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#11 (permalink) |
Born to be mild
Join Date: Oct 2008
Location: 404 Not Found
Posts: 26,996
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I've made no secret of my love of the music of Vangelis, and yet, though I have all of his albums I've only listened to a select few. The ones I have though, usually stay with me and tend to get played quite regularly. Though this is one of his earlier efforts (recorded while he was still a member of Aphrodite's Child with the late Demis Roussos), and one of his shortest with a total running time of thirty-five minutes, it's nevertheless among my favourites from him.
![]() L'apocalypse des animaux --- Vangelis --- 1973 (Polydor) Given that it's the soundtrack to the documentary of the same name, the actual film contains a lot more music so I kind of tend to treat it more as an album than a soundtrack. I assume it translates to “apocalypse of the animals” and all the titles are in French, since it was a French documentary. Some of them I can guess at the meanings of, others not so much. It's not really that important though, as it's the music that concerns us, not the titles. It's a mid-tempo percussive piece with marimbas and vibraphone that gets us underway, a short segment which is basically the title track, with some choral vocals added in before we get to the first real track (this one is less than two minutes long), with “La petite fille de la mer” (The small daughter of the ocean), as dreamy piano backed up by surf sounds and low, lush synth slows everything down to a crawl, the tempo much of this album will take. It's a great one for just closing your eyes and drifting off to. Some gentle acoustic guitar comes in now, but the piano (sounds digital; maybe Fender Rhodes?) holds court over the music, as soft swirling keys now flow in like the waves lapping at the shore, advancing, retreating, advancing, retreating, as timeless as the ocean itself, as unhurried as nature. Sounds like some strings now, but I know Vangelis creates all these instruments himself on his banks of synthesisers. Still, it's very effective. “Le singe blue” (Blue something, obviously) keeps the soft echoing piano line but marries it to a bit of echo and also introduces sax, low and smoky, which gives the composition a slightly jazzy effect. There's a very late evening feel to it, and if possible it's slower than its predecessor. The sax fades out now and leaves rippling keys to take the tune alone before it slips back in like the ghost of a voice almost forgotten but carries on almost solo, its mournful tone carrying the piece towards its end, rising and falling, crests and troughs. A nice sprinkly effect from the piano falls in a cascade of notes as the sax pulls the melody along, then “Le mort du loup” (Death of the wolf) is driven on the soft piano with shimmering rivers of low synth behind it, while “L'ours musicien” has a deep, brassy synth with the first I've heard of any percussion, if low and muted, and at just over a minute long it doesn't have long to establish itself before it's gone and we're into the epic, a ten-minute “Creation du monde” (Creation of the world) with a low, rising, buzzing synth allied to shimmering, wavering organ and dark bassy keys too. A high guitar comes through, synthesised of course, joining in the melody as the synth continues to growl and hum as a backdrop, the whole thing taking on quite a spacey, atmospheric air, and now high, rising synth climbs over the darker one, like a dolphin jumping out of the water. A deep bass note adds a sense of portent to the piece, then fades out as quickly as it came in. A sound not completely unlike whalesong drifts over the composition, then some piano notes are sprinkled like fairy dust or pattering rain over the music, bubbling synths adding to the melody. You can get the sense of wonder and awe as the Earth cools and forms from the gases expelled by its parent star, and begins to rotate, creating gravity and an atmosphere, and taking its place in the solar system. Now the tone changes to very much darker, broodier as the low synth that has been the canvas against which this mutli-textured composition has been created comes more to the fore, booming out and then receding back, more little sprinkly synth noises echoing as they fly off in the distance like passing comets or asteroids. That dark bass piano line returns, staying this time as it brings with it more guitar and the tone rises as the piece nears completion, fading slowly down on that dark piano and the slowly receding synth line. Which leaves us with just one track before we close, and it's called “La mer recommencee”, which I think means the sea comes back, or the sea is reborn, something like that anyway. It opens on a high synth line, almost like a siren or a factory horn, then a lower, brooding synth before soft piano comes in, the original synth fading away but then coming back with renewed strength. A rising, falling melody now takes the tune, then a roll of muted percussion before cymbals crash and if that doesn't represent the waves rolling on the ocean then my name's not Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged. Which it isn't. Everything seems to be slowly winding down now as the album comes to a close and the sea takes over, rippling, sprinkling piano and little flashes of percussion dripping over the music like spring rain as it all slowly fades down and away, leaving you with a powerful sense of the infinite, the power of the ocean and the vastness of time. TRACKLISTING 1. Apocalypse des animaux --- Generique 2. La petite fille de la mer 3. Le singe bleu 4. Mort de la loup 5. L'Ours musicien 6. Creation du monde 7. La mer recommencee Yes it's a short album, very short, but it's also very effective. It's possibly an early example of what would go on to become known as ambient music: at times, it's almost abstract. Vangelis has a great way of creating landscapes, stories and vistas with only his synthesisers, and here, even though he had yet to embark on a proper solo career and win the many plaudits he would go on to garner for his work, especially in movies, he has produced an album that takes your breath away, both with its simplicity and its depth. As I said in the review of Oceanic, years ago, Vangelis has the power to take you on a journey with his music, and no matter where you go, or how far, you always feel safe, and know that he will return you to your home, usually richer, at least in a musical sense, for the journey.
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