Indochine
L'Aventurier

There are melodious days and others that pass by in silence: then there are weather conditions, interactions, more or less, (dis)human and environmental frequencies...

There are also the annoyingly catchy tunes that your brain has assimilated over the years and cyclically plays in a loop.

I wake up and it seems like one of those days when apathy accompanies you until evening, and where all good intentions go to waste: the bancha leaves seem to have the same mood as the dark cloud that, grimly, watches you from the window (today's not a day for taking the bike). There doesn't even seem to be the breath for the ritual of coffee and newspapers at the bar below your house: the nocturnal hours have brought no advice...

"...pan da da pan, pan pan pan, pan da da pan, pan pan pan, pan da da pan, pan pan pan, pan da da pan, pan pan pan..."*

Yet it takes very little. For the bastard inside your skull to decide to get going: when it happens, if it happens, it often chooses to do so in unexpected ways.

Bringing to mind people you haven't seen in a long time, events you forgot, and, indeed, tunes you haven't listened to in a long time but will never forget: not always are the sensations pleasant when brought to the surface, sometimes you would have preferred to remain in the boredom...

...but sometimes they change your day for the better, enough to make you take the bike out of the garage, despite the risk of getting wet.

A small review for a small album.

The debut (1982) of the French band Indochine lasts just over 22 minutes (for 7 songs): a few minutes where the dominant style is a New Wave full of Pop nuances (as was the trend at the time). A few years, and albums, later, Indochine would find ways to expand their musical horizons (especially electronics-wise), but here we're still at the budding stage: let it be clear that I don't want to give a negative connotation to this, on the contrary, but just to warn those who disdain Brie not to expect Camembert.

In fact, the greatest asset of the album is its ability to offer catchy melodies while remaining within the punk-rock groove from which the French certainly came (and the lyrics, sometimes with a "political" background, others "social", with many references to dependencies, prove this). A simple and direct album, in short, that, despite being imbued with a vein of youthful anger and subtle melancholy (who said the French are grumpy Italians?), flows smoothly and leaves a good feeling (which, as mentioned, remains well imprinted in the brain like the opening of the titular track). 

Perhaps I'll be considered strange, but it cheers me up (especially the cover "L'Opportuniste").

Both "Indochine" and "L'Aventurier" are adventure-literature references: I don't know if it interests you but I've said it now...

"Dizzidence Politik Fabadapap
Dizzidence Politik Fabadapap!"