Mi And L'au
Good Morning Jokers

Good morning jugglers! I return to these free and restless open DeBaserian spaces with the review of the second album (from 2009) by a duo whose tracks most people seem to have (unjustly in my opinion) lost.

To follow the duo's aesthetic, one probably shouldn't write much about them, or at most, write in monosyllables. But without making noise, let's try to courteously peek beyond the fogged-up windows of their refuge.

The second album by the Franco-Finnish duo doesn't change the game much compared to their debut: small melodies, bare whispers and a few acoustic instruments accompany them. But now more than ever, they seem reluctant to leave the warm sheets of their cabin that envelops and protects them from the mad and cruel world. There is indeed too often a "they" in their lyrics, almost as if spontaneously opposing them with a secret, ecstatic, and imperturbable "us".

Observing the things of the world (and not always ours) therefore seems to be their endeavor. Their slender sonic creatures flicker tremulously in the dark like the flame of a candle reaching the end of its wick. Let it be said out loud: a light of great value, at times unsettling but creative and necessary, if not to us, at least to the two of them for sure.

Their musical world is now also made up of surprising orchestral inserts of winds and strings like in "Dancing and smiling," giving it a smooth somewhat New York atmosphere. However, let yourself also be illuminated by the soft, dense, and nocturnal "Sun," "The pearl," and "Dance on my skin" but also by the shadowplay and circus atmosphere of "Bingo" (almost Caposselian if you will).

They observe us from there, from their cabin. I don't believe they judge us harshly, but they prefer to stay away. And who could blame them? Observing the world is no easy task.

Here "Dancing and smiling".

Here "Bingo".