Art Zoyd
Phase IV

Art Zoyd and Univers Zero represent the finest answers to Henry Cow. A miracle.

Exceptionally skilled French artists who have shown since the Seventies the most radical, unconventional, picturesque, and daring side of the nation. Tireless projects, independent from trends, artistic natures born from scores and not from a record label's boardroom. A bit like the Canterbury Sound. Remove those four styles, generated only by trends, and only jazz and avant-garde would exist. Because I like to think, or delude myself, that a raw and unfiltered artist can only generate free form, jam, and similar beauties.

The evidence lies in the infinite production of Art Zoyd. The fabulous and uncontaminated strumming of "Symphonie Pour Le Jour Ou Bruleront Les Cités" and "Musique Pour L'Odyssée" properly mature into the colossal and grand guignol idea of "La Ville" from "Generation Sans Futur" of 1980.

In 1984, they created the dark, medieval, and otherworldly ballet of "Phase IV". The opening "Etat D'Urgence" immediately shows us this symphonic raid. An ascent towards a severe limbo where the sins of man and divine punishments are scrutinized. A path parallel to everyday life, where there are no natural phenomena, only darkness and solitude.

Fourteen minutes of confession of one's own soul with this tireless sonic muse. It spits out notes with disarming naturalness, which more than once makes us question the nature of the generating engine. It’s not a human behind the instrument. It is a prophetic, mystical voice that insinuates itself within us.

Even if you can't follow each melody, we notice that we are being engulfed by a flow of environments shaping our uncertain path. Minimalism, ups and downs, and grave accents follow one another in the brief passages that prepare the other highlight, "La Nuit". With this track, we reach the conclusion of our stream of consciousness, now having reached the ad infinitum mode. Trumpets, violins, and piano seem unwilling to plunge excessively and focus on a whispered caress to our spirit. They are on the verge of concrete music and Ligeti.

A finale that keeps us suspended on the notes of the piano, awaiting the divine sentence, sitting on the limbo of thought and the mysteries of the universe.