Long before the composer Vangelis became famous for the sweeping scores of Chariots of Fire and Blade Runner, he recorded one of his strangest and most elusive works: a 1971 album titled Fais que ton rêve soit plus long que la nuit. Part protest document, part symphonic poem, it was born out of the turmoil of France’s May 1968 rebellion. I stumbled across it years ago in the form of a scratchy MP3 rip, and what began as casual curiosity soon turned into a quiet obsession. The record has remained obscure—never reissued, rarely mentioned, and impossible to find on streaming platforms—yet it continues to haunt me.
Its obscurity has bred rumors. Some say Vangelis was embarrassed by it and rejected the ideas it contained; others point to a very limited release in France and Greece. In the current era of streaming, it isn’t available. I’ve never been able to track down a physical copy. I still listen to my old MP3s, but I’ve since found a better recording on archive.org.
But beyond its scarcity, what makes the record remarkable is how it blends art and politics into a single sonic experiment. Fais Que Ton Rêve Soit Plus Long Que La Nuit mixes Vangelis’ compositions with sounds he recorded on the barricades in May 1968. The record sleeve describes it as a “’Poème symphonique” or “symphonic poem” which is an accurate description. I’ve always found the album to be quite compelling. Musically, it is rather chaotic with a background of sounds of street battles (tear gas containers, sirens, shouting, etc) with fragments of spoken dialog alongside rather haunting lyrics chanting the slogans of the day. It captures the excitement of the era, the euphoria of believing that the protests have won, and then ends with the somber announcement that French President Charles DeGaulle is re-taking control of Paris and that the occupied university, the Sorbonne, at the heart of the rebellion had been retaken by government forces. The lyrics highlight the revolutionary ideas of the time, drawing heavily from the posters that lined the streets.
More than fifty years later, this strange “symphonic poem” still feels alive—half revolutionary echo, half forgotten artifact. It captures a moment of euphoria, defiance, and eventual disillusion, etched into sound. If you can track it down, even in a dusty corner of the Internet, it’s worth the listen.