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LP
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BORNBAD 179LP
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$20.50
PREORDER
RELEASE DATE: 11/29/2024
For the first time, some hard-to-find tracks released by VOX LOW on different smalls labels. Some tracks have previously only been released on 7". Featuring Tarik Ziour.
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BORNBAD 176LP
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Gwendoline is the project from Micka (a.k.a. Mikoune) and Pierre (a.k.a. Daniel). Based in Brest in France, musically influenced by the classic cold wave which originated in their country, precarious and aimless, they shape Gwendoline to their own image. Pure DIY ethics, quick recordings at their home studio. Dark lyrics, self-mockery, criticism, sarcasm derived from the world's mediocrity. Après C'est Gobelet is their first album. Melodic but dark, ironic but direct, sophisticated but absolutely minimalistic. A testimony of today's world viewed under a grey prism of sarcasm and wrapped around beautiful melodies and rhythms.
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LP
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BORNBAD 175LP
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LP version. Among the figureheads of French disco, Bernard Fèvre, better known as Black Devil, probably had the shortest-lived career but was the most brilliant and unique mind of them all. Although his first album Disco Club, released in 1978, went unnoticed at first, it has since become a must-have, a collector's item which has led a lot of listeners to further investigate into his extensive work. From rock music to music hall, sound illustration to disco, pop to reggae, through film music and advertising, Bernard Fèvre has experimented with so many genres that it has been hard not to lose track. One of his best albums even has such an unambivalent title as The Strange World of Bernard Fèvre. Please make your way to a cosmic dimension, verging on the unknown.
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CD
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BORNBAD 175CD
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Among the figureheads of French disco, Bernard Fèvre, better known as Black Devil, probably had the shortest-lived career but was the most brilliant and unique mind of them all. Although his first album Disco Club, released in 1978, went unnoticed at first, it has since become a must-have, a collector's item which has led a lot of listeners to further investigate into his extensive work. From rock music to music hall, sound illustration to disco, pop to reggae, through film music and advertising, Bernard Fèvre has experimented with so many genres that it has been hard not to lose track. One of his best albums even has such an unambivalent title as The Strange World of Bernard Fèvre. Please make your way to a cosmic dimension, verging on the unknown.
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BORNBAD 174CD
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Cyril Cyril's music seems familiar because it's not deaf to its neighbors, in the broadest sense: Geneva, their lair, Europe, their playground as a duo, and the world, their grocery store. There's plenty in those two heads, but just the two of them on stage. Cyril Yeterian fiddles with a polyglot banjo and catches his tangy voice on the fly with pedals. Cyril Bondi hauls around a huge drum kit (voted wackiest of the decade), covered in sonic shells and the occasional pad. For their third Born Bad album, they have invited two lads from Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp, Inès Mouzoune (multi-instrumentalist from Amami), and Violeta Garcia (whose cello features on Le Futur ça marche pas). Genosidra, aka Carlos Quebrada, who crafts club delicacies in Bogotá, mixed heavy, full gravy, a challenge given the quantity of material, recorded as a family affair at Insub Studio. This album features heavy guitar/drums text-driven ballads, polyrhythmic noisy drum splatter with crafty vocal knitting, deconstructed and harmonically ambitious compositions, and Latino frogs croaks. Since their previous efforts Certaine Ruines (BORNBAD 109CD) and Yallah Mickey Mouse (BORNBAD 138CD), it turns out that the future isn't working out so badly for the two Cyrils, who each have a label to run. Bongo Joe for Yeterian, Insub for Bondi -- who also beats the drum for La Tène in his rare spare time. And that's not counting with their supergroup Yalla Miku (with Hyperculte, Anouar Baouna, Ali Boushaki, and Samuel Ades). Quietly sitting on crates of records, they patiently build their sound. Never tired of sick networks and never-ending struggles, Cyril Cyril live is a rousing mess, shouting out the common spleen while still managing to have a good laugh.
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LP
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BORNBAD 174LP
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LP version. Cyril Cyril's music seems familiar because it's not deaf to its neighbors, in the broadest sense: Geneva, their lair, Europe, their playground as a duo, and the world, their grocery store. There's plenty in those two heads, but just the two of them on stage. Cyril Yeterian fiddles with a polyglot banjo and catches his tangy voice on the fly with pedals. Cyril Bondi hauls around a huge drum kit (voted wackiest of the decade), covered in sonic shells and the occasional pad. For their third Born Bad album, they have invited two lads from Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp, Inès Mouzoune (multi-instrumentalist from Amami), and Violeta Garcia (whose cello features on Le Futur ça marche pas). Genosidra, aka Carlos Quebrada, who crafts club delicacies in Bogotá, mixed heavy, full gravy, a challenge given the quantity of material, recorded as a family affair at Insub Studio. This album features heavy guitar/drums text-driven ballads, polyrhythmic noisy drum splatter with crafty vocal knitting, deconstructed and harmonically ambitious compositions, and Latino frogs croaks. Since their previous efforts Certaine Ruines (BORNBAD 109CD) and Yallah Mickey Mouse (BORNBAD 138CD), it turns out that the future isn't working out so badly for the two Cyrils, who each have a label to run. Bongo Joe for Yeterian, Insub for Bondi -- who also beats the drum for La Tène in his rare spare time. And that's not counting with their supergroup Yalla Miku (with Hyperculte, Anouar Baouna, Ali Boushaki, and Samuel Ades). Quietly sitting on crates of records, they patiently build their sound. Never tired of sick networks and never-ending struggles, Cyril Cyril live is a rousing mess, shouting out the common spleen while still managing to have a good laugh.
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CD
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BORNBAD 172CD
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The relative classicism of Frustration's sixth album, Our Decisions, quenches the thirst of fans whose reputation is well established. Their music is driven by an initial desire that is sufficiently complex that its expression is never a repetition. Frustration doesn't teach music history, but that doesn't mean they don't know where they come from. One of the great joys of listening to a band that's had time to figure out what it wants is that it plays together. The keyboards have six strings, the drummer has a mediator, the bass sings, no one's pulling their punches, and it shows. No doubt there are plenty of presets on his synths, but Fred Campo had to rip out what wasn't being used, and the result: no lasagna of layers, it's played like a scraper. If this is your first knife, be confident: the quintet crafts its blades with the savoir-faire of a Thiers cutlery factory. For snobs who roll on the floor when English is sung on the wrong side of the Channel, two tracks in French, "Omerta" and "Consumés," remind listeners that Fabrice Gilbert sings in an interlanguage that has kept the best of both idioms. It's the perfect way to savor his acid, no-holds-barred rants, which cut a swath through this "generation of apathetic truffles/fantasizing about assholes full of money." Produced in-house at Mains d'Oeuvres, premixed by guitarist Nicus, mixed by Jonathan Lieffroy, with Krikor on mastering: there's been a bit of a shift to port since their last album, So Cold Streams. The sound is less radically cold wave, and seeks a balance close to the instruments (the guitar plays inside your face, closer is in). There are traces of Indus on the drum skins of "Riptide," tunnel produced like a banger, and sung like new wave. Anne, from the Rouen combo Hammershøi, sings in German on "Vorbei," a rare moment of pause in this very intense record. The cardio-packed drums of "Catching Your Eye" recall the joyful drone of "Shades from the past," an instrumental from their first album, and confirm, if confirmation were needed, that Mark Adolf forms a formidable tandem with Pat Dambrine on bass. "Secular Prayer," which closes the album, confirms that Frustration are as much in the Ian Curtis family as they are in the Ian Dury family: it takes great care not to take themselves so seriously with such success.
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BORNBAD 172LP
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LP version. The relative classicism of Frustration's sixth album, Our Decisions, quenches the thirst of fans whose reputation is well established. Their music is driven by an initial desire that is sufficiently complex that its expression is never a repetition. Frustration doesn't teach music history, but that doesn't mean they don't know where they come from. One of the great joys of listening to a band that's had time to figure out what it wants is that it plays together. The keyboards have six strings, the drummer has a mediator, the bass sings, no one's pulling their punches, and it shows. No doubt there are plenty of presets on his synths, but Fred Campo had to rip out what wasn't being used, and the result: no lasagna of layers, it's played like a scraper. If this is your first knife, be confident: the quintet crafts its blades with the savoir-faire of a Thiers cutlery factory. For snobs who roll on the floor when English is sung on the wrong side of the Channel, two tracks in French, "Omerta" and "Consumés," remind listeners that Fabrice Gilbert sings in an interlanguage that has kept the best of both idioms. It's the perfect way to savor his acid, no-holds-barred rants, which cut a swath through this "generation of apathetic truffles/fantasizing about assholes full of money." Produced in-house at Mains d'Oeuvres, premixed by guitarist Nicus, mixed by Jonathan Lieffroy, with Krikor on mastering: there's been a bit of a shift to port since their last album, So Cold Streams. The sound is less radically cold wave, and seeks a balance close to the instruments (the guitar plays inside your face, closer is in). There are traces of Indus on the drum skins of "Riptide," tunnel produced like a banger, and sung like new wave. Anne, from the Rouen combo Hammershøi, sings in German on "Vorbei," a rare moment of pause in this very intense record. The cardio-packed drums of "Catching Your Eye" recall the joyful drone of "Shades from the past," an instrumental from their first album, and confirm, if confirmation were needed, that Mark Adolf forms a formidable tandem with Pat Dambrine on bass. "Secular Prayer," which closes the album, confirms that Frustration are as much in the Ian Curtis family as they are in the Ian Dury family: it takes great care not to take themselves so seriously with such success.
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3LP
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BORNBAD 166LP
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The French equivalent of the English "Derby Service," the Kiosque d'Orphée, formerly at 7 Rue Grégoire de Tours in the 6th arrondissement, was taken over by Georges Batard in 1967 and moved to 20 Rue des Tournelles in the 4th arrondissement of Paris. The adventure lasted until 1991. Georges Batard was a sound engineer who used a Neumann tube engraver to engrave acetates from the tapes he received, before printing the precious vinyls in the press factories of the day, where he was able to produce very small runs of between 50 and 500 copies. Le Kiosque d'Orphée was neither a label nor a publisher, but a structure that allowed you to press your own vinyl, at a time when it was quite an adventure to get your first 45 rpm or 33 rpm album released! When you finally had your own record, you could give it away or sell it to friends, family or after concerts. You could also drop it off at the nearest record shop, with undisguised pride. It was also a calling card that could be sent to radio stations or music labels, in the hope of launching a career. At the time, the advertisements published in the press by the Kiosque d'Orphée opened up the field of possibilities for provincial composers. It was now possible to make their own record, without having to go through the process of signing with a label. This album is the conclusion of a long investigation, begun six years ago. It took a long time to find the records, scattered all over the place, in the homes of collectors and sometimes the musicians themselves, and then to listen to them, sometimes painstakingly, to unearth these moments of grace. From this work, 23 tracks remain, but there are dozens of others that could have been included, so Born Bad had to choose, and the choice had to be as universal as possible. Featuring Mar Vista, Kënnlisch, Crystal Eyes, Walrus, Gérard Alfonsi, Geoffroy, Amphyrite, Eole, Capucine, Rictus, Inscir Transit Express, Polaris, Joël Boutolleau, Spotch Forcey, Demon & Wizard, Temple Sun, Chantal Weber, Jean Claude Zemour, Rhodes & Co, Guidon, Edmond et Clafoutis, Dominique A, Didier Bocquet, and Alain Meunier.
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LP
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BORNBAD 173LP
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LP version. Gwendoline's music doesn't give a fuck. Doesn't make proper plans, as they keep telling anyone who'll listen. Everyone will hear what they want on C'est à moi, ça, new album by two Brest-based boys on Born Bad. Some would have them be Joy Division or les Béruriers Noirs. Some would brand them cold-wave, dark-wave, chav-wave, you name it. You can't sing that much about pub culture without paying your dues. Their first album was literally written on the counter. They have every right to shit on gyropod-riding suits when they've stolen their favorite bars. Just listen to "Le sang de papa et maman" to check from which well they draw the muddy liquor that gushes from this record. Though they won't brag about it, they are definitely ripping new assholes to every social injustice warrior out there, with gusto. Some songs can be sung, because they manage enough room for listeners in there. You can join on the chorus as one would for a soccer song, but they're not going for stadiums. Pierre Barrett and Mickaël Olivette, two magnificent losers for whom "the end of the world began when they were born," just tell it like it is. They "don't give a damn about writing like Beaudelaire." Their lyrics taste like damp coasters and smell like retired microphones living in the bottom drawer. Every track is an opportunity to spit on every aspect of life that asked for it: vacation clubs, the generation before, the one after, low-cost living, trash TV. And themselves, no doubt, because they've got more important things to do than draw up socially responsible plans. French duo doesn't get it when, after years of loose ends, the it-crowd wants to take selfies with them. And it's not going to get any better with this new album, conceived and recorded at home, in Brittany. The dark, radical, no-nonsense instrumentals (Jake and Romain, guitar/keyboards) give Pierre and Micka a strong ladder to go piss on the parade from a great height. Love them, and it probably already pisses them off. Their anger feels single-breasted and fair.
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CD
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BORNBAD 173CD
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Gwendoline's music doesn't give a fuck. Doesn't make proper plans, as they keep telling anyone who'll listen. Everyone will hear what they want on C'est à moi, ça, new album by two Brest-based boys on Born Bad. Some would have them be Joy Division or les Béruriers Noirs. Some would brand them cold-wave, dark-wave, chav-wave, you name it. You can't sing that much about pub culture without paying your dues. Their first album was literally written on the counter. They have every right to shit on gyropod-riding suits when they've stolen their favorite bars. Just listen to "Le sang de papa et maman" to check from which well they draw the muddy liquor that gushes from this record. Though they won't brag about it, they are definitely ripping new assholes to every social injustice warrior out there, with gusto. Some songs can be sung, because they manage enough room for listeners in there. You can join on the chorus as one would for a soccer song, but they're not going for stadiums. Pierre Barrett and Mickaël Olivette, two magnificent losers for whom "the end of the world began when they were born," just tell it like it is. They "don't give a damn about writing like Beaudelaire." Their lyrics taste like damp coasters and smell like retired microphones living in the bottom drawer. Every track is an opportunity to spit on every aspect of life that asked for it: vacation clubs, the generation before, the one after, low-cost living, trash TV. And themselves, no doubt, because they've got more important things to do than draw up socially responsible plans. French duo doesn't get it when, after years of loose ends, the it-crowd wants to take selfies with them. And it's not going to get any better with this new album, conceived and recorded at home, in Brittany. The dark, radical, no-nonsense instrumentals (Jake and Romain, guitar/keyboards) give Pierre and Micka a strong ladder to go piss on the parade from a great height. Love them, and it probably already pisses them off. Their anger feels single-breasted and fair.
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CD
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BORNBAD 165CD
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Music On Hold's second album raises to its climax an altogether well-cultivated ambiguity between new ambitions and the waiting posture of a band which has never lived up to its name so well. Produced in a cellar in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, supported by Ray Jane and "surrounded by a group of people who manage to concentrate on something for more than 15 minutes," MOH4Ever is one of the most personal things that Emile Cartron-Eldin has delivered. Retaining a semblance of immediacy, the eight pieces of this second album open up new perspectives with their elegant sophistication, in a quite French and truly original touch of DIY and experimentation that the group can pride themselves on.
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BORNBAD 165LP
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LP version. Music On Hold's second album raises to its climax an altogether well-cultivated ambiguity between new ambitions and the waiting posture of a band which has never lived up to its name so well. Produced in a cellar in the 7th arrondissement of Paris, supported by Ray Jane and "surrounded by a group of people who manage to concentrate on something for more than 15 minutes," MOH4Ever is one of the most personal things that Emile Cartron-Eldin has delivered. Retaining a semblance of immediacy, the eight pieces of this second album open up new perspectives with their elegant sophistication, in a quite French and truly original touch of DIY and experimentation that the group can pride themselves on.
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LP
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BORNBAD 171LP
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LP version. Let the pagans and other grave desecrators tremble: Vox Low emerges once again as a messenger from the depths, ready to shake the foundations and carrying on its shoulders the weight of ancient legends of obscure mysteries. In their highly anticipated second album, Keep On Falling, the Parisians dare to don the ultimate sacred shroud of rock and roll mythology: Vince Taylor's black leather ski suit. The gang consists of Jean-Christophe Couderc (machines/vocals), Benoît Raymond (bass), Mathieu Autin (drums), and a newcomer: Jérôme Pichon (guitar) -- who oddly enough seems to use a box cutter blade instead of a guitar pick. To these preachers of anarchy, we must add one Aurélien Bonneau, whose role as the group's sound engineer -- a true wizard -- has become essential to the point of being a full-fledged member of the band. What seems to bind these renegades together is their fanatical devotion to Mark E. Smith and their passion for chaos. So, Vox Low releases their highly anticipated second album, following their flawless debut record in 2018. Keep On Falling was recorded in their secret batcave, located near the entrance of the Porte d'Aubervilliers on the dark border of the 18th arrondissement of Paris. One can notice a slight change in direction compared to their first album, perhaps with fewer club influences. In a macabre dance between shadow and light, each track on the album reveals an unexpected depth, inviting the listener to plunge into an enchanting trance. This work is more mature and fluid than their first opus, and Vox Low merges genres to create an enchanting blend of soaring krautrock, funereal post-punk, hazy dub, and minimalist rock and roll. While the tone may seem to harden, these scoundrels also appear in a more pop and strangely brighter light. Solitude, melancholy flesh, fervor for outlaws clad in a pair of blue jeans, and the taste of metallic blood in the mouth -- these are all the themes cherished by the post-punk bible -- here, they are all beautifully captured in a collection of songs about faith and devotion. Prepare to succumb to its enchanting power and lose yourself in the labyrinth of a captivating sonic ceremony.
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7"
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BORNBAD 151EP
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Jeu de Dames, la libération des femmes (1973), a film by director Christian Lara, is a vaguely subversive charm flick that won't be remembered for a long time. An amusing detail, however, is that Georges de Caunes, father of Antoine de Caunes, the famous French TV personality, plays the lead role alongside Danielle Palmero. Faced with this commercial failure, the unscrupulous producer at the time, anxious to save his investments, decided to re-edit the film so that it could be screened in the X-rated circuit. The film was a dud, but as for the music, Jean Claudric is particularly inspired and offers one of the best French jazz funk soundtracks, which would not blush at the comparison with the best of the genre, such as Michel Legrand's Un homme est mort, or Jean-Pierre Mirouze's Le mariage collectif (BORNBAD 044LP, 2012), previously released by Born Bad.
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CD
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BORNBAD 169CD
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For a long time, the music of Congo-born Bony Bikaye had to be sought in the purgatory of "world music," where diamonds in the rough cohabited with bland nightmares of white dudes who froze rumba like fish sticks. Worse, they did put it on the menu, when so many longed to move on. Take Bikaye, who grew up listening to modern European music, digs Krautrock, struggles with tradition, obviously looking for trouble in the genre. In Brussels, he recorded a few albums with CY1 (Loizillon/Micheli), and brilliant defectors from Aksak Maboul, produced by Hector Zazou. Now it's up to French trio TONN3RR3 to take up the torch and build this project that proudly brags: "It's a bomb." Thought up at home by Guillaume Gilles (compo/keyboards), the album was finished at One Two Pass It studio, with Olivier Viadero and Gaëlle Salomon on percussion, Yoann Dubaud (machines & bass) and Guillaume Loizillon (synth of CY1 fame, and matchmaker of this affair). It's a deeply musical record, crafted by no-attitude reference players with nothing left to prove, and you can hear it. Floats well above the fray.
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LP
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BORNBAD 169LP
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LP version. For a long time, the music of Congo-born Bony Bikaye had to be sought in the purgatory of "world music," where diamonds in the rough cohabited with bland nightmares of white dudes who froze rumba like fish sticks. Worse, they did put it on the menu, when so many longed to move on. Take Bikaye, who grew up listening to modern European music, digs Krautrock, struggles with tradition, obviously looking for trouble in the genre. In Brussels, he recorded a few albums with CY1 (Loizillon/Micheli), and brilliant defectors from Aksak Maboul, produced by Hector Zazou. Now it's up to French trio TONN3RR3 to take up the torch and build this project that proudly brags: "It's a bomb." Thought up at home by Guillaume Gilles (compo/keyboards), the album was finished at One Two Pass It studio, with Olivier Viadero and Gaëlle Salomon on percussion, Yoann Dubaud (machines & bass) and Guillaume Loizillon (synth of CY1 fame, and matchmaker of this affair). It's a deeply musical record, crafted by no-attitude reference players with nothing left to prove, and you can hear it. Floats well above the fray.
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CD
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BORNBAD 171CD
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Let the pagans and other grave desecrators tremble: Vox Low emerges once again as a messenger from the depths, ready to shake the foundations and carrying on its shoulders the weight of ancient legends of obscure mysteries. In their highly anticipated second album, Keep On Falling, the Parisians dare to don the ultimate sacred shroud of rock and roll mythology: Vince Taylor's black leather ski suit. The gang consists of Jean-Christophe Couderc (machines/vocals), Benoît Raymond (bass), Mathieu Autin (drums), and a newcomer: Jérôme Pichon (guitar) -- who oddly enough seems to use a box cutter blade instead of a guitar pick. To these preachers of anarchy, we must add one Aurélien Bonneau, whose role as the group's sound engineer -- a true wizard -- has become essential to the point of being a full-fledged member of the band. What seems to bind these renegades together is their fanatical devotion to Mark E. Smith and their passion for chaos. So, Vox Low releases their highly anticipated second album, following their flawless debut record in 2018. Keep On Falling was recorded in their secret batcave, located near the entrance of the Porte d'Aubervilliers on the dark border of the 18th arrondissement of Paris. One can notice a slight change in direction compared to their first album, perhaps with fewer club influences. In a macabre dance between shadow and light, each track on the album reveals an unexpected depth, inviting the listener to plunge into an enchanting trance. This work is more mature and fluid than their first opus, and Vox Low merges genres to create an enchanting blend of soaring krautrock, funereal post-punk, hazy dub, and minimalist rock and roll. While the tone may seem to harden, these scoundrels also appear in a more pop and strangely brighter light. Solitude, melancholy flesh, fervor for outlaws clad in a pair of blue jeans, and the taste of metallic blood in the mouth -- these are all the themes cherished by the post-punk bible -- here, they are all beautifully captured in a collection of songs about faith and devotion. Prepare to succumb to its enchanting power and lose yourself in the labyrinth of a captivating sonic ceremony.
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CD
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BORNBAD 161CD
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France, early sixties: the Mouvement de l'École moderne is in full bloom. Relying on the experiments and writings of its founder, the educationist Célestin Freinet, this consortium of teachers is about to give empirical evidence proving that another approach to music in school can be fruitful. With its pragmatic, anti-authoritarian tack, the method that Freinet was already developing in the 1920s held children in respect, giving them confidence and autonomy. Freinet very soon started to put his principles into practice, experimenting in person a series of innovating techniques that would become emblematic: removing the rostrum, reorganizing the classroom, encouraging cooperation, developing activities such as school printing or inter-school correspondence... As the wish to encourage free expression was central in the Freinet philosophy, arts and crafts were given more importance at school; in this regard, singing and music had a part to play, just as much as writing or drawing. While classrooms filled with a joyful jumble of sound-making objects (springs, bottles and basins, dismantled piano frames, drums, bamboos and the first DIY electronics), singular forms of music started ringing out: wild improvising, delicate a-cappella singing, clanks and dissonant string hammerings, basic experiments with magnetic tapes, evanescent folk songs... Between 1962 and 1982, recordings collected from schools everywhere around France were compiled on dozens of vinyl records. Mostly destined to teachers and friends supporting or gravitating around the Mouvement, these short-format records documented the evolution of practices and approaches: catchy headings such as "Musique libre" (free music), "Recherches sur la voix" (vocal experiments), "Musiques concrètes" (concrete music), "Musiques électroniques" (electronic music) or "Musiques d'ailleurs" (music from elsewhere) are particularly telling. And the music that could be heard on these groundbreaking records was the work of pupils from small towns in Lot-et-Garonne, Oise, and Alpes Maritime -- not exactly the archetypal privileged children benefitting from an upper-class economic and cultural background... Rather, children from rural schools with a single classroom, and sometimes, atypical or struggling children oriented towards the so-called "classes de perfectionnement." Liner notes in English and French. CD version includes 28-page booklet.
Features: Frederic Chanu, Paul et Jean Paul avec Tambour, Classe de perfectionnement, C.E.G de Douvres la Delivrande, Nadine Perron, Enfants de 9 à 1à ans, Olivier, Dédé avec Gaby à l'Ariel, Sandrine Lanoux et Pascal Panizut, FP1 à l'école normale de St Germain en Laye, Anne Krikorian et Andrea Debret, Lionel Tasquier, Genevieve Marty, Gerard, Marc, et Roger 9 ans, Isabelle et Christain, Dominique Colas, Bernard, Une équipe de jeunes enfants, Jean, Patrice, Hervé, Jean-Paul, Monique, Club de danse de l'école, and Enfant inconnu.
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LP
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BORNBAD 161LP
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LP version. Includes 20-page booklet. France, early sixties: the Mouvement de l'École moderne is in full bloom. Relying on the experiments and writings of its founder, the educationist Célestin Freinet, this consortium of teachers is about to give empirical evidence proving that another approach to music in school can be fruitful. With its pragmatic, anti-authoritarian tack, the method that Freinet was already developing in the 1920s held children in respect, giving them confidence and autonomy. Freinet very soon started to put his principles into practice, experimenting in person a series of innovating techniques that would become emblematic: removing the rostrum, reorganizing the classroom, encouraging cooperation, developing activities such as school printing or inter-school correspondence... As the wish to encourage free expression was central in the Freinet philosophy, arts and crafts were given more importance at school; in this regard, singing and music had a part to play, just as much as writing or drawing. While classrooms filled with a joyful jumble of sound-making objects (springs, bottles and basins, dismantled piano frames, drums, bamboos and the first DIY electronics), singular forms of music started ringing out: wild improvising, delicate a-cappella singing, clanks and dissonant string hammerings, basic experiments with magnetic tapes, evanescent folk songs... Between 1962 and 1982, recordings collected from schools everywhere around France were compiled on dozens of vinyl records. Mostly destined to teachers and friends supporting or gravitating around the Mouvement, these short-format records documented the evolution of practices and approaches: catchy headings such as "Musique libre" (free music), "Recherches sur la voix" (vocal experiments), "Musiques concrètes" (concrete music), "Musiques électroniques" (electronic music) or "Musiques d'ailleurs" (music from elsewhere) are particularly telling. And the music that could be heard on these groundbreaking records was the work of pupils from small towns in Lot-et-Garonne, Oise, and Alpes Maritime -- not exactly the archetypal privileged children benefitting from an upper-class economic and cultural background... Rather, children from rural schools with a single classroom, and sometimes, atypical or struggling children oriented towards the so-called "classes de perfectionnement." Liner notes in English and French.
Features: Frederic Chanu, Paul et Jean Paul avec Tambour, Classe de perfectionnement, C.E.G de Douvres la Delivrande, Nadine Perron, Enfants de 9 à 1à ans, Olivier, Dédé avec Gaby à l'Ariel, Sandrine Lanoux et Pascal Panizut, FP1 à l'école normale de St Germain en Laye, Anne Krikorian et Andrea Debret, Lionel Tasquier, Genevieve Marty, Gerard, Marc, et Roger 9 ans, Isabelle et Christain, Dominique Colas, Bernard, Une équipe de jeunes enfants, Jean, Patrice, Hervé, Jean-Paul, Monique, Club de danse de l'école, and Enfant inconnu.
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2LP
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BORNBAD 167LP
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2024 restock; double-LP version. Comes with printed undersleeve; includes download code. "... Watching a movie by Tati is a surprising experience; in his films, sound and music speak more than do words, overtaking the conventional discourse -- and boredom -- of adulthood. Hulot remains silent, or mumbles. Tati knows all about the noises of the modern world: beeps, rings, crackles, pneumatic drill, cars, mechanical, electrical and rubbery sounds, the high heels of secretaries and typewriters, factory noises, creaking doors, sighing chairs, machines and technical machines, franglais, vacuum cleaners and the whole range of small appliances... With all of that urban and domestic jumble, plastics of all sorts, linoleum and formica, he composes a virtuoso partition. Signs and signals, warning sounds and sirens mislead us in the urban space. Tati maliciously disorients us. Maximalist, he records on five tracks in skillful, tasteful rhythms -- a pleasure for the senses. Hearing Mon Oncle, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot, Play Time changes one's outlook onto the world -- never again will you perceive the noises of towns and villages in the same way. The modern city is Hulot's playground -- with it he invents a totally new soundscape. Then there's the organic, the countryside, the barking dogs, the wasp bothering François on his bicycle, all the way to the mailman's fall into the river . . . Tati masters the art of tempo -- there's not one sound, one note, one silence too many in the scenario. Pure sophistication. So try it tonight; put the record on, lie down, close your eyes and listen . . . Should you not ever have seen one Tati's brilliant films, nor his footwork and melancholy jokes, nor Hulot's poetic, funny perdition and all of his other meticulously sketched characters, then you're in for a trip . . . The world's noises concern and amuse him; they say just as much as the image does, take it into modernity, tell of our shortcomings, maladjustment and bewilderment. From music hall he kept a liking for Foley and the art of recreating sounds in a poetic otherworld. From the villages he brought back the funfair and the accordion; from the modern town: music the American way, jazz, some very Parisian tunes, and other merry-go-round melodies... Even without the images, it's still cinema! What's more: for his last scenario, Confusion, Tati had planned to collaborate with the Sparks, the talented band behind the soundtrack for Annette, Léos Carax's surprising film..." --Macha Makeieff Includes English and French liner notes.
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CD
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BORNBAD 167CD
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"... Watching a movie by Tati is a surprising experience; in his films, sound and music speak more than do words, overtaking the conventional discourse -- and boredom -- of adulthood. Hulot remains silent, or mumbles. Tati knows all about the noises of the modern world: beeps, rings, crackles, pneumatic drill, cars, mechanical, electrical and rubbery sounds, the high heels of secretaries and typewriters, factory noises, creaking doors, sighing chairs, machines and technical machines, franglais, vacuum cleaners and the whole range of small appliances... With all of that urban and domestic jumble, plastics of all sorts, linoleum and formica, he composes a virtuoso partition. Signs and signals, warning sounds and sirens mislead us in the urban space. Tati maliciously disorients us. Maximalist, he records on five tracks in skillful, tasteful rhythms -- a pleasure for the senses. Hearing Mon Oncle, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot, Play Time changes one's outlook onto the world -- never again will you perceive the noises of towns and villages in the same way. The modern city is Hulot's playground -- with it he invents a totally new soundscape. Then there's the organic, the countryside, the barking dogs, the wasp bothering François on his bicycle, all the way to the mailman's fall into the river . . . Tati masters the art of tempo -- there's not one sound, one note, one silence too many in the scenario. Pure sophistication. So try it tonight; put the record on, lie down, close your eyes and listen . . . Should you not ever have seen one Tati's brilliant films, nor his footwork and melancholy jokes, nor Hulot's poetic, funny perdition and all of his other meticulously sketched characters, then you're in for a trip . . . The world's noises concern and amuse him; they say just as much as the image does, take it into modernity, tell of our shortcomings, maladjustment and bewilderment. From music hall he kept a liking for Foley and the art of recreating sounds in a poetic otherworld. From the villages he brought back the funfair and the accordion; from the modern town: music the American way, jazz, some very Parisian tunes, and other merry-go-round melodies... Even without the images, it's still cinema! What's more: for his last scenario, Confusion, Tati had planned to collaborate with the Sparks, the talented band behind the soundtrack for Annette, Léos Carax's surprising film..." --Macha Makeieff Includes English and French liner notes.
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BORNBAD 160CD
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Delving into the deepest recesses of raï, this compilation serves as a tribute to its roaring years, but also as a rejuvenation of the genre in its sulphureous, subterranean version. It seemed like a good idea to dig into nearly untraceable cassettes, thus confirming it's in the oldest of Oranese pots that the very best of raï is to be found. Just 50 years ago, no one would have believed even a bit in a genre seemingly bound to forever turn round and round in its native Oran, laying low in one of its many coastal road clubs. In these underground venues, singers -- backed up by a minimalist orchestration for lack of space -- would move their audience to laughs and tears, sobbing in a beer or chuckling down (dry) whisky. Through the pre- and post-independence years, from 1950 to 1970, raï urbanized itself, with a generation growing up between asphalt and concrete to the sound of traditional flute, but also and mostly listening to twist, French variété and rock music. Their names were Boutaïba S'ghir, Messaoud Bellemou, Groupe El Azhar, Younès Benfissa, or Zergui, and they passed on their collection of songs to the incoming "Chebs" -- breathing a second youth into them. Oran, the capital of West-Algeria, will be at the heart of this rejuvenation. Overshadowed to the West by the bare mountain of Aïdour, a foot set onto a beautiful bay and the other on a long dried out wadi, covered up with buildings since, Oran must be the most European of Algerian towns -- regardless of its kasbah, its sanctuary built in 1793 under the reign of the Bey Mohammed ben Othman and devoted to Sidi El Houari, the city's patron saint, and praised in many a raï song, and its Pacha 18th century mosque built in memory of the displaced Spaniards of 1492. Oran is blessed with the sea and pine forests all around and above it, towards Sana Cruz. It is rich with Hispanic, Andalusian, Turkish, Arab-Berber and French influences. A cosmopolitanism is very much part of the city's largely jovial nature. Some head for the open-air theater, renamed Cheb Hasni in honor of the creator of love raï, killed on September the 29th, 1994. Others take over restaurants before taking it all out on the dancefloor of one of the many clubs dotted along the coastal road. Features Cheb Hindi, Houari Benchenet, Chab Mohamed Sghir, Chaba Fadila, Cheb Tahar, Cheb Djalal, Benchenet, Cheb Kader, Chab Hamouda, Cheb Khaled "Schir", Nordine Staïfi, Chaba Amel, Chaba Malika Meddah, and Tchier Abdelgani.
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2LP
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BORNBAD 160LP
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2024 repress; double LP version. Includes six-page booklet; includes download code. Delving into the deepest recesses of raï, this compilation serves as a tribute to its roaring years, but also as a rejuvenation of the genre in its sulphureous, subterranean version. It seemed like a good idea to dig into nearly untraceable cassettes, thus confirming it's in the oldest of Oranese pots that the very best of raï is to be found. Just 50 years ago, no one would have believed even a bit in a genre seemingly bound to forever turn round and round in its native Oran, laying low in one of its many coastal road clubs. In these underground venues, singers -- backed up by a minimalist orchestration for lack of space -- would move their audience to laughs and tears, sobbing in a beer or chuckling down (dry) whisky. Through the pre- and post-independence years, from 1950 to 1970, raï urbanized itself, with a generation growing up between asphalt and concrete to the sound of traditional flute, but also and mostly listening to twist, French variété and rock music. Their names were Boutaïba S'ghir, Messaoud Bellemou, Groupe El Azhar, Younès Benfissa, or Zergui, and they passed on their collection of songs to the incoming "Chebs" -- breathing a second youth into them. Oran, the capital of West-Algeria, will be at the heart of this rejuvenation. Overshadowed to the West by the bare mountain of Aïdour, a foot set onto a beautiful bay and the other on a long dried out wadi, covered up with buildings since, Oran must be the most European of Algerian towns -- regardless of its kasbah, its sanctuary built in 1793 under the reign of the Bey Mohammed ben Othman and devoted to Sidi El Houari, the city's patron saint, and praised in many a raï song, and its Pacha 18th century mosque built in memory of the displaced Spaniards of 1492. Oran is blessed with the sea and pine forests all around and above it, towards Sana Cruz. It is rich with Hispanic, Andalusian, Turkish, Arab-Berber and French influences. A cosmopolitanism is very much part of the city's largely jovial nature. Some head for the open-air theater, renamed Cheb Hasni in honor of the creator of love raï, killed on September the 29th, 1994. Others take over restaurants before taking it all out on the dancefloor of one of the many clubs dotted along the coastal road. Features Cheb Hindi, Houari Benchenet, Chab Mohamed Sghir, Chaba Fadila, Cheb Tahar, Cheb Djalal, Benchenet, Cheb Kader, Chab Hamouda, Cheb Khaled "Schir", Nordine Staïfi, Chaba Amel, Chaba Malika Meddah, and Tchier Abdelgani.
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CD
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BORNBAD 158CD
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As soon as the pilots of the Space Oddities endeavor decided to tackle Yan Tregger's oeuvre, a major problem surfaced: where to begin? And where to end? Upon which side should one launch into the ascension of this body of work? It will have taken Alexis Le-Tan and Jess years to put up this selection, capturing the profusion and eclecticism of Tregger who, at 81 years old, has yet to lay down the arms and still defines himself as a "jack of all trades". Symphonies, library music, movie soundtracks, TV credits, advertisement, French variété, pop, disco, electronic, experimental, or relaxation music, Yan Tregger (born Edouard Scotto di Suoccio) took up all genres, styles, and formats through a career spanning from the end of the '50s to this day. How the Stakhanovist successfully went down so many different routes can be explained by his innate talent for composing melodies; they are the very basis on which his iconoclastic production was built. Ten years ago already, Yan Tregger had welcomed Born Bad in the studio of his Parisian suburb pavilion. There, sat in front of his machines and albums framed on the wall, he had delved into the midst of a life writing itself like would a rather unusual musical score. "I was born in Algeria in 1940, in a coastal town -- Algeria's Nice, Philippeville, (today Skikda -- author's note), to parents of Italian descent. People were unhappy in Italy and did as migrants do today. Still, there was some tendering. When France started colonizing Algeria, the government brought in people to constitute a work force: many Italians, but also some Maltese and Jews who were already established there. My father managed a balancelle, a dinghy which would deliver materials along the coast. My mother was a housewife, just like any Italian back then. I am an only child." CD version comes in digipack; includes 20-page booklet.
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