UK, 1973, progressive rock

Mike OldfieldTubular Bells: You know that certain kind of crazy person who convinces you he’s not crazy (despite his former erratic behavior), you believe him because he seems so convincing, but then he ends up being crazy anyway? Well, that’s this album. It’s schizophrenic at its core, not knowing what it is–or rather, intensely knowing what it is in a precise moment, but then forgetting when it moves into a new moment, thus knowing itself once again anew. So many fractured pieces coming together, coalescing in a unified musical statement at the end of Side A, convincing the listener, in the quiet moments of flipping over the vinyl, that all is well. This deception continues in the calm, pastoral phrasings of the beginning of Side B, only to shock you out of your complacency with a punch of the piano keys, howling at the moon, and growling in gibberish. This insanity returns with a full-on mad carousel ride.

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