Back when my angry teenage taste didn't offer much in the way of mood music, Vangelis' Blade Runner score was a euphoric revelation. Opening the gates to more prog rock and classical discoveries, I was always excited to add a new Vangelis album to my collection, which would instantly conjure vivid vistas in my imagination even when it was just a Greek messing around on a Moog.
I don't really know what a Moog is. Here are a non-musician's thoughts on The Top 46 Vangelis Albums and Notable Collaborations (no bootlegs, singles or compilations). Based on feelings 'n' shit.
Key:
Solo albums
Soundtracks
Collaborations
46. The Forminx & Vangelis – 1965-68 (1968)
Vangelis plays unremarkable Hammond organ in his student band, accompanying bad 60s pop, crooning, Christmas carols and maybe other styles, I didn't make it all the way through. Not what I'm here for. Everyone has to start somewhere.
45. Hypothesis (1971/78)
Famously disowned by Vangelis along with its sister album The Dragon for being unsolicited cash-ins not intended for release, that didn't help fans who were suckered into buying it, especially coming right after the difficult Beaubourg. You could probably pick out parts that are worth listening to amid the directionless jam, but since the tracklist can't be bothered to, nor can I.
44. Fais que ton rêve soit plus long que la nuit (1972)
I didn't know about Vangelis' alternate solo debut until today. Its limited release and rarity aren't the only reasons it gets overlooked. A collage of found sound and protest songs with atmospheric segues, it may have value as a gonzo historical account of France's 1968 student riots, but only if you speak French.
43. Aphrodite's Child – It's Five O'Clock (1969)
This more shamelessly pop-oriented sophomore release gives no hint of where Vangelis or indeed this group was going to go in the next decade. Demis Roussos' vocals soaring in tune with Vangelis' keys is pleasant enough, but this is boring blandness to me. Give me cacophonous synthesiser twaddle any day.
42. Jon and Vangelis – The Friends of Mr Cairo (1981)
It's clear that more attention has been paid to crafting songs and pleasing listeners in this sophomore effort. This means each song stands out more and it's less like background music. A shame, since background music is where they're most tolerable.
41. Jon and Vangelis – Page of Life (1991)
In contrast to the first Jon and Vangelis album that came together almost spontenaously, this final one took years to see the light of day and then in conflicting versions. It wasn't worth the wait. The only positive point I have is that it's well-produced, but so are many of those really disappointing albums that drag down other bands' discographies. You know the type.
40. Irene Papas – Odes (1979)
Vangelis lends his ascending presence to help out a fellow Greek, but he doesn't bring out the big guns. Compared to his other inspired works released that year, this sounds more like a tribute act's idea of what Vangelis sounds like, seemingly not bothering to adjust from the default 'space' setting to avoid clashing with the folky subject matter. When he does try to be in sync, he's just rehashing Earth.
39. El Greco: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2007)
Not to be confused with his earlier El Greco studio album that was confusingly released in two versions, this seemingly bears no relation and is a fresh take to fit some film or other. Nothing wrong with it, but the most disposable of his film scores (out of those he bothered to release so you could actually have the option of disposing of them).
38. Jon and Vangelis – Short Stories (1980)
The first full-length collaboration between the supposedly harmonious duo, this album's improvised composition means Vangelis is more prominent than he would be subsequently, but he's still diluted by sharing the spotlight. Olias of Sunhillow was a much better Jon and Vangelis album, and Vangelis wasn't even on that one.
37. Chariots Of Fire: The Play (2012)
I don't think much of Chariots in the first place, so a sequel soundtrack 30 years on had its work cut out. It's nearly all dull ambience and twinkling reminiscent of better works from decades prior, with the exception of the track that breaks the chilled vibe with some 90s dance sequencing.
36. Jon and Vangelis – Private Collection (1983)
After a few sappy ballads, this project finally starts to go somewhere interesting towards the end, but then it goes too far and the resulting 22-minute outpouring is like a Tales from Topographic Oceans acid flashback where you have to wade deep to find the nice piano part.
35. Invisible Connections (1985)
It's understandable how fans of his livelier works would be enraged at having wasted their money buying such a nonish LP. But in the age of streaming, this spacious ambience sits comfortably between the early electronic pioneers and 24 hours of Enterprise-D engine noise. It's main crime is that it came several decades late to be truly innovative.
34. Mythodea: Music for the NASA Mission – 2001 Mars Odyssey (1993/2001)
The logical conclusion of Vangelis' classical leanings, this choral-led symphony is ambitious in scope but much less satisfying in execution than the more thoughtful El Greco and the hybrid approach of Mask et al. Vangelis himself is a bit player, drowned out in a sea of 224 performers. The tone's all over the place, so it's too distracting for relaxing background music but much too dull to sit down and listen to.
33. Voices (1995)
Taking cues from 1492 and Chariots that proved popular, Vangelis sets about increasing his new age market share by bringing in an Enya. I'm all for recurring motifs, but the main melody recurs so often that I wonder if he just couldn't be bothered to come up with some others. I should go easy on easy listening music, but this stands out as a weak link in the main sequence. At least Invisible Connections embraced its black sheep status.
32. Sex-Power (1970)
I haven't seen Henry Chapier's amusingly-titled film, but based on this chilled out soundtrack led by acoustic plucking and soft percussion it can't be too raunchy, unless the occasional clashing gongs signify something. Calling Vangelis "background music" will doubtless infuriate scholars, but that's what this was going for. It's mainly notable for the retro clavinova.
31. The Dragon (1971/78)
The more satisfying sibling to Hypothesis, these three jazzy jams are all distinctive and cohere into something actually worth listening to this time around, even if it's not especially noteworthy or memorable. I can see why they opened with this half when they packaged the two official bootlegs together, but you're better off ignoring the other one altogether.
30. Aphrodite's Child – End of the World (1968)
Pleasant psychedical pop that scratches that itch well enough but won't likely become a favourite in that over-ploughed field. Vangelis isn't the star here, but he'd take them on to better, less economically tenable things later.
29. Socrates – Phos (1976)
Vangelis deftly produced, co-wrote and played prominent keyboard and percussion on this album. Call it a minor footnote if you want, but it's more rewarding and characteristic than most of what he got up to in his earlier, 'official' bands. And a nice excuse to listen to some decent Greek rock I never would have encountered without it.
28. Irene Papas – Rapsodies (1986)
A bit of a hidden gem for completists, but not something to worry about missing out on, this is more anachronistic synthesiser-drenched Greek folk revival, but it feels much more in sync and evocative this time. They share the spotlight more evenly, Vangelis even getting a couple of solo tracks that are more than just segues, and it's the most New Age he'd sound until the mid-90s.
27. Entends-tu les chiens aboyer? (a.k.a. Ignacio, 1975/77)
Less clippable than the Rossif soundtracks, I've had this in the background countless times while working, but I still couldn't tell you much of what happens outside of the main lullaby hook. Not that it's boring, there just isn't much substantial to cling on to as it drifts gently past.
26. Beaubourg (1978)
This was a baffling disappointment back in the day (circa 2005 rather than the 70s, I mean), having not yet suffered the likes of Invisible Connections. Digging it out again, I found it surprisingly salvageable. It's not something you'd want to sit through more than once a decade, and certainly not for pleasure, but it sets a sinister, alien atmosphere very effectively and the minimalist improv virtuosity is admirable. Or a lazy and insulting way to fulfil a record contract in 38 minutes, who can tell.
25. Silent Portraits (1984)
Billed as an LP, but on the short side, this is one of the more obscure cuts due to it being hard to find in the physical world. Two ten-ish-minute passages purportedly describing a photo shoot, this is all very familiar and might well be among the definitive examples of Vangelis sounding like Vangelis, but forever destined to be overlooked. I wouldn't be surprised if I accidentally forget to ever track it down again.
24. Chariots of Fire (1981)
As is nearly always the case, I've not seen the film, but have seen various parodies of people running in slow motion, so the mental image is there. Vangelis' mainstream breakthrough isn't one of his richer scores, and even though I'm here for the synthesisers, I wonder if a straight piano score might have been nicer than this groundbreaking yet weird and dated hybrid.
23. The Bounty (1983/95)
Many of Vangelis' soundtracks haven't been officially released for whatever strange reasons. This one briefly was, in a comprehensive two-disc edition the likes of which are generally only seen on bootlegs. It made me appreciate the slimming down; there's really a lot of superfluous padding here, some of it not even by Vangelis. The themes themselves are among the greats, but I'm rating the overall listening experience, not the hits.
22. Spiral (1977)
A bit of a letdown in the 'classic' run, these over-repetitive sequences are pleasant enough in a bland Jean-Michel Jarre way, but lack the customary atmosphere and experimentation. At just five tracks, there's also the nagging sense that we're missing out on variety through padding, especially coming after the diverse Albedo, but some of them you wouldn't want to be any shorter.
21. See You Later (1980)
Vangelis dallies with electro pop on this tantalisingly dark departure that is to mainstream pop what Beaubourg was to his soundscapes. Like pretty much all of his vocal works, I'd prefer to have the instrumentals, to be honest. I try not to be so narrow-minded as to view his entire oeuvre as it relates to Blade Runner, as if that's the be all and end all, but this is on the brink, even without the shared track.
20. Antarctica (1983)
More 'China in winter' than Antarctica, the main theme captures the crystalline beauty of snowy landscapes perfectly and is nicely referenced throughout. But if you heard that on a compilation and sought out the album hoping for more frosty melodies, you may be disappointed to find general tonal ambience in their place.
19. Alexander (2004)
I've got no idea what the consensus is on this curious latecomer, as it wasn't part of the repertoire when I started exploring. Some unclear prejudice has kept me from checking it out until now, and I was pleasantly surprised. It plays things a little too safe in the well-established 1492 mould, but the score holds together and maintains more interest overall than some of the uneven 80s soundtracks.
18. Nocturne: The Piano Album (2019)
This is slightly cheating by including some rearranged and rerecorded classic cuts, but it's predominantly new material and I'm not going to take new Vangelis albums for granted. No doubt cover albums like this abound, so might as well put out an official release while there's still time and bulk it out with new stuff to make it more worthwhile. Looking forward to whatever's next.
17. La Fête sauvage (1975/76)
Not content with merely being extremely prolific, each of Vangelis' soundtracks for Frédéric Rossif's documentaries is also highly distinctive. This one appropriates African tribal touches fused with gloriously seventies synthesiser before settling into more familiar ambience. I've always overlooked this one compared to the others, I'll rectify that from now on.
16. Rosetta (2016)
What a nice surprise this was. Fifteen years on from his last album done for the sake of it, Vangelis was spontaneously inspired to record a retro space synth album harking back to Albedo, only played straighter. These tunes will take time to gain classic status, but they'll get there. Here's hoping this is the start of another long creative period.
15. El Greco (a.k.a. Foros Timis Ston Greco, 1998)
I've listened to this so many times and always beat myself up for drifting off and not paying more attention to one of Vangelis' most mature, sophisticated and... boring works. As heretical as it sounds, I'd probably appreciate it more on shuffle or split up on compilations so I could give the more memorable movements the attention they deserve.
14. Direct (1988)
Calming down from his diverse and divisive experimental phase, Vangelis strips back to simple songs of friendlier length that are easy to like, if shallow and lacking in the atmosphere we come here for. From Floydesque synthesised rock backed by a drum machine to new age synthesised woodwind, it's as if an apologetic Vangelis is trying to deliver precisely what's expected this time. The only surprise is seeing that familiar Amiga Deluxe Paint stock art.
13. The City (1990)
Bringing back the atmosphere and with more convincing synthstrumentation than Direct, Vangelis presents a bluesy soundtrack to daily urban life. With its sound effects and brief dialogue samples, it all feels a bit like a present-day Blade Runner on a quiet day... ignoring that Blade Runner is now the present day. I don't always make it to the end, so forget that's the best part.
12. Oceanic (1996)
Continuing to tailor his output to the Billboard New Age Albums chart since that became a thing, the follow-up to Voices is more sincere and evocative. With diverse instrumentation, undulating moods and marine sound effects, it's the thinking person's spa music. Not a favourite, but probably the album I play the most. We all need help calming down sometimes.
11. Albedo 0.39 (1976)
Perhaps the definitive space album, at least until he gets the church organ out and ruins the spell, I've always considered this the satisfying middle of a trilogy between Heaven and Hell's freeform twiddling and Spiral's minimalist sequences that gets the balance just right. The hypnotic melodies get all the attention on compilations, but the ethereal movements between are more captivating.
10. Aphrodite's Child – 666 (1972)
Back when I was reviewing infinite bands in alphabetical order for cash, this weird, scary and funny album was literally a Revelation. Blade Runner kicked off a prog odyssey that lasted all through my university years and this probably ended it. There didn't seem to be much point in seeking out more experimental zaniness when this covered all the bases, I'm surprised those other 70s bands even bothered.
9. Soil Festivities (1984)
One of the overlooked gems in the canon, I've always found this laid-back voyage through nature's microcosm mesmerising. The tranquil 18-minute opener could stretch out to the entire album and I'd be satisfied. The rest has never stood out as much, but it's nicely varied in tone from light to dark ambience and gets more dramatic at points than I realised, since I'm usually in the trance by that point.
8. China (1979)
An appropriation of "Chinesey" sounds by a European admiring the nation from afar, I tend to approach this one hesitantly and forget how good it is. With simple and less abstract song titles, the imagery is more vivid than ever, and swinging between screeching synthesiser assaults and twinkling piano and violin keeps things nicely varied. I always drift off by the ambient end, but you've earned a nap after the tiring journey.
7. 1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992)
Not a film I've ever felt like watching, even if just for the novelty of hearing its familiar score in the wild, this is Vangelis' most exciting and consciously epic soundtrack. The Latin guitars add more authentic ethnic colour than China and the synthesiser-backed choir and strings offer a belated heavenly response to Mask's hell.
6. L'Apocalypse des animaux (1970/73)
It was quite the surprise to discover the mournful grandeur of Blade Runner already largely in place a decade ahead of time as the backdrop to an obscure wildlife documentary, interspersed with lively xylophoning and delicate piano. Reading that this brief collection barely scratches the surface of Vangelis' compositions for the project, I was tempted to go for a fan bootleg, but want to judge these things as released. I'll enjoy that in my own time.
5. Earth (1973)
Considering I've long loved the neighbouring albums and lamented the lack of more of the same, it's surprising that I never properly checked out the peaceful wake to 666's apocalypse until now. Maybe I did and the opening rocker gave me the wrong impression, so remained oblivious to the organic treasures that lay within. In a career defined by synthetic sounds, this is his most authentic, rooted work.
4. Mask (1985)
Bringing back the dramatic babble of the Heaven and Hell choir, this scary synthesiser symphony with authentic ethnic influence strikes a rich seam of inspiration that would be mined for much of Vangelis' subsequent works, but never bettered. Considering you were obviously going to play the transcendental 'Movement 2' again as soon as the album finished anyway, its welcome reprise at the end is considerate.
3. Heaven and Hell (1975)
I can't stress how up my street this was when I checked out Vangelis' discography looking for a place to start my voyage proper. As a fan of pompous metal, musical interpretations of Hell were very familiar territory. While this synthetic symphony doesn't sound all that much like you'd imagine Hell to sound, I was always content to take the track titles at their word, summoning blazing caverns and intestinal bats.
2. Opéra sauvage (1979)
There are still a couple of catchy melodies that hopefully earned the virtuoso a tidy sum when appropriated for adverts, but for the most part this is moodier and more subdued Vangelis than we'd heard by this point. A haunting and beautiful hybrid of electric and acoustic, every track's a gem and the mood isn't abruptly shattered by scary wailing or a crooning old man like in some soundtracks I could mention.
1. Blade Runner (1982/94/2007)
I don't even need to get into (more) comprehensive re-releases and unofficial versions; the flawed original release with its glaring omissions, distracting dialogue samples and frankly unlistenable skippers is elevating enough already. I quite like the film, but I mainly treat it as a really elaborate music video for the album, with even more distracting dialogue.
Solo albums
Soundtracks
Collaborations
Vangelis plays unremarkable Hammond organ in his student band, accompanying bad 60s pop, crooning, Christmas carols and maybe other styles, I didn't make it all the way through. Not what I'm here for. Everyone has to start somewhere.
Famously disowned by Vangelis along with its sister album The Dragon for being unsolicited cash-ins not intended for release, that didn't help fans who were suckered into buying it, especially coming right after the difficult Beaubourg. You could probably pick out parts that are worth listening to amid the directionless jam, but since the tracklist can't be bothered to, nor can I.
I didn't know about Vangelis' alternate solo debut until today. Its limited release and rarity aren't the only reasons it gets overlooked. A collage of found sound and protest songs with atmospheric segues, it may have value as a gonzo historical account of France's 1968 student riots, but only if you speak French.
This more shamelessly pop-oriented sophomore release gives no hint of where Vangelis or indeed this group was going to go in the next decade. Demis Roussos' vocals soaring in tune with Vangelis' keys is pleasant enough, but this is boring blandness to me. Give me cacophonous synthesiser twaddle any day.
It's clear that more attention has been paid to crafting songs and pleasing listeners in this sophomore effort. This means each song stands out more and it's less like background music. A shame, since background music is where they're most tolerable.
In contrast to the first Jon and Vangelis album that came together almost spontenaously, this final one took years to see the light of day and then in conflicting versions. It wasn't worth the wait. The only positive point I have is that it's well-produced, but so are many of those really disappointing albums that drag down other bands' discographies. You know the type.
Vangelis lends his ascending presence to help out a fellow Greek, but he doesn't bring out the big guns. Compared to his other inspired works released that year, this sounds more like a tribute act's idea of what Vangelis sounds like, seemingly not bothering to adjust from the default 'space' setting to avoid clashing with the folky subject matter. When he does try to be in sync, he's just rehashing Earth.
Not to be confused with his earlier El Greco studio album that was confusingly released in two versions, this seemingly bears no relation and is a fresh take to fit some film or other. Nothing wrong with it, but the most disposable of his film scores (out of those he bothered to release so you could actually have the option of disposing of them).
The first full-length collaboration between the supposedly harmonious duo, this album's improvised composition means Vangelis is more prominent than he would be subsequently, but he's still diluted by sharing the spotlight. Olias of Sunhillow was a much better Jon and Vangelis album, and Vangelis wasn't even on that one.
I don't think much of Chariots in the first place, so a sequel soundtrack 30 years on had its work cut out. It's nearly all dull ambience and twinkling reminiscent of better works from decades prior, with the exception of the track that breaks the chilled vibe with some 90s dance sequencing.
After a few sappy ballads, this project finally starts to go somewhere interesting towards the end, but then it goes too far and the resulting 22-minute outpouring is like a Tales from Topographic Oceans acid flashback where you have to wade deep to find the nice piano part.
It's understandable how fans of his livelier works would be enraged at having wasted their money buying such a nonish LP. But in the age of streaming, this spacious ambience sits comfortably between the early electronic pioneers and 24 hours of Enterprise-D engine noise. It's main crime is that it came several decades late to be truly innovative.
The logical conclusion of Vangelis' classical leanings, this choral-led symphony is ambitious in scope but much less satisfying in execution than the more thoughtful El Greco and the hybrid approach of Mask et al. Vangelis himself is a bit player, drowned out in a sea of 224 performers. The tone's all over the place, so it's too distracting for relaxing background music but much too dull to sit down and listen to.
Taking cues from 1492 and Chariots that proved popular, Vangelis sets about increasing his new age market share by bringing in an Enya. I'm all for recurring motifs, but the main melody recurs so often that I wonder if he just couldn't be bothered to come up with some others. I should go easy on easy listening music, but this stands out as a weak link in the main sequence. At least Invisible Connections embraced its black sheep status.
I haven't seen Henry Chapier's amusingly-titled film, but based on this chilled out soundtrack led by acoustic plucking and soft percussion it can't be too raunchy, unless the occasional clashing gongs signify something. Calling Vangelis "background music" will doubtless infuriate scholars, but that's what this was going for. It's mainly notable for the retro clavinova.
The more satisfying sibling to Hypothesis, these three jazzy jams are all distinctive and cohere into something actually worth listening to this time around, even if it's not especially noteworthy or memorable. I can see why they opened with this half when they packaged the two official bootlegs together, but you're better off ignoring the other one altogether.
Pleasant psychedical pop that scratches that itch well enough but won't likely become a favourite in that over-ploughed field. Vangelis isn't the star here, but he'd take them on to better, less economically tenable things later.
Vangelis deftly produced, co-wrote and played prominent keyboard and percussion on this album. Call it a minor footnote if you want, but it's more rewarding and characteristic than most of what he got up to in his earlier, 'official' bands. And a nice excuse to listen to some decent Greek rock I never would have encountered without it.
A bit of a hidden gem for completists, but not something to worry about missing out on, this is more anachronistic synthesiser-drenched Greek folk revival, but it feels much more in sync and evocative this time. They share the spotlight more evenly, Vangelis even getting a couple of solo tracks that are more than just segues, and it's the most New Age he'd sound until the mid-90s.
Less clippable than the Rossif soundtracks, I've had this in the background countless times while working, but I still couldn't tell you much of what happens outside of the main lullaby hook. Not that it's boring, there just isn't much substantial to cling on to as it drifts gently past.
This was a baffling disappointment back in the day (circa 2005 rather than the 70s, I mean), having not yet suffered the likes of Invisible Connections. Digging it out again, I found it surprisingly salvageable. It's not something you'd want to sit through more than once a decade, and certainly not for pleasure, but it sets a sinister, alien atmosphere very effectively and the minimalist improv virtuosity is admirable. Or a lazy and insulting way to fulfil a record contract in 38 minutes, who can tell.
Billed as an LP, but on the short side, this is one of the more obscure cuts due to it being hard to find in the physical world. Two ten-ish-minute passages purportedly describing a photo shoot, this is all very familiar and might well be among the definitive examples of Vangelis sounding like Vangelis, but forever destined to be overlooked. I wouldn't be surprised if I accidentally forget to ever track it down again.
As is nearly always the case, I've not seen the film, but have seen various parodies of people running in slow motion, so the mental image is there. Vangelis' mainstream breakthrough isn't one of his richer scores, and even though I'm here for the synthesisers, I wonder if a straight piano score might have been nicer than this groundbreaking yet weird and dated hybrid.
Many of Vangelis' soundtracks haven't been officially released for whatever strange reasons. This one briefly was, in a comprehensive two-disc edition the likes of which are generally only seen on bootlegs. It made me appreciate the slimming down; there's really a lot of superfluous padding here, some of it not even by Vangelis. The themes themselves are among the greats, but I'm rating the overall listening experience, not the hits.
A bit of a letdown in the 'classic' run, these over-repetitive sequences are pleasant enough in a bland Jean-Michel Jarre way, but lack the customary atmosphere and experimentation. At just five tracks, there's also the nagging sense that we're missing out on variety through padding, especially coming after the diverse Albedo, but some of them you wouldn't want to be any shorter.
Vangelis dallies with electro pop on this tantalisingly dark departure that is to mainstream pop what Beaubourg was to his soundscapes. Like pretty much all of his vocal works, I'd prefer to have the instrumentals, to be honest. I try not to be so narrow-minded as to view his entire oeuvre as it relates to Blade Runner, as if that's the be all and end all, but this is on the brink, even without the shared track.
More 'China in winter' than Antarctica, the main theme captures the crystalline beauty of snowy landscapes perfectly and is nicely referenced throughout. But if you heard that on a compilation and sought out the album hoping for more frosty melodies, you may be disappointed to find general tonal ambience in their place.
I've got no idea what the consensus is on this curious latecomer, as it wasn't part of the repertoire when I started exploring. Some unclear prejudice has kept me from checking it out until now, and I was pleasantly surprised. It plays things a little too safe in the well-established 1492 mould, but the score holds together and maintains more interest overall than some of the uneven 80s soundtracks.
This is slightly cheating by including some rearranged and rerecorded classic cuts, but it's predominantly new material and I'm not going to take new Vangelis albums for granted. No doubt cover albums like this abound, so might as well put out an official release while there's still time and bulk it out with new stuff to make it more worthwhile. Looking forward to whatever's next.
Not content with merely being extremely prolific, each of Vangelis' soundtracks for Frédéric Rossif's documentaries is also highly distinctive. This one appropriates African tribal touches fused with gloriously seventies synthesiser before settling into more familiar ambience. I've always overlooked this one compared to the others, I'll rectify that from now on.
What a nice surprise this was. Fifteen years on from his last album done for the sake of it, Vangelis was spontaneously inspired to record a retro space synth album harking back to Albedo, only played straighter. These tunes will take time to gain classic status, but they'll get there. Here's hoping this is the start of another long creative period.
I've listened to this so many times and always beat myself up for drifting off and not paying more attention to one of Vangelis' most mature, sophisticated and... boring works. As heretical as it sounds, I'd probably appreciate it more on shuffle or split up on compilations so I could give the more memorable movements the attention they deserve.
Calming down from his diverse and divisive experimental phase, Vangelis strips back to simple songs of friendlier length that are easy to like, if shallow and lacking in the atmosphere we come here for. From Floydesque synthesised rock backed by a drum machine to new age synthesised woodwind, it's as if an apologetic Vangelis is trying to deliver precisely what's expected this time. The only surprise is seeing that familiar Amiga Deluxe Paint stock art.
Bringing back the atmosphere and with more convincing synthstrumentation than Direct, Vangelis presents a bluesy soundtrack to daily urban life. With its sound effects and brief dialogue samples, it all feels a bit like a present-day Blade Runner on a quiet day... ignoring that Blade Runner is now the present day. I don't always make it to the end, so forget that's the best part.
Continuing to tailor his output to the Billboard New Age Albums chart since that became a thing, the follow-up to Voices is more sincere and evocative. With diverse instrumentation, undulating moods and marine sound effects, it's the thinking person's spa music. Not a favourite, but probably the album I play the most. We all need help calming down sometimes.
Perhaps the definitive space album, at least until he gets the church organ out and ruins the spell, I've always considered this the satisfying middle of a trilogy between Heaven and Hell's freeform twiddling and Spiral's minimalist sequences that gets the balance just right. The hypnotic melodies get all the attention on compilations, but the ethereal movements between are more captivating.
Back when I was reviewing infinite bands in alphabetical order for cash, this weird, scary and funny album was literally a Revelation. Blade Runner kicked off a prog odyssey that lasted all through my university years and this probably ended it. There didn't seem to be much point in seeking out more experimental zaniness when this covered all the bases, I'm surprised those other 70s bands even bothered.
One of the overlooked gems in the canon, I've always found this laid-back voyage through nature's microcosm mesmerising. The tranquil 18-minute opener could stretch out to the entire album and I'd be satisfied. The rest has never stood out as much, but it's nicely varied in tone from light to dark ambience and gets more dramatic at points than I realised, since I'm usually in the trance by that point.
An appropriation of "Chinesey" sounds by a European admiring the nation from afar, I tend to approach this one hesitantly and forget how good it is. With simple and less abstract song titles, the imagery is more vivid than ever, and swinging between screeching synthesiser assaults and twinkling piano and violin keeps things nicely varied. I always drift off by the ambient end, but you've earned a nap after the tiring journey.
Not a film I've ever felt like watching, even if just for the novelty of hearing its familiar score in the wild, this is Vangelis' most exciting and consciously epic soundtrack. The Latin guitars add more authentic ethnic colour than China and the synthesiser-backed choir and strings offer a belated heavenly response to Mask's hell.
It was quite the surprise to discover the mournful grandeur of Blade Runner already largely in place a decade ahead of time as the backdrop to an obscure wildlife documentary, interspersed with lively xylophoning and delicate piano. Reading that this brief collection barely scratches the surface of Vangelis' compositions for the project, I was tempted to go for a fan bootleg, but want to judge these things as released. I'll enjoy that in my own time.
Considering I've long loved the neighbouring albums and lamented the lack of more of the same, it's surprising that I never properly checked out the peaceful wake to 666's apocalypse until now. Maybe I did and the opening rocker gave me the wrong impression, so remained oblivious to the organic treasures that lay within. In a career defined by synthetic sounds, this is his most authentic, rooted work.
Bringing back the dramatic babble of the Heaven and Hell choir, this scary synthesiser symphony with authentic ethnic influence strikes a rich seam of inspiration that would be mined for much of Vangelis' subsequent works, but never bettered. Considering you were obviously going to play the transcendental 'Movement 2' again as soon as the album finished anyway, its welcome reprise at the end is considerate.
I can't stress how up my street this was when I checked out Vangelis' discography looking for a place to start my voyage proper. As a fan of pompous metal, musical interpretations of Hell were very familiar territory. While this synthetic symphony doesn't sound all that much like you'd imagine Hell to sound, I was always content to take the track titles at their word, summoning blazing caverns and intestinal bats.
There are still a couple of catchy melodies that hopefully earned the virtuoso a tidy sum when appropriated for adverts, but for the most part this is moodier and more subdued Vangelis than we'd heard by this point. A haunting and beautiful hybrid of electric and acoustic, every track's a gem and the mood isn't abruptly shattered by scary wailing or a crooning old man like in some soundtracks I could mention.
I don't even need to get into (more) comprehensive re-releases and unofficial versions; the flawed original release with its glaring omissions, distracting dialogue samples and frankly unlistenable skippers is elevating enough already. I quite like the film, but I mainly treat it as a really elaborate music video for the album, with even more distracting dialogue.
