Sven Väth
The Harlequin - The Robot And The Ballet-Dancer

The 1994 will be remembered in the world of Techno music as a miraculous year; many of you might be surprised to know that even that jovial character Sven Väth made it among the stars with his "The Harlequin, The Robot And The Ballet Dancer." A very long and rather ridiculous title, but analyzed from the right perspective, it immediately conveys the idea of where the German musician aims to go. A redundant work, a fusion concept of classical music, ambient, and unconventional techno, that represents in the three improbable characters the artist's nature. Sven is certainly no newcomer to the genre, he's always been immersed in music; who remembers the Off project with its "Electrica Salsa"? A true icon of the consoles around the world, a live beast of incomparable power, following the success of the previous "An Accident in Paradise," Sven returns with loyal producer Ralf Hildenbeutel and their label Eye Q to produce their masterpiece. Gargantuan in duration, an endless CD filled with things to do and listen to, a real journey between cold technology and a passionate soul. We return to the title and the three elements that compose it, which are no coincidence representing the three main movements of the work, slowly intermingling with each other to create something completely new.

The Harlequin

It's the entertainer's soul of the artist, who like a minstrel enters the court to delight his lord/listener with colors and fantasy.

"Play Bells" opens the album with a long quatrain movement, permeated with a sparkling mosaic of bells, splendid trance arpeggios, and a slow opening towards ambient directions, implied by airy carpets. It's a mesmerizing dance, in a triumph of doves before a parade, a great festival of life, the sun is high, warm, and pulsating like blood. But all this will not last forever, "The Beauty And The Beast" brings darkness into this magical world, the jester is corrupted, his sunny soul is led astray by dark digital atmospheres, vibrant bass, insidious synths that creep into the soul until they explode into a sinister and cursed orgasm. Sven leads this seductive parade of horror with his devilish voice. Exhausted by the cursed bacchae, we fall into Harlequin's mental depths, finding peace and asylum in that small polychromatic world. "Meditation" is a long 12-minute breathtaking movement, progressive ambient without any trace of percussion, an idyllic sound reminiscent of classical music and reminding us how the Germans manage to be a cut above when it comes to composition. End of the first act.

The Robot

It's the computational precision that resides behind every beauty. The means by which the work is represented, the machine always present, even when you do not see it.

In "The Birth Of Robby," the few minutes of sunny opening give way to a wild funky piece, everything is frighteningly mechanical, but the blood still runs through the veins. A dark analog bass marks the time of this awakening of the machines, a neo-tribal dance in the name of symmetry, slow and relentless, flutes insinuate like alarming sirens, sophisticated synth arpeggios, and icy trance lashes. It's an austere, electromagnetic world, a simple contact can prove lethal... But it's just an antechamber for what will happen with "Robot." The negation of any organic form, pounding techno ritual, the most violent piece of the entire album. Extremely complex calculations carried out by a digital mind insert the coordinates of this new suffocating dance, incalculable bpm move the track at the speed of light, the gravitational scourge is devastating, the matter breaks down until it reveals the innards, which in this world are called wheels, silicon, and springs. Everything is shredded towards a new, cathartic Zero Point. The dancer dances sinuously on a fuse...

The Ballet Dancer

It is beauty, grace, elegance, academic recall, an ancestral charm.

"Romance" is just a small introduction. All traces of machines disappear, the winds and the inexhaustible beauty of classical music explode, but it's a fleeting moment. The dancer has been seen, the machine will return. "Fusion," something unexpected and profane begins, melancholic violins marry a blood-imbued piano, from afar, a slow, inhuman rhythm insinuates, the dancer is ready to be corrupted. The swan's wings grow darker and more menacing, a pounding bass alternates with sinister warning bells, something terrible, or wonderful, has happened. Fusion. Ascension. One of the most successful and evocative pieces of the album, which leaves space for the decidedly classic epilogue "Dancer," 8 minutes that ideally reconnect with "Meditation." It's a superior, ancestral melody, dewy, an epic dream, indicating that the three elements now definitively fused together will give rise to a new life. Sven tells with his warm voice the epilogue of this incredible fairy tale.

A masterpiece, without beating around the bush. An album absolutely to reevaluate for how it treats a specific music category, subjecting it to distinctly European canons of sensitivity towards classical compositions. An album to savor on multiple levels, virtually eternal, to be jealously preserved in one's file cabinet. Unfortunately, Sven Väth will not return to such heights, just like that mythical, unforgettable 1994...