Chuck Vrtacek
Silent Heaven

In the distant Connecticut, there lives a musician unknown to most, who has written some of the most original works of the last two decades. Native of Cyprus, Vrtacek throughout his career has amused himself by experimenting with the song format, arriving with his two masterpieces, "Learning To Be Silent" and "When Heaven Comes To Town," collected in a single CD by Cuneiform, at a very particular form of music.
The first album, from 1985, has a disarming introspectiveness. To fully savor it, one must grant it silence; concentration will be drawn in, as a result. The 14 tracks, some lasting just over a minute, are pastoral watercolors for guitar, piano, and music box, with some very light synth intervention. The effect is one of deep spiritual catharsis, of a desolate cosmic resignation.
The tranquility achieved is far from the effects of ambient trance because the album has a "panicky" sense superior to all ambient works. In short, it sounds much more "natural," let’s say more similar to new-age, with a lesser melodic spirit and even more devoid of energy. The pinnacle of the entire journey, and a shining example of his art, is the abstract masterpiece that from the title alone, "Emily, Are You Happy?" poses questions never answered, on a languid lament of Hawaiian guitar and sorrowful notes of music box, leaving that sense of incompleteness which is the greatest characteristic of his art.
The following album, three years older, is marked by an even more depressed mood. The initial sketches are similar to the first, but as early as the fifth track, the apocalyptic synth surges, foreshadow a Vrtacek this time placed on a more metaphysical and less earthly plane. A feeling confirmed by the long final suite that gives the album its title, 26 minutes of sudden sketches and concrete background noises, from the trill of a phone to the confusion of a restaurant, over which ominous tolls of an abulic and minimalist piano appear. A fresco of American civilization, disconcerting and anguished, of the evil hidden behind common things. From this point of view, Vrtacek could be compared to the most perverse David Lynch.

In a scene, that of the United States, rich in "underground" phenomena of great artistic value, we can undoubtedly also count this visionary country bard, deserving with his experiments to be remembered as one of the most daring musicians of the 80s.