Manos Hadjidakis and the "Waltz of the Lost Dreams"

The following text is about a music piece I really love. The original text was written in Greek, by the Greek blogger Yannis H. I just loved Yannis H.'s comment and I felt like translating in English, in order to share it with foreigners, who do not know about this music piece or about Manos Hadjidakis. My English is far from being perfect. For this reason, I strongly suggest that you should look for the original Greek text, in case you speak Greek.

Just one thing I would want to mention: I omitted the last paragraph of Yanni H’s post, I have added one sentence at the end of this post, and I didn’t paraphrase Elytis (which is what Yannis H did in his original post.) You see, I didn’t feel like paraphrasing Elytis…

Manos Hadjidakis and the "Waltz of the Lost Dreams"

Some people call him “Manos” – I can’t do that. If I am to approach him, I need the distance created by the use of his surname. He is not “my man”, even though he speaks to my heart. He is someone who has ascended to am other higher level, in order to include me. Hence, this guy cannot be called “Manos”. His name is “Hadjidakis”. Or perhaps, “Mr. Hadjidakis” – this would be even better. The more we keep our distance from those who express the deepest feelings of our hearts, the more we keep our distance from the geniuses of art, the more we understand our own calibre. And this way, we do not fall into the pit of considering all people as belonging to the same level.

I would like to speak about a music piece, which impressed since the very first moment I heard it long ago. And I am going to begin, by expressing my oldest question: Why “The Waltz of the Lost Dreams?” A mere carousel it is... An exceptional one, of course – tender to the point that it hurts you, arrestingly beautiful. But it is an endless musical phrase – and by saying “endless” I mean without an end, without a conclusion. It remains open. And that’s why it repeats itself again and again, as if it wants to complete itself. And this way it becomes endless with the other sense if this word: it becomes incessant.

The same phrase over and over again? But this would be boring, wouldn’t it? And here comes the other virtue of the musician’s art: the orchestration. The melody rises, flairs, rockets and then it falls again, landing on its feet, on the soft sound of the piano’s keys. (It is amazing: if you listen carefully, you will see that while the orchestra plays crescendo, the guitar is playing the same accords it was playing a while ago, accompanying the piano.) In tales (and carousels are such tales) there is no room for accuracy and logic. And if the “magician” wants the weak guitar to be heard together with the vigil orchestra, nobody will forbid him to do that; and to none will this sound peculiar.

And the piano (those magical fingers!): it is heard at the beginning of the piece, and then again it is heard when the melody “lands”, when the music piece is being dissolved to the components by which it was created. And in both cases, it sounds as if it was an other instrument. And what an instrument! It sounds like a barrel-organ!

Hadjidakis starts talking about “lost dreams” by taking us from a symbol which is very familiar to us and represents “what has been lost”: a barrel-organ. It has some extra features, but it is always the same monotonous and open melody, which is dominating throughout the whole music piece. A melody which never ends – there is always something that you owe to it; or it is the melody that owes to you…

But which are the elements, which brings to our minds the "Lost Dreams" and the unfulfilled wishes, together with the feeling of sorrow which comes with them? Is it just the barrel-organ, bearing the patina of “what is old and has been lost”, combined with this open, repetitive and endless melody? It seems that there is something more: it is the combination of the orchestration together with the emotion, which gives you this feeling. When the orchestra plays crescendo, the sorrow of the "unfulfilled wishes” becomes more intense, more imposing – it becomes almost epic. And when everything calms down again, it looks as if you are not thinking about it any more; although it is smouldering afflictively in your heart, just like the soft keys of the piano.

The 'carousel' fits well with this kind of music – actually it is not a kind of music at all, it is rather a musical accompaniment. All carousels, which are turning around within a miniature landscape, they have a small, repetitive music.

And, literally, a carousel’s journey is an impasse one: it consists of never-ending circles, which lead you to nowhere. You never “arrive” to a specific destination – there is just a moment, in which the music is lost just like that. (Yes, it does not “end”, it does not “close”. It is just lost.)

Which kid would ever say that a ride on the carousel was perfect? Which kid would ever say that his journey had a conclusion, that he has reached to the point he wanted? Which kid would ever say that he wouldn’t want one round more?

It is this puerility and this feeling of sorrow for our "unfulfilled wishes" that permeates this work – a feeling which is totally alien to our square everyday life. In this music piece, each round is given in a way which implies that it has no end; each turn encloses its own import – perhaps its own fantasy. And each fantasy lives till the end of the turn that encloses it. In fact, all these turns are desperately similar to each other. Is it perhaps the same monotonous sorrow of a lost dream? Or is it a sequence of lost dreams, all of which are leaving us the same bitter taste? It is in your hand to choose the explanation you prefer.

While we are listening to this music piece, the sound of the music takes us to a “personal carousel of our own”. We are turning round and round, and each round is different from each other; yet, also similar to each other. It is just the way things used to be in the past…

But we are also experiencing all these things through a waltz, which is an adult’s dance… For we are not kids any more – we are adults. We have tasted the “forbidden fruit”, we have left from the Heaven. We are adults, regardless of whether we are charmed by the sound of the music, regardless of whether we feel like kids just because of the emotions and the memories of the past. And indeed: this is the “Waltz of the Lost Dreams”. And it is for some people, who are still young, although they have grown up.

And by remembering the Puerile Paradise, do you taste actually this paradise for one more time? Or you just taste the Adulthood’s Hell? And what is the thing that prevails? The Dream? Or the loss of the Dream? The answer to this question is not an easy one – perhaps there is no answer at all.

Odysseas Elytis said: “From ‘what really is’ to ‘what might be’, you are crossing a bridge which takes you from Hell to Heaven. And what a bizarre thing: this Heaven is made with the same material, with which Hell is made as well. It is just the way these materials are laid out, which makes all the difference.”

Who knows? Perhaps growing older is merely the passing of this bridge to the opposite direction…

(This article was written for the version of the "Waltz of the Lost Dreams" which is found in the LP "30 Nocturnes". However, the original music piece was composed for the needs of the movie "Lost Dreams". There is also a third version, about which I cannot give any further information, since I do not know anything about it. Finally, in the aforementioned movie there is an other version of this music piece, bearing the title “A barrel-organ in the alley”. In that version the organ is distant at the beginning, it comes closer to you and then it stops by your side. It sounds as if there was a barrel-organ player, who has come to you, in order to ask for a dime.)


You can listen to it online...


The version of the LP "30 Nocturnes"


The original version


The third version


A barrel-organ in the alley