4 out of 5

Label: Murailles Music

Produced by: Manuel Duval (recorded and mixed by)

I collect a few experimental labels that, being experimental – a very blanket term that can mean a roll of the dice in terms of appeal – always have me starting a record of an artist with which I’m not familiar with some trepidation. And surprisingly often, I go through a reactive cycle that I say is surprising exactly because of how often it occurs: when the first song, or first few sounds, or whatever, turn me instantly off of the album, and I’m like, “what did I get myself into,” judging my label-dedicated blind buying habits.

Later, I love the album, and remember why I trust these labels in the first place.

Though they’ve been around since either 2006 or 2010 – or maybe only 2019; the earliest releases on their bandcamp – I’ve not heard of France Sauvage; perhaps that’s because of my narrow vision towards mostly English-speaking bands. But as a sampling of that selection, ‘Où les observer, savoir les reconnaître’ seems like a particularly pointed form of the group’s percussive / sound collages. To start, though, it’s pretty twee: some dainty vocals over a bouncy electronic beat that had me assuming Postal Service all up in my artsy-fartsy Murailles Music label, and, no, I’m not a big Postal Service fan. But this is really just France Sauvage (appropriately translated as “wild France”) warming us up with some softer sounds, before those electronic gentle bloops turn into industrial clashes of drums, and harsh manipulations of vocals, drawing a jagged-peaked line from Einsturzende Neubauten’s rhythmic clatter to Radian’s metronomic, chilly electro. Add atop a vocal layer that employs off-time readings, fuzzing the vocals in and out of importance by manipulating them as much as the Aphex Twin-ed snare rush beats, and thoughts of twee are soon dismissed. Once you have more of a grasp of Sauvage’s dissected take on electronic music, even this relatively gentler opener (Tears Me, Love Me) feels “right” within the sequence of tighter tunes, longer-form epics of percussive blasts and noise, and interstitial ambience.

While I sometimes criticize music for having a learning curve, I think that requirement for Où les observer is rather a pro: France Sauvage never exactly mislead with their style (again, the opener introduces abrasiveness atop a melody), and the album’s general inscrutability is paired with congealed sections of rocking out all the way through – I realize I described my kneejerk reaction above, but really, this is an album that simply comes into better focus the more you listen; you don’t have to “learn” to love it, assuming you’re open to something that blends aspects of the groups mentioned above…

Of course, even given that openness and love, I’d say there’s some bloat here, and moments when it feels like FS can’t decide if all the vocal flexing is designed to have us listen to the words, or just intended as another musical layer. This drags some tunes out – Faire Les Dents Repousser, in particular – but is a good comparison to when everything is balanced perfectly beatween noise and melody, such as on Otis Lélé. Very much in general, the longer tracks are when the group starts jumping back and forth over the true “experimental” line, leaving structure behind in favor of trying out repetition, or new sounds. This is pretty limited overall, meaning it’s put to good use from a top-down perspective, but in the moment, you might get itchy waiting for a track to kick over to the next one.

Definitely experimental music – I wouldn’t dare describe it’s off-beat warble any other way – massaged into pretty unique territory: totally unstructured, often pretty atonal, and yet incredibly catchy and danceable.