There are some albums that demand silence.
Not just because they are beautifully recorded, but because the music itself lives in the spaces between the notes. Supertramp’s Even In The Quietest Moments is one of those albums. It is an album of atmosphere, melody, reflection and contrast, and if a pressing is not up to scratch, you will know about it straight away.
This new vinyl reissue is the latest in the Supertramp reissue series, following Crime of the Century and Crisis? What Crisis? — both of which I featured recently. My own copies of those were excellent, though I did hear from some viewers who had not been quite so fortunate. That is the reality with vinyl, and it is why I approached this new pressing with a very critical ear.
I really wanted to put this one to the test.
So I played it properly. No background noise. No distractions. Good volume. Full attention. I sat there almost expecting to catch it out, waiting for those little flaws that can pull you out of the mood — the click, the pop, the bit of surface noise that suddenly feels huge on a record like this.
And I have to say, the copy I played was superb.
In fact, it was so quiet that it felt like putting a CD on. That is not something I say lightly, especially with an album like Even In The Quietest Moments, because this record really does expose everything. It has passages where the music breathes so delicately that the tiniest imperfection would make itself known. But on my copy, the pressing was absolutely first class.
This edition comes on 180g heavyweight black vinyl, and while the “180 gram” label is often used as a selling point more than a guarantee of quality, in this case the pressing itself really does deliver. Flat, quiet, and immersive — exactly what you want from an album like this.
And of course, then there is the music.
This has always been one of my favourite Supertramp albums. It captures that moment when the band still had one foot in a more expansive, slightly progressive world, while also moving towards the more immediate songwriting that would soon make Breakfast in America such a huge success. You can hear that balance all the way through this record.
For me, some of the real magic sits on side two.
“From Now On” is just glorious — one of those songs that pulls you in deeper each time you hear it. Then there is “Fool’s Overture”, which for me represents one of the last great moments of Supertramp stretching into something almost progressive and cinematic before the next phase of their career. It is ambitious, emotional and completely absorbing. A remarkable piece of music.
And then, of course, there is “Give a Little Bit”.
What a song. Warm, uplifting, beautifully written — and one of those tracks that somehow manages to sound simple and profound at the same time. It remains one of Supertramp’s most enduring songs for a reason.
What I like about this reissue is that it gives people another way into the album. Not everyone wants to spend time hunting down an original 1977 pressing on eBay or Discogs, hoping it has been well looked after for nearly fifty years. A new pressing like this offers a chance for newer vinyl buyers, or those just discovering Supertramp, to own a clean, fresh copy of a truly classic album.
Based on the pressing I received, this is a very welcome addition to the Supertramp vinyl reissue programme.
