Nosferatu - Nosferatu (1970)

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Nosferatu - Nosferatu (1970)

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By the time it was finally made available on CD, nearly three decades after its original vinyl release in 1970, Nosferatu's sole LP had entered the shady realm of cult appreciation; a strange state where an album's true merits and shortcomings are often obscured by the mists of time, ever-shifting popular tastes, and – since we're talking the late '60s here – seriously drug-faded brain cells. To put this in the form of a question: when the plastic hits the turntable and the hundred dollar eBay payments drain one's bank account, does reality actually match the hype? Well, given the widely divergent viewpoints that typically polarize such examples of early progressive rock, Nosferatu's flute-and-sax-heavy explorations are sure to segregate music fans into love/hate camps (think Focus, Gong, Jethro Tull, Van Der Graaf Generator, etc.), leaving very little room for amenable opinions in between. Especially since, with the exception of its unnaturally concise and restrained opener, "Highway," the eponymous album's remaining five cuts tend to be as questionably long-winded as they are daringly eclectic; abusing the progressive genre's well intentioned spirit of experimentation with what frequently sounds, not like visionary songwriting, but spontaneous improvisation – and anyone can do that. Eleven-minute brain-twister "Willie the Fox" exemplifies this quandary with its intrepid but often clumsy hopscotch across such different styles as hard rock, Krautrock, prog rock, acid rock, jazz fusion – you name it – while coming off rather like the Mothers of Invention at times with its percussive blocks and prevalent sax and flute flights courtesy of Christian Felke. His presence is also dominant on the slightly more disciplined "Vanity Fair" and the quite terrible, clearly thrown-together "No. 4," whose title, or lack thereof, really says it all, and where his sax sometimes sounds like a wounded goose. Much better are "Found My Home," which finally makes some room for guitarist Michael Meixn to prove his mettle, and "Work Day" which raises eyebrows with its captivating midsection built on ambient and abstract sounds. In the end, Nosferatu's free-form sins make it difficult to justify the hype when serious money starts changing hands, but then, there are plenty of folks who'll find its spur of the moment feel far more exciting than more structured and consistent examples from the same era. And, regardless of opinion, the Nosferatu cult will no doubt live on.

by Eduardo Rivadavia, allmusic

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Nosferatu - Nosferatu (1970)

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Nosferatu - Nosferatu (1970)

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