A Sorcerer’s Dream adds more lore to the sonic mythology of soft-psych voyager Michael Angelo. Written and recorded in close proximity with his celebrated 1977 self-titled debut, this sophomore effort didn’t find its way into the world until decades later, taking on a mysterious life of its own before Anthology Recordings sent a signal back out into the world in 2013 via the album’s standout single “Nubian Queen.” This small spark rippled out into what became a full-blown digital renaissance of Angelo’s cosmic folk sound, with Dream now finally taking its place as a fully realized piece of that realm.
Angelo’s first album is both a wunderkind statement and something like a prelude to A Sorcerer’s Dream. Where the former captured the young artist working by instinct and largely on-the-fly (an energy undoubtedly and wonderfully informed by the fact that the material was recorded in the hazy off hours between jobs while working as an in-house session man), Dream finds Angelo slowing down and settling a bit deeper into himself and his vision. The material was extensively rehearsed and reshaped alongside drummer and close collaborator Frank Gautieri before being committed to tape at Kansas City’s Big K Records in 1976, where, incidentally, he also held a day job at the time.
Though Angelo counted the songs on Dream among some of his all-time favorites, curiously (or perhaps cosmically) they remained unheard for over two decades, eventually surfacing in 1999 thanks to Void Records’ Brian Hulitt, who gave the album its first vinyl pressing. Nearly three decades even further on, that long and surprising dormancy feels almost fitting. The album moves at its own pace and by its own fantastical logic, untethered from any fixed style or sound, and drifting easily between all of the vaguely magical moments that anchor it.
Emerging from the mind of a 20-year-old luminary coming of age during the spun-out 70s, themes of space travel, mythology, and sorcery abound. Album opener "Sorcerer's Delight” is pure otherworldly pop, while a little while later “Time Warp” slips into a theatrical, cabaret-tinged strut that lands perfectly and eternally askew. There’s barely a blink before “The Very First Time” settles into a humble love ballad, while sister song “Love is Too High” carries itself away on a candid homage to the crooners that guided Angelo and his teenage friends to name their local rock band Norwegian Wood. Album closers “Rainy Day Parade” and “Dreamfest” are later additions recorded in the 90s with his band Synifus, and carry the record out on an uncannily electric glow heavy with a grit and weft picked up through the 80s.
In the years since, traces of Dream have continued to surface, perhaps most memorably in a now well-loved sample woven into Dean Blunt’s 2012 track “Galice.” It’s a testament to how Angelo’s work remains so wistfully of its moment while continually reaching beyond into a time warp much larger and more obscure. This is songwriting that thinks beyond the universe, and in doing so manages to leave a hypnotic trail of stardust in its wake.