Vangelis Papapapathanathanassiou - King Of Free Jazz!

Vangelis Papapapathanathanassiou? Hairy-chested and slightly scary Greek composer of stirring synth anthems, he who once punched out an entire press conference because they thought he was Demis Roussos? Free jazz?

Hear me out. We're here to talk about Beaubourg, one of the least understood and most misunderstood albums of the twentieth century. But first we need to define terms: free jazz is associated with a saxophone being ritually abused over a cacophony of random percussion. But in its purest sense - improvisation free of musical structure, it absolutely applies to Beaubourg.

It's solo Vangelis, making shit up as he goes along, using a couple of Yamaha CS-80 analog synthesizers, with a side order of ring modulator, instead of making a sax sound like it wished it had never been born. In accordance with the strict rules of free jazz (no musical form has more rigid rules), he eschews melody, harmony, rhythm, and thematic development. Anybody can do that. If I could find a piano I'd eschew the fuck out of it right now. A child of five could.

But Vangelis is an absolute master of his instruments, and his hands are guided by instinct, inspiration, and superhuman skill, whereas mine could just as easily be fixing a sandwich. And lordy, his hands are busy. Coaxing these sounds out of a pair of CS-80s, in real time, is a virtuoso performance. So what? you opine, a sneer distorting your unlovely face, it sounds like shit to me hahalol.

This is what makes the music so ultimately satisfying; discovering what went into it. It's not unapproachable noise, a random result of pure chance. There is variation in mood, hints of melody, but it's the abstract sound that becomes so compelling, even addictive. It's analog/organic, and if you read my antecedent screed on Bernie Axolotl you may remember his quote: all notes played by hand. There's no looping here, no samples, no sequencing, and minimal overdubbing, maybe none (what do I know). There's a wild genius behind this, and to dismiss it, as some do, as a cynical contractual kiss-off to RCA is to display a musical ignorance of which they should be ashamed, them ignoramuses.

It is gawjuss, is what it is. A blissful soundtrack to ordinary life. Try listening to it - as loud as you can take - as you go about your grubby quotidian routine. Shopping for beans at your local discount superstore. Boosting the catalytic converter from your ex's Ram Truck, or getting your bunion pared. Beaubourg will make your universe seem unutterably strange. Let it work its subtle and extraordinary magic.

As an inducement, here's some slightly more accessible, but much less accomplished, Vangelis:

Swinging London scenemaker Giorgio Gomelski booked studio time in '71 to see if there was any mileage in teaming Van the Man with session jazzbos and fringe rock musicians. It led nowhere, and the tapes were shelved, to be released later very much against Van's wishes by a thieving bunch of crooks. Don't think of these as albums, which they ain't. Think of them as an opportunity to hear a bit of experimental improv for its own sake.

The Dragon gets the nod from fans, with its recognisably rock-adjacent sounds, but Hypothesis appeals for its Brian Odgers/Tony Oxley rhythm section, fresh from the mighty John McLaughlin's Extrapolation sessions.

 

 

 

 

 

Hilariously, there is online debate as to the most consistently accurate, pitch-wise, release of Beaubourg. Go for it!