THE MUSICAL BOX
Nearly 50 years since its inception, Christian Vander’s ultimate magnum opus reaches fruition, the “story of the end of everything” and a tribute to his beloved John Coltrane, with the Prague Philharmonic Orchestra. What a way to mark a golden jubilee.
Album of the month is the brand new one from Magma. There’s also reviews of Brian Eno, The Aristocrats, Bill Bruford, Gong, Patrick Moraz, ELP, The Flaming Lips, Thank You Scientist, Steven Wilson and more…
Since Christian Vander started hatching Zëss in 1970, it’s become the fabled biggest gun in Magma’s mighty canon, performed live then abandoned for four decades. Coinciding with the 50th anniversary of Magma’s birth, Vander knew that attempting to corral the piece in the studio would have to be extraordinary so, for the first time, employs a full orchestra to enhance and elevate a work that can only send devotees into paroxysms of euphoric awe.
Vander couldn’t have made a better choice to honour Magma’s golden jubilee than his fully blossomed life’s work. Zëss sees him finally reaching the peak of transcendent catharsis he’d dreamed of since forming Magma in spring 1969 after being profoundly affected by the July 1967 death of his spiritual mentor John Coltrane, this lifelong mission providing the key to the piece’s almost overwhelming power and beauty.
In Laurent Goldstein’s 2017 movie, To Life, Death And Beyond: The Music Of Magma, Vander recalls having a vision when the first bars of Zëss sparked in his muse; “a kind of u-shaped stadium with a cauldron and smoke with this choir singing this introduction.” In its promo film, he explains, “Zëss is the story of the end of everything. The end of time and of everything that has ever existed. Absolute oblivion, like a dreamless night… All forms of consciousness have vanished.”
After arriving at his first draft, Zëss started appearing as an extract in Magma’s live sets in 1979. The piece was set aside in 1983 and, like first movement of the Theus Hamtaahk trilogy, never taken to the studio. Vander explained it was then five hours long and “If I record that there will be nothing afterwards.” By 2017, he was admitting “There is something afterwards because the world still exists. It is imperative to continue after Zëss to refine the thing even more. For now, it’s only a dream.”
Vander’s dream started becoming reality last year when he used a scaled-down Magma to
revamp the live version with studio collaborator Francis Linon, recruiting long-time bassist Philippe Bussonnet, pianist Simon Goubert (who’d been in Vander’s Offering, Les Voix de Magma and Welcome spin-offs), guitarist Rudy Blas and drummer Morgan Agren. The press blurb calls it “Magma’s whole story condensed.”
Zëss is built on the simplest bedrock, Agren supplying the subtly propulsive locomotive rhythm over which Goubert lays two chords imbued with purposeful energy and optimism; the perfect vehicle for the organic juggernaut that will build on them with flowing energy. The track’s complexity lies in the overdubs, starting with choir led by Stella Vander, who unfurl a soaring chorale for Vander to impart his message. His “big cherry on the cake” is the 50-piece Prague Philharmonic Orchestra playing saxophonist Remi Demoulin’s arrangement, conducted by Adam Klemens.
The track starts with doomy Köhntarköszstyle chords, befitting Vander’s declaration (in Kobaïan), “Today is the day we will all die,” before the choir lifts the sense of impending doom with warmly medieval majesty. Magma could be expected to then launch into their most apocalyptic blitzkrieg yet, but instead Agren kicks in the rhythm, Goubert ignites his two chords as Vander embarks on his impassioned soliloquy, a noticeably brighter tone inflecting his expression. At this point, the orchestral brass is a gently ebbing current, rising and falling around the groove.
The piece is ostensibly divided into seven Kobaïan-named sections but it’s impossible to make out joins. Suffice to say, as Vander’s vocal gains steam, the orchestra continues to build, strings joining brass 15 minutes in, all erupting in delirious fanfares and swirling counter-melodies to the vocal and piano motif. Periodically, the flow is interrupted by dramatic clashing chords, bolstered by the choir, that serves to gear up to the next emotional level.
The strings get to dance solo around 17 minutes in, conjuring a swelling whirlpool of unfettered celebration recalling Stravinsky’s The Rite Of Spring; soaring, swallow-diving, then joined by the brass. When the full power of the orchestra turns on the punctuating theme and is joined by choir, the piece hits a staggering plateau of joyous incantation that even Magma haven’t reached before. Twentynine minutes in, a jazz-derived brass theme glides in, referencing Vander’s original musical motivation before the shattering climax sees every vocal and instrumental element reaching for the heavens in glorious unison. Four minutes of post-coital vocal reflection is needed to bring the piece back to earth and close the deal on its eternal resonance.
Impossibly compelling and spectacularly spirit-lifting, Zëss is Vander’s life masterpiece; nothing less than his A Love Supreme.
It hits a staggering, joyous plateau Magma haven’t reached before.