Review Summary: A worthy album despite its baggage
Dream Theater entered the new millennium with a sense of freedom and security they’d never had before. One could easily wonder how the band could possibly hope to follow the astronomical Scenes From A Memory, but it feels more like they used that album’s success as the prompt to unleash every idea they’d been holding back all this time. The lineup’s stability for the next decade is quite a contrast from their early turnover rates and Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence itself is a fulfillment of their long-denied desire to release a proper double album. Their core mission statement remains but a new era has begun.
I feel like this album marks the change in Dream Theater’s perception from cult underdogs to an institution, the biggest fish in the little pond of prog metal. They’d always had recurring motifs and little Easter eggs for fans to fixate on (that’s how Metropolis, Pt. 2 even got to be a thing, after all), but this is where it really seemed to start defining their overall identity. The elaborate multi-album AA Suite gets its start here with “The Glass Prison,” songs that serve as particular style pastiches start popping up, and every release’s layout seemingly tailor made for the Trivia sections of their Wikipedia pages. For better and worse, this is now a band for music dorks by music dorks.
Getting to the actual music, one can detect some subtle changes even as their playing is as extravagant as ever. With the last traces of their old school spirit seeming to culminate on Scenes From A Memory, a certain modernization starts coming into play here. This is best demonstrated by the guitars and keyboards, the former taking on a blunter tone with an almost alt-metal informed crunch while the latter sitting about as prominently with shredding spotlights and on an onslaught of kooky effects merely hinted at before. This isn’t the Dream Theater that served as the next step from Fates Warning and Queensryche anymore, this is a Dream Theater that’s eyeballing Tool and Opeth from across the bar.
As a result, this is also the album where James LaBrie’s relevance in the band really started coming into question. Already beset by on and off vocal issues, the shifting sensibilities make his AOR-rooted delivery feel like even more of a relic and attempts at more Maynard James Keenan-inspired abstraction come off awkward. He still has a pleasant timbre and varied characterization, but it’s no secret why they almost kicked him out around this time.
But for how cynical and calculated I’m making this all sound, it’s not like the band also magically forgot how to write memorable songs. “The Glass Prison” is heavier than anything they’d done before, coming off the “Finally Free” static with a persistently driving thrust and their most aggressive riffs up to this point. The melodic tracks explore some solid depths between the light contemplations of “Blind Faith,” the rock star brooding on “Misunderstood,” and the haunting ambiance on “Disappear.” “The Great Debate” is the first disc’s most notable misfire between structuring that goes full Lateralus and lyrics musing on the early 2000s stem cell controversy that you likely forgot about until I just reminded you of if.
Of course, the second disc is where the band’s ambitions truly manifest with a forty-minute suite broken up into eight tracks all themed around mental illness. It’s an idea that makes sense for them, throwing every single musical inspiration they can muster and they’d previously delved into similar themes as far back as Awake. “War Inside My Head” is a short but effective heavy display of PTSD, “The Test That Stumped Them All” benefits from frenzied rhythms and wacky vocal trade-offs, and “Solitary Shell” is an excellent slice of Peter Gabriel-homaging pop folk.
However, the suite ends up being a mixed bag due to the band’s blunter style resulting in an analytical analysis of what should be emotionally heavy themes. A song like “Voices” works due to an introspective relatability that is lacking in the more neutral observation in a track like “About To Crash.” As soon as LaBrie sings about being “lonely without Mommy’s love” on “Goodnight Kiss,” a song about the devastation of postpartum depression and possibly losing a child just comes off as silly and unconvincing.
While I ultimately consider Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence to be a worthy album despite some baggage, it is where Dream Theater truly becomes a love it or hate it affair. The musicianship and scope remain the primary focuses but the personality and lore surrounding them are becoming just as integral to the experience, either enhancing the appeal or making them more off-putting than ever. It’s neat to see them adapting to the times and the songwriting is always memorable, even if both factors can be mixed bags. I may have my nitpicks but I understand why this is somebody’s favorite Dream Theater record.
