The Velvet Trail

The duo [Marc Almond and producer Chris Braide] unspools deliciously theatrical (eerily dark) piano etudes and grand, minor-key mini-epics that are the musical equivalent of an Oscar Wilde work. [No. 118, p.53]

Almond just made one of his best records, completely out of the blue. [Mar 2015, p.49]

With The Velvet Trail, Braide, with his consummate skill and sensitive brilliance combines Almond's theatrical and lyric personas with the emotional honesty in the grain of his voice. As a result, his lyric creativity, at once direct, defiant, vulnerable, and deliberately excessive, is out of the mothballs and back out where it belongs: front and center.

Almond is at his best on the compelling torch songs that have long been his stock in trade. Winter Sun reflects on dwindling romance; The Pain of Never is swooningly melancholic. More, please.

The Velvet Trail finds him firmly on home turf: sparkling glam-noir and sumptuous balladeering. [Apr 2015, p.85]

By and large, the Velvet Trail is straight-ahead pop, with big choruses and melodies, and Almond’s voice--although it no longer veers out of tune like it used to so endearingly in the 80s--is still enthralling.

It's strong but uneven. [Apr 2015, p.71]

While there is clearly some cathartic work going on here the rhythms in particular can be too clinical and processed, creating a tension against the expansive orchestral arrangements that in sound too rigid and processed. Yet this is nonetheless a strong and often stirring album, and the voice sounds fantastic.

Ultimately, while mileage may vary based on the listener’s tolerance for Almond’s theatrics and the potentially unbearable lightness of Braide’s fun musical backing, The Velvet Trail is a complete and coherent artistic statement.