Review: Originally released in 1979, Francesco Cabiati's Mirage is a classic slice of holy grail electronic prog that has been searched for and fawned over for years by avid collectors. Now Galaxy have scored the record as their opening gambit, which should satisfy more than a few second hand vigilantes out there. It's a bombastic offering rich in Moog lines and dramatic themes, much like all the great instrumental synth offerings of the era. From the faithful treatment of the cover and labels to the quality of the remastering, it's everything a classic reissue of a hidden gem should be.
Review: It has been a musical eternity since King Crimson first introduced prog rock fans to their particularly artistic interpretation of the sound, landing on the scene just before the 1960s collapsed into the 1970s, with this special edition boxset containing the band's similarly limited edition 40th anniversary series in its entirety, which itself is over a decade old. The fact nothing here really sounds like it comes from a completely different age is testament to how good their work was, and still is. The track 'Epitaph' captures the mood perfectly - compressed strings sitting in the shadows of simple piano notes. As does the low fi innocent folk of 'Moonchild'. A far cry from many of the cliches associated with this genre label, with work like 'Catfood' owing as much to blues and rock 'n' roll as anything else it's not hard to see why KC achieved such universal adoration.
Review: The rare and sought-after third album by this Venezualan keyboard legend, first released in 1975 under the band name Ofrenda, stands as arguably his crowning achievement in a career in which he successfully managed to build a bridge between his homeland's traditional music, jazz fusion of a distinctly Weather Report/Return To Forever stripe, and a generous helping of kosmische stargazing. The result is a groove-driven, exotic and richly psychedelic confection that has weathered the storm of 41 years alarmingly well, making for a particularly foot-tapping trip across the cosmos.
Review: Arriving some twenty years after the last Pink Floyd album proper, 1994's The Division Bell, this new offering - which stands to be their last ever - apparently functions as both a swansong for their enormously influential outfit and a tribute to late keyboard player Rick Wright. Constructed partly from demos for the aforementioned album, as well as recordings from as far back as 1968, it somehow manages to showcase the closest the band has come to the classic Floydian sound in decades. Indeed, replete with Gilmour's soaring leads and ambient dreamscapes, it frequently recalls the heralded days of 'Wish You Were Here' amidst an atmosphere of beatific melancholy. If this is the moment that the rock giants choose to bow out, their legions of fans can rest assured they're doing so with both grace and style.