Parzival
Legend

One of the most interesting formations of German prog-folk, Parzival, reached the publication of this first album, "Legend," in 1971, a true gem of the genre. In that field, they could be likened to the pagan folk of their compatriots Ougenwide (from whom they distinguished themselves for their English singing) rather than the acid folk of Emtidi or Carol of Harvest.

Organized as a trio, they combined typical rock instrumentation with a more classical one that favored the reproduction of a deep medieval sound (viola, violin, cello, flute, oboe, percussion); the influences of medieval music were also reflected in their epochal and folkloric clothing. To this, they added a slight influence of typically oriental folk contaminations and, in their compositions, a general approach quite Floydian, as well as marked symphonic and even Wagnerian ambitions.

The result is a total immersion in the past, also because the album is completely acoustic; the rock instrumentation is "limited," in the ensemble, to original sequences of prog-influenced accompaniments and harmonies. You are immediately transported by the two opening (bonus) tracks, by the soft flute accompanying the arpeggio and the dreamy singing of "One Day" and by the epic and dark "Marshy Legend." The ballad "Resignation," dominated by strings, introduces the almost entirely instrumental "8 Years Later," perhaps the most typically progressive piece, for its interweaving and tempo changes.

"Wall Bungalow," a brief instrumental built on piano chords, serves as a bridge between the progressiveness of "Senseless n°6" and the avant-garde pastoral "Empty Land" (based on Bach's "Matthew's Passion"), both quite experimental in their exploration of sounds (with an eye to noise) and in presenting particular vocalizations with a rather acidic timbre, which can bring to mind the vocal openings of Wooton from Comus or Cockerman from Spirogyra.

The masterpiece of the album is the superb suite "Groove Inside," a long improvised jam that ranges from Third Ear Band-inspired pure raga to the almost lysergic visions of Jan Dukes De Gray's "Sun Symphonia," then develops into an incessant tribal digression and ends wretchedly in a parodic "Zappaesque" singing of the Beatles' "When I'm 64"; twenty-five seconds we could have easily done without. The two closing bonus tracks, dated 1969, have little to do with the posthumous sound evident in the rest of the album: they are short folk-pop songs that markedly resemble the more melodic Turtles; curious, indeed, but overall add nothing.

An album almost unique in its genre, which, unlike the band's subsequent works, increasingly melodic and less experimental, remains a fundamental reference point in prog-folk, a movement which, in terms of uniqueness, in Germany, could have competed with the prevailing kraut-rock.

8/10