warm emotion that sits outside the narrative, viewable as much as a regretful ballad as an episode in a tale.
It's in this connection with the simpler themes that The Afterman: Ascension sets itself apart from the expanse of the band's earlier work. A five-album saga with supporting media is a tall order to digest in anyone's book, and whilst there's plenty for the rabid fan to digest, it's a gambit that runs the risk of alienating the casual listener and straying into self-indulgence. The band have been no stranger to excess in the past: only two albums in The Amory Wars sequence forego a movement in multiple parts such as 'The End Complete I-V', and whilst there have always been obvious singles and soaring choruses, this album sees that coalesce together in a shorter time-frame, suggesting the band find as much in restraint as in detail.
The possession element of the story continues as Sirius explores The Keywork, encountering a second entity in 'Key Entity Extraction II: Holly Wood The Cracked' – once again a negative entity, this time the spirit of a murderous socialite named Holly Wood. Driven by a low-slung, simplistic guitar riff which calls to mind 1980's sleaze-rock such as Motley Crue, it's perhaps a little too generic, and although temporarily lifted by what's probably the most accomplished chorus of the album, it's used too sparingly to be fully effective and is the most throwaway track as a result.
There's something of a second assault upon encountering 'Key Entity Extraction III: Vic The Butcher'. Sharing a similar tone to the tale of Domino, but with much more open hostility, Sirius experiences military general Vic burning his home to destroy evidence of his war crimes, taking the lives of children living in the area as collateral damage, having first hung his accuser, a soldier under his command known as Sentry. There's a frenetic violence to the track, and the echoes of what seem to be children's screams can be heard via distorted, nightmarish backing vocals on the chorus. In a way, the listener is drawn into the action: the chorus of “one eighty four, let's burn it down” implies complicity, and the force of a rather huge chant-along chorus seems almost militaristic. The song ends with an interlude in which Sirius' sentient computer suggests the possessions have taken a severe physical toll on him, ending a list of vital signs with “Sirius, you are not well”.
As AllMother emits a warning of the approach of an another unidentified entity, there's a gradual swell of acid-funk that evokes The Mars Volta, and as Sirius begins to make his peace with the selfishness of his actions in his last moments, contemplating “this tragedy's all mine, this hurt won't go away,” it becomes clear that the latest spirit, 'Key Entity IV: Evagria The Faithful' is healing his wounds, using the last of her energies to do so – a sign that compassionate souls retain their qualities in The Keywork. As this realisation comes to pass, similarities between Evagria's energy and that of Sirius' wife become apparent, and this track bears a similar dream-like quality to 'The Afterman' as a result.
Left alone in The Keywork for now, in the downbeat electro-folk of the closing 'Subtraction', Sirius contemplates his relationship with Meri, and there's a resignation to the line “subtract me from your heart” that suggests that though he lives, he's staying where he is. It's a downbeat end to the album, and less of a cliff-hanger than one might expect from work so influenced by Star Wars, but given that it's essentially an album about individuals and their actions, it's quite a realistic one, and paves the way for some of the themes and revelations of its companion piece.
Descension: I'm Alive, and Its Homecoming
2013's The Afterman: Descension sees the tale of Sirius' exploration take a homeward turn, but not without some final drama in The Keywork. The chiming 'Pretelethal', picks up with Sirius still under the waning protection of Evagria The Faithful. Physically healed, but able to contemplate what he has left behind, he's left to lament “who will repair this broken heart?” It's a subdued first track - ethereal, and laced with sampled dialogue that suggests communications have been resumed with home as Sirius resigns himself to an eventual death.
It's at this point that Sirius meets the last of the Key Entities – still under assault from Vic and Holly Wood, “Key Entity Extraction V: Sentry The Defiant” sees the one soldier who, in life, saw and exposed Vic's crimes step in to his aid. A lurching, mid-paced tumult based upon jagged riffs that rises to its feet over the course of six minutes to become fully upright amid calls to “be defiant, the lion...don't close the coffin yet,” it represents a high-point for the series: taken out of context of the wider narrative, it's a pointed reminder of how, if used effectively, assumed strength can be drawn from metal music, and as a plot point, allows Sirius to do exactly the same – denoted by the coda depicting a risky escape from The Keywork.
Back on terra firma, The Afterman: Descension sees Sirius contending with more worldly concerns, as 'The Hard Sell' sees his soul under attack again – not from mystical entities, but from his conscience. Having decided not to go public with his actual experiences, and instead fabricating a plausible but impressive set of findings, he finds himself lauded as a visionary and celebrity. The song sees the band hit a swagger somewhere in the middle ground between Pink Floyd and Metallica, and there's a palpable, erudite bitterness to Claudio Sanchez' delivery of lyrics such as “Their ears forsaken have given up on art” that suggests his giving voice to an educated man unravelling at his choices might not be a stretch to deliver. It's also perhaps both album's best example of a jumping-on point – as much pomp and pop as vitriol – and wearing the familiar rock clothing of the struggle for authenticity – particularly evident in the accusatory chorus of “you're selling out to be in.”
'Number City' sees the most serious subject matter of the album dealt with in a surprising fashion: a cavalcade of 80s funk-pop strangely reminiscent of both Prince and Hall And Oates details the efforts of a medical team attempting to revive Sirius and Meri after a car accident – what is superficially a bubblegum pop song with a chorus of “Honey, replace my heart” becomes almost literal and figurative amid a production that sparkles, despite the sampled ambulance wails. It's unfortunate that one of the more memorable songs of the set sounds incongruously placed – apologists will no doubt bring up the fact that it appears to be flash-forward, a cinematic jump-cut, but this isn't immediately apparent and pacing and flow suffer as a result.
“Gravity's Union” provides the backstory to its predecessor, as Sirius flies “headfirst into the light” after a heated conversation with Meri in which he learns that he's too late to rekindle any relationship, and that Meri is involved with, and pregnant by, another man. The soundtrack is fraught as a result, the closeness Sirius craves offered only in blunt force trauma as vehicular impact ensures their “lives are one colliding.” Not dissimilar to the spiritual beatings Sirius endured on the last album, there are echoes of the violence, but with no sign of resolution, and as the mocking outro – to be “caged, locked in perpetual motion, carving your wounds right open” - the saga begins to reach its deepest recesses as a surgeon, 'Dr. Straight', manages to save Sirius, but not his wife. Whilst the sturm und drang of the chugging soundtrack well expresses the band's strength, it's moments like this – when characters are explicitly named – that is arguably the lyrical achilles heel, as the casual listener can be dragged out of their own connection.
It's at this point that the respective albums interchange their content, as the more grounded character of Meri Amory sees her life flash before her eyes prior to entering the Keywork. It's a flash-back to her thrill at an initial meeting with Sirius, and as such is a deft slice of FM-radio rock that manages to sound dated within the context of the story: there's a pleasing, dizzy nostalgia to it, overlaid with some strangely-ethereal samples which suggest it might not be quite the straightforward summer track it appears to be.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, Sirius' pain is reflected in the contemplative, deceptively laid-back acoustic folk of ‘Iron Fist’ which heralds a couplet of songs that traces his initial regret at passing up a life with Meri for his headstrong desires – “this cursed iron fist,” and spirals downward into the funereal ‘Dark Side Of Me,’ by which point the listener is pulled into Sirius' mind-set – as he realises “I gave up everything for all the wrong things”– via a tasteful slab of 90s-style grunge-tinged rock that sees the band discard their more technical inclinations momentarily for something more straightforward.
It's at this point – arguably the darkest of the album – that the set comes full circle, with a final exchange between AllMother, the sentient ship computer, and Sirius, which suggests that the two are once again on a voyage to The Keywork, this time so Sirius can assist Meri's soul. It's a return trip that sees AllMother question why a human would return to the site of so much quantifiable pain—and whilst it's a suitably ham-fisted example of the 'AI-learns-about-love' trope, it scrapes through given the themes explored previously, the certainty of the decision reflected in the deliriously spritely closing track '2's My Favourite 1'.
The Afterman: Descension represents something of a curve-ball given the cosmic mysticism that makes up its predecessor – expectations for the story to expand in more fantastical ways don't really materialise, and the universe is distilled down into the story of Sirius and Meri. It also suggests parallels to Claudio Sanchez' own life – credibility of ideas and the absence from family life are, after all, just two among many typical neuroses of the touring artist. Ultimately, it's a story which simplifies itself as it progresses – perhaps asking questions about what really matters in a universe; or perhaps through a sense of having already taken that voyage. That said, the ominous keyboard tones at the end of the album – tones which call to mind numerous John Carpenter movie soundtracks – provide a hint at what is to come in the universe, as well as what has come before in a musical sense.
Taken as a whole, The Afterman albums certainly demonstrate the flair of the band's repertoire, and whilst there's the usual schizophrenic genre-hopping, it feels as if the lack of adherence to The Amory Wars has freed up the band. What's particularly striking is the economy of the songwriting, and it's arguable that the lack of need for exposition spotlights the emotions inherent in the songs as a result. Whilst not always completely effective as individual albums, as a whole, The Afterman provides a greater number of emotional hooks – amid the celestial beings, possession and angst, there's kitchen-sink soap opera as well: satisfying a need to ground the eventual 'Hero's Journey' monomyth of The Amory Wars, and in a way, ensuring that the building blocks of a fictional universe are rooted in very real human emotions. It's only through real connection at a personal level that such a universe flourishes and blurs into our own: not every science-fiction franchise inspires people to mark their religion as 'Jedi Knight' on census forms, whilst few people will shed at a tear at a low-budget cash-in movie shamelessly ripping off E.T The Extra Terrestrial. It's this connective level that Coheed And Cambria appear to be tapping into, albeit gradually, now that the main saga is out of their system, and have produced arguably their best works to date as a result.