Déjà-vu
Between the Leaves

In music, as in life in general, mine has always been a solitary journey. In search of emotions that were exclusively mine, far from any form of conditioning or preconception. Don't get me wrong; I have never been lacking in companions with whom to share certain moments. But it is equally true that I have never developed that strong sense of "belonging" that ties me to a specific group, movement, or place. Not out of nonconformity, because I have never excluded a priori what is fashionable or commonly felt. And certainly not out of some form of selfishness, since personal benefit has never been the only goal, and sharing certain sensations has often brought me even greater joy.

I believe instead that my search probably has to do with less "rational" factors. The excitement of discovery. The wild drive of instinct. Sometimes, you simply fall in love with an album cover. A dark figure in the middle of a forest, leaning on a stick, carrying what appears to be a mirror on its back. The peculiarity is that this mirror reproduces the image itself in apparently infinite regression. And as if that weren't enough, a predominant purple accentuates the sense of unease.

Déjà-vu are a forgotten meteor of the progressive undergrowth of the seventies, and this "Between the Leaves" is their only testament. A record released in the distant 1976, exclusively on vinyl and in very few copies. In 1995, the equally obscure Research Records decided to unearth the recordings and reissue the work on compact disc, in memory of the late vocalist Kai Grønlie. An operation obviously without commercial expectations, but which revives a valuable work, that smells of wild and deliciously takes root.

The band offers music with strong personality, mixing Yes-like symphonic prog with early seventies hard blues. Far from the self-destructive excesses that the genre is facing at that time, Déjà-vu shun technical or experimental exasperations and put their art at the service of melody. Ample space for keyboards, among hammond, moog, monophonic synths, clavinet, rhodes piano, and mellotron. A profusion of retro sounds that does not overshadow the other instruments, well blended and complementary, nor the warm vocal parts and almost pop-like airy refrains. "Between the Leaves" ultimately is not a record for those seeking novelty, and probably the sands of time will bury it again.

But this is it; perhaps what I seek in music, as in life in general, is precisely the genuine side of things.