Album Review: Les Cycles De Theodorakis by Nikitakis
Alright, let’s talk about Les Cycles De Theodorakis, an album that kinda sneaks up on you. Released in 2002 by Day-Glo in Germany, this thing is a wild mashup of Folk, World, Country, Rock, Singer/Songwriter, and Pop vibes. It’s like someone took all these genres, threw them into a blender, and hit “puree.” And honestly? It works.
Nick Nikitakis is the mastermind behind this project, wearing multiple hats as arranger, producer, and bouzouki player (yep, that stringed Greek instrument). He teams up with Mikis Theodorakis, the legendary Greek composer, whose music forms the backbone of the album. You’ve got some killer musicians here too—Frank Zimmermann on bass, Fritz Wittek on drums, Georg Grau shredding guitar, and Gunter Thiedemann adding cello magic to tracks like “Zorba The Greek (Main Theme)” and “Afto To Choma.”
Now, I gotta say, two tracks really stuck with me: “Kapote Isoun Glykos – Kapote Isoun Pikros” and “Zorba The Greek (Main Theme).”
First off, “Kapote Isoun Glykos – Kapote Isoun Pikros.” This one feels like a mood swing set to music. One minute it’s sweet (“glykos” means sweet), then BAM—it flips to bitter (“pikros”). The melody has this push-and-pull vibe, almost like life itself. Like when you’re chilling, thinking everything’s cool, and then something unexpected punches you in the gut. But hey, isn’t that what great music does? Makes you feel stuff without needing words to explain it?
And oh man, “Zorba The Greek (Main Theme).” If you don’t know this tune, where have you been? It’s iconic for a reason. Nikitakis gives it his own spin, blending traditional Greek sounds with modern production touches. There’s this raw energy from the bouzouki that just grabs you by the soul and won’t let go. Plus, the cello adds this haunting undertone that makes it feel fresh yet timeless. Honestly, listening to this track felt like stepping into a movie scene where everyone starts dancing around a fire or smashing plates. Pure chaos—but good chaos.
What surprises me most about this album is how seamless it feels despite its genre-hopping madness. It’s folk-y, rocky, poppy, and worldly all at once. At times, it feels like a tribute to Theodorakis’ legacy, but also like Nikitakis saying, “Hey, let me show you my take on this.”
One random thought though: why are there duplicate track titles? Tracks like “Ena Dilino,” “Sto Perijali To Krifo,” and others appear twice. Is it intentional? A weird reprise thing? Or did someone mess up while naming files? Either way, it doesn’t ruin the experience—it just makes you scratch your head a little.
In the end, Les Cycles De Theodorakis isn’t perfect, but maybe that’s the point. It’s messy, emotional, and unapologetically human. Listening to it feels like hanging out with old friends who tell stories you’ve heard before—but somehow, they still sound new every time. Weirdly enough, it made me crave souvlaki afterward. Go figure.
