It's not an overstatement to say that DEVIN TOWNSEND is one of the most unique and celebrated minds in the history of the Progressive Rock genre. As with all of his releases, his latest opus, "Empath," smacks of someone who has complete command of every aspect of production. It's a fully stimulating listen, a near-perfect mix of scattered and cohesive, melodic and progressive, light and dark. The way these elements mix and transition is truly a delight, as they seamlessly integrate to create as sonically pleasing a work as Townsend has made in his entire career.  As always, he has been transparent through every step of the process, making this another fan-centric release that remains accessible to those with even a modest appreciation for progressive music.

After a short, calming introduction, "Genesis" acts like psychedelic induced-vomit of every album he's put out in the last 20 years. It would be an abhorrent mess, if it didn't just plain work. What he may have been aiming for with "Deconstruction," he absolutely nails here. In just the first ten minutes of the record, we already feel the frenetic pace of "Alien," the loneliness of "Ghost," the catchiness of "Addicted," the spirit of "Epicloud," the sparseness of "Ki." The true magic of this record is the way he weaves in and out of these states of mind, one rapidly leading to the next, as if in an isolation tank on acid, with Devin and his Elektra Women's Choir of angels there to soothe and cleanse every step of the way.

A notch above his last few releases, sonically, he forgoes the usual waves of Big Sky reverb, replacing with a crisp attention to detail and spacing. If you were concerned with his overuse of choir, it is used much more sparingly here and only to color key moments. He seems to be reveling in the freedom of not having a regular band setup behind him, employing a variety of guest musicians from co-producer and guitarist Mike Kenneally, former bandmate Steve Vai, god-like experimental percussionist, Morgan Agren, NICKELBACK frontman, Chad Kroeger, among others. No longer composing for three or four instruments, he's using a full arsenal of digital and analog tools. The atmospherics are pure ear candy, giving the feeling of being on a tropical island sitting by the fire at night.

Let it be clear, if you think that Townsend has abandoned the heavy in recent years, rejoice in the absolutely blazing Metal moments on this album. They seem to materialize out of thin air and are rooted in some monster drumming from Anup Sastry (SKYHARBOR) and Samus Paulicelli (DECREPIT BIRTH), including perhaps the fastest blast beats I have ever heard on "Singularity," a twenty-minute epic that contains every shade on the spectrum.  There is no shortage of sheer beauty on this record, either. There are moments on this album that will make you want to burst out and cry and moments that make you want to lean back and look at the stars in a state of cosmic bliss.  The song "Why?" contains one of Townsend's best vocal performances ever, right up there with "Storm" off the "Accelerated Evolution" album. Starting as a kind of disingenuous showtune, it becomes a rousing plea to stand strong in the face of societal pressures.

As a whole, "Empath" is less of a projection of an emotion, like perhaps "Epicloud" or "Transcendence" may have been, and more of a lightning rod, attracting, storing and discharging emotions as they arise. They are laid bare in the sun in order to destigmatize them: "Obeying signs from within you/The universe is throughout you/You're going through the wall." "Evermore" demands a truce with these less attractive parts of yourself and your history: "raise your glasses to the underworld." There are moments of full-blown optimism, like on the euphoric "Spirits Will Collide," but they are grounded, and always tempered with lyrics like, "Receive the pain, but this isn't where this ends."

It creates a feeling that you are going through it with Townsend, holding his hand as you power through a schizophrenic episode.  Instead of getting lost in the darkness, as you might on a STRAPPING YOUNG LAD album, Devy and his army of angels succeed in soothing your existential pain, but there's still an acknowledgement that the monsters reside within and must be dealt with (as he says on "Sprite": "Thank you for keeping trying, slow progress is still progress.")  This may just be Townsend's most emotionally mature album, in that way.  There's a sense of closure to it that feels like a finale to a long episode in his career.  Where he goes from here will be the start of something new, but still familiar, and you can bet it will be interesting.