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**Harmonium - L'Heptade**
★★★★☆

In the annals of progressive rock history, certain albums emerge like forgotten cathedrals, their spires reaching toward musical heavens that mainstream audiences never quite glimpsed. L'Heptade, the ambitious 1976 double album from Quebec's Harmonium, stands as one such monument – a breathtaking fusion of French-Canadian folk mysticism and symphonic rock grandeur that deserves to be whispered in the same reverent tones reserved for Close to the Edge or The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway.

By the mid-seventies, Harmonium had already established themselves as the crown jewels of Quebec's burgeoning progressive scene. Founded by the visionary Serge Fiori in 1972, the band had weathered the departure of key members and evolved from acoustic folk troubadours into full-blown orchestral architects. Their previous effort, Si On Avait Besoin d'une Cinquième Saison, had hinted at grander ambitions, but nothing could have prepared listeners for the sheer scope of L'Heptade.

The album's genesis reads like a fever dream of artistic ambition colliding with practical reality. Fiori, inspired by everything from medieval French poetry to Eastern philosophy, conceived L'Heptade as a seven-movement suite exploring themes of spiritual awakening and cosmic consciousness. The band decamped to London's Trident Studios, where they worked alongside engineer Malcolm Toft (who had previously twiddled knobs for David Bowie and The Beatles) to craft their magnum opus. The sessions were reportedly intense affairs, with Fiori pushing his bandmates to their creative limits while wrestling with arrangements that demanded everything from Mellotron orchestrations to tabla percussion.

Musically, L'Heptade exists in its own ethereal dimension, where Genesis's theatrical grandeur meets the pastoral beauty of Fairport Convention, all filtered through a distinctly Quebecois sensibility. This is prog rock as spiritual journey, where ten-minute epics unfold with the patience of ancient rituals. Fiori's vocals, delivered entirely in French, possess an otherworldly quality that transforms even the most complex instrumental passages into something approaching religious experience.

The album's opening movement, "Comme un Sage," immediately establishes the band's expanded sonic palette. Layers of acoustic guitars interweave with haunting flute melodies and subtle synthesizer washes, creating an atmosphere that's both intimate and cosmic. It's a masterclass in dynamics, building from whispered confessions to thunderous crescendos that would make Robert Fripp weep with envy.

But it's the epic "L'Heptade" itself – a sprawling twenty-minute centerpiece – where the band truly spreads its wings. Beginning with delicate acoustic fingerpicking that recalls early King Crimson, the piece gradually incorporates everything from Middle Eastern percussion to full orchestral arrangements. Michel Normandeau's guitar work throughout is particularly stunning, shifting effortlessly between gentle folk strumming and soaring lead lines that seem to channel the very essence of the Canadian wilderness.

"Histoires Sans Paroles" showcases the band's more experimental tendencies, with backwards vocals and treated instruments creating a dreamlike soundscape that predates the ambient music movement by several years. Meanwhile, "Depuis l'Automne" offers perhaps the album's most accessible moment – a relatively straightforward (by L'Heptade standards) folk ballad that demonstrates Fiori's gift for melody even within the album's more challenging framework.

The album's production deserves special mention, with Toft capturing every nuance of the band's expanded instrumentation while maintaining the intimate feel that made their earlier work so compelling. The mix places Fiori's vocals prominently without sacrificing the intricate interplay between guitars, keyboards, and the ever-present Mellotron that provides much of the album's orchestral color.

Tragically, L'Heptade would prove to be Harmonium's final statement. Creative tensions and commercial pressures led to the band's dissolution shortly after the album's release, leaving behind a small but devoted following and this singular artistic achievement. In Quebec, the album has achieved near-mythical status, regularly appearing on lists of the province's greatest musical achievements. Internationally, however, L'Heptade remains criminally overlooked, perhaps a victim of its French lyrics and the general decline of progressive rock in the late seventies.

Today, L'Heptade stands as a