City of Silence by Zox: A Retro Sonic Adventure That Still Whispers
Alright, let’s dive into this gem. City of Silence by Zox is one of those albums that feels like it was beamed in from another dimension. Released way back in 1978, it straddles genres like a musical chameleon—part soundtrack, part experimental electronica, with just enough funk and grit to keep you guessing. France and Portugal? Cobra and Imavox labels? This thing screams Euro-cult cool. And yeah, Zox did everything: bass, guitar, composing, arranging—you name it. The dude’s fingerprints are all over this bad boy.
Now, I gotta talk about two tracks that stuck with me because they’re weirdly unforgettable. First up: “Paris All Night Lovers.” Oh man, this tune hits different. It's got this sultry, late-night vibe, like someone whispering secrets in your ear while the city hums outside your window. Larry Martin’s vocals are smooth as butter, but there’s also Michel Carras laying down these moody synth lines that feel like neon reflections on wet pavement. You can practically smell the cigarette smoke and hear heels clicking against cobblestones. It’s cinematic without trying too hard, which makes it even better.
Then there’s “Dogs After The Flood,” which is... well, wild doesn’t even cover it. This track sounds like an apocalyptic disco party where robots and animals team up to overthrow humanity. There’s Jean-Louis Guill pounding away on drums like he’s summoning thunder, and Prosper N’Kouri’s congas add this primal pulse that gets under your skin. Honestly, I don’t know what the title means (dogs? floods? aliens?), but who cares when the music feels like chaos wrapped in silk? Every time I listen, I picture some surreal movie scene—a pack of soggy mutts running through abandoned streets, maybe chasing freedom or just snacks. Wild imagery aside, the song sticks in your head like gum on a shoe.
What’s crazy is how fresh this album still feels despite being older than most people reading this review. Sure, some parts sound dated—the analog synths have that vintage hiss, and the production has moments that scream ‘70s—but that’s part of its charm. It’s raw, unfiltered creativity bottled up for us to rediscover decades later. Plus, props to Christian Gence for engineering and mastering; the guy clearly knew how to make noise sound beautiful.
So here’s the kicker: listening to City of Silence made me realize something kinda profound. Back then, musicians weren’t afraid to take risks—to blend genres, mess with structure, and create stuff that didn’t fit neatly into boxes. Today, we’ve got algorithms telling us what to listen to next, but Zox? He wasn’t playing by anyone’s rules. Maybe that’s why this record feels less like an album and more like a secret handshake between artists and listeners brave enough to go off the beaten path.
And hey, if nothing else, at least now you’ll have something interesting to talk about at your next dinner party. “Oh, you haven’t heard City of Silence? Oh, honey, buckle up…”
