Cocteau Twins - The Voice of Dreams

Very few bands have managed to conceive a formula as original and as untethered from any era or trend as that of the Cocteau Twins. Starting out with dark, claustrophobic sounds, owing much in many ways to Siouxsie & The Banshees, the Scots arrived at an ethereal, visionary, dreamlike pop, still somehow mindful of their darkwave roots (especially in the synthetic rhythms and the piercing bass lines), but developed in totally peculiar and unprecedented directions. In their otherworldly madrigals, a sound flow steeped in dissonance, echo and reverb runs fluid, free, feather-light, soaring in ecstatic flight to unreachable heights. With a spectrum of influences ranging from Celtic folk to gothic, from Middle Eastern melisma to ambient music. To all effects, their pieces seem like regular, catchy, engaging "songs"; in reality, few groups have carried out such daring experimentation, starting with the simply indescribable singing of Elizabeth Fraser. A crystalline voice, capable of being childlike and possessed, heretical and angelic at the same time. It's the extra instrument serving their dreamlike settings, under the banner of a kind of hypnotic trance, in which the worst nightmare and the most celestial vision can coexist. Hence the term "dream-pop" or "ethereal wave" for the genre devised by the Scottish band. An approach that, although heir to psychedelia, doesn't chase "artificial paradises" of the mind, but digs into the deepest recesses of the unconscious, in search of the most intimate emotions of the human soul and a transcendent vision of reality.

But let's start from the beginning. Two young men named Robin Guthrie and Will Heggie are scraping by in Grangemouth, Scotland, affectionately described by the former as a "toilet". Hard, indeed, to disagree with him: it's a grey industrial area, hardly in keeping with the bucolic, fairy-tale imagery evoked by the future band's songs. The two often travel to the nearby town of Falkirk, about twenty miles from Glasgow. They've decided to form a band, but are still looking for a singer. The fateful encounter - decisive for the fate of the project - takes place at a local disco called "Nash": the two notice a slender, graceful girl, convince her to audition, and bring her into the studio. The young woman's name is Elizabeth Davidson Fraser, and she has never sung with a band before, yet her talent is immediately obvious. Her very first vocalizations in front of a microphone are enough to convince everyone. Paradoxically, she herself is the most hesitant, taking some time before deciding whether or not to join the band, whose name has already been chosen. They will be called Cocteau Twins, not in honour of Jean Cocteau, but more simply as a tribute to an identically-titled song by fellow Scots Johnny and the Self-Abusers, later far better known as Simple Minds (the same song would later be renamed "No Cure"). The three Twins - Elizabeth Fraser (vocals), Robin Guthrie (guitar, keyboards and drum machine) and Will Heggie (bass) - all share similar tastes: they love the punk of the Sex Pistols, but also post-punk, especially the darker-hued strain of acts like Joy Division, Wire and Siouxsie and the Banshees. The young Fraser is a fervent fan of the "queen of the night" and borrows her fervent, possessed delivery: "As a teenager I was the sweetest punk you could ever meet," she would recall, "I always had my arms covered in tattoos of Siouxsie and the Sex Pistols, but I was always too embarrassed to show them in public. People probably thought I always wore long sleeves because I was a heroin addict."

The record deal that would launch an entire career comes about thanks to a demo tape sent by Robin to Ivo Watts-Russell, a former employee of the Beggars Banquet record shop and founder of 4AD, the independent label that at the time was riding high mainly on the exploits of Australia's Birthday Party, fronted by Nick Cave. Those early recordings by the Scottish ensemble strike the English producer, always on the hunt for experimental, innovative sounds. The band is thus invited to record more material, to be included on their debut album, the first of a long string of works destined to forge what would come to be known as the 4AD sound.

Released in 1980, Garlands betrays clear traces of its darkwave heritage, starting with the opening "Blood Bitch", whose obsessive drum machine (Roland 808) loop immediately sets the hallucinatory pace for the whole record. A sound that grows ever more distorted and relentless, as in the nightmare of "Wax And Wane", where the contrast between the dissonance of Guthrie's guitar and the dogged lines of Heggie's bass plunges the listener into a paranoid, alienating mood, reinforced by the equally dark and tense "But I'm Not". These are mental labyrinths of esoteric charm, hall-of-mirrors games that are both fascinating and unsettling.

But behind the shroud of darkness, the first signs of Fraser's vocal anarchy are already seeping through, as she warbles spectrally in her own inimitable way on the claustrophobic "Blind Dumb Deaf" and begins sketching out her acid-tinged nursery rhymes, as on "Shallow Then Halo", also allowing herself some of her first rhymes and assonances ("The Hollow Man"), which she would go on to play with at length in later work. Closing the circle is "Grail Overfloweth", in softer but no less unsettling tones.

Despite the short-sightedness of critics at the time, who for the most part overlooked it, merely describing Fraser as "a pint-sized Siouxsie", Garlands immediately won over the British underground audience, thanks to its hypnotic, claustrophobic sound. It managed to climb the independent charts, and also caught attention for the band's aesthetic sense, suggested by the gorgeous cover artwork, the first of a long series. This too would help make the Cocteau Twins a cult band for the new wave audience.

Meanwhile, a solid artistic - and romantic - bond forms between Guthrie and Fraser (the two would have a daughter, Lucy, in 1989). And their rapport also proves perfect for the workings of the band's creative mechanisms. The two also share an aversion to the media and promotional rituals, always choosing to keep a fairly low profile and stay behind the scenes. They record only the "classic" session for John Peel's radio show, which would be repeated as many as three times at the audience's request. And in October 1982, they release the EP Lullabies, which can effectively be considered the band's first single, on which Fraser indulges in her first traditional Gaelic digressions and leaves her mark above all with the feverish, hallucinated "Alas Dies Laughing" (another track certainly indebted to the ever-present Siouxsie).

Lullabies sits at the top of the indie charts for a long stretch, also helping to prolong the success of Garlands. But the turning-point year for the Cocteau Twins is 1983. In March, in fact, Peppermint Pig comes out, a new EP carried by the title track (not included on the debut album), which showcases Fraser's vocal tapestries over very solid, tight rhythms.

The feat earns the band further acclaim from critics too, who, having set aside their initial wariness, begin taking an interest in the Scots' fortunes. Their distinctiveness doesn't escape their fellow musicians either: Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark (OMD) decide to enlist them as support act for their European tour.

At the end of that exhausting run of shows, however, the band loses a member: Will Heggie decides to leave Robin and Elizabeth, leaving them alone to work on the second album. But the departure, paradoxically, will benefit the project's fortunes. Head Over Heels, released in October 1983, marks a decisive step forward on every front. Cocteau Twins refine their formula, which here reaches a perfect balance between the darkwave roots of their early work and the ethereal development of their later records. The whole album is an admirable alternation of dramatic roughness and feather-light sweetness, with Fraser's vocals suggesting an inexhaustible range of sensations and emotions.

That lightness is never synonymous with frivolity, but rather with ecstasy and childlike wonder, as in the playful "Sugar Hiccup", one of their ancestral nursery rhymes that leave no escape. Tension, after all, pervades the whole album, exploding in the guitar whirlwinds of "In Our Angelhood", hypnotic and aggressive despite its title, consolidating into the sonic monoliths of "Glass Candle Grenades" and "My Love Paramour", always still laced with melodic, melancholic veins, while elsewhere turning into tumultuous romantic odes ("In The Gold Dust Rush", "Five Ten Fiftyfold", "Musette And Drums") and twilight tones ("When Mama Was Moth").

The sound grows ever more dreamlike and rarefied. Fluid chord progressions pair with Fraser's cool soprano, which fragments lyrics free of any grammatical rule. "The stories in my early songs were all metaphorical," she would recall, "they came out of the unconscious, out of my fears, which faded over time." The lyrics, in fact, no longer exist as such, replaced by sounds invented on the spot by the singer, or wordplay built on free association (from glossolalia to mouth music), nonsense and onomatopoeic games (in a sense heirs to the great lesson of Robert Wyatt), so that the voice has total freedom to range across the entire spectrum of reachable registers.

Also consolidating their formula are the spectral keyboards and the arsenal of Guthrie's unmistakable guitar, capable of reaching new standards in effects work, painting dreamlike carpets of sound, halos of tone and vibration onto which powerful "saturated" guitar crescendos are grafted. On top of that, there's the breathtaking drive of the drums, marking out the rhythm of their dreams/nightmares.

Head Over Heels exponentially boosts the band's fame: within a week of release it is already at No. 22 on the official UK charts and tops the indie chart.

Cocteau Twins thus become one of 4AD's key bands, alongside Australia's Dead Can Dance, with whom they also share a tour in 1984. It's precisely on these dates that Robin and Elizabeth are joined by bassist Simon Raymonde (ex-Drowning Craze), who comes on board starting with the brilliant new single "Pearly-Dewdrops' Drops" and will prove essential to the development of their sound.

A breakthrough for Italian independent radio too, which finally starts to take notice of them, "Pearly-Dewdrops' Drops" is included on a new EP, The Spangle Maker, further enriched by the title track and by the new, soft, dreamy lullaby "Pepper-Tree".

At this stage the band mainly uses the shorter EP format to experiment and develop its ideas. There will be as many as eight of them between 1982 and 1986. Short works that would lay the definitive groundwork for the Cocteau sound, such as Aikea-Guinea from 1985 (its title taken from the Scots colloquial nickname for "shell"), powered by the title track's fairy-tale, crescendo-building melodies, Tiny Dynamine (with the precious delay-soaked guitar embroidery of "Pink Orange Red" and the cadenced, echo-drenched liturgy of "Plained Tiger"), the abstract Echoes In A Shallow Bay from 1985 (with the slow-motion litany of "Pale Clouded White" and the eccentric "Melonella", whose lyrics consist entirely of scientific butterfly names) and the even more evanescent Love's Easy Tears (1986).

With multi-instrumentalist Simon Raymonde now permanently on board, the band hits on their defining record with Treasure (1984). An elegant, intricate work, all lace, silk and embroidery, in keeping with the imagery suggested by its gorgeous cover. Fraser follows in the footsteps of avant-garde vocalists like Laurie Anderson and Meredith Monk, unleashing an astonishing repertoire. On every track she seems to "duet" with herself, alternating the nervous, agitated tone of the early albums with fairy-like, weightless, unattainable trills, following in the footsteps of Kate Bush. The two musicians back her perfectly, building fantastical "sets" for her, shimmering with rare beauty and allure: Guthrie's chiming guitar, Raymonde's "liquid" bass and their baroque arrangements, with an archaic, unreal, almost alien flavour, together construct a music that is extremely sophisticated and at the same time splendidly spontaneous, almost naive: Cocteau Twins' sonic quest is cultured and immensely precious, yet it's also driven by an underlying impulse of childlike, irrepressible anarchy.

What matters, more than the individual songs, is the emotional impact of sounds so pure, airy and crystalline; it's the triumph of form over substance, perhaps, but certainly not form for its own sake. Total freedom is Cocteau Twins' watchword, the goal being a work that is pure "beauty" and creativity, unbound by any metrical or harmonic constraint.

Each track thus gets to unfold through genuine sonic spectacles, like "Lorelei", a joyous nursery rhyme, an astonishing visionary dance, in which Fraser raises her trilling to unimaginable heights: the image that comes to mind is of a little girl marvelling at the wonders and magic materialising before her eyes. Even more thrilling is "Amelia", a more subdued, unsettled track that seals the group's mission: no longer a "song" as such, since it lacks a beginning, a development and an ending, but a free flight by Fraser, left to drift gently through an arcane night mist, evoking spectral, haunted landscapes. The baroque enchantment of "Lorelei" recurs in "Aloysius", but in a more rarefied, intimate dimension, in a sweet, dreamy air.

There's no shortage, though, of more markedly "rock" moments: the opening "Ivo", a splendid, cadenced and intriguing ballad, the dramatic, gorgeous "Persephone", the only explicit nod to the darkwave sound of the first two records, and finally the shadowy, jittery "Cicely". Among the more experimental passages, the austere madrigal of "Beatrix" stands out, teleporting the listener into a medieval court populated by elegant ladies and minstrels, wizards and jugglers: at the opposite ends come the gentle, velvety elegance of "Pandora" and the menacing ambient incursion of "Otterley", with Fraser disguised as an enchanting siren who, amid languid guitar arpeggios and the sound of the surf, casts her whispered, sensual and deadly call. Until the epic "Donimo" arrives to bring it all to a close, amid chivalric choirs and solemn electronic drones, amid guitar apotheoses and a stormy electronic pulse, all of it furrowed throughout by Fraser's ecstatic, enchanted trilling.

Treasure is a work of impeccable musical value, but of even greater emotional value: few albums can boast such refinement and such allure, or offer such enchanting, wonderful temporary escapes from reality. Listening to it is like taking refuge in a wholly "other" dimension, opening an ancient, mysterious casket, brimming with colours and visions, with dreams and spells. Treasure is total artifice and naive spontaneity at once, a game that is highly intellectual and shamelessly simple, the joy of making and listening to music in its most genuine state. It includes an underlying anarchy, in a sense distilled by its very compositional methods: "Elizabeth has no respect whatsoever for my and Simon's arrangements," Guthrie would recall with irony, "she shows up at the worst possible moment and starts singing exactly when we think it's wrong. And the result is much better."

For the following album, Victorialand, however, Cocteau Twins have to do without Raymonde, who is busy recording the second album by the supergroup This Mortal Coil, another flagship name on 4AD. For this reason Fraser and Guthrie decide to give their music a different stamp, doing away with percussion entirely to leave room only for chiming, heavily reverbed guitars and the odd flash of horns, alongside the singer's voice, which here too delights in delivering indecipherable lyrics. The result is a predominantly acoustic sound, bordering on ambient music, paired with wintry themes. The album's very title refers to a particular region in Antarctica, known as Victoria Land, under British dominion.

Recorded entirely at the band's new studio, September Sound in London, the album is a somewhat icy exercise in elegance and sonic sophistication. In the intricate arrangement of "Lazy Calm", introduced by Richard Thomas's sax, Fraser whispers her dreamlike lines over soft guitar arpeggios, while on "Whale Tails" her sighs reverberate in a magical vortex of echoes, amid delirious fantasy phonemes ("Cim keel makilagh teluxa sulomegh yeilck vola-vola coco la fullagh me-nag" — as she would transcribe the lyric for BBC Radio 1 in 1994).

Music of polar abstraction, growing ever more diaphanous and intangible, letting only the odd nod to muse Kate Bush slip through ("Oomingmak") and a slender thread of Eastern folk ("Feet-like Fins"), occasionally brushing against celestial ecstasy ("The Thinner The Air"). "Throughout The Dark Months Of April And May", on the other hand, goes back to indulging in fairy-tale settings, veering into sounds reminiscent of a medieval-style madrigal, close to those of label-mates Dead Can Dance.

The lyrics are by now completely subservient to the musicality of the voice: "I wrote real lyrics for Garlands and Head Over Heels, and partly for Treasure, but after that it was just about sound," Fraser would admit.

Raymonde returns on the new full-length, Moon And Melodies (1986), recorded with Harold Budd. A work that links Budd's classic phrasing to the euphoric, dreamy melodies of the Scottish band. The album, heavily electronic, alternates convincing moments ("Sea, Swallow Me", in which Fraser dreams of being swallowed by the waters; the spectral "The Ghost Has No Home") with experiments that don't quite come off ("Eyes Are Mosaics"), though the winning pairing of Guthrie's guitar and Budd's keyboards keeps the listening experience in a pleasant, romantic mood throughout.

Guesting on a few tracks is Richard Thomas, saxophonist with fellow 4AD stablemates Dif Juz, who occasionally accompany Cocteau Twins in live performances.

It's instead Blue Bell Knoll (1988) that marks a new shift of gears in the British band's career: thanks to a deal with Capitol, for the first time the Cocteau Twins' sound is exported beyond Europe and lands in the United States. And these are sounds of rare preciousness. Guthrie unveils a thrilling arsenal, with harpsichord flourishes, hints of xylophone and a handful of blazing, acidic guitars circling the driving rhythms of a reinvigorated Raymonde. And towering over everything, as ever, is Fraser's adamantine voice, sketching mottled melodic frescoes of arcane allure.

Lending extra lustre to the record above all is the poignant title track, one of their absolute masterpieces, with its Arabic-tinged tonalities and the mesmeric warbling of a sumptuous Fraser, who illuminates breathtaking melodic treasures. A spell of purity and devotion.

There's no shortage of other standout moments, though, such as the shadowy "The Itchy Gloubo Blow", in which the singer shows off piercing high notes in the style of Kate Bush, the new, tender incursion into celestial landscapes of "For Phoebe Still A Baby", and the catchy single "Carolyn's Fingers", another prodigious sequence of Fraser's alien vocalisations over crepuscular landscapes: it would go on to boost the band's fame thanks to its inclusion in a famous Honda Civic advert, confirming how, by the end of the magical Eighties decade, Cocteau Twins' music had by then managed to break through everywhere. Then again, tracks like "Suckling The Mender" and "Kissed Out Red Floatboat" are nothing less than flawless pop ballads. So simple and catchy that some hardline early fans will turn up their noses. In truth, on closer inspection, melodic gift has always been an extra weapon in the band's arsenal, as has their knack for coining instantly gripping, music-box-like refrains, even within intricate structures.
But the more avant-garde vocation hasn't been lost either, as confirmed by more experimental pieces such as "Athol-Brose", with voices doubling and intertwining as if in an embrace, "Ella Megalast Burls Forever", almost a nocturnal spell lit by the moon, and "Spooning Good Singing Gum", which sways flexibly between fluid, ethereal textures.

Overall, Blue Bell Knoll marks a fine last hurrah for Fraser and co., who manage to regenerate their sound, synthesising and blending together all the variants that had emerged over the years.

Fearing, however, that the formula might now seem predictable, the band attempts a few successful changes on Heaven Or Las Vegas (1990), which ushers in the new decade: rhythm finds room again thanks to a drum set, and Fraser sings in English, giving up her abstract chants. The result is the hit "Cherry-Coloured Funk", another of their magical chants lost in a hypnotic whirl of delayed guitars. The future of trip-hop is practically just around the corner. But the whole album is tight, with sounds that are always well-calibrated and alluring, epitomised by the equally captivating title track, as well as by the poignant pathos of "I Wear Your Ring".

The dominant theme in the lyrics is the birth of Fraser and Guthrie's daughter, Lucy-Belle, a fact that in itself marks a clear shift from the band's style, which had favoured nonsense songs, leaving it mostly to the sounds to do the communicating. With Guthrie grappling with serious drug addiction problems, Raymonde's role in composing the tracks also grows, as does his role in performance.

The dark darkwave sounds of their origins have by now completely dissolved into their opalescent litanies, even if some denser textures, such as those of the electronic "Fifty-Fifty Clown" and the incisive "Road, River And Rail", let that old spark of madness flicker through for a moment.

Everything is far more composed and polished. Even Fraser's singing seems more under control, except for the sweet delirium of "Frou-Frou Foxes In Midsummer Fires", in which the singer once again becomes a conjurer of sounds and words, managing to cast a spell through the sheer force of her voice, flying free above a nebula of guitars.

But another event shakes up the history of Cocteau Twins: right after calling Heaven Or Las Vegas "the best album 4AD ever released," Ivo Watts Russell is forced to let go of the thoroughbred band of his roster, who are determined to break free from his record-label logic and from its inevitably niche scope. The split, finalised at the end of 1990, caused a stir, leaving the many admirers of the British label stunned, since it was precisely around the exploits of Fraser and co. that it had built its aesthetic and much of its fortune.

But leaving their historic label also comes at a cost for Cocteau Twins, who would never again recapture the magic of the years spent under the shadow of the 4AD imprint.

Four-Calendar Café (1993), released on Fontana/Mercury and titled after William Least Heat-Moon's book "Blue Highways: A Journey into America," disappointed expectations, swerving abruptly toward pop without having many arrows left in its quiver on the catchiness front either, which curdles into blandness with the two mawkish singles "Evangeline" and "Bluebeard".

The attempt to marry diaphanous arrangements with a pop attitude yields a few classy numbers (the atmospheric "Essence", the soft-edged "Squeeze-Wax"), as polished as they are, ultimately, predictable, while Fraser's vocal gifts remain largely under-used, resurfacing only occasionally through the delay-drenched haze of "Oil Of Angels".

Tracks like "My Truth", with distorted guitars, drum machine and a gentle xylophone underpinning the vocals, and "Summerhead", the liveliest track of the bunch, with drums, bass and guitars setting the pace, try to raise the emotional stakes.

The lyrics, by now far more narrative and structured, once again tackle themes tied to motherhood ("no threats, no fights, Lucy, Lucy", Fraser sings on "Oil Of Angels"), but also thornier subjects like sexual abuse (the aching, glacially slow "Theft, And Wandering Around Lost").

Aware of the difficulties, partly stemming from the strain on the Guthrie-Fraser relationship, the band returns to shorter formats to search for new solutions. The two 1995 EPs reveal the two faces of a project that seems to have dangerously lost its identity: Twinlights is acoustic and stripped-back, four pieces for piano and guitar that forgo studio effects entirely; Otherness, on the other hand, heads in the opposite direction, handing Mark Clifford of Seefeel the task of remixing some of the band's tracks in an electronic vein.

These are experiments that nonetheless prove the group's vitality, clearly uneasy outside the friendly waters of 4AD, but still willing to take risks and update their sound to the times.

The process is refined on the following album, Milk And Kisses (1995), on which Cocteau Twins also try their hand at more fashionable sounds, like the nascent trip-hop (itself deeply influenced by them, incidentally), on the biting single "Rilkean Heart", dedicated to Jeff Buckley (Fraser herself had also paid tribute to his father, Tim Buckley, with a celebrated cover of "Song To The Siren" on "It'll End in Tears", the 1984 album by This Mortal Coil).

Overall, one can sense the band's attempt to abandon the easy structures of its predecessor, bringing back more driving rhythms and more layered compositions. Successful pieces like "Violaine", "Half-Gifts" and "Tishbite" turn out to be a dignified compromise between past and present, while the evocative "Serpent Skirt" is perhaps the track that comes closest to their classic sound, helped along by yet another vocal feat from Fraser.

There's no shortage of soporific filler, like "Ups" and "Calfskin-Smack", but the album, all things considered, closes in glory, thanks to the elegant ballad triptych "Eperdu"-"Treasure Hiding"-"Seekers Who Are Lovers", with effects-laden guitar underpinning Liz's mesmeric vocals.

The crisis also spills into Elizabeth Fraser's private life: gripped by a nervous breakdown, she is forced into a series of psychoanalysis sessions and a harsh reckoning with her past: "I didn't understand what was wrong — she would later reveal — I had to come to terms with bulimia. And in therapy, in the United States, I got confirmation that my problems were connected to the abuse I suffered as a child". Elizabeth would in fact reveal that she was sexually abused by her stepfather and thrown out of the house at just 16.

The best moments of the Nineties, then, come mainly from other avenues. Like contributions to the soundtracks of the films "Dredd" (the icy "Need Fire") and "Whit" (the enchanting "Alice"), and Fraser's collaborations with Craig Armstrong (the single "This Love") and Massive Attack (the splendid "Teardrop", along with the no less precious "Black Milk" and "Group Four", all featured on the landmark "Mezzanine").

The breakup of Cocteau Twins simply acknowledges the state of things: the band officially calls it quits in 1997, in the midst of work on a ninth album that would never be released.

The one who comes out ahead is Elizabeth Fraser, who becomes one of the most sought-after voices on the global rock scene. She goes on to collaborate with many artists, including Future Sound of London and Peter Gabriel, while also writing songs for the soundtracks of various films, such as "In Dreams", "Cruel Intentions", "The Winter Guest" and "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring". In 2005 she also takes part in Yann Tiersen's album "Les Retrouvailles".

But the other two band members also go their separate ways. Guthrie, together with Raymonde, founds the record label Bella Union and begins making records on his own or in collaboration with Harold Budd, as well as soundtracks ("Mysterious Skin") and various other projects, including a fine album with John Foxx of Ultravox! ("Mirrorball") and a band with little following called Violet Indiana. Raymonde, too, continues his career in music, mainly as a producer and sound engineer, as well as within the ranks of Snowbird.

In 2005, at the height of the dream-pop revival, 4AD pays tribute to one of the bands that shaped its history, releasing the massive Lullabies To Violaine (2005), a four-disc box set containing (almost) all the Cocteau Twins material never released in LP format. It's almost superfluous to add that this is an essential compendium for getting a full picture of the group's output, capable — as we have seen — of hiding some of its most striking experiments precisely within its EPs and singles.

Although entire generations of musicians tried their hand at it in the years that followed, no one ever came even remotely close to matching the magic, the wonder, the ancestral and unreal enchantment conjured by the sound of Cocteau Twins. A sound that was unique, different, unmatched. And even when its echo eventually fades, there will always remain the memory of all the musical dreams that the Scottish band managed to bring to life.

Contributions by Mauro Roma (“Treasure”), Riccardo Zanichelli (“The Moon And The Melodies”)

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