Review of Tangerine Dream's Phaedra

Released 1974

To the budding prog rock fan, eager to be submerged further into the myriad mysteries of the genre, discovering that there was a band with the splendid name of Tangerine Dream was only going to excite, entice and encourage said fan to seek out their work. To then learn that comparisons had been drawn with Pink Floyd's sound during their 'middle period', specifically the use of similar synthesiser technology, only served to point me towards one of the the more widely stocked second hand record shops Cornwall had to offer.

It took several visits before I came across a particularly battered second hand copy of Phaedra. That the cover image was ultimately beyond description only further enhanced the sense of anticipation.

The relationship between cover art and the music it accompanies is a curious one. In the best instances, the cover art becomes so synonymous with the music and the group, that is becomes part of the their 'brand'. Hipnosis's work with Pink Floyd for example, or Roger Dean's work with Yes have become ingrained as iconic pieces of twentieth century popular culture and hugely influence how we feel about those respective bands. When Yes shifted gear, changing musical direction between Drama and 90125, it was no accident that there was a paradigm shift in the artwork as well as the quality of the music. It's also worth noting that there must be hundreds of very worthwhile albums whose awful artwork has prevented a potential new fan from parting with their cash.

Anyway, I digress. What did the cover of Phaedrus depict? I still have no idea. Personally, I've always seen it as a vaguely aquatic, cold Scandinavian sea scape. Goodness only knows why. It's interesting to note that I made this judgement before hearing the record. Learning that the musicians were, in fact German was intriguing. My foray into European prog was still evolving. I could guess that eclecticism and invention - two cornerstones of prog - would prevail and that there wouldn't be too many laughs.

Whenever I saw a release from the pre-CD age clocking in at less that forty minutes I felt somewhat cheated, as in this case. However, there were just four tracks, so I could perhaps forgive on this occasion.

I was a mite nervous when laying the stylus on the vinyl for the first time. Was I being overtly ambitious in pursuing this largely instrumental vein so early in my prog quest? ?My recent purchases of Tubular Bells and Moving Waves were certainly more challenging than many non-instrumentally biased records; they appeared to require a more intense and mature consideration. Ever the self-doubter, I was unsure I was 'qualified' to appreciate these works as they were intended. I wasn't consciously placing prog on a pedestal; the reality was that until I heard The Dark Side of The Moon, my musical predilection was largely of the loud and heavy heroic posturing and pouting metallic variety. Prog may have opened my eyes, but could also furrow my brow. Not that that's a bad thing, you understand.

A distant ethereal, cold and mechanical sweep of sound perfectly attuned to the choice of cover art washed through the headphones, being indeed extremely reminiscent of the mellow trippiness of Pink Floyd. Listening to this as an eighteen year old in 1984, in the midst of the synthesised pap pop that was the New Romantic era, it would have been easy for me to groan in naivety at the prospect of music purely created by synthesisers. But the seemingly infinite depth of emotional evocation and atmospheric ghostliness achieved on the title track was a world away from the unimaginative contemporary shallowness that was 80's pop.

Layer upon layer of textural marvel unfolded with no apparent direction or logic. It may have been odd to immerse oneself in a tapestry of sound which didn't get a toe tapping, summon a whistle or have a lyric, no matter how obscure, to attach to. At the risk of sounding outrageously pretentious, this was Zen music; non participatory music where all you had to do was be.

I didn't expect to enjoy such a dense bizarre offering so immediately. I strongly believe that were I in a different frame of mind durinmg that first airing, I perhaps would have been less receptive and more likely to have consigned it to one of the infrequently visited areas of my record collection.

It may not be the most often played album in my collection but, when the mood is right, and the moon is full, it is a very fulfilling experience.