I absolutely admire any band that reappears from lengthy exile and has the courage and wherewithal to produce new material that transcends anything they has ever accomplished previously. Fortitude and Maturity are the buzzwords that best describe this solid French band from beautiful Provence and proving that there is no age limit for musicians to create thrilling productions. Led by original guitarist and founding member Claude Segalin and helped by a few friends such Gerard Thouret on keyboards, guitarist Stéphane Honde, Anthony Valenzuela on the drum kit, as well as vocalists Joneice Jamison (Eurhythmics), Leina Vinx who also doubles on flute and the revelation on lead vocals, from Québec, Canada, the brilliant Richard Groulx. Everyone should recognize the bass player on all tracks (save one with Alix Gugliemi), none other than Guy Pratt (Pink Floyd, Icehouse etc..). Yes, there is a Floydian vibe but it’s a variation on the style and not a copycat attempt, a series of cleverly accessible compositions replete with vivid sounds, miraculously appealing vocals, pristine sound and immaculate arrangements, very much a team effort, where everyone note finds its correct spot.
From the initial bravura of “Thoughts”, the comfortable tone is set for immediate enjoyment, a close relative of Quebec band Mystery in executing melody, passion and atmosphere with precision and tons of ‘afterglow’. Everything is utterly tasty, from the whopping melody, the arching sizzle of the guitar solo, inserting suave live orchestrations and accent less, drop-dead perfect vocals from Monsieur Groulx. Great first impression!
Tracks like the Pratt bass bopping and the guitars rocking “Odd Love” showcase a rougher edge, Groulx’s voice convincing as he easily hits the higher notes like an incarnation of Lou Gramm of Foreigner. Throw in some rushing organ flurries, slithering lead pearls and a wham-bam ending. A decidedly progressive thread runs through the dreamy expanse of “Born”, a floating discourse that suddenly explodes into a kaleidoscope of delicate thunder with the obligatory scour-the-sky solo guitar rant. ‘Sitting on chair on a Sunday afternoon’ , I could listen to this all day!
Polluting fresh waters is the theme on the outraged “Fishes”, a rocking steamroller of pent-up wrath drowning in contempt and condemnation of the sacrilege of poisoning the living for the benefit of a monetary bottom line. Could have been a song played on the “Erin Brockovich” soundtrack, especially the motorcycle scenes, as this a prog Harley-Davidson, full of barely contained fury.
What is more logical than a polar opposite offering, the cello -driven “My Father” is a optimistic and loving ode to one of two icons each person who has had great parents can relate to. In my personal case, I cherish the reminiscences of my dad everyday single day, especially since passing 11 years ago.
“Hiroshima” is a subject covered before by John Foxx-era Ultravox (the classic “Hiroshima, Mon Amour” as well the 2020 Logos album, the majestic “Sadako e Le Mille Gru di carta”. While historians remain divided on the necessity of such draconian horrors, as a land invasion of Imperial Japan would have caused unfathomably greater casualties, truth is that this Damocles sword now continues to hover over our collective heads. Perhaps its time for the aliens to put us out of our misery and convert all of humanity into a new society of spiritual kindness towards all living creatures. The song is appropriately tragic and expertly delivered.
For whatever not so strange reason, “I Will Never” emits a feeling of Scorpions circa the ballad that we all know inside out, whistling aside. It is simple, effective and perfectly sung and played. Even the guitar solo screams out the Schenker brothers or is it Matthias Jabs? Stings with lethal focus. Yeah, love hurts…. Proof is the segue “Bag of Lies”, the proverbial wake-up call, when the romance fades and the heartbreak arrives in a black stretch limousine, ready to somberly whisk one away into the valleys of sadness and despair. Extraordinarily expressive vocal from our Quebecois singer, a guitar solo dripping with unrestrained agony, twisting the deceitful knife deep into the left ventricle, the pain no longer physical because you are numb with sorrow. Was it St-Germain des Prés or the Champs Élysées? I don’t want to remember. Wondering what her name was? …..well….
Back in the 70s, there was a delightful French/Vietnamese band called Tai Phong that had a huge hit with the slow ballad “Sister Jane”, what a romantic embrace on the dancefloor it was, many a passionate kiss exchanged. The final number is called “Jane”, an equally tender love song, full of melancholic emotion, sweetly saccharine but catchy like the one described earlier. The bluesy feel increases in energy as it careens toward the painful finale, the pace heightened by solid drumming and embracing guitars. Thoughts and memories.
Superbly entertaining, a from the ashes of time renaissance that cries out for future releases, s’il vous plait ! Merci to Anne-Claire of Bad Dog Promotions for barking up my tree.
4 pensive flashes
