VANGELIS

Veteran’s first in two years: pensive piano ruminations.

Evángelos Odysséas Papathanassíou occupies a strange plateau in the reductive realms of musical categorisation. A forward-thinking pioneer of electronica who never quite landed the kudos of Kraftwerk, a prog practitioner with Aphrodite’s Child who almost joined Yes (then of course collaborated with Jon Anderson), a film composer whose work on Blade Runner and Chariots Of Fire is globally revered; the Greek is somehow both too successful to be cool yet reclusive enough to retain mystique. Now in his mid-70s, he’s also explored jazz, ambient and classical areas. While some dismiss his work as wallpaper, others insist that his reveries and repetitions can induce a hypnotic, borderline-sinister effect, slowly but surely teasing out touches of transcendence. His finest moments ooze enigma.

Nocturne (subtitled: The Piano Album), in spells, does that too. Whereas we tend to imagine him, by default, grafting behind a giant synthesiser, this is a stripped-down set of solo piano pieces. Implausibly, it’s the first time that Vangelis has ever recorded on a grand piano. It offers 11 new tracks plus “unplugged” reworkings of Chariots Of Fire and Blade Runner’s Love Theme, as well as new takes on moments from 1492 and Apocalypse Des Animaux. The marriage of old and new works surprisingly well. He lures us into a relaxed state with the fresh meditations, then the familiar impact of the known melodies is all the stronger.

In the past he’s given us the likes of Earth, Heaven And

Hell, Antarctica and Horizon – this album’s “big” motif is the Moon at night, which ties in with Vangelis’ enduring fascination with space. Nocturnal Promenade, Sweet Nostalgia and Moonlight Reflections inhabit their titles. He is obviously a deft player, but while on first listen these pretty pieces might seem meretricious candy floss, they grow until they express bona fide emotion. For some, the album might be too twee, but beneath the bows and ribbons it has spine and subtlety.

Longing is perhaps the best example. On one level it’s just a guy playing piano, nicely but innocuously. Then you realise its elegance and echoes are taking your daydreams on a day trip. Make that: night trip. Nocturne does indeed thrive more thoroughly in the small hours, the shimmering notes studding the sky like tiny stars. Intermezzo cheats a little, using synthesised strings, but it succeeds as an interlude to break up any monotony and allows To A Friend to wander wistfully.

Sure, to some ears this will slide close to New Age muzak, but for those susceptible to enchantment, Nocturne has mystery to spare.

THE MARRIAGE OF OLD AND NEW WORKS SURPRISINGLY WELL.