Le Mariage du Ciel et de l'Enfer (1985) announced a transformation in
Art Zoyd's sound, a move away from acoustic instruments, replaced by multi-layered keyboards. Two years later
Berlin confirmed the new direction, establishing a sonic framework that would remain unaltered for more than a decade. Exit trumpeter
Jean-Pierre Soarez and saxophonist
Didier Pietton.
André Mergenthaler fills the gap with his cello, alto sax, and percussion, thus bringing the group to the size of a quartet with
Patricia Dallio,
Gérard Hourbette, and
Thierry Zaboïtzeff. Cello, violin, and saxophone still have a place in the picture, but they are constantly dominated by the keyboards, which serve as both the rhythmical and harmonic purveyors -- except for a few passages of snare drum and tom-toms, the role of percussion has been reduced considerably.
Berlin is not
Art Zoyd's best effort -- the film trilogy (
Nosferatu,
Faust,
Häxan) would achieve better results with the same ingredients. Yet, even though the music has slightly ossified, it remains genuine
Art Zoyd music: doom-laden, disquietingly martial, the chamber music of hell if Satan were a Nazi. The album takes the form of two 20-minute suites and five shorter pieces. "Epithalame," the first suite, moves about slowly but has a few nice shifts that keep it interesting. "A Drum, a Drum" includes lyrics (taken from
Shakespeare) sung by
Mergenthaler, and presents in 20 minutes what the horror film trilogy would rework in three hours.
Hourbette's "Petite Messe à l'Usage des Pharmaciens" (Short Mass for Pharmacists, in three parts) introduces a lighter side, but it hardly manages to be more than filler material. A decent album nevertheless,
Berlin does not deserve to be overlooked.