The Cordell Chapel at Fawkner Cemetery overflowed last Wednesday as family, friends, and colleagues gathered to bid farewell to Achilleas Yiangoulli, known to his family and friends as Archie. He passed away at 61, after a life marked by both extraordinary talent and health challenges. Like his mythical namesake, Achilleas was heroic, but he bore his own vulnerable heel—a congenital heart condition and other medical complications that had shaped the contours of his life.
The mourners reflected on the breadth of his musical brilliance, his warmth, wit, and generosity. He was loved by all. Among them were some of Melbourne’s most celebrated musicians, composers, arrangers, choreographers, festival directors, and arts managers, all bearing witness to the profound impact he had on the city’s artistic life.
Born in May 1964 to Cypriot immigrants Nicholas and Antigone, Achilleas overcame enormous odds from the very start. “He wasn’t expected to live. His survival, in many respects, was both a miracle and a testament to his heroic nature and the love and care he received from his family,” the funeral celebrant said.
Multiple surgeries on his heart, spine, and knees marked his early years, yet he grew into a man whose life was defined by passion, strength, and charm.
“Music was his medicine, and it became our medicine,” the family reflected, “for his loved ones, his community, and the audiences who came to adore him.”
Archie’s love of music began early. At 17, he purchased a bouzouki for $1,400—a significant sum at the time—and later studied music technology at La Trobe University, immersing himself in a recording studio that would become his laboratory. His body of work was vast: ensembles including Habibis and Rebetiki Compania, collaborations with Indian, Jewish, Spanish, and Indigenous musicians, performances at the National Folk Festival, Port Fairy Folk Festival, and WOMADelaide, and roles as soloist in community choir Canto Coro. He also composed for theatre, served as musical director for Café Rebetiko at the Arts Centre, and contributed to ABC TV’s Spicks and Specks, Greeks on the Roof, and the watershed Greek Australian feature film Head On.
Family and friends shared memories that revealed both his humour and humanity. His partner Kathy Vlassopoulos, herself an accomplished dancer and choreographer, recalled trips through Cyprus and Greece, describing moments of wonder.
“We drove to the Troodos Mountains, Cyprus’s largest mountain range, and stood at the peak, holding each other tightly so we wouldn’t be blown away. We stayed with my mother’s family in a village and became part of the locals. The villagers fell in love with you.”
She also spoke of the challenges during COVID-19, visiting him daily in the hospital despite strict restrictions, playing cards and backgammon, reading together, and continuing their study of Plato over Zoom.
His brother shared anecdotes like the Guy Fawkes Day when Archie accidentally blew the roller door off its hinges, and childhood adventures that revealed his playful ingenuity. “Mum wanted him to become an accountant,” he said.
“The plan lasted three months. His heart belonged to music.” And called Archie the “Spotify” of old, carrying mixtapes for everyone he knew, always ready to play, share, and teach.
Composer and long-time collaborator, and friend, Irine Vela likened him to Simon the Likable from Get Smart, ‘Kaos’s most irresistible agent’.
“It always took longer to go somewhere with Archie because people stopped to shake his hand. He had a beautiful touch on the bouzouki, on guitar, and his voice. He could vocalise anything, from rebetika to classical works like Axion Esti. When he sang, it was effortless and full of soul.”
Konstantine Kalymnios, musician, author, and collaborator, spoke last. “Achilleas didn’t merely play music. He inhabited it,” he said.
“To sit with him and play was overwhelming—he was the exact opposite of a tape recorder mechanically reproducing songs. We hold things only long enough to pass them on. We borrow sound. We borrow stages. We borrow one another.”
He recalled Achilles’s uncanny ability to make observations that cut to the heart of the matter, like the moment he paused mid-rehearsal to say, “This song has suffered enough.”
The many that gathered represented decades of Greek-Australian cultural and artistic life—dancers, composers, festival organisers, musicians across genres, all united in grief and admiration. The consensus was that Archie had a rare gift, not only for music but for life itself.
He taught those around him to listen and to embrace the ephemeral nature of existence. He made audiences, colleagues, and loved ones feel elevated, even when life’s weight was heavy.
Achilleas Yiangoulli’s legacy is the heroism of the heart. His weapons were a bouzouki, a guitar, and his voice. He lived life with courage, curiosity, humour, and kindness. He will be remembered, always, as a man who lifted souls, filled rooms with music, and left a community richer for having known him.
I miss him greatly. We all miss him.
