Review Summary: Beyond the breakthrough, still searching for distinction
I have an awkward relationship with Villagers of Ioannina City. I admire
Riza, but the excitement surrounding its arrival in 2014 occasionally made it sound as though Greek folk music and amplified rock had never met before. Greek bands had been bringing folk traditions into rock since the 1970s, a history that much of the excitement seemed to overlook. Such enthusiasm said more about what listeners had discovered than what the Villagers had invented. Still, the band could hardly be blamed for the gaps in their audience’s record collections. Their debut deserved its success. Memorable riffs and an irresistible rhythmic bounce carried it well beyond the usual rock crowd, even onto radio stations with little interest in the genre. The flourishing stoner scene helped, but those songs could justify the attention on their own.
For many groups, a record as fully realised as
Riza might arrive three or four albums into a career. As their first release, it naturally created the impression that this particular blend would define everything the Villagers would go on to make.
Age of Aquarius challenged that expectation in 2019, pursuing a more spacious, progressive approach that suggested a different set of priorities. I respected the decision, even if the music left me unconvinced. Now, seven years later,
Venceremos brings more of their Greek heritage back into the picture while continuing along that exploratory route. There are good reasons to hear them out, though the album still struggles to establish an identity as persuasive as the one they chose to leave behind.
The new material wanders further into psychedelia than its predecessor, drawing heavy guitars and traditional instruments into its leisurely unfolding passages. Its Greek character is easier to recognise, particularly when the folk melodies become prominent enough to influence the mood of an entire passage. The spoken-word opening also briefly recalls the debut. Yet,
Venceremos remains a hybrid, with much of its writing belonging to the broader world of contemporary heavy and progressive rock. That combination makes sense for a band unwilling to repeat itself. It also places greater responsibility on the individual songs, which can no longer rely on the surprise their original formula once engendered.
The musicians certainly give those songs plenty of attention. Aris Giannopoulos’s drumming is especially welcome, full of fills and rhythmic variations that keep the longer stretches active. The martial introduction to
No Fear offers a particularly clear example of his ability to establish a mood before the rest of the arrangement develops. The heavier sections have a satisfying swing, and the guitars occasionally deliver a phrase or two that catches my ear. The beautiful solo in
Here and Now and the outro of
Requiem are both such key moments, giving their extended compositions a melodic focus that I wish appeared more often elsewhere. Such touches give me something to return to. They make
Venceremos a reasonably engaging listen even when the underlying material feels familiar.
My reservations concern how often that familiarity takes over. The riffs are there, the musicians can sustain a groove, and the songs develop at an unhurried pace. Too few of these ideas, however, leave much behind once the music stops. I often find myself appreciating the movement within a passage without developing much attachment to the song around it. A busy rhythm section can hold my attention for a while, but it cannot supply every memorable phrase. Across an hour of music, the shortage becomes difficult to overlook. The album has atmosphere and a convincing sense of scale, yet its more anonymous stretches could belong to any number of capable bands working in this territory.
That makes the stronger folk presence particularly valuable.
The Ruiner gains character from its traditional instrumentation, while the brief instrumental
Epitaph has a familiar Celtic flavour that fits naturally into the album’s overall mood. Both offer welcome reminders of how much expression the group can draw from folk traditions. These passages help the album feel connected to a place, something the more conventional heavy sections do less convincingly. I would gladly hear the Villagers develop that relationship further without retracing the debut.
Venceremos already contains enough promising intersections to suggest that their broader ambitions and their regional influences can coexist. The frustration is how intermittently that promise becomes compelling music.
The conceptual framework does little to deepen my involvement. Its movement through exile, resistance and awakening, against a dystopian backdrop of control and false authority, appears to carry a political message. I cannot claim to have untangled all of it, and, frankly, it leaves me cold. The struggle for freedom gives the record a common subject, but I never become especially invested in its narrative. Listeners more receptive to that aspect may find a stronger connection between the songs. For me, the enjoyment continues to come from particular instrumental exchanges and melodies, with the surrounding story remaining at a distance.
I respect the Villagers for resisting the temptation to build a career around variations of
Riza. There was an obvious audience for more music in that mould, and moving away from it was hardly the easiest option.
Venceremos rewards that choice often enough to remain enjoyable, with lively performances and occasional flashes of the individuality I keep hoping to hear more consistently. Its shortcomings are nevertheless difficult to separate from those of
Age of Aquarius. The band have expanded their possibilities without yet writing enough distinctive songs to make this direction fully convincing. I have no wish to send them back to
Riza. I would simply like their next destination to give me as many reasons to stay.
Recommended tracks:
The Ruiner
No Fear
Here and Now
Requiem
