The Alan Parsons Project
Eye In The Sky

I am getting sad, I can't find an opening for this review that isn't an immense pile of clichés. Damn, I don't want to be encyclopedic once again. Come on, I won't be. Now I will think of something......

To hell with it!

Nineteen eighty-one.
The Project (I take the liberty of this personification) emerges from the immense five murals painted in the seventies: the two beautiful literary adaptations (Poe, Asimov) at the start of their career and the subsequent three wonderful concept albums. But now a new decade begins, and however beloved or hated, the eighties will revolutionize the world of music. For an ingenious mind like Alan Parsons, however, nothing should happen too suddenly: so why not wink at everything that has happened up to that point to embark upon, why not, new musical solutions, perhaps closer to an audience that is lowering its expectations? No more concepts (perhaps), in short...

But the album that comes out the following year is anything but simplistic: there are no exaggerated differences from what was. The structure remains complex, the quality is inevitably sublime, and the sound solutions are always the trademark. The opening ("Sirius") is an instrumental gem worthy of past masterpieces: the hypnotic riff and Ian Bairnson's guitar; and Stuart Elliot's drumming creates a bridge to a brilliant track in its own way, simple and immediate, immortalized by the faithful Eric Woolfson. "Eye In The Sky" is perhaps the first major hit of the decade, and it's superfluous to comment on it, given its widespread presence in countless compilations, TV services, and covers. But it's not a blatantly pop LP, as was said.

And so here is the beautiful "Children Of The Moon", sung by bassist David Paton. Already eighties arrangement and hidden political theme ("For too long we let the blind lead the way; it's easy to see where we went wrong. No ideals to live for, no ideals to die for."). And if "Gemini" is a delicate pause entrusted to Chris Rainbow's flute-like voice, "Silence And I" is a true mini-opera. Eric Woolfson, simply graceful, shares his fears regarding human relationships, leading him to isolation with silence ("While the children laughed, I was always frightened by the clown's smile."), seeking an escape with silence. Then, the orchestra enters, a Parsons trademark, with its 95 elements, playful at times, solemn at others, reflecting man's emotional state. Melancholy, however, will prevail, closing this small masterpiece with a highly effective guitar solo. Amazing.

The B-side is, in some ways, disconcerting... "You're Gonna Get Your Fingers Burned" is a really decent little rocker, with a fine melody line and aggressive vocals by Lenny Zakatek (also a historic voice of the Project). "Psychobabble" is not easily definable: introduced by beautiful bass lines, Elmer Gantry shares his "mental confusion" ("Can I tell you about a dream I have every night? It's in Dolby stereo but I never hear it right; call me a fool, well, that's all right: I see the road ahead but there is no light."). Mental confusion that explodes into a noisy central body rich in sound effects, still guided by the bass. Another reference to Alan's Floydian past. The second instrumental ("Mammagamma"), also very famous, I believe holds the record for being used as background for TV news services, even talking about landfills. Well. Beautiful, it is beautiful, the structure is typical of the project, with once again a single electronic theme iterated with almost hypnotic effects (not much time has passed since "Lucifer") on a solid rhythmic base.

Thus, we reach the last two tracks; "Step By Step", entrusted again to Zakatek, is a typical Parsons song, neither praiseworthy nor infamous, in terms almost a tail of "The Turn Of A Friendly Card" ("I'm just running in a strange race, living on an insurmountable edge."). "Old & Wise" is finally a pearl, crowning a successful work: Colin Blunstone performs one of the most beautiful and sweetest ballads of the Project, embellished by Mel Collins's beautiful saxophone. There, I knew it...

Another repetitive review, ideal for a sort of "Artusi" of music. Oh well, let's sum it up: an undoubtedly beautiful album, with never banal themes, a forerunner of the second phase of Alan Parsons' Project, which will come to fruition five years later without ever losing quality, yet without also repeating the masterpieces (how nice this plural form) that led to the eye. The eye... How many young people still today discover this golden emblem, its Orwellian memory photos, and its red ideograms on maybe dusty shelves of their parents. Often they are fascinated, as I was years ago.

And He, who reads our minds, perhaps is pleased.