Dream Theater - Falling Into Infinity (2LP) - Clear Vinyl

Dream Theater’s fourth studio album, Falling Into Infinity, arrived in September 1997 with a story baked into its grooves. You can hear a band at a crossroads, determined to keep its progressive ambitions intact while fielding label pressure for leaner, radio-friendly cuts. Producer Kevin Shirley helped steer that push-and-pull, giving the record a punchy, open sound that sits closer to hard rock in places, yet still leaves enough room for the technical storm the band is known for. It is also the lone full-length studio album to feature Derek Sherinian on keyboards, which gives this era its own colour and swagger.

The opening run sets the stakes. New Millennium has that brisk, restless forward motion that long-time fans love, with tight rhythmic shifts and a chorus that actually sticks. You Not Me is the lightning rod. It started life as You or Me, then was reshaped with hitmaker Desmond Child into something sharper and shorter, the clearest nod to the suits in the room. It is catchy and crisp, but the band’s personality comes through stronger in the tracks that sprawl a little. Peruvian Skies moves from brooding balladry to a thumping coda, a miniature of their quiet to loud instincts. Hollow Years is the heart-on-sleeve moment, gorgeously sung by James LaBrie and one of the era’s true fan favourites, the kind of tune that still lands in their setlists when they want to breathe.

There is a clever bit of sleight of hand around Burning My Soul and Hell’s Kitchen. The instrumental Hell’s Kitchen was carved from a longer version of Burning My Soul during the sessions, and you can feel that DNA in the way the two pieces complement each other. Hell’s Kitchen in particular is a highlight for Sherinian, who layers tasteful keys over John Petrucci’s lyrical guitar, the sort of four minutes that makes you wonder how much great music sits on studio floors.

The deep cut that keeps pulling me back is Lines in the Sand. It rides a massive groove from John Myung and Mike Portnoy, builds patiently, then blossoms into a soulful chorus with guest vocals from Doug Pinnick of King’s X. That invitation alone says plenty about where the band’s heads were at, reaching across to a kindred spirit known for feel as much as chops. The closer, Trial of Tears, stretches out in three parts and closes the album with rain-soaked atmosphere and patient melodies, the sound of a group refusing to shrink itself even when the commercial winds were blowing the other way.

If you know the backstory, the album’s push toward concision makes sense. The band had sketched a lot of music and even flirted with a double album idea before the brakes were applied. Some of that material later fed into what became Metropolis Pt. 2, which adds to the sense that Falling Into Infinity marks a hinge point. It was a polarising record at first, but it holds up because the playing never slackens. Petrucci’s tone is taut and melodic, Sherinian’s Hammond grit gives bite without crowding, Myung’s bass is dry and insistent in the mix, and Portnoy’s drums are clean and focused. Shirley’s production keeps the midrange clear and puts LaBrie’s vocals right in the centre, so even the heaviest parts feel breathable.

The visual side matters too. The cover art by Storm Thorgerson turns the title into a surreal daydream, and it looks terrific blown up as sleeve art. If you’re a sleeve-notes person, Falling Into Infinity vinyl is a satisfying pickup, not just for that Thorgerson image, but because the dynamics across the two sides suit a lounge-room listen. Dream Theater vinyl collectors tend to rate this era highly for the way it documents a sound in transition, and it pairs nicely with the live set Once in a LIVEtime from the following year, which captured several of these songs with extra bite on stage.

For anyone crate-digging in a Melbourne record store, or scoping vinyl records Australia wide, this is the sort of title that rewards a second look. If you like to buy Dream Theater records online, keep an eye out for clean copies, since the quieter passages on Hollow Years and Trial of Tears really shine when the surface noise is low. Dream Theater albums on vinyl can be a rabbit hole, and this one tells a distinct chapter of the story. It is the sound of a band negotiating with the mainstream, but doing it on their own terms often enough to leave a rich, sometimes undervalued, record behind.