4 out of 5

Label: Zamzam Records, Permafrost, La République Des Granges

Produced by: Manuel Duval

Swirling, weird, often quite beautiful while also feeling quite tense and oppressive, I’ve… likely just described Rien Virgule overall, but their second album, Le Couronnement Des Silex – translated for non-French speaking me as ‘The Crowning of the Flints – seems to especially bring out the band’s extremes. As such, the marriage between some of the release’s pairings is where it can lose a step, the group running very far ahead with ideas while the music kind of catches up, unsettled. It seems fitting that things kick off the album’s most tempered and yet uneven track: Zanne Nel Velluto features vocalist Anne Careil somewhat tamed o’er a steady drumbeat, and key support. There are hints of the operatic swelling that typifies a Rien Virgule track, but the song remains at something of a simmer, and then ends… but seems to restart with a completely different melody for an aborted coda.

It’s an odd beginning.

Second track Tactile kicks things off more properly, with elements of darkwave synths pumping in, an element shared with the following song as well. The entrancing nature of RV is present on all of these songs, but so is an unevenness that is part of my above, windingly-worded criticism: Careil ghostily howls; keys shimmer; drums pound; melody stops and starts like a dance – you can imagine some black and white soiree taking place to any given RV track, while static and storms rage all around. The first part of Couronnement just cannot quite get the steps down. It’s still an amazing performance, just one you watch / listen to from a slight remove.

Until the final two songs: La Visite Aux Animaux Plâtrés, and La Peau Noire. These gather up the sonic elements we’ve been hearing and add another push of intensity – of forward momentum. La Peau Noire in particular is one of the most nerve-wracking songs I’ve ever heard, starting from almost a goofy, boppy, electronica-tinged beat and then slowly angling the frame until it’s all tilted, and forever falling and being picked up by the band.

Oddballs who like music with a performance element will perhaps appreciate this, but Rien Virgule strips away some of the self-awareness of that – an element which often bothers me – and replaces it with a bit of industrial doom and indie kitchen-sink instrumentation.