The Tea Party
Splendor Solis

THE REVIEW

The Splendor of the Sun. Or more likely a mirage, a call from distant times and lands.

This album is an enchanting mystical journey, desert-like settings, and sonic visions that accompany our drifting emotions and take us back to the early seventies.

The folk spirit and the roughness of the blues in an electroacoustic poem spiced with oriental aromas and a fair dose of psychedelia. It’s pointless to deny that The Tea Party makes a clear reference to the work of the Dirigible, particularly the band's pastoral phase, for its deliberately retro sound, but also and especially for the refined and exotic arrangements.

And then you hear Jeff Martin's booming voice and it's as if Led Zeppelin had just hired their shaman, a revived Jim Morrison, to bring their music to a parallel dimension.

However, the leader of The Tea Party wants to amaze us to the end and displays guitar skills at the level of the best Page, experimenting with alternative tunings with ease and any combination of strings.

It is music born free from restraint where every note breathes freely, ready to transcend our inner boundaries. It is the river that introduces us to the journey and there is no Charon waiting for us. A hypnotic tribal dance accompanies us to a place where the night swallows the day. And it's only a certain inclination of light that shows us the way, as we struggle to distinguish reality from dream.

We find ourselves sitting on the edges of the night, wrapped in a shroud of hysterical distortions that alternate with the purifying rituals of the 12-string. Strangers to whom the sky is not foreign. For us, the stars will shine, amidst the melancholic notes of a majestic song.