CAMEL: MOONMADNESS (1976)
1) Aristillus; 2) Song Within
A Song; 3) Chord Change; 4) Spirit Of The Water; 5) Another Night; 6) Air Born;
7) Lunar Sea.
The last album to be produced by the original
lineup, Moonmadness does bring on
some lunar associations, but not much by way of madness, which is just not a
state of mind that comes naturally to Camel music; Moonsadness or Moonmelancholia
would have been a far more apt description. In many ways, this is a return to
the stylistics of Mirage, but it
sounds more original and «Camel-native» than Mirage, without so many blatant Yes-isms or Crimson-isms and, fortunately,
without such an explicitly stated Tolkien influence. If anything, it represents
the symphonic progressive ambitions of Mirage
tempered with the «secluded loner vibe» of Snow
Goose, so that some of the tunes come across as bold and humble at the same
time.
Most of the record is taken over by five
multi-part compositions, with the vocals making a slight, not triumphant,
return — the focus remains on instrumental passages and their capacity of being
woven into dynamic suites with constantly, though not too quickly, changing
keys, tempos, and vibes of whose nature the band members themselves are often
not too sure, so they just name the songs ʻSong Within A Songʼ and ʻChord
Changeʼ to avoid a painful search for verbal interpretation of their own
musical ideas. And indeed, how would one describe the seven minutes of ʻSong
Within A Songʼ, other than «tastefully pleasant»? It goes through a slow nocturnal-pastoral
section, with moody keyboard and flute solos, then through a «solemn»
transitional phase with a repetitive guitar riff that never seems to find a
proper resolution, and finally through a fast blues-rock, almost boogie,
section with «astral» synth solos all over the place. It's a nice thing to
have, and it is all much more restrained and less «rockish» than any given
instrumental passage by Yes, but this also means that it does not affect the
senses too heavily.
Things get quirkier and/or more focused later
on, though. ʻChord Changeʼ is one of their best efforts in the jazz-fusion
sphere, with some terrific guitar work from Latimer, sometimes playing
«spiraling» descending scales that turn him into a less flashy Santana.
ʻAnother Nightʼ employs grimly distorted power chords and psychedelic pedal
effects to convey the feel of panicky desperation creeping up on you in the
night — a well-known feel, for sure, but somehow they manage to transmit it by
means of arena-rock tricks without making it sound like cheap arena-rock, if
you follow me at all. ʻAir Bornʼ, for a change, has a really dainty vocal
melody that agrees well with the synthesized string background. And ʻLunar
Seaʼ, as follows from its title, sets itself the challenge of combining
«maritime» and «astral» atmospheres — and then rises up to the challenge by squeezing
everything that is possible from Bardens' synthesizers, although I am not quite
as sure if the song's sped-up, jazzier, more tempestuous passages truly evoke
the feeling of a storm taking place in the middle of a «lunar sea».
Anyway, choosing between Mirage and Moonmadness to
answer the question «which one of Camel's albums from the symph-prog shelf
should be our first pick?» is very much a question of subtle and fickle taste;
I vote for Moonmadness because my
personal intuition detects faint traces of gentle sorrow and intelligent
gloominess, many of them «felt» rather than properly «heard», which were
sacrificed on Mirage to make way for
a little more rockin' energy so that the guys could classify as true prog-rockers, with emphasis on the second
part. On the other hand, it's not as if this here was some particularly
breathtaking collection of superior prog rock melodies, either — too few of
the themes rise above «nice» as far as their ability to rattle one's nerve strings
is concerned. Thumbs
up it is, after some deliberation, but still a small step down from
the vibe of Snow Goose — although
without Snow Goose in between, this
would probably have been Mirage Vol. 2,
so here's to maturity and continuous self-discovery.
Gad...Love the guit solo in Lunar Sea. It's probably Andy's flashiest, but its emotional resonance is perhaps as bold as Ice. :) Nice pun there. I would say the lunar maritime imagery is well stated. My favorite of the lot though may be Chord Change, especially with that climax that reminds me of the fontuna thing on the Allmans' In Memmory of Elizabeth Reed. I'm surprised I've not heard other's make that connection.
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