Art by Kealan Shilling
If the French are known for anything it’s a staunch refusal to be restrained by convention of any kind, be it political structures, artistic movements, or above all musical expression. Parisian power trio Faire continue their countrymen’s grand tradition of abject nonconformity on L’Enfer, the colossally ambitious translation of the band’s notoriously unhinged live shows into a surprisingly cohesive album that defies categorization while maintaining an obtuse approachability.
The opening salvo of L’Enfer hits like Turnstile at the Louvre, an electro-hardcore onslaught kicking off with “La Gaule,” a mission statement for the band’s avant-garde approach to burrowing deeply inside preconceived notions of genre and detonating those tropes from the inside. Deep synth grooves and manic percussion propel the track forward with unhinged ferocity punctuated by muscular gang-vocal shout-alongs that transcend language to deliver an irresistibly potent dose of adrenaline that’s universally primal in its appeal. “Christiane” continues to press the gas pedal firmly to the floor as machine gun vocals are rapped with tactical precision over a moody, vampire nightclub beat pulsing with ominous allure from the depths of the Moroccan underground.
From here the album begins a sort of transformation as raw aggression gives way to more tempered expressionism, neatly dovetailing the Suicide-esque highbrow synth-punk of “Anastacia” into the quiet, almost ethereal “La chamille,” where ambient electronic noises blip irregularly over a sunny, vaguely Hawaiian guitar riff like a Beach Boys b-side bounced off the solar panels of a derelict Sputnik into the farthest reaches of the solar system.
Undulating combinations of punchy riffs and dramatic arpeggio weave through the next pair of tracks, a moment of respite from the densely chaotic opening. “Booget” slinks with louche confidence like a prowling Phantom Of The Opera wine drunk and stalking backstage catacombs while “Latitude” flirts with un-easy listening by embracing an acid soaked ambient psych pop daydream like David Lynch directing a script by John Hughes.
The energy returns with the streetwise “Les trottoirs,” amped up instrumentals illuminating a skittering dancefloor beat whipped into a frenzy by rapped vocals, razor sharp guitars, and smoky middle eastern motifs before dropping into a disorienting groove that seemingly pulls and stretches reality like newsprint comics transferred to silly putty and distorted beyond recognition.
From this point on, Faire settle into what would most closely resemble a comfort zone, digital psychedelia with analog flourishes designed for gallery openings and dancefloors alike spiked with the kind of youthful edginess that has always existed on the bleeding edge of cool. “Laisse Lucifer” is possessed of a lightness that stands in contrast to the Prince Of Darkness namedropped in its title, and “Se la pasa bien” is impeccably relaxed, bathed in the tangerine dream of a beachside sunset on the French Riviera.
The widescreen instrumental “Kabale” blossoms outward from the speakers, recalling the mysteriously compelling sonic structures of Moon Duo’s Occult Architecture Vol. 2, a science fiction spectacle awash in rainbow lens flare and wide-eyed wonder at the limitless infinity beyond the borders of normal perception. “Jim” crashes the band back down to earth with the closest Faire gets to a traditional rock song on the entire album. Nervous percussion and flat vocals create a distinctly punky new wave party vibe that pogos along to the beat with gleeful abandon. “Los Muertos” is another largely instrumental track that takes a cartoonishly Tim Burton approach to seasonally appropriate spooky music with skeletal percussion and melodies that run the gamut from Tower Of Terror to spaghetti western.
“Bonne mine” closes out the album with an epic, eight-and-a-half-minute jam that coalesces the entirety of the L’Enfer experience into a tightly packed “exit through the gift shop” montage so thoroughly commoditized it would make Thierry Guetta blush. Nothing is repeated, but nearly every element that made the previous 51 minutes so compelling is neatly arranged into a dense but digestible summary. L’Enfer’s hottest track has got it all: dance beats, psychedelic riffs, middle eastern themes, that weird barely intelligible vocal sample that sounds like a childlike sprit guide encountered on a midweek peyote bender in an abandoned warehouse. If it wasn’t all so deeply serious, you’d almost think that Faire were barely holding it together delivering the musical version of a weekend update pitch on Paris’ hottest club.
L’Enfer is streaming now on Spotify. Follow the band on Instagram.
