Gesaffelstein
Aleph

Form and not always substance for the musical debut of the French producer Mike Lévy, who uses an almost unpronounceable moniker with a curious Germanic twist to present us with a record that perhaps opens a possible future in electronic music, not necessarily welcomed. Aleph is sometimes mysterious, other times austere and detached, and at other times boisterous and without any fear of hitting the dance floor with us for some frenzied dancing, but it's never a friend and accomplice. Two years after its release, the record is widely used in commercials and films, so much so that good old Mike has since turned to the soundtrack market, but that's another story. The success is no accident. The style manages to be original yet devoid of a true sense of surprise; I could define it as a sort of fashion techno that looks to the past without envy, takes what it needs, adapts to the present, and creates its own. The cover is truly perfect, representing a bulk CD with the symbol of the Hebrew alphabet surrounded by silicone strands: somewhat futuristic, somewhat a mysterious relic. And the feeling is that while listening, some piece of the puzzle seems to be missing, a puzzle probably completed with some installation or images projected from our brain. Therefore, a visual reference is needed to grasp the essence of Aleph, a very curious requirement for an electronic record that is neither a soundtrack nor endowed with special cinematic sense. That's why this kind of music seems to perfectly marry a visual representation, even better a symbolic one, but it's music that must go hand in hand with images.

Out of Line unleashes a dark tribal ritual marked by a glamorous filtered voice, perhaps the record's major flaw, it doesn't seem like a happy addition and the vocal style leaves an unpleasant vulgar and superficial aftertaste. But the notes hit, including the apparent simplicity of the subtle libraries that might suggest a rough production, an idea that will never be completely clarified throughout the album. Pursuit is essentially the single from the record and is also strategically placed, an obviously dance track drenched in beastly vocal samples and an almost rave bassline, shortly after an unequivocal electro music stomper hits the floor, with rhythms not too fast but deeply defined and incisive kicks and snares. Impossible not to tap your foot following the rhythm, recalling another thousand records and bands we've already listened to before, staying in French territory like the early Justice, certainly not a bad thing. On the same fierce line move the very bad Trans, which casts a glance towards Trent Reznor while staying firmly rooted in its techno essence, and the hostile Hate or Glory, with its heavy martial progression. Even more boisterous and techno is Duel, distorted voices, diva in the phase of multiple orgasms and multifaceted rave sirens. An obsessive techno track that looks back, way back, aiming at the masters of the Detroit school, but with its own precise convictions not necessarily compatible. These frenzied episodes, however, only tell part of Aleph, there is another one far removed from the dance floor, taking us into more visionary and artistic realms, Wall of Memories seems like something out of a bizarre horror film, it is baroque and dark, managing to build a whole underground world of its own in less than four minutes, while Nameless is quite the opposite, sweet and welcoming, vaguely melancholic, it abandons itself to crystalline sounds and a style of which Jean Michael Jarre would be proud. Hellifornia even draws from the trap genre (!) to explore new boundaries, while Destinations is perhaps the most striking episode, with a truly phenomenal and suggestive bassline, unfortunately, the usual glamorous voice returns to ruin the picture with lines nobody asked for, but that arrangement is unforgettable and indeed, the track was blasted into the Armani Code commercial (but without vocals). Also bewildering is the title track, a slow electronic requiem supported by a looped acoustic guitar sample, cheap vocoders, and barely suggested synthetic choirs. If you manage to recognize the FL Studio stock libraries, you are not alone, in a market where everyone is obsessively searching for new sound design boundaries, there is also someone who just doesn't care and only thinks about the result. The piece has something to say, and you get to the end with a sense of bewilderment and revelation.

Aleph is not a completely successful record, but it is certainly enjoyable and captivating till the end, despite lasting almost an hour. There are uncertainties and some questionable solutions (the vocal parts), but the things it does really well are indisputable: it's dark, it's fetishistic and disgustingly sexy, it has a style that characterizes it and manages to exercise an unhealthy charm, it tells you a story you want to know and visualize through images. It's like that somewhat annoying friend with a nose-in-the-air attitude who never gives satisfaction, but manages to engage you with their charisma. Maybe you'll regret it, you'll never truly like them, maybe you won't be able to completely respect them in the end, but it's difficult to forget them.