5 out of 5

Label: Un-je-ne-sais-quoi

Produced by: Various, Brice Kartmann (mastered by)

Bold. Showy. Like the haircut that provides this compilation’s namesake, I suppose, but French label Un-Je-Ne-Sais-Quoi has continued to be a mysterious entity to me, maintaining a high quality of very curated (and, for someone US-based, affordable!) releases, without much commercial appeal – though there are some known quantities from the experimental scene as part of the roster – and have proven able to truck along consistently for over a decade at this point, and quite a bit more than that if you consider their early, unnumbered releases.

So what’s so bold and showy about La Pompadour? Well, accepting that I have no real clue how well known or successful the label is, I’d still expect / think that the first compilation put out would be some type of best of, or a sales pitch of sorts. But: UJNSQ firstly stuff their comp with almost 50% artists who hadn’t yet / haven’t yet appeared on the label, give it no hype sticker or anything explaining its gist, package it almost purposefully inscrutably, and kick the album off with like 30 seconds of absolutely punishing noise. …I mean, I guess that is the sales pitch.

As I’ve mentioned on other UJNSQ reviews, the label has this magical ability to reinvigorate my fandom with each release, while simultaneously putting out things that don’t sound like I’ll enjoy them. I have to, like, slide a band off of this cassette to get to it – which was also wax-sealed to the cassette shell, mind you – and the liner notes additionally offer zero “check out these artists” context; just a list of half-familiar names, and thus far the only thing I really know is that it’s a compilation. My ears bleed for those 30 seconds (I wonder if the cassette is defective) before… well, one of the best comps on my shelf starts to play. Not only a good roundup of UJNSQ- or related artists, but some truly amazing showpieces that cross that commercial appeal line: there’s some indie pop; some groove; some funk. Behind a very arty artifice lies a gorgeous, open invitation to the label’s music that’s also not really misleading. Like, if you jump to some of their most obtuse stuff from this, sure, but those artists aren’t called out here: instead, you’d be starting with those (The Dictaphone, Thackery Earwicket) who tend to preference melody, and you can hop from there to explore more if so desired.

So this really does accomplish what I’d expected: although it’s all new material, it’s kind of a stylistic best of, with the whole presentation acting as the sales pitch. Additionally, it has the rare distinction of being a compilation that I actively return to (though admittedly it’s easier to hit play on digital), featuring a flow of music that covers the gamut of being energizing and soothing and emotional and silly and, well, my ears do bleed for a bit each time, but even that bit you kind of like as a type of habitual hazing before the celebration begins.

In conclusion, I’m apparently pro-hazing.