Visuals axed, but music carries Porcupine Tree show

A Porcupine Tree concert, the band's touring guitarist John Wesley told The Tampa Tribune, is "a very visual show."

So what happens when the visuals get axed?

The Tampa Theatre proved a little too intimate a venue for the screen upon which the band's visuals appear. So the English quartet, augmented live by Brandon native Wesley, had to "hope the music is good enough" to carry the show, leader Steven Wilson told the crowd of 732.

This, it turns out, was not a problem.

Porcupine Tree's music is full of twists and turns, unusual time signatures, and shifts in tone and tempo. The musicianship is first rate - music this complex demands a well-rehearsed outfit. But the playing was no less passionate for its professionalism.

Likewise, the music never is complex for complexity's sake. Everything serves the songs, constantly moving them forward.

Porcupine Tree did so much more than recreate its latest album, last year's "The Incident." It brought the album to life, made it breathe in a way that can only be done in front of an audience.

Wesley spelled Wilson on guitars and vocals, with particularly stellar harmonies on "Your Unpleasant Family." Richard Barbieri, formerly of punk-era art-rockers Japan, added samples and treatments of the other instruments as well as keyboards. Gavin Harrison showed why he is one of rock's most highly regarded drummers, his playing at time reminiscent of jazz great Billy Cobham. Colin Edwin's fluid bass kept things tethered, although he also was capable of dazzling playing, as on "Halo."

The band took a break after playing the nearly-hour long "The Incident" in its entirety. The second set featured a collection of earlier material, ranging from the languid beauty of "Normal" to the intensity of "Halo" to the intimacy of "Stars Die," closing with Wilson's childhood remembrance, "Trains."

Opening act Bigelf was less cerebral, but the Los Angeles quartet was smart, funny and so far over the top as to render the concept of a top pointless. Imagine Turbonegro with a Deep Purple-Uriah Heep jones replacing the homoeroticism and you're as close as you'll get without actually seeing them in the flesh. Black-clad, mascaraed Damon Fox, flanked by two stacks of vintage keyboards, was a striking front man with or without his trademark top hat. His band mates backed him with Tony Iommi-esqueÖ fuzz riffs and a heavy backbeat that didn't forget to swing.