The piano entry is warm, but it's a little unexpected to begin the song at such an early stage. Slowly, the gated snare and synth pads join her, but they don't push. They wait. That's what makes ‘Echoes of Paradise' different from other songs constructed like this, that's the patience.
The strings are behind her and her voice remains soft and intimate in the verse. Then the chorus asks, “Can anyone hear me? Can anyone see me?” Behind the two questions, the orchestra opens up. It's an unusual moment. The verses are careful and understated, the bigger parts are large because of that.
As the song begins to become louder, I begin to notice how the space around the song seems to shift. She's playing alone for a moment and the acoustic guitar is close enough for you to hear the texture of her breathing between the lines. Then it expands outwards to something broad and almost film-like, more at home on a screen than a speaker. However, it does not sound like it's forced.
The song then steps back at the bridge, which is significant since you know this arrangement is willing to go a long way. The stillness is no longer peaceful, but tense. The last chorus repeats at the end but it's not just a repeat. The song is like it's completing a sentence that began with the first piano chord.
The 80s music is always there. It's in the background but it's not the main thing. It's really more of a colour thing. I can't recall the chorus, even though it was big. What stays with me is the little question in the middle of all the weight of the orchestra, loud enough for me to hear, but not quite loud enough for the strings to swallow. There is also something hopeful underneath it all, even when the song feels quiet and tense.
.jpg)
_album_cover.jpg)