JGuy Grungeman

In den Garten Pharoas byPopol Vuh

This album can put scenery and images in your mind like no other album can. The album is beautiful, mysterious, ghostly, imaginitive, like a secdond soundtrack to Koyaanisqatsi. I am not high. I have never taken any of those drugs in my life. What I'm about to tell you is nothing but a story played in my mind, told from the conversion to imagery from music that is this album. This review tells of everything I saw in my imagnation while listening to this album.

This is a dialogueless album that's job is to use its krautrock and ambient instrumentals to create a new scenery.

Upon the first splash of the water, I had a strong feeling the album would casrry a very strong sense of serenity. When serenity is strong, that means it's extremely calming and relaxing. I think the spashing of water does a fantastic job at that I even felt my fingers type so slowly as my troubles washed away in the emenation of ambience from this album. Ghostly, but wonderful, as if a gospel were singing a tribute to a dead, great man, and the waters flowing from the fountain was singing with them.

Brian. Eno. Can. Suck it.

As the ambience ends after a wonderful five minutes, African drums bring the krautrock into this ambient treasure, shifting from the flowing waters of green field with mountains to an African dance of mystery. I have never heard an album that exercises the imagination as much as Popul Vuh's In den Gärten Pharaos. "I suppose the album could do more with complexity," I thought to myself. As I rthink that, the drums began picking up, more energetic than ever. I wondered what was in store as the instrumenrts played a ghostly tune to these bongos. A dance to the deceased. As we enter a softer, more poppy tune backed up by keyboards and the same soft ghostly winds of music, my mind enters a little playground area where children are playing on swings and slides... and wondering where the music of the African dance comes from as it echoes through the wind. As the keyboards became more ambient, I found myself looking at a purple night sky, shifting quickly from an orange sun to a purple moon, and then... back where I started. At a field with a little stream of water. And next to that water, was a tribal man playing on the bongos, playing for the dead who have now gone into the sky, as the fish in the water just splash, wondering who this man was, and then going on their way down the stream. This was all one track: "In den Gärten Pharaos."

After the track ended, I had to take a small break to soak in what I just heard. But I was so eager to find where the next track would take me!

The secopnd track began with an orchestra playing under a sky where all of space could be seen lighting up the band. As the image zoomed out, I saw the orchestra playing for ghosts, all captivated by the combination of music and space. Some carrages came and delivered coffins. Some of the audience had to leave to go back to the sky. As the drums came, I found myself in an African desert again, the sun brightening the tan sand, where a tribe had been playing for those who are alive. Both bands had stopped playing, as if they could feel each other's emotions.Slowly, the orchestra began playing again, with a wonder in their mind what the afterlife was like. As an ambient flute played, in space, a doorway opened. In this strange afterlife, ghosts had been playing in their own band of flutes and cymbals and their own vocals. Some of them played like pipers from an old Irish fairy tale. In his mind flew the images of fairies and cupids. As the cymbals drowned out most of the music, I saw a ghetto town, wherre there were people who either wished their lives were better or wished they were in heaven. A sad image. I saw a church in that town, where the same coffins from before were being put in. Many of the people in the ghetto surrounded the church, wondering what was going on. In the afterlife where the band played, some of the ghetto men had floated up there. The band welcomed the m to the afterlife. The ghetto men walked away from the band, still listening to them. I came back to the desert, shifting in between the desert and the ghetto man walking through the afterlife. It seemed to shift so fast that the two almost blended together. The messiness and noisiness of the cymbals represented the ghetto, and the bongo drums represented the African tribe. When they did blend, I saw African gods flying through space. It seemed as though they were familiar with the troubles of the two realms blending in one. This image lasted for a while. But the two realms eventually separated themselves. And the area in space that they occupied became nothing but space.

In Africa, I saw the orchestra playing to the living tribal children... songs for the dead. And joining them was the ghetto man. As the music picked up, I sawe the African musicians join

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