Saturday, 4 May 1991

BRUNO CANFORA

Born: November 6th, 1924, Milan (Italy)
Died: August 6th, 2017, Tavernelle (Italy)
Nationality: Italian

In due course, the short impression below will be replaced with a more extensive career overview


BIOGRAPHY

Having graduated from the Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory in Milan with a diploma for oboe, Bruno Canfora followed private piano lessons with Alessandro Longo and Enzo Calace. During World War II, he started playing in jazz orchestras; after the war, he formed an orchestra of his own, with which he performed for the allied forces in Italy and Germany. From the late 1950s onwards, RAI, the Italian national broadcaster, regularly invites Canfora to work for television; he was, for example, musical director of the 1959 edition of Canzonissima. In 1961, he was one of two MD’s of the San Remo Festival. He also was the musical director of the 1988 and 1993 editions of this same song contest.

As a composer, Canfora wrote songs for Rita Pavone (e.g. ‘Fortissimo’), Mina (‘Zum zum zum’), Domenico Modugno (‘Come si fa a non volerti bene’, Festival Disco per l’Estate 1965), and Alice & Ellen Kessler (‘La notte è piccola’). In 1968,his composition ‘La vita’ was interpreted at the San Remo Festival by Elio Gandolfi and Shirley Bassey; eleven years later, the song was completely revamped for Bassey with a disco arrangement and became an international hit under its English title, ‘This Is My Life’. Moreover, Canfora wrote soundtracks and music for theatrical performances.

EUROVISION SONG CONTEST

Bruno Canfora was the musical director of the 1991 Eurovision Song Contest, held in Rome. His orchestra accompanied all twenty-two competing entries. For the Italian song ‘Comme è ddoce ‘o mare’, it was placed under Canfora’s direction; performed by Peppino di Capri, this Italian effort finished seventh.

EUROVISION INVOLVEMENT YEAR BY YEAR

Country – Italy
Song title – "Comme e' ddoce 'o mare"
Rendition – Peppino di Capri
Lyrics – Giampiero Artegiani / Marcello Marrocchi
Composition – Giampiero Artegiani / Marcello Marrocchi
Record arrangement – Adriano Pennino / Maurizio Pica
Live orchestration – Adriano Pennino / Maurizio Pica
Conductor – Bruno Canfora (MD)
Score – 7th place (89 votes)

ALEXANDER KIROV ZOGRAFOV (Александър Киров Зографов)

The following article is an overview of the career of multinational pianist , composer, arranger, and producer Alexander Kirov Zografov (Александър Киров Зографов). The main source of information are three interviews with Mr Zografov, conducted by Bas Tukker in January 2025. The article below is subdivided into two main parts; a general career overview (part 3) and a part dedicated to Alex Zografov’s Eurovision involvement (part 4).

All material below: © Bas Tukker / 2025


Contents
  1. Passport
  2. Short Eurovision record
  3. Biography
  4. Eurovision Song Contest
  5. Other artists about Alexander Kirov Zografov
  6. Eurovision involvement year by year
  7. Sources & links
PASSPORT

Born: Yambol (Bulgaria)
Nationality: Bulgarian / Canadian / Cypriot 

SHORT EUROVISION RECORD

Alexander ‘Alex’ Zografov, whose name was usually given as Άλεξ Ζωγράφου during the decade he lived and worked in Cyprus (1985-95), orchestrated and conducted the 1991 Cypriot Eurovision effort ‘S.O.S.’, composed by Cypros Charalambous and interpreted by Elena Patroclou. At the festival final held in Rome’s Cinecittà Studios, this Cypriot entry placed ninth in a field of 22 competitors.

BIOGRAPHY

Born in the southeastern part of Bulgaria, Alexander Kirov Zografov grew up in a multicultural family, which ended up in Bulgaria more or less accidentally. “My grandfather was an architect living in Constantinople, modern-day Istanbul,” Zografov explains. “He was one of the architects of the Ottoman sultan. His brother was the sultan’s private doctor. They were Thracians of mixed descent – with Bulgarian, Greek, and Turkish blood running through their veins. Then, in 1912, the Balkan Wars broke out. At the time, my father’s family was living an hour to the south of Adrianople, which is called Edirne nowadays. Running for their lives, they first tried to escape to Greece – but when the Greeks started shooting at them, they ran into Bulgaria instead. In a sense, they were refugees in Bulgaria. Other members of the family settled in Greece, France, Britain, and North America. They just dispersed and built up a new life.” 

“My father was an entrepreneur, running seven or eight businesses in Bulgaria, doing very well at all of them. Then, towards the end of World War II, the communists took over, which changed the dynamic of his life. He continued to run businesses, but under the radar. He sold cognacs, while also running restaurants and hotels. One particular trade that he specialised in was leather, for which he worked together with one of my aunts. Circumstances were difficult, though. One story which I was told was about a batch of sheepskin waistcoats, which they had stored in Sofia in 1945. One morning, my aunt walked onto the street and saw police officers all wearing her waistcoats. Without further thinking, she went straight to the office of Todor Zhivkov (later to become the strongman of communist Bulgaria for decades – BT) who was running the police at the time. She asked him if he had in mind to pay for the waistcoats. At that point, he pulled his gun and said, ‘Would you like to be paid? I can pay you. All I have to do is pull the trigger.’ That tells you something. Still, others got off worse. In the years after the war, the communists more or less wiped out Bulgaria’s intelligentsia, simply by shooting whole masses of them. They were the pride and joy of the country. Bulgaria is still reeling from that depletion of brainpower today.”

“My mother was born in Volos, Greece, but she grew up on the Bulgarian Black Sea coast. She could sing wonderfully with this exceptional, very deep contralto voice of hers. In fact, she had been invited to join the vocal ensemble of Filip Kutev, one of Bulgaria’s most renowned composers and a close friend of my father’s. However, my grandmother wouldn’t allow her to become a singer. She was a properly conservative woman who felt that good girls didn’t belong on stage. Sadly, this stopped the artistic courage my mother had in her. Her psychological health suffered badly as a result.”

“Being an adept businessman, my father kept a close eye on economic developments in Bulgaria. One day, the state declared another of many devaluations of the currency. Knowing what would happen, my father went out the day before it happened and bought a whole bunch of musical instruments; an accordion, a viola, a violin, a piano… whatever instruments he could lay his hands on – and he brought them into the house. Although I was too young to be taught music lessons, I remember the piano was the instrument which fascinated me most.”

“Then, aged three, I was adopted by my maternal aunt, who was a pianist living in Sofia. My mum had six kids and my aunt didn’t have any, so she adopted me and two others, just to help the family. That’s the way families functioned in the old days! After being adopted by her, I took the name of my maternal grandfather, which was Zografos in the Greek language, and Zografov in Bulgarian. Being a professional musician, she started training me right away. She gave me the choice between the piano and the violin; frankly, I didn’t care much for the violin, given that I had already fallen in love with the piano. I started learning the piano under my aunt’s supervision pretty early on, at the age of four.”

A very young Alex with his father during a holiday at the beach in Burgas, surrounded by three of his siblings

“When I was eleven years old, my aunt left for Canada. She had managed to retain her Greek passport, so she was allowed to go to Greece – and from Greece she went straight to Canada. She tried to get me and my siblings over a couple of times, but to no avail. That same year, my father also passed away. Because he had the status of a refugee, he could have left Bulgaria any time he wanted, but he didn’t because of his relatives – and also because he was doing pretty well in Bulgaria in spite of the circumstances. Now that he was dead and my aunt had left, the remainder of the family was stuck in Bulgaria. All of us had only a Bulgarian passport. So I stayed in Bulgaria, moving in with my grandmother, who also lived in Sofia.”

“Especially in the winter months, my life centred around the piano and, as it happened, I showed signs of talent! By the time I was in grade 3 and 4, I was already backing up amateur theatrical productions as an accompanist. Meanwhile, I continued studying, but not at the academy. State-run music education was open exclusively to the privileged in communist Bulgaria – and given that my father was an industrialist and my aunt had escaped the country, those facilities were barred to me. So I studied privately, which in the long term has probably served me better than being in any music school. My teacher was a lady called Galunka Belcheva, a piano professor at the academy in Sofia who also took on private students. Interestingly, in one of her books, she described me as a kid that had a natural talent for playing the piano, sliding notes and doing things that none of her other students even imagined doing.”

“So there I was, a primary school boy playing as a virtuoso pianist. Looking back, the piano gave me a grounding of who I was. It would have been very easy to lose faith in an environment which was unstable, without parental help and guidance. I had to learn how to survive. The knowhow and expertise of the piano gave me confidence and a strong feeling of self-identity. All through my life, I’ve been an inquisitive person, keeping my mind open to many other things which are worthwhile and interesting, but the backbone has always been the piano. I’m very thankful having had this instrument by my side. Certainly in my early years, as a child and growing up as an adolescent, it never even crossed my mind to be anything else than a musician.”

“By the time I was fifteen, I was already playing the piano professionally, working with musicians who were triple my age, earning an amount of money that was higher than the monthly income of doctors or most other professionals in Bulgaria. That was the positive thing about communist rule in Bulgaria; they were really supportive of the arts. Each small town of 30,000 inhabitants had its own symphony orchestra. Just imagine how much it must have cost the state to support all these musicians! Financially, I was thriving. I saw the length and breadth of the country, working as a pianist in all the major cities. Whatever orchestra, big band, or trio you would throw me in, I played with them.”

“Even as a boy, I had already discovered the entertainment music from the West. I listened to radio stations like The Voice of Europe, Free Europe, and The Voice of America. The first artist who made an impression on me must have been Elvis Presley – so you’re talking about the start of rock ‘n’ roll. Following that, we were all excited when the twist came out. Somewhat later, when I had already started doing gigs myself, I would turn on the radio around midnight to listen to jazz programmes. I remember sitting for hours waiting to hear Ella Fitzgerald sing ‘The Shadow Of Your Smile’ – or listening to Satchmo (Louis Armstrong – BT) playing and singing his wonderful music. I also had records by Ray Charles, The Beatles, and so many others.”

Sofia in the 1960s

“Officially, authorities in Bulgaria followed the line of most regimes in Eastern Europe with slogans like ‘The music of The Beatles is the music of hooligans’, but in reality nobody paid any attention to that. Zhivkov was smart enough. He understood that he had to allow some freedoms to his subjects to keep them happy. Music from the West was freely available to anyone who took an interest. I remember once sitting with a group of musicians. One of them was complaining about how his development as a musician was held back given that he was living in Bulgaria, cut off from the vibrant European and American music scenes. You know what one of the others told him? ‘What’s stopping you from playing better? Haven’t you heard all the best American musicians playing on the radio? What’s stopping you from studying their style? Don’t blame your country or your government for your shortcomings as a musician. Perhaps you just ought to practise more!’

“In the second half of the 1960s, I joined a band called Orpheus, borrowed from a Thracian-Greek myth. We were much inspired by Chicago Transit Authority. That band made an incredible impression on all of us. So we formed a group with a brass section to replicate the style of Chicago. All the members were good singers, which allowed us to do beautiful harmonies. Looking back, I think you could say we were quite progressive, taking the best out of contemporary Northern American rock music. All the band members were very young, except for the girl who was our lead singer. She was in her thirties.”

“At some point, we were given permission to do a tour of Yugoslavia, which we were all very excited about. Under normal circumstances, we would never have been allowed by Bulgarian authorities to go abroad, but the husband of our lead singer happened to be in charge of the criminal department of the police in Sofia. He had earned an excellent reputation for catching a serial killer nicknamed The Brick – a man who finished off his victims by hitting them on the head with bricks. Because he had eliminated this man, he could do things which others would never have dared to do. You see, due to my family background, the secret police had gathered a huge file about me, filled with reports which had nothing to do with reality. This police official simply threw those files as well as those of the other band members in the garbage. It was as simple as that. He put everything in the bin and returned an empty folder. Now that there were no suspicions against any of us, we were given our passports to travel to Yugoslavia.”

“Around that same time, my grandmother passed away. While she had been alive, I had to make sure not to leave her alone. Now that I was alone, I could start thinking of leaving the country. When we did our first Yugoslavian tour, I sent a letter to my aunt in Canada. She had already managed to get two of my siblings out of Bulgaria. She contacted the Canadian embassy in Belgrade to get the paperwork in order to allow me to come over as well. The next time we were doing gigs in Yugoslavia, I got in touch with the Canadian ambassador. I was very nervous, because the other guys in the band and I had just found out that our lead singer was working for the Bulgarian secret service. We didn’t tell her, but it was an uneasy situation. I asked the ambassador, ‘Are you sure you can get me out? I only have a passport for Yugoslavia, you see.’ He laughed and said, ‘Don’t worry, the Yugoslavians don’t care about such details.’ ‘Well, I hope you’re right,’ I replied, ‘because if you’re wrong, I’m going to end up in a concentration camp!’ But he was right. I picked up my stuff and disappeared to Canada.”

“My aunt lived in Winnipeg, right in the heart of Canada. She was married to a Dutch farmer who owned some 4,000 acres of land on the outskirts of the city. Adapting to life in Winnipeg was pretty easy, except for the winter weather! I had a weather shock more than a culture shock, with temperatures dropping to minus 30, minus 40 Celsius. On the other hand, there are those vast prairies in Manitoba. This is a type of landscape which is liberating for the soul. It’s like being in the middle of an ocean. Winnipeg also has another attraction; it’s one of the sunniest places in North America – and clean to the extreme. When you look out of the rear window in winter, everything is white and crisp. Once I had gotten used to the climate, I felt pretty much at home in these new surroundings.”

Winnipeg, c. 1970

“Within a week after arriving in Winnipeg, I was already working. The only hotel of some standing in the city was the Winnipeg Inn, which had a big stage where travelling bands and singers would perform. My position at that place was to organise an orchestra if a performer required accompaniment. We would rehearse with them and provide the backup. I also found myself a daytime job at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, working as a repetiteur.”

“After about a year, I left for Toronto. Although some great musicians come out of Winnipeg – the likes of Neil Young and The Guess Who – the attitude of the locals was, ‘Well, you’re not going to accomplish anything here in Winnipeg.’ From the standpoint of meeting with good musicians and building a network, Toronto was obviously more interesting. The city was becoming a musical hub, with a lot of musicians from New York settling in Toronto, which was a much cleaner and safer city at the time. It was the obvious place to go for me. The beginning wasn’t fun though. To work as a musician, joining a union was obligatory in Canada at the time. Because I had joined the union in Winnipeg, their counterparts in Ontario told me I had to wait one full year before being allowed to work in Toronto. Fortunately there were ways to duck the rules. In Toronto, I started doing the same job I had been doing in Winnipeg, working as a bandleader at the Sovereign Club, which mainly hosted concerts of older bands which had been popular in the 1950s. I remember providing the backup for The Shirelles and The Coasters.”

“The drummer of my band at the Sovereign Club was Ron Rully. He was one of the top drummers in Toronto. His wife was Aura Urziceanu, a phenomenal jazz singer who had moved to Canada from her native Romania. She had already performed with Duke Ellington and Quincy Jones. Her voice was incredibly agile, covering seven octaves and going beyond the range of my piano. On a musical level, I clicked with Aura – and for the next few years, I became her piano accompanist. Although I’ve never had a specific musical preference, I’ve always been fascinated by harmonies. Given that jazz is probably the most evolved style in terms of harmonies, I was thrilled to work with a talented jazz singer like Aura. At some point, when I started having disagreements with Ron, Aura sent him away and we continued touring with a different drummer. Aura and I worked together for several years.”

“Ever since my childhood, it had never crossed my mind to pursue another life than being a musician. Then, in Toronto, I suddenly had the notion of becoming a doctor, just like my great-uncle had been in Istanbul in the Ottoman days. I went to the local university and started taking premed courses. Not much later, though, at some party, the director of a medical school heard me play the piano and convinced me that I had to persevere in music. ‘You’ve accomplished so much in the music sphere of endeavour. Look at you, you’re one of the top five pianists in Toronto. Accomplishing the same excellence in medicine as in music will take you years and life is very short!’ At that point, I realised he was probably right and so I gave up my dream of being a doctor. I dropped out of university and that was the end of it.”

“Nevertheless, I was still eager to study and widen my scope. Instead of applying for the music academy, I studied privately at the Milton Barnes School in Toronto. Also, I started my music theory studies with Gordon Delamont, a great Canadian composer and music theoretician. His method of teaching was unique, focusing on the structure of the overtone series and how that affects the orchestration and the harmonic structures in music. He offered a six-year course, dealing with composition, harmony, and orchestration in different styles, jazz, classical, or whatever. It was very much in-depth and I loved it. I finished Delamont’s course in three years instead of six, and all of that while I was working as a freelance pianist with Aura and others. You see, I’m very agenda-driven. You give me some things to be done and I just do it. At the time, I was already an accomplished pianist – but now to be able to understand the jigsaw puzzle which is music from the standpoint of a musicologist was fascinating. Delamont probably taught me more than any conservatoire professor could have given me.”

Skyline of Toronto, c. 1970

“While working with Aura Rully, I was experimenting with odd rhythms and polyrhythms, writing compositions and recording a whole bunch of them. I sent some of them to Milcho Leviev, a Bulgarian jazz pianist and arranger living in Los Angeles. He said he was impressed and advised me to get in touch with Don Ellis, a jazz trumpet player from LA whose big band was considered the most progressive in the world. So I sent those same recordings to Don – and, the next thing, Don told me, ‘That’s great stuff! Why don’t you come and play with me. I need a pianist.’ That was in 1977.”

“I received that offer from Don Ellis on a particularly cold and miserable January day. At that point, I decided to just drive down to LA to see what was happening down there. Jumping in my car, I left Toronto in a snow blizzard – and after two days of non-stop driving, I arrived in Los Angeles, where temperatures felt like the middle of summer. The first impression of the city couldn’t have been better! After meeting with Don and Milcho, I realised that LA was the best place to be for a practising musician like me. I didn’t aspire to a career as a music educator at some academy in Canada. The art of playing interested me; and all the best musicians were in Los Angeles. I felt I was finally home. I went back to Toronto and did one last concert of my own compositions with Aura and a band of seven musicians at the waterfront. Just as we were about to leave, a big Canadian record company offered me the position of staff composer and arranger. They wanted me to write their music scores. It was a job which I would have loved to do, but I had promised to join Don Ellis in LA, so I turned them down. With my then girlfriend Mary, I packed my bags and left for California.”

“Mere weeks after we arrived in Los Angeles, Don Ellis had a heart-attack – in fact one more in a series of cardiac arrests. His physical condition had become perilous and he was no longer able to perform. He spent most of the time in bed. When I visited him, I was shocked to find a cabinet full of medication in his bedroom. It took some forty pills per day just to stabilise his heart. He saw how worried I was about having given up a thriving career in Canada just for him. ‘Don’t worry, Alex,’ he said, ‘I have a whole bunch of gigs and I want you to take them over from me. You put together a band and I will come to introduce you to the audience.’ That’s exactly what he did. I had a band with some of the best musicians in Los Angeles and we rehearsed a whole bunch of my material – which I would describe as rock ‘n’ roll jazz, very loud and very experimental! We started doing concerts, charity concerts, often in people’s backyards in Bel Air or Beverly Hills. Barbra Streisand was in the audience on one of those occasions. One of those charity events which Don had agreed to do was for George Ganchev, who happened to be Bulgarian. He was a former world fencing champion who had turned to filmmaking. George and I became friends. In fact, he was to play a major role in my life in the following years.”

“I was with Don Ellis for about a year, until the moment when he died (in 1978, at the age of 44 – BT). Two weeks before he passed away, he was a guest in my house, lying on a couch and talking about trumpet player James Brown. ‘I cannot top the melodic beauty of the trumpet playing in that man’s music,’ he said. I was astonished. This was the most experimental musician in the world extolling a type of music which wasn’t experimental, but had the power to touch the heart. It was a precious lesson to me never to look down on genres which could be considered as mainstream.”

“After Don Ellis passed away, another chapter started for me in Los Angeles. I had to start from scratch. It took a while to establish myself. LA attracts the best musicians in the world, but there aren’t many who make it. Charles Aznavour didn’t even last three years. Everybody was like, ‘Who is he?’ When I explained that this man was one of the biggest names in Europe, the reply would be, ‘Who cares?’ So Aznavour never made it, along with other great artists from Europe. As a pianist, I could have easily made a living out of travelling gigs, going on tour accompanying solo artists, but I hate being on the road. I just wanted to work in Los Angeles. In the end, I found myself working with the best freelance musicians doing bar-mitzvahs, weddings, and experimental productions of various kinds, working with actors and singers. There was no shortage of work in LA.”

Promotional photo, c. 1977

“The best thing about LA was experimentation. The late 1970s were the formative years of fusion – a mishmash of rock, Latin music, jazz, polyrhythms, and classical influences. It was interesting to get together with others and explore our boundaries. We used to spend four, five hours a day jamming with some of the best musicians in the world – guys who were in the bands with Santana and Frank Zappa. In fact, at some point, I was invited along with a very young drummer, Vinnie Colaiuta, to audition for Zappa’s band. We played with him for about a week. Now, Frank has one particular musical piece, ‘The Black Page’, which is called black, because there are so many notes in it that the sheet music indeed looks black. He gave me this piece to sight-read. At the first go, I made one mistake and I said, ‘Can we repeat?’, and then I played it flawlessly. Frank was floored! He explained that no pianist had ever been able to play it. ‘You’re the most impressive musician I’ve ever come across,’ were his literal words. I’m saying this, because Frank is no longer alive. Now I have the right to say it. In the end, though, things didn’t work out between Frank and me. Vinnie Colaiuta later told me that Frank was worried that I would have influenced his music style too much. Anyway, it was an interesting interlude.”

“After a while, I became in demand as a keyboard player for studio recordings, while doing occasional production and arranging work on the side as well. I also was in a rock band called Siren with two singer-songwriters, Evie Sands and Lorenzo Toppano. We worked together for the best part of two years, writing songs and recording them in the studio. By that time, Evie and Ren were a couple. I was a bit wary about that. ‘One of the major reasons why bands break up is because of relationships between members,’ I said, but they were both adamant that this would never happen. Well, the daughter of our manager falls in love with Ren, Ren breaks up with Evie, and that was the end of the band. Just like that, two years of hard work straight down the drain! It was frustrating, because this band had the potential to go big. All three of us were accomplished songwriters, producers, and arrangers. Evie was a lovely girl and a marvellous musician. Her songs were performed by Elvis Presley and Barbra Streisand. I don’t know why she didn’t have a phenomenal career. Ren later took one of our songs to a song festival in Chile, winning first prize and taking it to number one in the South American charts.” (indeed, Toppano won the 1985 Viña del Mar Festival, representing Australia with ‘Ya no puedo más’ – BT)

“I also played in the band of Flora Purim and Airto Moreira for a while. They were from Brazil; Flora was a singer and Airto played the drums. After their involvement with Chick Corea on his album The Return To Forever, they had built a career as a duo in the US. They got in touch with me, when they were looking for a pianist. I invited a Jamaican bass player who had worked with me previously in Toronto, to join the group. The guy was so happy! Flora and Airto were a lot of fun to work with; the rest of the band and I added some fusion to their great Brazilian rhythms. Unfortunately, their manager wanted us to go on the road for peanuts. He was taking advantage of us. After having a conversation with him, I decided to leave the band. Working with Flora and Airto was very exciting, but apparently it wasn’t meant to be.”

“My most lasting involvement in those years in California was with Seth Riggs, the leading vocal therapist in LA. I was Seth’s pianist, helping him with whoever he was working with at the time. Some high-profile artists called upon Seth for help. Michael Jackson sent his younger sister Janet. She was just a kid in high school at the time. I remember Seth saying, ‘Ah, Michael is just wasting his money,’ because Janet’s vocal range was not much more than one octave. In retrospect, though, you have to give her all the credit in the world for the great career that she has had subsequently. I became friends with two singers who I met at Seth’s, George Benson and Joe Cocker. George came down to my house regularly to play ping-pong and work on songs together. Joe even stayed at my place for several days, when he was having relationship problems. He also came to my performances and would jump onto the stage to sing with me. Joe would have liked me to become the musical director of his concert tours, but I still wasn’t interested in travelling.”

“Towards the end of my eight-year spell in Los Angeles, I took a course in film scoring at the UCLA. In those years, before the time when computer programmes made writing film music a lot easier, it was quite complicated and technical to make movie scores. This course served me well. One of my fellow students was Ray Conniff. By that time, the Ray Conniff Singers who had been so successful in the 1960s no longer existed. Ray saw himself as a has-been, but I felt he still had a lot of potential left in him. I got on well with him and he actually invited me to produce his new album, but that was another project which never came to fruition, because this was just in the period when I moved away from Los Angeles to settle in Cyprus. That was in 1985.”

During his years in Cyprus, Alex Zografov recorded several albums with the Diastasis choir, including one with Greek superstar singer George Dalaras

“To explain why I went to Cyprus, I have to take a little step back. Up to this point, it seems my whole life had just been an experimentation in music, as I worked with so many different artists in so many different styles. If you had asked me, I would have told you music was the most important thing in my life – even more important than personal relationships, although I already had a wife and two children at the time. It’s fair to say that I hardly paid any attention to them. Now, having been brought up in communist Bulgaria, I had no respect for religion whatsoever, especially organised religion. On the other hand, I have always known and respected a higher power. When my wife Mary gave me a book called The Sermon On The Mount by Emmet Fox (an Irish New Thought spiritualist – BT), it truly derailed me. Suddenly, I totally understood the love that Christ had for me; and I accepted Christ as my guide, although I didn’t join any particular church community.”

“In 1982, my friend George Ganchev had just finished a movie that he had recorded in Bulgaria. He came to my house in LA and brought the equipment to show us this film, which wasn’t out yet. Now, George had this uncanny ability to bring together people who click. He took with him a group of ten people, of whom two were Bahá’ís, a faith teaching the oneness of God, religion, and humanity. I had never heard of it. This group of ten immediately became the best of friends. We became inseparable – and we all became Bahá’ís. One of them was Anne Richards, a singer who was the wife of Stan Kenton. I started performing with her, going around to so-called Bahá’í firesides, presentations on the Bahá’í faith.” 

“Now that I had become a Bahá’í, my focus totally changed from music to somehow transforming humanity into a better place. According to the Bahá’í teachings, you don’t necessarily spread the faith by talking a lot about it, but through example, permeating society in such a way that people feel inspired to accept the unity of humanity as an essential requisite for their existence. So the first prerequisite is to travel around the world to become an instrument of this idealistic goal of unifying the world through faith. So Mary and I sold our house in Los Angeles and took a plane to Germany, where we bought a car. I wanted to drive down to Bulgaria to tell my friends in Sofia about the Bahá’í faith. That first journey was a failure. Bulgarian authorities wouldn’t give me more than just a three-day transit visa. We travelled back to LA, where we settled in a temporary home, the Dawnbreaker recording studio, owned by Seals & Crofts, a successful pop duo who were also Bahá’í. In the following three years, I mainly worked as a session player in Don Brecker’s recording studio.”

“Then, in 1985, when my six-year-old daughter had just gone to primary school, we heard about drugs being sold in the school courtyard. Mary and I looked at each other and said, ‘This is not a place for children.’ We decided we wanted to move away from Los Angeles and give pioneering for the Bahá’í Faith a second try. Now, Bahá’í is a world organisation that is extremely well evolved administratively. They told us that the best place for us to go was Cyprus, because that was a territory which didn’t have a lot of Bahá’ís yet. Moreover, they had taken into consideration that I spoke some Greek due to the fact that I had had a Greek mother. Initially, we weren’t really thrilled at the prospect, given the fact that the political situation in Cyprus was so unstable, but we decided we had to do it. Mary and the kids went first, settling in Limassol, with Mary trying to find a job for me. Meanwhile, I stayed behind in LA, working sixteen hours a day to give us some extra financial backbone. Apart from being a session musician, I continued working for Seth Riggs while also being the musical director of the TV show Minipops and doing gigs in Club 386, one of the leading avantgarde nightclubs in LA. One of the guests who came specifically to see me perform there was Andy Williams!”

“After a few months, my wife was about to give up on Cyprus and come back to LA. She just couldn’t find me any work. Then she spotted an ad in the newspaper. One of the hotels in Limassol was looking for a pianist. When they asked her about my experience, she told them I was working in Club 386 in Los Angeles, which was in all the magazines worldwide at the time. At that point, they hired me on the spot without ever having seen or heard me play! So, l left Los Angeles and my life there behind and started from scratch in this foreign place. I felt happy in Cyprus from the start. I’ve always loved the sea and, as it happened, I connected with a lot of people in Limassol. After a while, I put together a group with local professional musicians, the AZ Band, reinforced with a group of Irish singers. We did a show with them called Showtimes on Musicals, which was a big hit in Cyprus.”

Close-up, c. 1993

“Around that time, I was contacted by two gentlemen who had recently founded a multicultural centre, where they hosted cultural events. This centre was called Diastasis. They wondered if I was interested in becoming the musical director of their vocal ensemble and dance group. The choir consisted of about fifteen members, just a bunch of friends getting together every Friday to sing. We held auditions and extended the choir to include some forty singers. The first programme we did with them was the same musical project I had done with the AZ Band previously. It was challenging to get the choir members to sing in English. We were doing vocal exercises, for which I used all the techniques of Seth Riggs. Within a few months, the choir started sounding really good, because the singers also really got into it and agreed to rehearse two or three times a week. They started taking it very seriously.”

“After fighting with the Diastasis board for a couple of years, they finally gave in to my suggestion to create a third department, a children’s choir. Within no time, this children’s choir far exceeded the qualities of the grown-ups. Developing the vocal abilities of the kids, I did three or four part harmony songs with them. They were amazing. They also became totally proficient at singing in English. The first show I did with them was with excerpts from Oliver and other musicals, especially geared to children. It was a glamorous success. We got to go to Athens, where we did sell-out concerts in one of the big theatres there. The Greeks were floored. They couldn’t believe something as good as that could come out of Cyprus.”

“The next thing we knew, we could get some of the best Greek performers to do shows with us, the main one being George Dalaras. We did a lot of concerts with him. In Greece and Cyprus, music is used for political purposes. At some point, they hired our Diastasis choir to do a series of concerts with George Dalaras and Nana Mouscouri to advertise the Cypriot problem – the Turkish occupation of the northern part of the island, which of course was partly the Greeks’ fault! Anyway, they wanted the world to be aware that the Turks were still there. We did a series of international concerts, starting from Greece where he did stadium concerts in front of crowds of 30,000 and 40,000. Then we moved on to France and England, where we did several concerts, including one at Wembley Stadium. For the European part of our tour, we were joined by the great guitarist Al Di Meola. The last part of our journey took us to New York and Chicago, where we did multiple performances in front of full house crowds. George and Nana were wonderful artists to work with. It was a pretty marvellous experience.”

“Meanwhile, I also became involved in producing commercials in Cyprus, something which I had done previously in LA as well. Then, in 1989, when Zhivkov’s communist regime in Bulgaria fell, my friend George Ganchev decided he wanted to start meddling in politics. He asked me to help him by producing a set of promotional albums for the Bulgarian market which mixed traditional Balkan folk with Western pop music. George organised everything, enabling me to record a whole bunch of my own compositions, arranging them and sharing them with a large audience. I pulled some British musicians to Sofia, letting them play with Bulgarian folklore singers. The project was called Rose Fever. There were some pretty unusual combinations, such as the clarinet being used alongside the gaida, the Bulgarian bagpipe. Some people frowned upon such unusual blends, but the album heralded the revival and popularisation of Bulgarian folklore. In 1989, we recorded and released three Rose Fever albums on the state-owned Balkanton label.”

“In 1989, there came an unexpected request from Germany to produce an album for the R&B group Fritz Brause. Their lead singer was Linda Fields, who had a number one hit in Europe with a cover version of ‘Shame Shame Shame’. Although I had never been closely involved with her, she knew of me through our mutual working experience in Los Angeles. When Fritz Brause were having some problem with the guy who was going to produce them, Linda suggested inviting me from Cyprus to replace him. I came over for about a month, producing their album Don’t Go. The recording was done in a recording studio built into a nice farmhouse out in the fields somewhere in Belgium. It was nice to be able to take on such freelance projects besides my work with Diastasis in Limassol.”

The Fritz Brause album ‘Don’t Go’ was produced by Alex Zografov (1989)

“In 1993, the Diastasis choir was invited to do the so-called Command Performance at the Curium Ancient Theatre, near the British army base in Limassol. It was attended by Queen Elizabeth. She was visiting Cyprus for the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting. We did an original piece by Dimitris Lagious, a young and promising Greek composer who we worked with regularly. The Queen had been having a hard time in Cyprus, being followed wherever she went by a group of no more than ten protesters who were throwing eggs at her and being terribly obnoxious. At the Curium, an ancient amphitheatre, we had to wait for a while until she arrived in a helicopter. The performance went well – very animated, great sound, in a marvellous atmosphere. Afterwards, the mayor of Limassol introduced me to her. I went out of my way to apologise for the way she was being treated in Cyprus, explaining that the protesters’ behaviour was in no way a reflection of the sentiment of the people of the island. She didn’t pay any attention to that and congratulated me on the performance. We then had a short conversation about the beautiful romantic location of the Curium on the banks of the Mediterranean. She was very cordial. Doing the performance for her is a wonderful memory.”

“After nine years in Cyprus, the government gave me a Cypriot passport in recognition of my contribution to advertising the Cypriot problem abroad. In the summer of 1994, I started preparing a concert with the Diastasis choir for the twentieth year of the Turkish invasion of Cyprus. We were due to perform at the Herodion Theatre, a theatre from the Roman era at the foot of the Acropolis in Athens in a show produced by the famous director of the film Zorba The Greek, Michael Cacogiannis. He was of Cypriot descent. In fact, his nephew Costas was part of my choir. I had taught him since he was a boy. When Michael Cacogiannis came in, he immediately started playing politics. He claimed my wife Mary couldn’t be in the choir, because she was too blonde – and, according to him, Cypriots aren’t that blonde. So he single-handedly removed her from the choir. I wasn’t happy. In the end, some sort of conspiracy was set up against me, with the archbishop of Limassol ordering Diastasis to fire me and appoint my former protégé Costas Cacogiannis as the new musical director. The bishop claimed that a Bahá’í shouldn’t be in charge of their choir – which was all the more stark, given that I had done Christmas performances as well as Easter processions for him.”

“It was a sad end to this period in Cyprus. Those ten years were the best part of my life, because I could be instrumental in transforming society through the arts. It was nice to share my knowhow in a place where I could share it with so many other people. We decided to get away from all the disharmony and backbiting that followed, moving to Canada, where we were needed. My family moved directly to Vancouver Island, while I took a detour to spend the best part of the following year in Los Angeles to record The Land Of Mystery album in the recording studio of my old friend Ren Toppano. This album was different from the previous ones. Although it incorporated Bulgarian folklore, it was done along the lines of contemporary world music, which was more rhythmical. Some of the best singers from the Filip Kutev Ensemble contributed to it. I recorded that album using Pro Tools software for the first time. This was a whole new way of producing music. It was interesting to catch up with the latest technology after those ten years in Cyprus.”

“In the end, my family and I settled in Winnipeg. My aunt was still alive at the time. Although she was approaching ninety, she was still working. As she was a linguist as well as a trained musician, she had started a language school in Winnipeg, the Applied Linguistics Centre. She had a contract with the government, which meant that all the immigrants coming to Manitoba were going to her school for a year to learn English and acquaint themselves with the Canadian culture and way of life. As my aunt was having more and more problems running the school on her own, I took over the directorship from her. I stayed on in that capacity for some ten years. A large section of the school was filled with people coming from the Far East. I used to travel to places like Japan, Korea, and Hong Kong to recruit students, which enabled me to meet with the local Bahá’í communities and do some concerts. I spent one whole summer in Taiwan, setting up a choir of thirty local kids, going through the talents of each of them and putting together a nice show which we performed across the island.”

“After moving back to Winnipeg, I became the musical director for a company called Rainbow Stage, which enabled young aspiring music performers to work on musical productions with professional singers. Each year, we did two big shows of classic musicals like West Side Story and Grease. The Rainbow Stage was allowed to work in two beautiful theatres, one indoors for the winter, and one outdoors for the summer – great places for rehearsals and performances.”


“A few years after my return to Canada, I set up a choir in Winnipeg, the Abha Voices Choir. They were all amateurs, but because they were willing to rehearse twice a week, I managed to build the sound little by little. Within a short time, they were already performing very nicely. In the summer of 2007, we were invited to represent Manitoba on Canada Day, which involves vocal ensembles from all over Canada performing on Parliament Hill in Ottawa. There must have been at least twenty choirs. A lot of them were school kids. Because most of my singers were in their forties and fifties, we were known in Ottawa as ‘the old people who can rock’. The experience was a lot of fun. We only performed original songs composed by me. That’s why I’ve always loved working with choirs, as they give me an outlet for my own music. A lot of the lyrics were based on Bahá’í texts. The Bahá’í faith has an incredible wealth of more than one million verses, so I can always put out beautiful writings which can be put to music. Though they don’t rhyme in a way that most pop songs do, I managed to become comfortable writing melodic pieces based on those writings.”

“In 2007, after 37 years of being away, I moved back to Bulgaria. I had just lost my wife Mary to glioblastoma, a cancer of the brain. As it happened, the woman who had been her doctor was also a Bahá’í; and she lost her husband around the same time. We became a couple. As we both had a bit of baggage in Winnipeg that we had to deal with, we decided to head for Bulgaria. It certainly was a welcome change, something to look forward to after all the misery that we had been through. There was no plan – just a case of filling the suitcase and seeing where we would end up. We bought ourselves an apartment in Sinemorets, which is about 10km from the Turkish border on the Black Sea coast; a beautiful place facing the sea as well as a Veleka River delta, totally isolated. That gave me the space in my mind to start organising all my music. For decades, I had been composing, arranging, and producing, but I had usually put aside many projects that needed closure. Much of it even hasn’t been written in a form that is legible to others. There’s also a lot of material that has never seen the daylight. I want to save for posterity the material that I’ve created. It’s a Herculean task that has been ongoing until the present day. It remains as one of the main tasks left in my remaining years.”

“My arrival in Bulgaria allowed me to connect with some wonderful talent. First, I started working with a young bass singer, Stoyan Bonchev. He introduced me to Boyko Tzvetanov, who had just retired after many years as the leading tenor at the Zurich Opera. Although he didn’t move from Switzerland, he started visiting Bulgaria more frequently. We met and it turned out we got on well on a personal level, which gave us the idea to perform together. The Sofia Sinfonietta, a smaller symphony orchestra, was interested in working with us. So I arranged some of my compositions for a concert with Boyko and another lyrical singer, Stoyan Bonchev, a bass. The concert series was called Ya baha'u'l-Abha, which means ‘O Thou Glory of the Most Glorious’, the common invocation to God in the Bahá’í faith. Singing that with a classical orchestra and operatic voices is pretty dramatic. There’s so much wonderful repertoire coming out of the Christian churches that is marvellous; all the Ave Marias and so on. As a Bahá’í, I realise that my contribution to that repertoire is rather minute, but of all the music that I’ve written in the course of my life, these are the pieces that inspire me the most. After all, music is the ladder to the realms on high. It’s the best food of the spirit imaginable.”

“Since 2013, we’ve been going around Bulgaria and doing performances with various orchestras, smaller ones and full symphony orchestras, and occasionally just with me playing the piano – whatever the need is. I’ve also done solo piano performances, including one with the Blagoevgrad Chamber Opera. I don’t aggressively pursue a career as a solo performer, but it’s always pleasant to do concerts. When working with orchestras, either with Boyko, Stoyan, or on my own, I’ve always shied away from conducting them. I studied conducting at the Milton Barnes School in Toronto and later on with a professional conductor in Los Angeles as well, but I feel much more comfortable leading an orchestra from behind the piano. Whenever I see a conductor struggling with the musicians while rehearsing them in preparation for a concert, I tell myself that this is not what I want. Conducting is a job, which involves getting the musicians to play the charts and repair mistakes. That’s not what I think of as fun. Playing the piano is so much more enjoyable.”

“During those years of living in Sinemorets, I lost my second wife Brenda to the same rare disease that my first wife died from, glioblastoma. It was a tragedy. Following that, I’ve been blessed again with a beautiful woman who is a precious companion going through this stage of my life. Jennifer originates from America. We got married in 2017. Initially, we settled in Paphos, Cyprus, but we moved to Chalkidiki in Northern Greece after a few years, because it’s much easier to get to Bulgaria where I still do occasional performances. A second reason to go there was to support the fledgling Bahá’í community. Situated on a peninsula, Chalkidiki is about an hour’s drive away from Thessaloniki. Our house offers a view of the Aegean Sea. The environment is just breathtaking. However, in 2025, while retaining the house in Greece, we decided to move back to Paphos after all in order to help the Bahá’í community there. That’s life!”

Alex with bass singer Stoyan Bonchev (left) and tenor Boyko Tzvetanov (middle) at the 2019 Blagoevgrad Blues & Jazz Festival

“To this day, I’ve constantly continued to create music. My main composition in the last few years is an opera called Vive Orphay. Working with singers has always been my comfort zone. I’ve been accompanying singers since I was a kid; and during my years in Cyprus and Canada, I worked on countless musical productions. Writing an opera was simply the next step. The storyline of Vive Orphay centres around the Thracian mythological hero Orpheus, but my libretto deviates from the myth. The storyline doesn’t include a self-absorbing sort of love story as the one between Orpheus and Eurydice, but makes an attempt at connecting the Orphean spirit to the Bahá’í spirit, which has more to tell to us all living in the 21st century. Unfortunately, staging such a production requires quite an expenditure. The European Union actually granted us a subsidy, but Bulgarian authorities refused to pass the sum onto us. We sued them and won, but, frustratingly, the money had already been spent. We’ll have to wait for another opportunity to get the piece performed. We’ve already performed some excerpts of the opera with Boyko Tzvetanov, just to test them out – and, invariably, audiences have responded marvellously.”

“When you look in hindsight, it’s so easy to spot the moments in your life where you could have done better. Whoever claims to be completely satisfied with his accomplishments in life must be a liar. Have I even accomplished ten percent of my abilities? I doubt it. Of course, I lost more than ten years of my life in Bulgaria, because I couldn’t leave my grandmother behind. Those were the circumstances. In Toronto, I could have been a successful record arranger, but I chose to come to Los Angeles. That might have been a mistake. I certainly should have put more energy into marketing my pop songs during my years of living in Toronto and LA. That certainly was a mistake, but life is life. It’s not easy, it presents a lot of challenges.”

“Some things you might look back on as unfair. Of course, growing up in communist Bulgaria wasn’t easy, but most of what I’ve experienced there was positive. I consider myself blessed having grown up in a country which has such a rich musical tradition. The harmonies coming out of traditional Bulgarian music are just mind-blowing. That wealth has been a defining factor in what I’ve been doing as a musician. Of course, the communist system was harsh, but I’ve lived in so many countries in the course of my life, that I can safely state that there are plenty of unfair things happening everywhere. In the end we’re all fallible human beings dependent on the conditions we live in. It’s alright to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them going forward in life. You have to be open to that growth.”

“Physiologically, I’m still feeling very well, although I’m inevitably getting closer to the other end of the human existence when we move on to a different level. Our lives in this sphere are just a twinkling of an eye. So how do I want to use the remaining section of my life here? I still have things to accomplish as a musician, which means that I’ve continued working and I will be continuing for as long as I can. Other than that, I would like to contribute as much as I can to the wellbeing of those around me while also doing my best to enhance my being on the other side. I’m looking ahead to what is still in store for me in the most positive of terms.”


EUROVISION SONG CONTEST

A participant in the Eurovision Song Contest on one occasion, Alex Zografov was the conductor of the Cypriot entry in the festival edition in Rome in 1991, ‘S.O.S.’, a composition by Cypros Charalambous with lyrics by Andreas Christou. It was performed by Charalambous’ fiancée, Elena Patroclou. In the Cypriot pre-selection, held in Nicosia’s International Conference Centre, ‘S.O.S.’ had been the runaway winner. On that occasion, the song was performed to a synthetic backing track put together by Charalambous himself. Once ‘S.O.S.’ had won the ticket to Rome, the songwriter knew he needed an arranger to write an orchestration for the international festival final.

“In fact, I wasn’t the original choice as arranger and conductor for Rome,” Alex Zografov reveals. “They had hired somebody in Greece to arrange the song. In fact, the Greek guy had done a good job, but Cypros Charalambous was one of a brand of musicians with constant anxiety – always looking to change things for the better. In short, he felt insecure about the orchestration written by the Greek arranger, so he made sure that this man was fired. Then he chose me as a replacement. He knew me, because he had been the bass player in a music group I had put together shortly after my arrival in Cyprus from Los Angeles in 1985. It was called the AZ Band, with singers from Ireland and Britain. It was part of an endeavour to promote the arts for the purpose of unity and well-being through the World Unit Foundation. Our very first performance was taken note of by the founders of Diastasis, the cultural organisation in Limassol, who then decided to hire me to be the musical director of their choir. It was through Diastasis that I became well-known in Cyprus.”

“Anyway, Charalambous was a professional bass player and a very pleasant guy. Through his involvement as an instrumentalist in my band, he knew me personally. Cyprus is a small place and the better musicians all knew each other. That’s why he felt more comfortable hiring me to redo the music. I first took a look at the original score done by the Greek arranger. For whatever it was worth, it had been done very well. Because Charalambous had asked me to start from scratch, I first took a look at the set-up of the orchestra in Rome. As it turned out, there was a rhythm group as well as extensive string and brass sections – a band and a symphony orchestra combined. I wanted to make sure that I used the full capacity of the orchestra. Then I changed the whole arrangement. It was a bar-by-bar kind of thing. The dynamic build-up had to be as strong as possible. Since the orchestra in Rome had such a large horn section, I put in some horn punches. Another idea was the Bach-style trumpet in the second part of the song. The trumpet is an instrument that I’m pretty fond of. The way I look at it, the brass part in the arrangement added a lot of dynamism to the song presentation.”

‘Elena travelling to Rome with a new orchestration’. Cypriot radio magazine (1991)

“Shortly before we were due to leave for Rome, Cypros Charalambous discussed some last-minute changes to the score with me. I don’t remember exactly what we did, but what Charalambous usually wanted to change were things that weren’t consequential – irrelevant things, details which didn’t make a difference. By that time, my score had already been sent to Rome. The new version of the orchestration was sent as well, but, upon arrival, it turned out that the changes in the new arrangement hadn’t been implemented. At the first rehearsal, I had to adapt the score on the spot. There were some small changes in the horn section and in the strings. It was something which took about ten minutes, not more. The players were very impressed by that. They were on my side from the start, mainly because my orchestration included parts for every single player. They appreciated that.”

“At that first rehearsal, the drummer of the orchestra (Enzo Restuccia – BT) came to me and said, ‘If you want, I can count the beat at the beginning,’ but I told him that I didn’t want that. ‘So then you count,’ he replied. ‘No,’ I said, ‘I don’t count anything! I just start conducting and you all have to start with me.’ Just for a moment, this threw the musicians in the orchestra off their balance. They weren’t used to that! It drew their attention and that’s exactly what I was looking to do. The opening of our piece required the whole orchestra to be engaged immediately. A lot of animation was going on from the beginning. So I just raised my hand. I did this to challenge them. I didn’t want to give them the luxury of not paying attention and just cruising along to the drummer. No, you’ve got to be alert and pay attention to my hand movements! There’s ways to wake people up in a pleasant way and motivate them. You just saw their eyes lighting up and warming up to our song.”

“I had a lot of fun with this orchestra, but there were some problems with the vocal performance. Elena Patroclou was doing a fine job up front, but the backing vocalists had trouble singing in tune. There was one guy, Alex Panayi, and three girls. Alex was by far the best of the group, but the three others made a mess of it. Given that I had also written the vocal arrangement, I felt responsible and found myself in a bit of a fight with them. It was the first time I had worked with them. They had been hired by others. Fortunately, in the end, they all came through and performed ok on the night.”

The Cypriot stage group rehearsing in Rome, with Elena Patroclou backed up by her fiancé Cypros Charalambous on bass, and Alex Panayi being one of the backing singers

“During rehearsals, I met with the arranger of the Greek entry (Charis Andreadis – BT). It turned out this was the man who had been snubbed by Cypros Charalambous! I apologised to him, making sure to explain to him that I hadn’t been involved in the decision to ditch him. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you did a good job,’ I said, to which he replied, ‘Yes, I thought I did!’ I explained that it had to do with the insecure personality of the composer. I had the impression that it reassured the Greek guy that this had nothing to do with his professionalism. In fact, he was very friendly with me. The encounter with him was short, but I remember him as a gentle soul.”

“The Italian organisation struck me as impressive, but it was done in such a way that there wasn’t too much interaction and togetherness between the participants of the various countries in the leadup to the competition. The delegations weren’t together during rehearsals. We spent some time with the Icelanders, who turned out to be lovely people. They were in the same hotel as us. Somehow, I met Peppino di Capri, the Italian performer, during one of the rehearsals. He was an older guy and a well-known singer. I liked his presentation and the song he performed, so I encouraged him, putting a hand on his shoulder to compliment him on his performance.”

“On the day before the concert, we went sightseeing in downtown Rome. For some reason I wanted to buy myself a tuxedo to wear on the night of the concert – a real Italian tux. So I went shopping and found myself one. Funnily enough, I still have this tux and it still fits me! Meanwhile, Cypros Charalambous was still nervously considering what he could do to make the song better. Even shortly before the concert itself, he said, ‘Let’s change this.’ I don’t remember for the world what it was, but I said, ‘No, you’re not changing anything at this point.’ He wasn’t mean or unpleasant, it was just his personality. I don’t blame him.”

Elena Patroclou backstage in Rome, flanked by Greek performer Sophia Vossou (left) and Sophia’s songwriter Andreas Microutsicos

“Over the years, I’ve worked with many musicians and a lot of them have the same personality trait. This is an industry in which insecurity is one of the major overriding factors. I saw the same thing on the night of the concert with many of my fellow conductors. Boy, they struck me as nervous! There were even some who had brought a metronome to make sure they wouldn’t mess up the tempo. What on earth were they doing? If you require a metronome, you might as well put the metronome in front of the orchestra! What are you there for otherwise? You’re well-rehearsed, you’ve gone through the score many times. There’s no reason to be apprehensive about anything.”

“As I was walking up to the podium for the concert, I had a rose in my mouth. As I looked at the orchestra, the musicians scared me. They looked so lifeless and tired! It was as if they had fallen asleep collectively. I immediately realised I had to somehow wake them up. When they saw me approaching with this rose and a grin on my face, they started laughing. As I was introduced to the audience, I waved to the camera and said Allah’u’Abha, the traditional Bahá’í invocation or greeting, which means ‘God is Most Glorious’, as my way of greeting my fellow Bahá’ís out there. Then, I turned to the orchestra and immediately started interacting with the musicians. I made sure to be very animated to get their energy up. The transformation was immediate. Believe me, that orchestra was dynamite and they gave an excellent performance.”

Would this approach to the orchestra have worked just as well if the conductors of all 21 other entries had taken the same approach? “Well, probably the band would have enjoyed their time on stage a bit more than they did,” Zografov replies. “Some of my colleagues were so nervous that they transmitted their fears – whatever fears there might be at the Eurovision – to the orchestra. When they were playing our song, they were more animated and took it more in fun instead of being totally stifled. Probably, if I had asked my fellow conductors on the night, most of them would have answered with other words that their function was to be a metronome. Keeping the beat, that sort of thing. That’s wrong! Having studied conducting in Toronto and Los Angeles, I know full well that a conductor is there to inspire. Most orchestras do not need a conductor. They can play in the correct tempo perfectly fine without someone waving his arms. A good conductor realises that it’s the musicians’ interpretation and not his own which he is overseeing. The role of the conductor is to bring that bit of extra oomph out of the orchestra. His purpose should be to inspire the musicians and make their interpretation more meaningful. That’s what a good conductor does – and only the good conductor can make a difference.”

Cypriot performance at the dress rehearsal in Rome

“For what it was worth, Elena sang very well on the night. She was a sweet girl and gave a professional performance, which was what was required for the Eurovision Song Contest back then. What followed, the voting, was essentially irrelevant. We got an ok score, but the main thing was that we had presented ourselves with a well-written song conveying a meaningful message about environmental issues. It was well-intended. The exact number of votes wasn’t important. Cyprus was a small country, which didn’t have much to show for itself culturally. At the time, they didn’t even have a symphony orchestra. When you tell me that I was the first conductor taking part for Cyprus in the Eurovision Song Contest who was actually based on the island, that makes sense. People weren’t expecting anything artistically valuable to come out of this country. I like to think that I made a bit of a difference during my ten years of living in Cyprus, bringing in my knowhow from Los Angeles. The situation nowadays is much different. There are some unbelievable performers in Cyprus now.”

In the end, the Cypriot entry came ninth a field of 22 countries in Rome, with Sweden taking first place in a tie-break over the French entry, which had scored an equal number of votes. “I was actually convinced that France was the winner,” Zografov laughs. “You see how your memory can play tricks upon you. I remember their performer very well (Amina Annabi – BT). Our singer was very pretty, but so was she – and moreover, she was very well endowed and made sure to use it to her advantage! After the whole thing had finished, all the participants were invited to a dinner, which was the first and last time everyone got together.”

“You know what my best memory of Rome is? The orchestra voted me as their favourite conductor of that Eurovision Song Contest! That was very nice and sweet of them. I was honoured. These were professionals of the highest class. Mere weeks after the contest, I switched on my television for a Pavarotti concert, and, lo and behold, who were behind him? Those same musicians! I told my family, ‘Look, that’s my orchestra!’ Only musicians with the highest reputation are invited to perform with Pavarotti. If there are other conductors in Rome who claim this orchestra was below par, it might have been their fault rather than the orchestra’s.”

Elena Patroclou during her performance at the Eurovision Song Contest in Rome

“I don’t recall working with either Cypros Charalambous or Elena Patroclou after the contest. Usually, after a break like Eurovision, Cypriot performers moved to Greece, thinking that the chances to have a successful career would be higher there. As for me, Eurovision was a one-off. The opportunity to take part a second time didn’t present itself in the following years. It wasn’t something I was pursuing in any shape or form. I was occupied working with the Diastasis choirs and recording albums for the Balkanton label in Sofia. Eurovision was essentially a side-thing which occurred in those very busy years. If I had been looking to build a career as a conductor, it could have been an important moment. To me, it was just fun. Although I studied orchestral conducting, it was never my ambition to stand on podiums conducting orchestras.”

“A lot of musicians belittle the Eurovision Song Contest, but I never have. The event has an important role to play as a cultural unifying factor. I was happy to be part of it. It’s a big loss that there’s no longer an orchestra to accompany the artists in the contest today. Clearly, the music industry has developed along technological lines, but to eliminate the human element altogether is a big mistake.”

“I do still watch the contest whenever I can – and I enjoy it! Being a performing musician myself, I’m interested to see how the world is developing along artistic lines. It’s nice to find out what countries like Azerbaijan come up with – countries which weren’t in the contest before. It gives you a window into what the cultural life is like in those parts of the world. Of course, the presentation of the songs has become a lot more visual since I took part, but that’s also part of my industry. Clearly, there’s a lot of rubbish being put onto the stage as well, but you can see jewels shining out in every edition. Do you remember the Portuguese guy who won it some years ago? (Salvador Sobral in 2017 – BT). He was great. I don’t like the fact that the contest seems to have become a platform for the gay community, which is an expression of something different than it should be. Any person watching it, gays included, can see it’s become over the top, with limits being pushed, which alienates people unnecessarily. Why would you want to do that? But other than that, I think it’s a marvellous event. Anything that contributes to creating unity among people is praiseworthy.”

Alex Zografov conducting Bruno Canfora’s orchestra behind Elena Patroclou and her backing group

OTHER ARTISTS ABOUT ALEXANDER KIROV ZOGRAFOV

So far, we have not gathered comments of other artists who worked with Alexander Kirov Zografov.

EUROVISION INVOLVEMENT YEAR BY YEAR

Country – Cyprus
Song title – “S.O.S.”
Rendition – Elena Patroclou
Lyrics – Andreas Christou
Composition – Cypros Charalambous
Studio arrangement – Cypros Charalambous
Live orchestration – Alexander Kirov Zografov
Conductor – Alexander Kirov Zografov
Score – 9th place (60 votes)


SOURCES & LINKS
  • Bas Tukker did an interview with Alexander Kirov Zografov, January 2025
  • A playlist of Alex Zografov’s music can be accessed by clicking this YouTube link 
  • Alex Zografov also has his own YouTube channel, which can be accessed via this link
  • Photos courtesy of Alex Zografov and Ferry van der Zant
  • Thanks to Mark Coupar for proofreading the manuscript
WEBSITE