Gasectron
Rareland

Occasionally, from a fleeting past, breaths of novelty emerge that defy the rules of time and are capable of revitalizing the enthusiasm of music lovers (and record collectors) in this confusing and uncertain artistic phase of today. This is the case with Gasectron, a French duo with a short and not-so-easy life, which in the now distant 1978 produced and pressed their only record without ever circulating it. And only today, it resurfaces to the ears of posterity, confirming that the history of modern music is also written by a multitude of minor artists, often unwise, often unlucky. Thanks to my friend Marguerite from Nice, I became aware of this small project that had its moment of creativity forty years ago. Two friends united by a passion for electronic sounds, determined to emulate the masters of the genre who were then leading the way (Jarre, Kraftwerk, but also Tangerine Dream) and savvy enough to exploit every good opportunity to record something and give it an official form. Marcel Philippe had an older brother who played with his band in a small room, where they also had two keyboards and various equipment. In this room, he had the chance to test himself along with Jean Pierre Laurent, who was, like him, passionate about "new sounds." They christened themselves Gasectron and started inventing tracks, two of which were worthy of ending up on a 7-inch vinyl, the result of savings and synergies that were not so easy to materialize at the time. They even founded their own independent label to manage this recording venture: the small personal label Disques Du Cosmos. They had these tracks (Rareland and Tau Machine) that sounded as good as those by Kraftwerk and Vangelis, with few sounds on the sequencer, meowing carpets of analog frequencies, and an approachable atmosphere that could easily have become a springboard toward a real career. However, Marcel recounts that the project suddenly became hostage to differences over issues of rights and expenses. Once the 45s were pressed, brand new with glossy color covers and filled with many hopes, everything came to a halt. Not only was the distribution never implemented, but at some point, Jean Pierre's resentment led him to destroy much of that effort, leaving very few survivors. Marcel estimates that between the couple of copies he kept at home and those he sneakily gave to his brother and his band's friends, perhaps about ten copies of "Rareland" remain. Perhaps... He spoke with both discomfort and disenchantment about this dazzling episode from his past. So stupidly dramatic to have undermined a friendship and shattered a promising project. He abandoned music almost immediately, Jean Pierre went on to compose his own things, but apparently without leaving tangible traces. Except he died about ten years ago, parting with a remarkable record collection. The shadows thus lingered long over these names and this music, at least until chance allowed the generation of a network of information once again available. And something from Gasectron re-emerged from the shadows, beginning to circulate with a four-decade delay. To intrigue and delight us romantic lovers of records and precious old sonic adventures.