Album Review: La Voix Et La Musique De Gurdjieff (1978)
Genre: Classical | Style: Classical | Released in France & Germany
Gurdjieff’s La Voix Et La Musique De Gurdjieff is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. At first glance, it feels like just another classical release from the late '70s—released independently under Not On Label and Transmitter Cassetten—but dig a little deeper, and you’ll find something truly unique. This isn’t your typical symphony or piano concerto; instead, it’s an eclectic mix of compositions that feel deeply personal, almost like flipping through someone’s private journal.
The album spans decades worth of material, with tracks recorded as early as 1925 and as late as 1949. It’s not perfectly polished, but that rawness adds charm. You can tell this wasn’t made for commercial appeal—it’s more like a time capsule, preserving moments of Gurdjieff’s creative exploration. The credits list names like A. Hanel, Creac, and S. Chalem for layout and art direction, while J.P. Chambard handled mixing. These behind-the-scenes folks deserve props because they managed to keep the focus squarely on the music without overproducing it.
Two tracks stuck out to me in particular: “Danse Arabe” and “Prière De Gratitude.”
“Danse Arabe,” despite its simple title, feels anything but ordinary. There’s a hypnotic rhythm here, layered with what sounds like traditional Middle Eastern instrumentation. It’s not flashy, but there’s something mesmerizing about how the melody builds and then retreats, almost like waves crashing against the shore. I found myself replaying it multiple times—not because it’s catchy in a pop-song kind of way, but because it pulls you into its world so effortlessly.
Then there’s “Prière De Gratitude,” which hits different altogether. If “Danse Arabe” is all movement and energy, this one feels like stillness personified. It’s slow, deliberate, and carries a weight that makes you stop whatever you’re doing and just listen. There’s no grand crescendo or dramatic flourishes—just pure sincerity. It’s the kind of track that stays with you long after it ends, lingering in your mind like the echo of a church bell.
What surprised me most about this album was how unpretentious it feels. In today’s world, where everything has to be Instagram-ready or TikTok-worthy, La Voix Et La Musique De Gurdjieff reminds us that music doesn’t always need to shout to be heard. Sometimes, whispering works just fine.
And hey, here’s a random thought: if Gurdjieff were alive today, would he have dropped this album on Bandcamp? Something tells me he’d skip the social media promo entirely and let the music speak for itself. Either way, we’re lucky to have this piece of his legacy preserved.
Rating: 8/10
Worth a spin if you’re into unconventional classical vibes—or if you just want something that feels refreshingly real.
