Yan Hart-Lemonnier | Les Partage Des Griefs
Right off the bat, just by looking at album art, you can detect this guy’s sense of humor is intact. But Gallic sound-bender Yan Hart-Lemonnier‘s new 12″ (which runs at 36 minutes) titled Les Partage Des Griefs (roughly translated to Sharing Grievances) has variable tones, from shades of gray to quirky. Speaking of coverart (see above) this one is some kind of melting, moulting, metamorphosizing psychedelic paradise that seems to riff on his previous sleeve for last year’s Le Cœur et la raison. His vision has an adjunct sense of the surreal, and it’s clear in Hart-Lemonnier’s sound that he doesn’t compromise from this singular p.o.v. now that he’s abandoned this alt personas (he’s recorded under several aliases).
On A quoi vous servait l’espoir de toute façon he seemingly puts nature (field recordings?) through electronic filters, turning and churning nature on its head some. There’s something recessing and forlorn here, it’s a lovely melody, filled with color with a downbeat tempo, and plenty of isolated electronics. Baphomet Beach Club is a continuation of these stray elongated tones that I’ll simply call ‘low-phonica’ as a reference point. I wanted to listen to something distinctly of the region before I made my first pilgrimage (this week!) to Paris – and this may be the French new wave right here and now. Speaking of which, even though today marks Thanksgiving day (happy harvest y’all) – I will just be landing at Charles de Gaulle (Roissy) and replacing the turkey (or in my case, Tofurky) with raclette and a crispy baguette this year!
There are darkened drones that flair up along the way, and an atmosphere of potential gloom, though Hart-Lemonnier manages to find balance within the space of airy passages that break the fog as it were. One thing is clear, this is pure electronics of the synthesized variety, something a bit timeless between 70’s German explorations and futuristic speculation, all packaged in intertwined short harmonic delicacies. The title track makes reference (at least for me) of the Qatsi trilogy (Philip Glass).
This record seamlessly fit into one of our most recent podcasts (La grosse banane) and it is on the flipside where the wiggly wry side comes out some. This is also where I start to make connections with sound distortionists like Autopoieses and even the interior sonics of Das Synthetische Mischegewebe. Twisted tones and a drum machine are brought forth on closer, Tout le monde sait mieux que toi. It takes a 180° from the rest of the record with a sense of abandon and proximity to glassy techno, offering a glimmer of the hopeful. This playfulness leads to the wayward gateway into the hypnagogic. And he leaves you there, hanging in suspense and awe.