The Outernet, The Light & The Fury Review

The Architecture of Energy: Phil Turcio and The Outernet Illuminate The Light & The Fury

by Ferell Aubre

Phil Turcio’s The Light & The Fury arrives as a homage and evolution to the lineage of fusion keyboardists who blurred genre lines. Think Joe Zawinul’s kaleidoscopic layering, Chick Corea’s rhythmic curiosity, and Lyle Mays’s architectural lyricism, and that gives you a reference to how the Australian pianist, composer, and producer has long balanced two worlds: the formal discipline of classical training and the intuitive and improvisatory freedom of jazz. That duality informs his new project, The Outernet, whose core quartet is Turcio (keyboards), Emilio Kormanic (guitar), Pete Mollica (bass), and Pete Drummond (drums). The album’s ten Turcio originals bridge jazz-rock fusion with cinematic sound design and electronic production.

The Light & The Fury is a wonderful discovery for those interested in contemporary ensemble writing: motivic development, multi-section form, texture as structure, and the disciplined use of technology as timbral extension rather than distraction.

“The Fury” establishes Turcio’s language of riff-driven motifs cast in rhythmic unison, then refracted through synth, guitar, and drum interplay. It’s the kind of entrance that anchors the modern fusion sound of the album with its angular yet singable melodies. The production sheen places it firmly in the present. Turcio’s ability to make many layers of programming feel “played,” not sequenced, gives the music breath and elasticity.

“The Crossing pt I” and “pt II” are delightful in their rhythmic modulation and motivic evolution. The first moves through a shifting groove that Drummond navigates with the elastic subdivisions that bend, but the pulse never wavers. Kormanic’s guitar tone is saturated, and his sustaining lines emerge as a lyrical match to Turcio’s keyboard counterpoints and timbers. A playful rhythmic contrast unfolds in “pt II” with a rolling arpeggiated ostinato that evokes motion across harmonic terrain. Turcio’s improvisation demonstrates his melodic craftsmanship with phrases that land purposefully to form a compositional architecture derived in the moment.

“Mortal” is a rock-anchored pulse supporting a slowly unfolding melody. Mollica’s bass locks into Drummond’s pocket; their cohesion allows Turcio’s harmonic shifts to read as inevitabilities that conclude in enjoyable surprises. It’s a study in ensemble interaction and working together to shape the music.

The album’s middle sequence, “Menacing Images” and “We Remember,” shows Turcio’s orchestral sensibility. The former, rhythmically intricate and harmonically fluid, showcases the group’s collective time awareness; accents float around a core ostinato, evoking the rhythmic layering of modern jazz composition with elastic lead parts over contagious grooves. In a sequence of building phrases, “We Remember” expands into an expressive panorama of ensemble colors. Turcio’s voicings shimmer with string-like synth timbres that merge seamlessly with Kormanic’s lyrical lines. The composition demonstrates emotional pacing, one of Turcio’s core strengths. Each repetition of the form grows in register and color until a luminous cadential release, a miniature symphonic arc.

The three-part suite, “Running From the Aliens,” forms the record’s conceptual core. “Part I” opens with an energetic, metrically fluid head that has a sleek sonic palette. The transitions and metric modulations never feel forced or interruptive to the flow. This shows Turcio’s rhythmic intelligence. Mollica’s bass solo integrates seamlessly into the compositional narrative, and the ensuing shout chorus crystallizes the group’s performance precision.

“Part II” leans heavier into funk-fusion territory, giving Kormanic space for a tour-de-force guitar solo. His articulation of clean alternate picking, controlled sweep passages, and fluid legato is impressive in how his phrasing retains melodic intent. Turcio’s synth layering frames the solo dynamically, thickening textures without overpowering.

“Part III” becomes a dialogue between guitar and keyboards, a call-and-response built on motivic fragments for development. Turcio’s solo is filled with narrative improvisation with rhythmic cells that develop organically into melodic climaxes, supported by Drummond’s dynamic shaping and Mollica’s driving foundation. For fusion fans, this section illustrates how The Outernet is a clear voice in the conversation of modern fusion ensembles.

The closing “The Light” offers a slow 6/8 rock-blues ballad that distills the album’s harmonic vocabulary into a single, expressive gesture. Kormanic’s tone turns bluesy, and Turcio’s sustained string pads and keyboard figures are orchestrative. During his solo, Kormanic’s piano lines evoke phrases with clear melodic arrivals. The piece underscores the album’s architectural logic of fury resolved through light, tension yielding to lyricism.

From a production standpoint, Turcio’s self-mixing and mastering are exemplary. The balance between acoustic nuance and electronic depth invites analytical listening. It is easy to hear how transient detail and spectral warmth coexist without harshness. The manner in which the album was constructed points to a model of integrated hybrid production with live musicianship enhanced by digital design.

The Outernet’s The Light & The Fury is a showcase of chops by an ensemble of talented modern fusion players. The musicianship on the album is where composition, performance, and production converge. It demonstrates how cross-disciplinary fluency of classical craft, pop sensibility, and technological literacy can yield music that’s accessible and profound. In the architecture of this album, every modulation, riff, and timbral shift reinforces an idea that in the dialogue between light and fury lies the essence of creative balance.