Jon & Vangelis
Private Collection

THE REVIEW

During the wake, only a few notes could be heard. Perhaps recognizable, but completely out of context, they could have been anything. I knew well the thirty-year-old lying composedly in the coffin, with a light veil over her body and face. The veil, to the sound of those notes repeated cyclically, seemed to wave. In reality, the air came from some fans positioned at the corners of the small church to mitigate the temperature of that scorching July. Besides slightly stirring the hot and sticky air, they also carried the miasma of the corpse, inevitably rotting, which couldn't be covered even by the myriad of flowers that were rotting prematurely and in parallel by its side. We looked at each other in the face, with eyes clouded by tears and drops of sweat that, after pearling the forehead, descended on the eyebrows. And it seemed strange that that beautiful and desired girl was lying, awaiting burial. The father nodded at the funeral director, and accompanied by a heart-wrenching cry from the mother, the coffin was closed, forever.

When I think of her, those notes return to my mind and, unfortunately, I always associate them with the moment narrated above. That was her favorite song and a mutual friend, a musician, decided to play it on the organ at her wake, appropriately arranged so as not to be scolded by a notoriously strict priest.

Pure melody. So rich and engaging, so mournful and ethereal, solemn in its chord progressions. Jon Anderson and Eyágelos Odysséas Papatanasíou, much better known as Vangelis, met in 1973 in Paris when Anderson, fascinated by the sounds of the album "L'Apocalypse des Animaux", wanted to meet the Greek musician in person. In 1974, when Rick Wakeman left Yes, Anderson attempted to bring him into the band, but due to various issues, nothing came of it. However, it began a series of collaborations that resulted in four albums, this being their third and best, released in 1983.

Despite the backgrounds of the two, we don't have an album of powerful and complex progressive music, on the contrary. Right from the beginning and the previous works, the common path was that of pop, perhaps with new age, ambient variegations, and certainly some prog touches, mainly in the refinement of melodic sequences and chords. Even "Horizon," the lengthy suite that covered the entire second side of the vinyl, cannot be compared to common progressive exploits, but simply to a long search for melodic and atmospheric solutions interconnected, perhaps in a more classical than prog manner.

The first part, however, is made up of five songs of varying lengths that make melody their true strong point. Among them stands out the particularity of the opener "Italian Song", endowed with a text of made-up words, composed by Anderson and set into the emotional and creative melody. Then there's the quintessential song, the one so adored by my friend, "And When The Night Comes"... and I have nothing more to say, here comes Dick Morrissey's saxophone and the soul tears apart.

A very delicate, feminine album, with ethereal, rocking and floating tones like veils, gently stirred by sweet and distant breezes.

"I want you always"

Sioulette