Elsewhere hall capacity8/31/2023 ![]() When I put to him the hit-successes of his former bandmate Demis Roussos, he sneers disdainfully. Because that was the goal from the beginning: worldwide acceptance of his music. Necessary to outgrow the Greek music-world. It becomes apparent he’s not very positive about those days anymore, calls it a period of music which he somehow had to make it through. The band in which he played keyboards at the time was called Aphrodite’s Child.Įvery single they made reminded you of their previous one but still you liked them. "Rain and Tears" I utter, because that’s the first time I heard about him, even though his name was just Papathanassiou then. "So where do you want to talk about, huh? What is it that you know about me already.?" Funny dialect, like the Greek restaurant at the corner of the Nieuwe Binnenweg in Rotterdam. This is him, no doubt about it, the only anachronism is the Cleopatra-like pose on Raspoetin! Suddenly I find myself thinking of the way the wicked Russian monk was portrayed in those Classics-books we used to read as kids. He offers a friendly bear-claw and descends onto the sofa opposite us. The answer arrives quickly, a boisterous laugh, followed by the sound of boots marching across the black floor. Towards him I realise this is such a moment. "Mm.yeah, not bad!" Photographers sometimes say stupid things and while I peek apprehensively "You like it?" A large figure in the doorway. In short,īlack with gold, in tasteful measures. On the floor, an Appel ( 1) painting on the wall, a tropical wooden globe on a stick, a golden blade, an antique clock and finally a large ship-model of the Mayflower, the ship which got New England’s history off to a start. Meanwhile having been seated in an ample-sized spotless white-leathered sofa I take a look around: ivory statues, an antique desk, antique lamps, golden chandeliers, a genuine Persian carpet To the contrary, it’s a sort of cross between the storage-room of an antiques-dealer, the workshop ofĪn arts-academy and an auction-hall. The rest of the hall to me resembles nothing of the sound-studio that I’d expected to find myself in. At the back some kind of stage stacked with a variety of drums and At theĭoorway I stare around flabbergasted, I hadn’t expected this.Ī large room with the dimensions of a gymnastics hall, of which the walls, floor and ceiling have been painted black. Miss Purple is indicating to walk along and leads us to a space behind the control-room. A few rapid exchanges in Greek, the man absent-mindedly waves his hand and concentrates again on his work. She hesitates a little, looks somewhat helplessly around to the huge bearded man in the background, who’s busy behindĪn enormous mixing-console. ![]() Only just got here from another interview, where the photographer was in fact welcome so that’s why he came along. Along with a wild brush through her purple-dyed hair. ![]() "No photographs please, didn’t I tell you on the phone?!" She looks at us with piercing eyes from behind a thick pair of glasses. Vangelis, the Sumptuous Synthesizer SaintĪrticle by René van Broekhoven, translated by Ivar de Vries
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