This piano is spreading a nice melody in the wake of a sequencer whose minimalist keys of crystal recall the world of Mike Oldfield. The intro is scribbled by percussions whose resonant strikes progress to awaken Paul Haslinger 's sweet piano. Stealthy and invisible, the long intro of London cooks beyond the 9 minutes point before it finally gives way to a good and too short finale where the guitar of Edgar Froese screams on sequences with clinking of glass tones that whirl in a spiral too tight.Ī lchemy of the Heart reconciles us a little with the bucolic moods of the Dream. Smith has to cope with that as best as she can, and you can understand her anger when you hear her voice trying to get closer to the music. Because if the approach remains tasty secret, the elements that surround it lack juice, depth and direction. We hear these structures of percussions and sequencers that will mold the sanitized rhythms of the Melrose years on a long movement that goes around in circles, without really leading to anything new, of original. And that's where all is getting mixed up. She works out her voice as Franke seems desperately trying to make roll his sequences and percussion into the new rhythmic patterns of a Dream that is searching for itself. It brings a thin line of heat and a seductive dimension to this lullaby a bit mephistophelic that eats a bit in the trough of Song of the Whale. The voice of Jocelyn Bernadette Smith floats with emotion and passion (we will learn later that she was particularly shocked in the studio). Smith, reciting a dark poem before getting to sleep on a music near the limits of Legend. One can easily imagine grandmother, personified by Mrs. It's like a carousel whose spring comes back up just before going to bed. It's an ideal music to sing, or to narrate, in the repertoire of the Dream because of its slow and spheroidal tempo that swings into oblivion while relying on sequences floating slightly like the wings of a ballerina. The chords that introduce us to Tyger tinkle like a rhyme. A bit as if the creation of so many soundtracks had got the better of the mythical German band.Ī nd yet, the title-track starts pretty well this new adventure of the Dream with a delicate structure which enchants as much by its grace as its sensitivity. Far from being an artistic disaster, the album is based on the same lines as Underwater Sunlight and follows this slow bend of disappointment that has plagued fans since Tangerine Dream infuses to its music an increasingly harmonic approach that is less and less progressive and experimental. After the Cyclone fiasco, still denied by Edgar Froese more than 35 years later, Tangerine Dream retains the services of a R & B singer, Jocelyn Bernadette Smith, to beautify an album inspired by the English painter's poems William Blake. And sowing consternation among fans of Dream with an album that uses, for a second time in all the discography of the German group, a vocalist. But unlike the Beatles, who left us a splendid album as an inheritance, Franke and Froese leaves each other in the controversy. It's the swan song! This is the last waltz of the famous duo Franke and Froese who, in my opinion, are the Lennon and McCartney of EM. This is also the last Tangerine Dream album to appear on the top 100 of the English charts. T YGER is TD 's latest studio album with Chris Franke.
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