Noir Desir - Rock's Dark Desire

The musical journey of Noir Désir is among the most beautiful and significant of recent decades. New wave beginnings, hardcore surges, revolutions and ethnic detours in their mature years; poetry and steely guitars, love and rage, anti-commercial and militant choices, a distance from trends and a constant questioning of themselves: this is how they carved their name into rock history, leaving behind a host of disciples, a massive legion of fans and a legacy of memorable albums. A career cut short at its artistic and commercial peak following a tragic night on July 26, 2003. But let's start from the beginning, from a school classroom.

Part One: J'ai mis l'feu à tout ce que j'ai touché

Bordeaux, 1980, the private Catholic school Saint Genès. Second year of high school: within the halls of the institute, Serge Teyssot-Gay and Bertrand Cantat meet. They chat about football (it's not yet the Bordeaux of a certain Zinédine Zidane) and dream of becoming rock stars. They recruit Denis "Nini" Barthe to form the group's backbone: Nini turns out to be quite convincing, becoming the drummer without ever having held a drumstick before, while Teyssot-Gay - struck at nine years old by the sounds of jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt - diligently attends his lessons.

Cantat can't play anything except the harmonica: he becomes the singer and lyricist. It's a magical season for the young dreamers: their idols — Neil Young, The Clash, Bob Marley, AC/DC — all pass through Bordeaux. Rehearsals begin: Teyssot-Gay brings in Gun Club, MC5, Stooges, and the thriving Bordeaux scene made up of Stalag, Stilettos, Strychnine, Gamine and Camera Silens. Cantat fuses his love of the Clash, Led Zeppelin and Doors with a devotion to Rimbaud and Mallarmé, without forgetting the lesson of forefathers Ferré and Brel. A Jim Morrison from across the Alps? The comparison holds up: the doomed allure is there, the talent is evident, and so is the charisma.

The early years are a constant churn of line-ups, and the name shifts from Psychoz to 6.35. In 1982 Serge Teyssot-Gay and bassist Vincent Leriche quit, replaced by Frédéric Vidalenc and Luc Robène. After considering Station Désir, the group starts calling itself Noirs Désirs — almost there — and keeps rehearsing with growing conviction. The crowds grow, the peace of mind doesn't.

In 1983 Cantat leaves for six months, replaced by Emmanuel Ory-Well (future manager of the band alongside Didier Estèbe), while Luc Robène joins the aforementioned Strychnine. Sigh of relief: a diplomatic, level-headed Cantat brings Teyssot-Gay back into the fold. The first demos are sent out.

The year is 1986: the man of providence is Theo Hakola, producer and singer of Passion Fodder and Orchestre Rouge. Approached by Didier Estèbe, he listens to the demos and goes to see the band at the "Jimmy" in Bordeaux. The impression is positive, so much so that he immediately introduces them to a manager at Barclay, for whom he works. After a show at the Chat Bleu, the major label offers a contract with a renewal option. The deal is signed, but don't be fooled: despite the ease of getting signed, one of the constants of Noir Désir's career will be putting creative freedom above record-label directives.

Noir Désir's debut (now without the extra 's') is Où Veux-Tu Qu'Je R'Garde?, recorded in Brussels at Studio ICP with Hakola producing. The band is a child of the English post-punk and new wave context of the early '80s: it looks to the dark scenes of Joy Division, the electro-melancholic melodies of Echo And The Bunnymen, and the aforementioned punk names. But it's Gun Club who stand out most: "She Is Like Heroin To Me" is the archetype for many of the early songs recorded by the four-piece. Opening with the creaks of the title track, steeped in heartbreak, existential pain and electric howls, the album hits its stride with the following "Toujours Être Ailleurs". The powerful "Pyromane" and the frantic "Rage" alternate with "Danse Sur Le Feu Maria" and "Lola", opening the gallery of doomed female portraits that would mark Cantat's songwriting career.

Given sales and live reception, the EP is a modest but genuine success.

Muffled by the dominant models of the time (ergo, the Smiths), Où Veux-Tu Qu'Je R'Garde? nevertheless has its own distinguishing traits: Serge Teyssot-Gay's well-defined melodic touch, the folk-western harmonica flourishes, Cantat's vocal charisma and elaborate lyrics. On first listen, Noir Désir pass the test with some reservations, but there's reason to be optimistic about the next step.

Between work commitments — Cantat and Barthe work as roadies for the city's big concerts — comes the good news: Barclay has extended the contract for three more albums. Veuillez Rendre L'Âme (À Qui Elle Appartient) comes out in 1989 and is produced by Ian Broudie of the beloved Echo & The Bunnymen. A very demanding figure, he'll squeeze the Frenchmen until the very last drop.

Paving the way is the famous "Aux Sombres Héros De L'Amer" (a pun on "Aux Sombres Héros De La Mer", "To The Dark Heroes Of The Sea"). Harmonica backing a solemn chorus in English for an instant classic steeped in existentialism: when Noir Désir aren't flooring the accelerator, they know how to write a hard-hitting ballad. The single breaks into the French Top 50, yet the band "has a hard time" with the success: it doesn't reflect the record's true spirit, and the lyrics get misread as a simple seafaring tale (partly the fault of the video), when for Cantat it's really about everyone's life.

The outcome is a fate shared by many songs in rock history: "Aux Sombres Héros De L'Amer" will never be played live and will be disowned by its authors. But on Veuillez Rendre L'Âme (À Qui Elle Appartient) there's also "A L'Arrière Des Taxis", all drums, Mayakovsky and Moleskine, with an unstoppable Cantat and one of the most powerful solos Teyssot-Gay ever unleashed. Just as untamed are "What I Need" — one of the four English-language tracks probably "suggested" by Barclay to boost commercial appeal — enhanced by a lovely closing violin passage, and the following "Apprends À Dormir".

Breaking up the genuine folk-rock mood are slow, brooding passages like "Le Fleuve" and "Sweet Mary", in which the singer begins to establish himself as a true interpreter. Far more focused than its predecessor, Veuillez Rendre L'Âme (À Qui Elle Appartient) marks the end of the long apprenticeship.

Noir Désir play at being rock stars: shows in the USSR at the invitation of fellow musicians Kino, loathed TV appearances, acid-tongued battles against the record industry system that increasingly carve out their role as rebels, all while still racking up gold records and long lines of sold-out shows.

If combining opposites were an art form, Noir Désir would be Caravaggio. The fervor that defines them pours out in 1991 into Du Ciment Sous Les Plaines. Co-produced with Phil Delire and Olivier Genty, the second record is raw, urgent and angry. The key track is "En Route Pour La Joie", charged with polemical force against the supposed progress of modern society and prophetic visions of their own career and relationship with an ever-growing audience. Du Ciment Sous Les Plaines comes without promotion from Barclay, and the usual supporting tour is scrapped after Cantat faints during a show in Besançon; even so, the album gets a good reception and brings further notable aspects to light. The political dimension becomes unmistakable: the title flips into the negative the slogan of May '68, "Sous les pavés, la plage!" and tracks like "The Holy Economic War" are statements that can't be misread.

Often underrated (perhaps because it didn't fully satisfy its own creators), Du Ciment Sous Les Plaines actually contains some excellent tracks. "No No No" is a fine opener: cutting chords, a violin in just the right place, and a Cantat poised between romantic and swaggering; there's "Charlie" with its unforgettable harmonica seal; and the doomed imagery of "Tu M'donnes Le Mal", a potential second single that was left in the drawer.

Noir Désir's career is astonishing: the closer things come to collapse, the more the band seems to thrive on delivering stunning twists. After Du Ciment Sous Les Plaines, the four of them count the damage and the wounds: the two managers leave, Cantat sets off on a trip through Cuba, Mexico and Guatemala, Serge Teyssot-Gay retreats into the mountains, sailing enthusiast Vidalenc prefers the sea, while Nini starts thinking about new musical projects. Departures with no set return date: if it isn't a breakup, it's close to one.

A year goes by, Cantat writes one of his letters and brings everyone back together for some sessions. They enlist none other than the producer of the venerated Fugazi, Ted Niceley, ditching their tried-and-tested Brussels for England, completely changing their previous recording methods. The result? 

Part Two: A l'attaque!

Another historic reference, another political slogan: "Todo está aquí", shortened in Tostaky, was one of the mottos of Zapata's Mexican revolutionaries, and it's chosen as the title of the new album. The goal is to work more on the power of the sound, so the guitar takes centre stage and Cantat becomes more direct. "Here It Comes Slow", which denounces the rise of the far right, is the most gripping intro — complete with whistling! — in Noir Désir's whole output. Just as striking is "Ici Paris", a hurricane of distortion, tributes to Syd Barrett and a Barthe at the peak of his rhythmic style. "Tostaky (Le Continent)" is the heart of the record and one of its definitive cornerstones. Cantat draws on the experiences of his latest trip, not only crafting the explosive opening riff but also weaving a flurry of snapshots at breakneck speed, plunging the listener into a visually vivid and politically ruthless trip.

As tradition dictates, women are not missing: here is the superb triptych "Alice", "Marlène" and the Lolita of "Lolita Nie En Bloc". The first is passionate, the second evocative of times gone by, the third is the album's queen: amid clattering guitars, taut rhythm and one of the frontman's most lyrical passages: 

Et puis son doigt décrit dans l'air des étoiles

Ou bien des éclairs elle ignore si superbement

Les sentiments les aléas de l'amour elle s'avance

Vers la fenêtre abandonnée lascive et elle

Couvre le ciel de mille signes

Etranges et inconnus de tous

Un ange passe

"Johny Colère" is a punchy cover of Rennes Les Nus: perhaps a good omen of a choice, given the line "Et la victoire caresse l'espoir de nous appartenir"? After the pure noise of "7 Minutes", "Sober Song" is worthy of the most alcohol-soaked pages of "I Fiori Del Male". Another significant track is the cryptic travel diary "One Trip/One Noise", a title that would resurface in 1998.

Superficially labelled as the remix album, One Trip/One Noise is in fact much more: a project that confirms the band's willingness to take risks with choices far removed from their usual context, enlisting names that are nothing short of cult favourites to provide alternative versions of tracks from their catalogue.

Among the enjoyable reworkings, standouts include the dub mood of the title track courtesy of Treponem Pal, "Oubliée" transformed into a symphonic opening worthy of "007" by Réplicant, and Yann Tiersen's orchestral reinterpretation of "À Ton Etoile", striking a rare balance of tension and tenderness: pure chills.

Returning to Tostaky, the album immediately established itself as an absolute pillar of French rock: Noir Désir's relentless run had finally reached the finish line.

The tour is a triumph, and Dies Irae from 1994 is the tangible proof. A double live album — knowing the band, a release probably forced on them by Barclays — celebrating the extremely strong bond between Noir Désir and their audience. Inside we find the most beloved moments performed without particular reworkings, wrapped in their unmatched on-stage energy. The two covers are more interesting. While the presence of "I Want You (She So Heavy)" by the beloved Beatles isn't surprising — one of the most "violent" versions ever proposed — what's striking is the presence of "Long Time Man" by Tim Rose: an unusual choice, a cult track for many artists (including a certain Nick Cave). As performed by the Frenchmen, it's unsettling, since it sinisterly foreshadows a future tragedy.

Dies Irae is the classic live celebration pressed onto a record, released to ride the wave of Tostaky's success, in which — fortunately — the usual "anti" stance is not lacking: how many bands at the peak of their fame — Serge Teyssot-Gay's fingerprints are all over this — would choose Latin words evoking apocalyptic scenarios and final judgment to title their own release? Is it perhaps an omen of Noir Désir's future?

Part Three: Le grand incendie

If after Du Ciment Sous Les Plaines, Noir Désir were close to collapse, now they're right in the middle of it. Cantat's voice has vanished, and Serge Teyssot-Gay releases his first solo album, Silence Radio. Almost a "psychoanalytic" work, as Cantat himself described it, in which the musician displays — if there was ever any doubt — his limpid talent, sketching out stark, enveloping compositions for guitar and voice. Well worth seeking out.

Meanwhile, the usual travel-breaks are coming to an end. A few rays of sunshine appear, just as on the cover of the new "666.667 Club", captured by Henri-Jean Debon, who directed several of the band's videos. Marked by a significant lineup change — Vidalenc leaves, replaced by sound engineer Jean-Paul Roy — the album is Noir Désir's mature work. The composition and recording mechanisms are now well-oiled enough to allow the musicians to explore new and stimulating creative paths. The title itself is proof of this: legend has it that within the group they used to challenge each other to see who could play piano fastest, and no one could beat the 666 metronome mark. Not exactly a lucky number, so they chose to add a 7 to it. Once again co-produced with Niceley, 666.667 Club shows the evolution of the final part of the group's output, without ever betraying their incurable rock vocation.

Something has changed. The horns of the title track "666.667 Club" and the accompanying whirlwind of free-jazz and ethnic flourishes are a fresh and engaging opening, followed by an unforgettable run of songs. On "Fin De Siècle" Noir Désir show off the grit of their early days, and as if that weren't enough, along comes one of their quintessential anthems: "Un Jour En France". Disarmingly relevant, the song first grabs us and drags us along on waves of guitar, then throws in our face the joys and sorrows of France (and beyond): the National Front at 15%, Charlie Hebdo (which that year collected signatures to ban the party), the switch to the euro. The fervor drops, but not the intensity: "À Ton Etoile" is yet another poetic marvel from Cantat, in which his voice blends perfectly with Gray's solo-refrain.

"Ernestine" appears over hushed tones, but there's not a moment's rest: here comes the fury of "Comme Elle Vient" and "Prayer For A Wanker" (a jarring title for a far deeper lyric). "Les Persiennes" is yet another moment to take the measure of the "new" Noir Désir: the same superb interplay of rhythm section and guitars, Cantat's symbolic lyrics (another calembour: it's about women wearing veils), enriched by the horn work of the great saxophonist Akosh Szelevényi, whose touch would leave an indelible mark on many of the band's compositions. A much-loved track is "L'Homme Presse", in which Cantat continues to push into the territory of rap, delivering an engaging result, as does the livelier "Lazy".

The harmonica of "A' La Lounge" flows into "Septembre, En Attendant", Vidalec's musical farewell, while "Song For JLP" is the hidden track dedicated to Jeffrey Lee Pierce of the Gun Club. A fitting tribute, a dedication that closes out the album that is — for now — their most complete and beautiful.

666.667 Club is followed by the usual, very long string of triumphant shows, finally free of the band's customary internal clashes, as the musicians take on an increasingly active role in French politics: suffice it to mention the show in Toulon, where the local council was run by the National Front, and the "Viva Zapata" event, organized in solidarity with the indigenous people of Chiapas. Rockers firmly on the side of the weak and forgotten.

Then the usual pause: Cantat loses himself in Mongolia, while the others don't stray far from a France unable to contain the band's fame. Noir Désir's music had crossed borders from the very start: the band is deeply loved among "colleagues and industry insiders", and over the years their collaborations grow ever more frequent, as shown by Cantat's presence on the track "1, 2, 3, 1000 Viêt Nam" by our own Giorgio Canali & Rossofuoco, featured on 1998's "Che Fine Ha Fatto Lazlotòz".

In 2000, En Route Pour La Joie comes out: a rich box set of greatest hits and delicious rarities, including demos, b-sides, unreleased tracks and covers. There's "Ces Gens-là" by Jacques Brel, the unreleased "Back To You", "Là-bas", "Lullaby" and "Dirty", "Drunken Sailors", performed live, and further proof of their love for the Beatles: "Working Class Hero" by John Lennon, the inevitable "Helter Skelter" and the "She's So Heavy" already familiar from Dies Irae.

An excellent release to soothe the always-lengthy waits. It took five years to hear the follow-up to 666.667 Club. But it was worth it.

In 2001 came out Des Visages Des Figures, the peak of the transformation inaugurated with 666.667 Club, in which ethnic influences and avant-garde drifts blend with a broadening of genres and registers. A work that, in this writer's opinion, can easily rival the most celebrated releases of that year, such as "Amnesiac" by Radiohead, a band openly admired by Noir Désir. The peak before the most painful of falls.

Produced in New York by Nick Sansano of Sonic Youth, Des Visages Des Figures came out on September 11, 2001, and "Le Grand Incendie" seems to have been written that very day. An apocalyptic, media-saturated scenario straight out of "It's The End Of The World (As We Know It)" by R.E.M.: great cities ablaze and collapsing, Claudia Schiffer, freak waves and bunkers. The album's international success, however, is "down to" one of the most unusual, evocative and wonderful (anti-)summer hits of all time: "Le Vent Nous Pourtera". Accompanied by an unforgettable video, the guitar of a certain Manu Chao and Akosh Szelevényi's horns, the song possesses a rare and obscure magic, capable of rendering any attempt at interpretation and explanation null and void. The album opens with "L'Enfant Roi": a hypnotic, tribal chord progression intertwined with the sighs of Michelle Lewis and soft electronic layers scratched by Teyssot-Gay's distortion. "Des Armes" is the visceral transposition of a text by the dear Léo Ferré, while "Des Visages Des Figures" features Romain Humeau of their "godchildren" Eiffel, with an enveloping arrangement.

On the first side of the record there's another masterpiece: "L'Appartement". Loose drums, warm and languid strings, Cantat more lascivious than ever. A sort of "Venus In Furs" for the new millennium. "Son Style 1" is two minutes of fire, with "Son Style 2" at the exact opposite end; the intense "À L'envers À L'Endroit" and "Lost" lead into the subsequent spoken-word moment of "Bouquet De Nerfs", right up to the arrival of the ultimate sonic monster: "L'Europe". Written together with the icon Brigitte Fontaine and produced by Szelevényi, the track is the 23-minute hellish distillation of a session lasting over three hours. In a deranged, lysergic atmosphere, with echoes of the Doors' "The End" and industrial whistles, Fontaine rises up declaiming unsettling lines ("Je répète/ Les roses de l'Europe sont le festin de Satan") broken up by Cantat's outbursts and violent accusations, building to a musical crescendo worthy of Poe's Maelström. Beauty and terror.

Des Visages Des Figures sells more than a million and a half copies around the world and sweeps up awards and recognition everywhere (with the usual dig at the establishment at every acceptance speech), all without the band forgetting its social and political commitment. Then the fairy tale ends and the crime story begins.

Part Five: Tout disparaîtra mais, le vent nous portera

On March 29, 2004, Bertrand Cantat is sentenced by a Lithuanian court to eight years in prison for "meurtre commis en cas d'intention indirecte indéterminée" (the equivalent of our manslaughter with indirect intent) of Marie Trintignant (daughter of the legendary actor Jean-Louis), who died on the night of July 26-27 at the Hotel Domino Plaza in Vilnius, Lithuania, as a result of blows received from the singer and the failure to seek prompt help. The media impact of the case is unprecedented. Amid debate and controversy, the affair remains a widely discussed topic to this day, far from any resolution. On September 28, 2004, Cantat is transferred to the prison in Muret, near Toulouse.

In October 2007 he is released from prison on parole: a month later he signs a three-album deal with Barclays. He finally finishes serving his full sentence on July 29, 2011, after living through yet another tragedy: on January 10, 2010, Krisztina Rády – his ex-wife, whom he married in '97 and mother of their two children Milo and Alice – hangs herself at their home in Bordeaux while Cantat sleeps in their bed. After her tragic death, some answering-machine recordings and letters come to light in which Rády confides to her parents about the problems in their rekindled relationship with Cantat, mentioning beatings and paranoid, jealous behavior. Amid all this pain and suffering, there was still, however, room to create something.

On November 12, 2008, France is reminded just how much it loves Noir Désir. Officially the band has never split up, and despite the tragedies and Cantat's subsequent creative block, the three remaining members have always closed ranks around their leader (and friend). On the website, two new tracks appear available for free download: "Gagnants/Perdants (Bonne Nuit Les Petits)" and "Le Temps Des Cerises". Songs born of that typical urgency of early-career work, in reaction and opposition to the current social and political climate, conceived and recorded in no time at all together with Estelle and Romain Humeau of Eiffel in their recording studio.

The first to come to life is the reinterpretation of "Temps Des Cerises", a piece from French popular tradition dating back to 1866, written by Jean Baptiste Clément and set to music by Antoine Renard. A symbol of the Paris Commune and the Bloody Week, since the author was an active participant in the events and dedicated the composition to a nurse who died during those days. In the hands of the Bordeaux men, the classic becomes a steely punk-rock romp, as if it had been written in the 1800s by the Sex Pistols. "Gagnants/Perdants (Bonne Nuit Les Petits)" is Cantat's first original composition since the days of Des Visages Des Figures. A lullaby (the subtitle refers to a children's TV show from the '60s), with lyrics as caustic as those of "Un Jour En France".

At the end of the press release presenting the unreleased tracks, one line: "À part ça, Noir Désir est au travail…" Could the rumors actually be true? Is the band working on a new album? But there's no escaping one's fate.

On November 29, 2010, Serge Teyssot-Gay announces his departure due to "emotional, personal and musical disagreements with Bertrand Cantat, compounded by the sense of indecency that has characterized the band's situation for several years." The following day, Denis Barthe, speaking on behalf of the remaining members of the band, rejects his colleague's claim of indecency, but publicly declares the breakup of Noir Désir. Months after the announcement, Barthe will tell journalist Marc Besse that shortly before the guitarist's statement there was a triggering event: an argument that broke out during a work dinner in Bordeaux in which Cantat's behavior became unbearable.

Epilogue: Amor Fati

After the night in Vilnius and away from Noir Désir, Cantat continues to be much sought after and takes on numerous collaborations, often with colleagues he met along the way: Brigitte Fontaine brings him in on "Les Vergers" (from "L'Un N'Empêche Pas L'Autre"), Eiffel call on him for their 2009 album "À Tout Moment", and he later joins Shaka Ponk for "Palabra Mi Amor." With every release, on one side there are fierce controversy and campaigns against Cantat, on the other critical acclaim and the audience's embrace: the live performances of the aforementioned collaborations are sheer eruptions of euphoria.

In 2010 Cantat accepts Eiffel's invitation to join them onstage in Bègles, near Bordeaux, delivering a stunning version of "Search And Destroy". It's his first public appearance after the tragic events, and LesInrocks will headline: "Sur scène avec Eiffel, Bertrand Cantat renaît à la musique". He's just as striking when his guitar kicks off "Tostaky" at the Trianon a few years later alongside his friends Shaka Ponk. In 2011 he appears in "Chœurs" and takes part in the production "Le Cycle Des Femmes: Trois Histoires De Sophocle", both by playwright Wajdi Mouawad. In 2012 he writes six songs for "Frique de Folila", the album by the legendary Malian duo Amadou and Mariam, and appears in the video for "Oh Amadou". The prelude to something big.

In 2013, Barclays releases Horizon, the debut album by Détroit, a band formed by Cantat and bassist Pascal Humbert, a former member of Passion Fodder (remember Hakola's band?) and now active in a number of excellent projects such as Tanit, 16 Horsepower, Lilium, and Wovenhand, with whom the singer had collaborated on the previous year's theater production.

Horizon is a gem, and it shows just how many people are still willing to be led by Cantat's voice and lyrics. Although it can't name or directly reference the events in Vilnius, the record is the purgatory after the hell he brought upon himself. "Ma Muse" and "Ange De Désolation" are prayers, pleas and invocations for a consolation that, if it can't be found in life, might at least briefly appear in music. "Droit Dans Le Soleil" is yet another superb fruit of Cantat's creative urgency. Composed in Lebanon together with Wajdi Mouawad, this waltz makes it onto the record after being recorded just once, in its first take. The same goes for the video, shot in 24 hours by Rod Maurice: a music stand, a bench, the greenery of the location, the sound of traffic at the end, a live take recorded in one go in which everything is crystallized in its purity.

Following the excellent response to Horizon, 2014 brings La Cigale, a double live album that also features Noir Désir songs. Indeed: what about the rest of Noir Désir?

Serge Teyssot-Gay's output has been practically endless — a reference point for alternative music, a kind of European Thurston Moore. The excellent "Silence Radio" was followed in 2000 by "On Croit Qu'on En Est Sorti", and shortly after that came two new projects: Interzone with Syrian musician Khaled Aljaramani, and Zone Libre, alongside Marc Sens and Cyril Bilbeaud.

Between soundtracks, theatre productions, prestigious collaborations and guest appearances, few international artists are willing to go without his six strings. Jean Paul Roy and Denis Barthe co-founded The Hyènes and released three albums: "BO de Enfermés Dehors D'Albert Duponte" (2006), "The Hyènes" (2009) and "Peace And Loud" (2012). Denis Barthe also formed Mountain Men, releasing "Black Market Flowers" in 2016.

Coming back to Cantat as frontman, if Horizon was a reckoning, an attempt to carve out a corner of peace and light, Amor Fati (2017) is an embrace of the night. Recorded in Nino Ferrer's house, the album is steeped in current affairs and politics, solitude and the need to close the door on the past: for the first time Cantat put out a record under his own name — even though the backing musicians are still Détroit — and showed his own face on the cover. A cinematic synth sketches the nocturnal landscapes of "Amie Nuit": a gentle prayer for restless souls seeking shelter. Night is followed by Fate: "Amor Fati" — also a Latin phrase used to mean accepting one's own destiny — is a torrential rap that grabs hold of you within seconds. A trick repeated on "Chuis Con", the most Noir Désir-sounding track Cantat has ever made as a solo artist. Musically far broader than the almost entirely stripped-back acoustic sound of Horizon, the album moves from caustic political jabs ("Silicon Valley" takes aim at Google, "L'Angleterre" voices disapproval of Brexit) to more intimate, personal moments. "Excuse My French" expresses the desire to rebuild a "normal" life, even in its most mundane moments; "Le Plueis Diluviennes" and "Anthracitéor" are two other heartfelt nocturnal ballads, giving way to the renewed energy of "Aujourd'hui":

Aujourd'hui j'ai l'âme au firmament

Et j'ai le feu des dissidents

Closed out by the beautiful "Maybe I", Amor Fati is yet another confirmation of the greatness of Cantat's talent. A release that was met, true to form, with both acclaim and controversy.

Now that the Noir Désir chapter has definitively (sadly) come to a close, Bertrand Cantat returns to producing new material. After Amor Fati, released under his own name, here he is hiding behind a new moniker, following the brief but intense Détroit chapter: Paz, also the title of the album. Seven tracks, half an hour of music in which the French singer weaves his own compositions together with those of writer Caryl Férey, renowned for his grim, violent noir novels steeped in historical drama and set in the most exotic locations. His latest novel, "Paz" (another critical and commercial success), set in Colombia, is no exception, and this album serves as something like its musical appendix. The songs are in fact inspired by, but not directly tied to, the novel, with the writer credited for the lyrics of three tracks ("Diana", "Détruit/Cassé", "Ta Peau"), while the rest are credited to the musician from Bordeaux. Around the two of them is a line-up featuring Marc Sens, Manusound and Laul Girard. Cantat and Férey's collaboration had already taken shape a few years earlier, during the reading-performance Condor Live.

Musically, "Paz" has nothing to do with Cantat's previous work: it lacks the rock fury of Noir Désir, the warm acoustic touch of Détroit, and the compositional eclecticism of "Amor Fati". In the album's most disembodied moments, one gets the feeling that our man had been listening to Ghosteen by Nick Cave while making this record.

A distant wind, electronic eddies, a few strikes of a drumstick: these are the first three minutes of the opening "Babel". A long litany of the word Peace in every language, building into an ever more swirling crescendo before dissolving into the following "La Dune", a highly cinematic track on which Cantat shifts between spoken word and singing. A disorienting choice at first, but one he had already explored in the more experimental moments of "Des Visages Des Figures". Over a light bed of keyboards we're introduced to "Diana", while a string section underpins the forward motion of "Détruit/Cassé". The track that comes closest to a standard song form, with its lovely interplay of strings and guitar cuts, is "Ta Peau", fittingly chosen as the lead single to introduce the album. After "Fleur De Bunker", "Paix Éclair" provides a fitting, circular close under the banner of multilingualism, multiculturalism and a message of peace. And so ends the listen to the latest piece of Bertrand Cantat's compositional career: beyond the intrinsic value of "Paz", this could also be the spark for a renewed (for the umpteenth time) desire to make music.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

Share on

This article is an English translation of the original Italian text, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition