1) The System; 2) Babylon; 3)
Loud, Loud, Loud; 4) The Four Horsemen; 5) The Lamb; 6) The Seventh Seal; 7)
Aegean Sea; 8) Seven Bowls; 9) The Wakening Beast; 10) Lament; 11) The Marching
Beast; 12) The Battle Of The Locusts; 13) Do It; 14) Tribulation; 15) The Beast;
16) Ofis; 17) Seven Trumpets; 18) Altamont; 19) The Wedding Of The Lamb; 20)
The Capture Of The Beast; 21) ∞; 22) Hic And Nunc; 23) All The Seats Were
Occupied; 24) Break.
Of all the albums recorded by Aphrodite's Child
before it grew up and underwent ternary fission, 666 is clearly the most dated — but also the most tempting, because
only a disillusioned Satanist, way past his prime, would nonchalantly bypass a
record that has the number of the Beast staring at the world so defiantly from
its album sleeve. Of course, skepticism is not merely allowed, it is very
welcome: «What can these guys tell us
about the Apocalypse? Sure they're Greeks and all, but it's not as if they wrote The Book of Revelation!» But
take away the superficial trappings, the way too overtly insistent references
to the text of the New Testament, and the result is an ambitious, extremely curious
project that succeeds at least as often as it fails. Considering that what we
have here is a double album, that makes up for at least fourty minutes of good
music.
Conceptualism was the way to go in 1970, when
Vangelis decided that the band had to grow up of its «three minute art-pop
song» phase and join the army of progressive musical thinkers. I am not quite
sure of how Demis Roussos, with his crooner aspirations, reacted to the idea,
but, at the very least, he honestly participated in the project, doing his bass
duties and singing where required (many of the individual tracks are
completely instrumental). In addition, work on the album saw the return of
Silver Koulouris, fresh from the army and ready to do guitar battles now.
The flow of 666 is fairly straightforward: it takes relatively few liberties
with The Revelation, for the most part just offering vivid musical images that
accompany its happy tales of seven seals, lambs, beasts, trumpets, horsemen,
and whores of Babylon. (One curious exception is a track named ʽAltamontʼ —
apparently, Vangelis took the «apocalyptization» of the 1969 Altamont tragedy
by the rock press seriously, interpreting ʽAltamontʼ as a modern projection of the
«mountain» in The Book: "This is the sight we had one day on The High Mountain"... etc.).
Whether it works or does not work as a soundtrack to the book probably depends
on everyone's pre-set ideas of how such a soundtrack should sound in the first
place. Creepy? Scary? Overwhelming? Disturbing? Loud/bombastic or quiet/subtle?
Could we trust Miles Davis with playing the seventh trumpet, etc., etc.?
Another possibility is to simply forget about the Biblical connection and form
your own idea of what the heck it is all supposed to mean.
Regardless of the choice, most people will
probably agree that 666 is quite
heavily «padded». Apparently, Vangelis insisted on a double album, because nothing
less than a double album would have been appropriate for the subject. (Besides,
double albums were all the rage by 1970). However, he did not have enough
original musical ideas to fill up four sides — hence, comes the sprawling,
20-minute-long suite ʽAll The Seats Were Occupiedʼ, featuring a bit of loose
jamming and then working as an «underture», rehashing and revolving all of the
themes, sometimes more than once. Already upon the second listen, it becomes
eminently skippable, except for the last minute of wild avant-jazz noise that
follows the haughty enunciation of the title.
Another highly controversial bit, then and now,
has been ʽ∞ʼ (ʽInfinityʼ). The basic premise is crudely funny — a sexual pun on
the line "I am to come", which we are supposed to interpret in both
of its meanings at the same time. The realization
of the pun is a five-minute piece of percussion havoc, against whose
background the guest-starring Greek actress Irene Papas is donated the line
"I was, I am to come!" and instructed to pronounce it in a million
different ways, as long as each of the ways is reminiscent of an orgasmic
experience. That Vangelis actually won the long, hard battle against studio
executives, who tried to keep this porno-scented stuff off the album, is a
pleasant page in the history of the war for artistic and personal freedom. It
would have been far nicer, though, if, upon finally gaining the studio
executives' consent, he had immediately deleted the tapes. That way, freedom of
art would be vindicated, and so would our ears, because having to listen to
this crap for five minutes in a row
is simply ridiculous. One would have
been more than enough (it is rumored that the full take lasted for thirty-nine minutes).
That said, once all the padding and
questionable sonic experimentation have been removed as dated filler, the
musical parts of 666 are just as
strong as anything Aphrodite's Child had ever done, and in some ways, stronger.
Genre diversity, in particular, continues to be held in high esteem. We have
bombastic «arena-folk» (ʽBabylonʼ), moody art-pop dreamscapes crossed with
hard-rocking guitar frenzy (ʽFour Horsemenʼ), dark Floydian panoramas (ʽAegean
Seaʼ), jazz-fusion-style jamming (ʽDo Itʼ), honky piano-led blues-rock (ʽThe
Beastʼ), and, of course, plenty of Eastern motives, sometimes with sitars (ʽThe
Seventh Sealʼ), but more often with a closer-to-home Greek underbelly, I think
(ʽThe Lambʼ, ʽThe Wedding Of The Lambʼ). And, for the most part, it all works.
The hooks and moods are there.
ʽThe Four Horsemenʼ were loosed on the poor
horrified little world as the lead single, and, although the piece itself
hardly had any hit potential on its own, the decision is understandable — the
track is a clear standout, with the catchiest, most sing-along style chorus on
the album ("The leading horse is white..."), and then, several
minutes into the song, followed with a brilliantly constructed wah-wah solo
from Koulouris, which has not just the finest guitar playing on the album, but
simply happens to be one of the greatest guitar solos ever played — and I am not joking: no one would ever suspect
Koulouris of being an unsurpassed technical virtuoso, but somehow he managed to
properly pick up all the «epic» chords and come out with a flying monster that
could easily stand its ground next to Dave Gilmour in terms of emotional
impact.
Other personal favorites include ʽAegean Seaʼ,
which not only has some more of that fantastic guitar work, but also introduces
electronic textures that predict solo Vangelis, to a large extent; ʽThe Lambʼ,
with its odd mix of baritone guitars, winds, and electronics — a fast-paced Greek
dance beset with mystical vibes; and the final piano-led number ʽBreakʼ, the
closest thing we have here to a «normal» Demis Roussos ballad, which is
probably why it was the only number from 666
to remain in his solo stage repertoire. (Not that he kept the echo effects on
the voice, the organ flourishes, and Kouloris' last wah-wah guitar solo, I believe
— all the things that elevate the song above the state of a generic ballad).
Overall, it is clear that 666 never had a chance: not only did the world market care rather
little about fearless prog-rockers that did not have permanent residence in the
UK, but Vangelis and his temporarily obedient friends also made plenty of false
moves, both during the planning of the album and upon completion of the
recording. In the end, 666 only came
out as late as 1972, by which time Aphrodite's Child were effectively over as a
band, and it never received the proper promotion, partly because there was no
one left to promote, partly because the promoters must have still felt uneasy
about promoting an album with such a title.
But in retrospect, despite all the flaws, 666 deserves proper recognition — let
alone the high quality of the melodic content, it is a bit more than simply
«derivative second-generation prog». In fact, it is not only «first generation
prog», but its synthesis of Western and Mediterranean stuff is, in a way,
completely unique for the whole movement: if the guitar solo on ʽFour Horsemenʼ,
no matter how overwhelming it is, essentially just follows the Hendrix/Clapton
standards of guitar playing, tracks like ʽThe Lambʼ and ʽLamentʼ are in a class
of their own — you won't hear anything like that from a Robert Fripp or an Ian
Anderson, because on this sort of turf, they were at a heavy disadvantage next
to Vangelis, a native Greek who had enough time and opportunity to assimilate
the Western tradition as well. This is the only time, really, when «Greek
progressive rock» came out loud and proud on the international market, and it
is fully deserving of everyone's ears — and an impressive final twist to
Aphrodite's Child's prematurely deceased career... out of the ruins of which
came Vangelis, «The Electronic Guru», and Demis Roussos, «The Singing Kaftan»
(feel the difference). Thumbs up — here's hoping for an eventual proper revival.
Check "666" (CD) on Amazon
I listened to Aegean Sea for the first time just now and it seemed like it must have heavily inspired Ween for their song "Captain" (unless there is another link in between)
ReplyDeleteMy favorite moment of this album is the segue from The Battle Of The Locusts to Do It; I've heard ferocious guitar solos before and after this time period in music, but the playing of Silver Koulouris is so ferocious it borders on profane. Too bad, he didn't do much after this album.
ReplyDeleteYou forgot to label this under "Aphrodite's Child" like the other two albums...
ReplyDeleteI finally got around to listening to this monster a couple nights ago. For the most part, I like it, it's a modern take on a biblical text similar to JC Superstar, although much weirder (in a good way, of course). Love the Four Horsemen, I posted an actual video that was made around that time--Demis here, there, and everywhere! As much as I love that guitar solo--somebody needs to locate Mr. Silver and give him an award--that video makes me really wish for a single edit. http://youtu.be/3KCbqhJt16k
ReplyDeleteEver notice how Demis and Francesco DiGiacomo could be brothers? Or at least cousins?
Oh, and I totally thought that Infinity was Demis singing, moaning, breathing, screaming...should've read the review again, it's *slightly* less creepy with a girl singing.
DeleteActually, it's Loukas Sideras (the drummer!) singing on "Break" - Demis asked Loukas a couple of years later if he was doing anything with it, Loukas - honest to the last, as all drummers are - said no, you sing it Demis. We all know how that ended.....
ReplyDelete