Review by Anne
Album Review: Pianomedley No. 7 by Sandor Vidak
Released in 1950 under the Decca label, Pianomedley No. 7 is a charming collection of light music that feels like a gentle breeze from the Netherlands. Sandor Vidak, a name not overly familiar to modern audiences, crafted an album that blends pop sensibilities with a touch of continental elegance. It's the kind of record you'd stumble upon in a dusty attic and play on repeat, wondering why it’s not more widely celebrated today.
One standout track is "Szeretnék Május Éjszakákon." Don’t let the Hungarian title scare ya—it’s got this dreamy, almost cinematic quality that pulls you in. The melody feels like a quiet conversation between the piano and your imagination. There’s no rush, no clutter—just pure, understated beauty. You can almost picture yourself wandering through cobblestone streets under a soft European night sky. Vidak’s arrangement here is simple yet effective, proving that sometimes less really is more.
Another gem is "C'est Si Bon," which might sound familiar even if you’re not a jazz or pop buff. This version carries a playful energy, almost like it’s winking at you while you listen. The tempo has a bounce to it, and the piano work gives it a lighthearted charm that stays stuck in your head long after the needle lifts off the record. It’s one of those tracks that makes you want to hum along, even if you don’t quite know the words.
The other tracks, like "Pianomedley No. 7 - Deel I" and "Guten Abend, Schöne Frau," add variety without overshadowing the album’s cohesive vibe. While they may not grab you as immediately as the two mentioned above, they contribute to the overall warmth of the record. It’s clear that Vidak wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel here—he was simply creating something pleasant and timeless.
Reflecting on Pianomedley No. 7, it strikes me how rare it is to find music that’s content to just exist in its own little world. In today’s era of overproduced beats and auto-tuned vocals, this album feels refreshingly human. It doesn’t demand your attention; instead, it invites you to sit back, relax, and maybe even smile a little. And honestly? That’s kinda nice.
Unexpectedly, this album made me think about how music used to be shared—passed around on vinyl, played on crackly radios, and enjoyed without the need for playlists or algorithms. Maybe we’ve lost a bit of that magic in the streaming age. Or maybe albums like this are still out there, waiting for us to rediscover them. Either way, Pianomedley No. 7 deserves a spot in your collection—or at least a spin on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
