Alcatraz
Vampire State Building

Without thinking too much about it, that day, he decided to stay at the office even during the lunch break.

After all, from the window in front of his desk, he could see everything that interested him, and, due to his mental setting, what he couldn't see he could perfectly imagine.

He took his sandwich with lettuce, cheese, and bresaola and started browsing the large hard drive in search of an album to listen to while munching his meal. He enjoyed basking in that atmosphere of solitude, listening to his favorite music. His tastes, admittedly a bit strange, had always generated a form of pride on one hand and shame on the other. Let's be clear, listening to certain albums by Frank Zappa or the Magma or some broad-minded jazz by Elton Dean, in the company of someone who couldn't appreciate them, is challenging, necessarily leading to interrupting the listening, especially after phrases like: "What the heck are you listening to?", "What's this crap?", "Don't you have anything danceable?", etc., etc.

So alone, he could peacefully indulge in a moment of insane musical autism. The choice fell on "Vampire State Buildings," recorded in 1971 by the German band Alcatraz, whose duration roughly matched the lunch break and would conclude before the entry of the office colleagues, who had gone out for lunch.

From the very first track "Simple Headphone Mind", his gaze fixed beyond the window: a dry, spring air, more tense than usual, made the linden pollens flutter about, almost like snowflakes moved by the hand of chaos. The record began , with a classically Canterbury start reminiscent of early Soft Machine and Caravan and a development with Davisian and Zappa-like traits: "Great piece!" he thought, drinking from the water bottle he always kept nearby. The notes of the sax blended with the distorted and psychedelic guitar, occasionally overshadowed by bursts of electric piano. Above all, the lead of a dynamic and imaginative drum that marked a pace certainly more mental than physical, and then that flute, so full of imagination and delicacy. These were tracks where the roundness of listening starkly contrasted with the complexity of the writing, a clear sign of high professionalism.

Careful not to let breadcrumbs fall on the keyboard and almost hypnotized by the red-haired girl who kept pacing back and forth on the balcony of the building across during an animated phone call, he heard the second track start "Your Chance Of A Lifetime." More typically kraut, with memories of bitter blues and perhaps a bit Hendrixian, of those cross mixtures that harshly threaten the soul, resonating on bolero-like percussion and seemingly born from the flames, like the notes of the electric piano and fuzz guitar dominating the second part of the track. In the jazz-rock chaos, the accent of the brief "Where The Wild Things Are", an hard blues with vaguely southern rock undertones, seemed almost strange to him.

Nosing around his molars with his tongue, trying to dislodge a piece of sandwich, perhaps lodged to avoid being swallowed, he happily greeted the arrival of the title track, for thirteen minutes of almost furious jaunts of Bitches Brew-like jazz rock, Zappa influences, blues, and kraut all in one engaging and unpredictable mix.

The final track and the bonus track of the CD, only confirmed the excellent impression that had increased with the listening.

The trail of colleagues was coming back in, just as he turned off the music player. He tidied up his desk from the few fallen crumbs and, observing the bewildered glances of his colleagues, shrugged, a little proud and a bit ashamed, but sure he had enjoyed a great album.

sioulette