Vangelis
The City

"The city" is generally not considered to be one of the best examples of Vangelis's creativity. Written and released at a time when the Greek musician's fame was not at its peak, although it was already solidified by numerous global successes, the album passed somewhat quietly and faded into the sea of similar ambient productions that weren't particularly fashionable in the '90s.

Yet, if taken as a standalone work, "The city" is an enjoyable, evocative, carefully crafted work, which evokes feelings that are only seemingly cold because it is calibrated to the dimension of rather futuristic urban descriptions (even if sometimes from a slightly vintage perspective).

The work is a sound vision that traverses the vibrations of a modern metropolis from dawn to dusk, with all the human and naturalistic nuances mixed with the mechanical suggestion of the metropolitan modus vivendi, so to speak. Hence, the registers with which the sound description unfolds vary greatly, and Vangelis is certainly not stingy with citations (and self-citations) in offering in each track the right rhythms and timbres to suggest to us what is happening.

It starts with the jazzy minimalism of "Dawn" and "Morning Papers" - featuring the voice of his friend Roman Polanski - moving on to the electronic-symphonic aggressiveness of "Nerve Center", which brings into play the most classic Vangelis style and gives a nod, in a detached way, to certain Blade Runner atmospheres. The writing is rich and virtuosic, the keyboards unravel along captivating rhythmic intricacies that remind us here and there of Tangerine Dream and Jarre. The mood returns to a mild and contemplative tone in the two following tracks, highlighting the emotional linearity of albums like "Direct", up to the oriental-themed divertissement of "Red Lights", where Japanese-styled female vocals weave choruses over syncopated pulses of synthesizers and artificial orchestras. Closing with "Procession" which with a slow advance evokes the nighttime shadows and luminosities of life that, though hidden, continue to evolve in the microcosm of the individual.

Certainly not original in approach and composition, "The City" remains, however, a balanced album, carefully produced, enjoyable at first listen, all in all out of fashion despite being calibrated to the electronic-progressive taste that made Vangelis's fortune with '70s and '80s soundtracks. And precisely a soundtrack without a film could define this work: capable of representing, between concreteness and metaphor, the stereotypes of modern cities while chiseling small human portraits that can only be grasped within the folds of the music.

Rated sufficiently by most, I give it a 4 for the consistency and usability of the project, if only because it is yet another demonstration that Vangelis has an enormous mastery of the subject.