Album Review: Cry by Raymonde's Magic Organ
Alright, let’s talk about Cry, the 1969 gem from Raymonde's Magic Organ. If you’re into smooth vibes that sit somewhere between jazz and pop, this UK release on the Deram label is worth a spin. It’s got that easy-listening charm that feels like sinking into a comfy chair after a long day. Not too flashy, not trying too hard—just good, mellow music.
The title track, “Cry,” is one I can’t get out of my head. It’s got this soft, melancholic vibe that hits different. The organ (Raymonde’s magic, right?) wraps around you like a warm blanket, and the melody lingers long after it ends. You don’t need lyrics to feel what this song’s about—it’s kind of universal, y’know? Like those moments when you’re staring out the window, lost in thought. That tune just gets it.
Then there’s “Tennessee Waltz.” Now, I know this one’s a classic covered by tons of artists, but Raymonde’s version has its own little twist. It’s slower, dreamier, almost like they took the original and gave it a chill pill. The way the keys glide over the rhythm makes it feel fresh, even though it’s such a well-known song. Honestly, I found myself humming it while making coffee the other morning—which is always a good sign.
What I love about Cry is how unpretentious it feels. It doesn’t demand your attention; it just sort of hangs out with you. Perfect for lazy Sundays or late-night drives when you’re not really looking for anything heavy. And hey, isn’t that what good music’s supposed to do? Meet you where you are instead of forcing you to be somewhere else?
Here’s the random thought I’ll leave you with: listening to this album made me wonder if Raymonde ever played these tunes live. Like, imagine walking into some smoky London club in ’69 and hearing this stuff in person. Would’ve been wild—or maybe totally normal back then. Either way, Cry is a quiet little treasure that deserves more ears today. Give it a shot—you might just find yourself hitting repeat.
