Hidden Fort - Dreams from the Roller Palace

A Closer Listen

Dreams from the Roller Palace celebrates a nearly-forgotten part of British history.  London’s Maida Vale Studios is famous as the home of thousands of BBC sessions taking place over the course of the last 90 years.  One might never know, save for a glance at the spacious interior, that it was once London’s premiere roller skating rink ~ not in the 1970s, the heart of the disco era, but from 1909-12.  The upscale Maida Vale Roller Skating Palace and Club boasted an astounding 750-seat cafe and was the toast of high society until it all came crashing down.

By using vintage instruments, the London-Tokyo duo Hidden Fort attempt to capture not only an era, but a vibe. The Steinway grand, Mustel celeste, Rhodes electric piano, vibraphone and organ suggest a genteel atmosphere, perhaps with a tea bar, clients testing out their wheels while in fashionable attire, the ladies careful not to tumble, locked arm-in-arm or simply waiting in the rafters to be noted by an affable suitor.  “Wheels” and “Roller Skating Craze” are their tracks, one slow, one sweet.  Were the skaters moving to the music of Henry Burr or the Haydn Quartet, Sousa or Stanley & Stevenson?  Was there music at all?

But there’s also a sadness to the music, a recognition that no one who frequented the rink is still alive.  Every skating spirit has become a ghost along with the rink itself.  “Gallery of Past Selves” is the first such track to appear, plaintive piano testifying to the turnover.  Perhaps, on the ethereal plane, the ghosts still skate, still flirt, still ache desperately to be seen.  In “Ghost Image,” one can almost hear them between the notes.

Fnally there is darkness, remembering “the destruction of green spaces that preceded London’s sprawl” and the changing hands of Maida Vale ownership.  “Before the Palace” is the set’s drone-drenched undercurrent, a tonal shift that is soon abandoned, but not forgotten.  The BBC will be leaving next year, the property sold to famous film scorer Hans Zimmer and Steven Kofsky.  The final piece, “Auction, Empty,” recalls the times in-between, when the aching halls were vacant, A century later, if one strains, one can still hear the sound of wheels on wood.  (Richard Allen)

Tue Oct 15 00:01:13 GMT 2024