Six hundred, three score and six.

What does it sound like?:

It’s a dull weekend afternoon in early summer, 1972. I’m in the living room at my parent’s home in Plymouth, with the transistor radio on, likely listening to Rosko or Freeman. I’m not really paying any attention to the chat between tracks when on comes this dreamy little single driven by electric piano chords and a subtle bass part. Then there’s a breathy, slightly treated vocal from someone whose accent sounds as if maybe English is not their first language. It builds nicely and then the chords part and there is an utterly wonderful guitar solo break that unfolds magically and leads into another vocal verse. This verse then leads directly to the close, where the whole thing fades to a silence that just leaves me wanting to hear it again, immediately. 2 minutes 55 seconds of perfect. What. The. Heck. Was. That?

I fail to gather any information except the name of the track: ‘Break’ and that of the artist: a bunch called Aphrodite’s Child, apparently. Dimly I recall a couple of singles a few years past, poppy and fun, but not anything I’d longed to own at the time. I store this meagre glimpse of understanding in that part of my brain that calculates when I will be able to afford to buy another record. The afternoon continues to unfold until it is time to think about catching the bus to my girlfriend’s house, out in the sticks.

*** a few weeks pass ***

It’s a dull weekend morning in early summer, 1972. I’m in the middle of town with my parents, who are doing their weekly shop, aiming to check out a few of Plymouth’s record shops, as that music purchasing part of my brain has told me that sufficient funds have been accrued to allow me to consider buying an LP. As we’ve progressed the length and breadth of the city centre, I’ve dropped in to the hip Virgin Records emporium (beanbags, headphones and hippy chicks) by the entrance to the covered market, checked out Pete Russell’s record shop, glanced into a couple of second-hand places, looked askance at what was on offer in Woolies and the Co-op and pretty much decided instead to walk back down all the way back to Virgin and grab that Mountain LP I’d dithered over. Mum and dad want to go upstairs to the Boots café for a cuppa, so I join them. Next to the café is the Boots record department, not somewhere I’d usually check out, as their selection tends to be, er, somewhat conservative unless you are a fan of middle of the road MFP issues.

Anyhow, while dad gets the teas in, I take a swift glance at the LP rack marked, ‘Just In’. There’s a fat double LP in there with a frighteningly red cover, upon which the number 666 is printed in a large font, along with a biblical quotation from the Apocalypse of St. John. I’m not on particularly close familiarity with the content of said chapter of the good book, but I have a vague recollection that it’s something to do with the end of the world. Really dark stuff. Yer actual anti-Christ and all that. Crikey.

But what initially grabs my attention is the name of the artist: here they are again, blow me it’s Aphrodite’s Child themselves, and lo, they have produced what is obviously a long form piece of progressively imaginative conceptual music around a biblical theme that isn’t Jesus Christ Superstar. Not only that, but the final track at the end of Side 4 is the aforementioned single, ‘Break’. Bingo. Reader, I shelled out and bought the double LP.

The band:
• ‘Silver’ Koulouris; guitars,
• Demis Roussos; vocals,
• Vangelis Papathanassiou; keyboards,
• Lucas Sideras, drums.
And a surprisingly wide crew of other fascinating contributors along the way.

This work has stayed with me for the last, crumbs, fifty years. More than that. I still listen to it at least once a year, sometimes more. I know it note for note. In my estimation it’s easily up there with the King Crimson and Yes ground-breakers. It is full of amazing musical developments as the sides progress. The instrumentation is constantly imaginative and exciting. The vocals – shared by several artists – are intriguing and strange. It conjures up all kinds of exotic images. It has heft. It has charm. It is weird and pretty unsettling. The soundscapes are wide and varied, the execution is splendidly over the top and right on the money for the subject matter.

So – takes a breath – it was with great interest that I recently read (when Uncut arrived this week) that it has just been re-issued – a fiftieth anniversary that means a lot to me. Reader, I bought the CD re-issue.

The splendidly packaged re-issue contains a fat little booklet stuffed with all sorts of pictures and cuttings, plus five discs – two CDs that hold the remastered (done by Vangelis) original LP that I bought in 1972, two CDs that hold the remastered version of the original LP as issued in Greece, which has several longer cuts of tracks shortened on my UK version, and several tracks with very different mixes. Finally, there is a DVD with the inevitable enhanced audio offerings and some rare video of both performance and interview material.

My copy arrived here this afternoon. I’ve so far skipped the original UK version and gone straight to the Greek version that I’ve never heard before. The DVD can wait for now, but shows promise. I have to say that the remastering is remarkably fine, and even a quick spin on the computer shows that Vangelis did a fabulous job – apparently, he completed this work only a short while before he sadly died a couple of years back (a fond RIP exists on this site if I recall).

I’d waffle on a lot more about how great I think this record is, but I’m afraid I’m going to set aside an hour or two right now to give the thing a proper listen. I’m long since past the regulation six listens, but this remastering, and the alternative Greek version, are giving me lot of new things with which to familiarise myself.

The work is a marvel. Do investigate. I’m sure that many here will enjoy it, and if they don’t already know it, they are in for a fun ride.

What does it all *mean*?

We’re doomed, but the soundtrack is immense.

Goes well with…

It’s the end of the world as we know it. Possibly.

Release Date:

Out now – I’ve just bought it!

Might suit people who like…

Anything ludicrously left field that has massive choons and great playing.

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