Labels: self released
Review by: Captain Fidanza
Well, well, well, what do we have here ?
I love the French, let me just say that right now. I love their films; Jean-Pierre Melville’s “Le Cercle Rouge” is one of my very favourites. I love their literature; Jean-Paul Sartre’s “Les Chemins de la Liberté” trilogy remains the most immersive reading event of my entire life. I love their art; standing before Eugène Burnand’s “Les Disciples Pierre et Jean Courant au Sépulcre le Matin de la Résurrection” in the Musée d’Orsay earlier this year was one of the most profoundly moving moments I have ever experienced.
But their music ? Let’s think…
My grandma had a Charles Aznavour LP which had a photograph of him sitting in front of a chessboard on the cover, I never heard it playing so I can’t really comment on him.
Maurice Chevalier ? Ãdith Piaf ? Songs about being happy during wartime is my understanding.
Jean Michel Jarre ? Do, do, do, do, doooooo. Brilliant, I love that song about encouraging people to do things.
Serge Gainsborough ? He had that one song where a woman breathes a lot, but I’ve never heard it properly. I do however, strongly recommend searching Youtube for the video of a drunken Serge informing Whitney Houston that he would “like to fuck her” live on a French talk-show, the dirty dog.
Air and Daft Punk. I took a girl to see “Interstellar 5555 : The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem” on Valentine’s Day in 2004; our relationship fell apart soon after.
So all in all, it’s a mixed bag and I’m sure the French would be the first to admit their achievements in this particular artistic medium are not really commensurate with the books and films and paintings and things.
But here come Tahiti 80 to let us know that French music is not just about breathing and wars. Oddly, like another band from Italy which Andy introduced me to by posting me their CD, these fellows have foregone their native tongue and chosen to sing their songs in English. Well done them you might say, well done for being sufficiently learned to be able to tackle the complex idioms of a two thousand year old language and mould them to fit your artistic purpose.
You might say that, but if you had heard the song “A Night in the City” from this four track EP, you wouldn’t say it twice.
It was night in the city, I was only a kid.
I just wanted to impress her, well of course I did.
She took me out dancing, I was doing my best.
I couldn’t help thinking, this must be a test.
Is it Jerry Springer or the C.I.A ?
Should I be running for cover, or just dance the night away ?
When lyrics of such faceplanting stupidity are semi-rapped over an electrobeat backing which wouldn’t have sounded out of place over the closing credits of a Japanese cartoon for five year olds in 1992, you begin to get some idea of what we’re dealing with here.
I have always ascribed to the theory that the environment in which an artist works, plays as large a part in what they produce as almost anything else; Wu-Tang for instance, would never have sounded like Wu-Tang if they’d come from Anaheim rather than Staten Island. The same thing is at work here, Tahiti 80 are what Massive Attack would have sounded like, had the Wild Bunch formed in the village where Last of the Summer Wine was set, rather than St.Paul’s.
Oh and Magma. I forgot about them, they’re French too. Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh is a fucking awesome record. There’s that one song which sounds like before she recorded her vocal, the singer was made to memorise that scene from Temple of Doom when that dopey looking man has his heart ripped out by Mola Ram and when they’re lowering him into the fire pit he’s all “um nom sha vi, um nom sha vi, um nom sha vi, um nom sha vi, um nom sha vi, um nom sha vi.”
Tahiti 80 have betrayed Shiva.