Absinthe (Provisoire)
Montpellier

Absinthe (Provisoire) | Myspace | Distile Records

Absinthe (Provisoire)'s debut album barely left a mark on the world in 2003. Back then we had all been duped into thinking that the earth was not a cold, dead place, but three years later we're a bit wiser and we realized the folly of these premature impressions. It's true, Absinthe (Provisoire) should have been much more warmly received by the music community, but for some reason it just didn't catch on. Last year its was fortunate enough to catch a bid on the Rhaaa Lovely lineup in Belgium, and slowly people began to talk. The band follows that performance with its second album, Alejandra, which can only be described as "frighteningly demonic." Absinthe is one of those bands that we hate to love (or love to hate) because you can never really pinpoint what exactly it sounds like. At times you might be tempted to compare the band to Godspeed You! Black Emperor, due to it's post-rock inclinations, whereas other times a metallic edge cuts through the work to reveal this strangely mutated avant-garde skeleton akin to Kayo Dot. The latter always refers to themselves as "orchestral metal," and Absinthe might do well to advertise itself as such, but the music itself is amorphous; long passages of noise and feedback clatter through the sonic landscape for what seems like eternity before any sort of familiar framework is discovered. Minimalism is so overbearing that the "wall of sound" which eventually does appear seems like an after thought, even accidental. Alejandra has a high listening curve. The music itself is unwelcoming, as if to try to turn away the listener so that it may perpetuate an isolated state and dwell in its own dejection and misery. Experimentalism is pushed to the forefront of the music, and here is slowly infects the sonic landscapes and decays the foundations of the band until there is nothing left except silence.

It's unlikely that Absinthe (Provisoire) will be turning many new people onto their music with Alejandra, the music is far too unwieldy for most ears. It's quite a shame, because at the core of it, few can claim to have thrown off the constraints of traditional music with more vigor than these Frenchmen. Maybe in five years we'll be looking back at a legend in the making.

Kwoon
Paris

It doesn't take long into Tales and Dreams before Kwoon unviels its influences. "Intro" may through the listener for a loop (perhaps a snapshot from Scars of the Midwest?), and even "I Lived on the Moon," with it's gloriously ascending guitar line, may still leave us scratching our heads. Some very somber vocals are even added to the mix to further complicate the matter; yes, Kwoon is a post-rock band that likes to sing on occasion. Then we come to "Blue Melody" and as the slow, celestial ambience slowly begins to dissolve, the pace of the guitar quickens and the drums flare to life, signaling the beginning of the triumphant finale. The sextet sure knows how to pack a powerful punch, a punch which sends me back listening to Agaetis Byrjun. Tales and Dreams is not nearly as ambitious as Sigur Ros' masterpiece, but over the course of 40 minutes the band lays down 10 tracks, all of which are easily accessible. Those who find the Icelandic quartet too pretentious might do tell to check out Tales and Dreams, in fact. Kwoon's take is much more guitar oriented, favoring a reliance on tremolos to surge through murky ambience and digging deeply into the reserves when needed. "Tenkleh Skofa" displays the cleverness of the act, layering loops in opposing directions to juxtapose the light and dark aspects of the music while stitching it together well enough to almost convince you it's all in a linear fashion before the heavy reversal thump becomes apparent. The artistic merits of the music are never once compromised through the album's entirety, but at the same time the band is very conscience of who it's playing for -- an audience.

For what it's worth, Kwoon does well to not delve too heavily into a single source of inspiration and presents a well-sampled and varied taste of modern music. Conceptually, the album works well, and musically it not only highlights the conceptual theme, but also stands very strongly all by itself. In my book, we call that "success."

Year of No Light
Bordeaux

Year of No Light | Myspace | Radar Swarm

Having opened for the likes of Isis, Fennesz, and Explosions in the Sky, Year of No Light was cumulating a nice buzz in anticipation of their debut album, Nord. The album adds to the growing scene of doomcore bands popping up overseas, but it stays true to its roots in channeling the works of Neurosis as well as the newer crops of "post-metal" bands such as Isis, Rosetta, and Mouth of the Architect. Nord, an hour long affair, is filled with guttural vocals, devastating riffs, burrowing drones, and the occasional outbreak of soaring keys. The song lengths vary from under three minutes to just shy of the ten minute mark, but Year of No Light shines when it works in the larger pastures. "Traversee" is a hypnotic blend of the aforementioned elements; a slight industrial twist is given to the song's conclusion, which effectively extracts the listener from its hellish trace and submits it to the tortured finale. Other tracks portray a more contemplative band. "Somnambule" is a relatively lighter piece, devoid of the grating vocals and massive riffs. The smooth fluidity of the track is a welcome change of pace from the chaotic nature of the rest of the disc, and it's complemented nicely by shorter tracks like "Librium" and "Prosodia." Arguably more experimental than its peers, Year of No Light creates music that is still familiar enough that it will appeal to returning fans of the genre.

At the end of the day, the bleak world that Year of No Light created is not such a bad place after all. If you can get by with stumbling around in the darkness for hours on end, you might find the soundtrack to this surreal experience quite nice. Fans of the previously mentioned bands should find Nord to be a welcome addition to their collection, if not an indispensable album altogether.

Colleen
Paris

Colleen | Myspace | The Leaf Label

Ever since her stunning debut, Everyone Alive Wants Answers, Cecile Schott, aka Colleen, has been no stranger to critical acclaim. Of course, being part of the illustrious Leaf Label doesn't hurt at all. Over the breadth of her work Schott has primarily focused on minimalist compositions and fragile, acoustic melodies. A faint tint of surreality hovers over the dreamy landscapes she delicately constructs, extracting the organic components of her instruments and combining them in such a way as to invoke very unnatural feelings. Her newest offering, Colleen Et Les Boites Musique was completed almost entirely using music boxes. Schott has been no stranger to these toy boxes, but this is by far the most ambitious of her projects to date, because her musical scope is limited by predetermined resources. Some might consider such a restriction fatally challenging, but true talent shines through, even in the most severe of circumstances, and Schott is not shy in that department. The playfulness of the cd is by far its selling point; much of the music progresses like a wide-eyed child bewildered with a newfound toy (one who is quite talented at sound manipulation, I'll grant you that), made all the more apparent by the choice of track titles. Although much of the music is abstracted outside its original intent, tracks like "A Bear is Trapped" anchors the album by exposing the more natural sounds of the music box (in this case - "Pop Goes the Weasel"). Experimental music is rarely this accessible.

Whether one personally enjoys Colleen's music can't take away from the intrigue which surrounds Shott's work. You have to admire an individual who will go to such great lengths as to make forty minutes of music with music boxes. The determination and skill required to make such a process sound anything but amateurish is phenomenal, and Schott makes it look all too easy.

Fago.Sepia
Paris

Fago.Sepia | Myspace | Jeunes and Jolies

Fago.Sepia warms the heart. Rich melodies inhabit L'âme Sûre Ruse Mal, and a jazzy influence brings the formality down a few notches. An overwhelming organicism floods the album, dominating nearly every aspect of the album. For a French band, Fago.Sepia's sound isn't extremely new, but most of their influences fall within the very tight French circle which has likely not fallen on too many ears overseas -- Chevreuil, Milgram, and Sincabeza, to name but a few. We might liken the sound to the lovechild of Six Parts Seven and Tortoise, or perhaps, stretching our imagination, You.May.Die.In.The.Desert and Once We Were. As with most bands of this ilk, the drumming is superb, often stealing the limelight when it reaches its full potential. Other times it's content to provide a solid base for the intricate guitar work, expressing a maturity with respect to its compositional framework. Yet, throughout the thirty minutes of music on L'âme Sûre Ruse Mal, the band is able to get the listener quite involved and engaged into the music itself. This is quite the exceptional feat, especially without the use of the great theatrics which often accompany instrumental bands.

L'âme Sûre Ruse Mal is hopefully the start of great things to come from Fago.Sepia. This small release has made quite the splash, and it'll be interesting to see what they can do with a full length album at their disposal.

~Jordan Volz