Few contemporary musicians seem as determined to test the limits of excess as Devin Townsend. Following the dissolution of the Devin Townsend Project, he could easily have streamlined his approach, assembled a smaller band and focused on efficiency. Instead, he responded by releasing Empath, an album so densely packed with ideas that it occasionally feels like several records unfolding simultaneously. The obvious question was whether such a sprawling, wildly ambitious work could survive the transition to the stage.
The answer, remarkably, is yes.
Bringing Empath to life requires an ensemble closer in scale to a small orchestra than a traditional rock band. Ten musicians and vocalists share the stage, each contributing essential elements to a musical language that constantly shifts shape. Among them is Markus Reuter, whose Touch Guitar handles an enormous amount of the textural heavy lifting, from loops and synthesizer parts to orchestral layers. His contribution is fundamental to the evening's success, providing many of the sonic colours that make Townsend's music so distinctive.
He is hardly the only heavyweight in the cast. Guitarist and keyboardist Mike Keneally, whose résumé includes work with Frank Zappa and numerous other adventurous artists, brings his own formidable talents to the proceedings. Yet one of the evening's great strengths is that nobody feels superfluous. Every musician serves a purpose. Every voice, every instrument and every texture contributes to a larger whole.
This is the opening night of the tour, a circumstance that often comes with visible rough edges. If any exist here, they remain invisible from the audience. The performances are consistently impressive throughout, particularly given the sheer complexity of the material. And complexity is the operative word.
The evening begins in suitably absurd fashion, with musicians wandering onstage one by one while tropical cocktails are prepared in full view of the audience. It is an appropriately ridiculous introduction to a repertoire that refuses to respect genre boundaries. Heavy metal is certainly part of the equation, often a very large part, but it shares space with progressive rock, funk, disco, musical theatre, ambient music, pop, jazz, calypso and countless other influences. Sometimes those styles occupy separate songs. Sometimes they coexist within the same song.
What prevents the concert from collapsing under its own weight is Townsend's gift for melody and his refusal to take himself too seriously. The humour is ever-present, surfacing through jokes, visual gags and surreal interludes, yet it never undermines the emotional core of the music. However strange the arrangements become, the songs themselves remain surprisingly direct.
The set naturally draws heavily from Empath, but older material receives its due as well. A monumental rendition of "Kingdom" closes the main set in spectacular fashion, but the evening's most affecting moment arrives during "Spirits Will Collide." Performed initially by Townsend alone on acoustic guitar before gradually expanding to include additional singers and musicians, it provides a rare moment of simplicity amid the sensory overload. The emotional response it provokes throughout the room is unmistakable.
Between songs, Townsend proves every bit as unconventional as his music. His stage banter veers between self-deprecating humour, philosophical reflection and complete nonsense, often within the same sentence. Yet beneath the eccentricity lies a sincere message. He speaks repeatedly about family, friendship and the importance of appreciating ordinary life.
That sentiment might sound paradoxical coming from an artist whose concerts feel like an assault on normality. Yet perhaps that is precisely the point. For two hours, Devin Townsend offers an escape into a world where every musical possibility is explored and every idea is pursued to its furthest conclusion.
And when the lights come back on, everyday life somehow feels a little brighter than it did before.
