“If you are a false, don’t entry!” And if you are a false, do enter, because the only rule of this weekly section, in which we present you three short blurbs on music we are currently listening to, is that we are under no circumstance allowed to press the enter key. All of these little reviews shall thus consist of one paragraph only. The more this rule renders the blurb illegible, the more the writer has failed.
Ahh, another terror attack, another French feelgood farce for us to feast upon! Did you #PrayForParis? I do hope your prayers reached heaven! What a consolation it must have been for those who bathed in their own blood that your thoughts are with them. It’s the Tweet that counts, after all! Did you change your Facebook profile picture to represent the French tricolor? Yes, honour the banner of the Republic, who, with Her inextinguishable values of Liberty, Equality and Brotherhood will strike fear into the hearts of the enemies of Europe! You will be pleased to know, however, that by now you are permitted to take that blue-white-red filter off your mug. The gesture has been made, and the bodies have turned cold. Thanks for playing!
Oh, and don’t listen to these naughty artists. It’ll give ISIS exactly what they want. :'(((
Baise ma Hache – La grand suicide | La vieille France, 2014
Just take a glimpse at that cover art, there can’t be a great deal of wrangling over the themes of this fine album! An Edelweiss, whose very name means ‘noble white’, being placed on the guillotine, symbol of the egalitarian Terror, well I mean to say – it’s basically the death of the West isn’t it? The foul decapitation of the thinking brain, the noble spirit, the mighty ideal, in favour of whatever spiritual/intellectual/ra**al poverty that our dear leaders may insist on us for the commercial and liberal benefit of their own metropolitan desires. But enough of this proselytism. This album is a scalding frost straight from the Savoie, a region I hold most fondly in my (holiday) memory. There is a definite roughness to this work, a smattering of pre-song feedback, some dim notes here and there, but combined with the inserted samples, this creates something great – a DIY chalet crafted slab of counter-Republic rebellion, rife with hate, creativity and a fiery spirit (no doubt owed in part to the fine array of Savoie beers and herbal liquors which I remember with such fondness). The fragrance of the hooligan mixes with the pristine Alpine air and the hint of regional pride to make this album what is; a defiant ‘piss off’ to the hordes of ‘Refugees Welcome’ anti-patriots and ‘lo Anemi francor’ which are so vitally incurring on our birthright. Melodies which crush and stir the spirit, full of (French) balls, the occasional punk/blastbeat and a hell of a pissed off shout to accompany it all. Buy local, buy Baise ma Hache – after all they’ve also got the best shirt/hoodie/jumper designs I’ve seen for a long time. Defend Europe, Defend the Savoie! |MDL al-Assad
J’ai Si Froid – J’ai si froid | La vil France, 2015
Well well well ladies and gentleman, Winter in his bearded barren and frosted glory has certainly arrived, and what better to pass the hours behind a snowdrifted door than with this crystalline offering. Comprising of both Dunkel from Sale Freux/Drakonhail etc. and Brouillard from, well, Brouillard, we have here two masters of the atmospheric art. The title translates roughly (and less poetically) as ‘I have such cold’ or ‘I am so cold’, a hypothermic (but not DSBM) tribute to the gathering snows of the season, and what a tribute it is. The production qualifies each note as a razor sharp icicle, with thin yet commanding drums maintaining a generally mid-paced spine around which the melodies build. Anyone who is familiar with the works of either artist (and if you are not, then what the Devil are you doing here?) will be au fait with the tortured and melancholic emanations that pierce the freezing mist that pervades each track. One element which must be mentioned, due to its backseat on each of the artists’ respective back catalogues, is the keyboards – these are very frontal in the mix and provide lynchpins in the crafting and maintaining of the principal melodies, evoking the frosted and snow-laden landscapes so artfully depicted in the album artwork and booklet. Some tracks see an interesting marriage of each artists’ individual styles, a prime example being “Transi dans mon cocon” (“Shivering in my cocoon”), in which Dunkel’s artful cawing combines with Brouillard’s shivering tremolo, to create a very vivid image of the title itself. This is a lengthy collaborative effort, but one which accurately reflects the project’s inspiration; Winter in its most monotonous, inspirational, bleakly majestic and isolated majesty. For those of you who demand references, a touch of Paysage d’Hiver with a hint of Sale Freux, by way of a spoonful of Galdr and a sprinkle of every damned good cold black metal album you stole from the internet. Atone for your sins, purchase this fine piece of art directly from France du Nord Productions, and just maybe the piracy police will forgive you due to your good taste. |MDL al-Assad
Order the digipack CD by sending an e-mail to: francedunordproductions[AT]hotmail[DOT]fr
Peste Noire – Dans ma nuit | État français, 2014
On his side of the split with Diapsiquir, rural rat, violator of Marianne and overall sardonic French nuisance Famine departs for a moment from his recent politicised works to offer “Dans ma nuit”, showcasing once more the personal and gloomy side of the Peste Noire project. The lyrics – a translated version of which can be found here (scroll down, pussy) – allude to some autobiographical details, such as being locked up in a nuthouse and the death of the author’s father. The dim state of mind emerging from these events is narrated through tragic poetry, though never without a hint of Famine’s characteristic dark humor: “Searching without GPS for your daylight / But as always / Caught for exceeding the spleen limit”. Musically, this song sees a continuation of the ‘Frenchification’ of Peste Noire‘s music, with drum virtuoso Ardraos moonlighting as an accordionist once more, driving the smell of mouldy cheese out of your speakers alongside the tortured howls which, as always, comprise Famine’s vocal delivery. Add a subtle diss to Neige, and you have a song that, while it offers a different perspective, is unmistakably Pesto Negro, standing firmly as a bulwark against bourgeois gentrification and the urban eunuchs who preach apathy even as their loved ones are being slaughtered. |Degtyarov Nasrallah
Vimeo (music video)