Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * * *
Always be curious, and never find yourself become narrowminded, find a way to ask questions rather than be so pained that you only listen to one side of argument and decide that is enough to carry the weight of your own opinion…Become Other than human judgement framed by all that you ever knew and not what you could have learned.
Ben Bostick’s career path, his musical foundation may have been built of late on the seismic offerings of the Americana, the insight of examining and considering life between the roads and exploring the backwoods that grow and multiply the generosity of expression as emotions readily portray; and yet as with many an artist is finding, the illusion that has come in the form of AI is threatening to usurp the human experience and render true art useless, reducing it to its bare components, comparing it to the dust of ancestral cave paintings, or whispers of myths.
To break free of the illusion we can either refuse to participate in the fight against the judgements of machines, or we can go out and attack by altering our course of creation, and for Ben Bostick the reveal of his latest album, Become Other, is a fair indication of where the musician stands and in the creation of what is Progressive Radicalism, a performance bordering on the beauty of rebellion in human form, and as the album strides with absolute purpose, the senses are treated to a creation born of anger and dedication to beat the arc of fear that has built up in all who see art as passion and never one to be left in the mechanical heart or the clutches of artificial intelligence.
Urged to have courage at the sound of a 180 degree turn from the simple pleasures captured by Americana, the genre blurring symphony of expression sees this journey not as a side detour, but a whole new meaning of displaying a strong pulse of desire.
Across tracks such as Heavy Heart, Star-Crossed, Eyes In The Vine, The Weaver, By Darkness Found, and World Without Measure, Ben Bostick firmly shows the meaning of artistic rage, one where the issues must be addressed and entailed in poetic madness. Mr. Bostick delivers with impunity, the scathing sounds of the instruments and the voice are fascinating and full of fevered uproar, a kind of mash between the alarm of a symphonic metal and the brush of the calm eruditeness of a folk musician adding political unrest to the sweet majesty of a tranquil guitar.
AI may attempt to relax our nerves by appearing to be human quality, but it is forever sterile, only programmed, never speaking with a heart; Ben Bostick is absolutely human in detail and progression, a turn away from the reassured into the mouthpiece of rebellious cool; and one that is astonishingly gratifying and full of brilliance.
Ian D. Hall