Tangerine Dream
Ricochet

A long odyssey in space, that of Tangerine Dream. It all began in the early seventies, with the "cosmic cathedrals" of "Alpha Centauri" and "Zeit"; then the journey continued aboard a spacecraft suspended between galaxies, with the synth replacing the control joystick. Years of sophisticated electronic harmonies and great insights. At a certain point finally, in the eighties, the return. The spacecraft landed, and the crew was ready to narrate the visions experienced during the long journey. Thus began the era of great concerts and gatherings under the stars.

Indispensable in the artistic process of Tangerine Dream was, in my opinion, the mid-seventies period, starting from "Phaedra." Here the group's sound shifted towards less anarchic and more clear vibes. The three members of the group, Froese, Baumann, and Franke, relied on a more enveloping and pleasant electronics, moving on two overlapping lines: sparse electronic bases, covered by blankets of melodic instrumental improvisations. Guitars, drums, synths, and whatever else. A glaring example is "Ricochet" (1975): the album consists of two tracks of about twenty minutes each, created by merging various live recordings from that year, mainly from the evening at Fairfield Halls in Croydon, London.

What we have before us is a cradle of sound images that float under the starry sky, that grow and subside in a sinusoidal manner. According to the trio's new intentions, the instruments produce notes repeated infinitely, alike; sweet melodic harmonies are inlaid on them, which at times explode into sudden crescendos of sonic magma. But here the scent of the old cosmic psychedelia of "Alpha Centauri" rarely peeks through, the setup is completely new: the trail followed is that of learned but accessible electronics, typical of the period. Just to be clear, take Jean-Michel Jarre, but elevate him to the nth degree. Think of Battiato's "Clic," but less edgy. This music never spills into flashy and self-serving sounds; on the contrary, they are extremely varied and complementary: ethereal ambient music, almost classical cues, majestic synth blasts, jagged rhythms occasionally claustrophobic, buzzes.

And it's incredible to find here, in this album, so much of the music that would come many years later: the eighties pop, the new age, the trance of the nineties, Labradford, something from Porcupine Tree, even the techno-ambient of Underworld and the house of Laurent Garnier. The appropriate definition for Tangerine Dream is Pioneers. There is no doubt.

Listening to an album, each of us projects a small movie in our mind. The images I associate with this album are simple and suggestive: imagine the scene from "2001: A Space Odyssey" where the spaceships swim in circles; instead, picture many shiny synthesizers, like satellites, spinning on themselves. Finally, out of nowhere, in the faint cosmic darkness, comes a delicate piano sound: it's the beginning of the second track of the album. The eye catches a figure approaching, floating: it is Edgar Froese, sitting on a stool; very slowly, he's making 360-degree turns along with the piano, as if they were one. Around is only silence and mystery, and it's indescribably beautiful. In the distance, luminous dots like sleeping fireflies. We are in a remote corner of the universe, if this definition even has any meaning.

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