Mylène Farmer
Avant que l'ombre

THE REVIEW

There are those who try to convince us by enumerating the jobs created by their government, and there are those who bring water to their own mill by promoting a generic "volemose bbene." Both miss the target because we are neither programmable automata nor altruistic volunteers. No. We will not vote for the obscure figures of Kraftwerk nor the generic kindness of Kate Bush ("Réduire la vie à / des formules indécises / c'est bien impossible"). And even less for the retro totalitarianism of Laibach. "Tous les maux sont les mêmes". The problems that torment us are different. They are fear ("Don't let me die"), insecurity ("…tenter d'attaindre une humanité"), the lack of direction in a life where we feel less and less at the helm ("Moi qui croyais mon âme sanctuaire impénétrable"). Bewildered by the global issues of a globe in constant turmoil, we would need someone to whisper encouragement in our ear ("L'Ange, parle-moi, parle moi / Dis-moi si tu es là?"). A "You're doing well." A "I believe in you." And, daring the impossible, a "I love you" ("et dis encore 'je t'aime'"). But whispered, up close ("Je lui demande / si l'amour est tendre"). This, from someone we know.

How long have we known Mylène? It's been years, many. We don't want to count them, because it doesn't matter how many there are but the speed at which they plunged into the black lake of the past ("mémoire… qui m'oublie, qui me fuit"). This is Mylène's sixth studio album, and it had been a while since we felt the allure of her voice, a voice that can never disappoint, even in a minor album like this one. The melodies do not leave a mark: they are evanescent, light, but the message is in the vibrato, in the sighs. Meeting her is always like the first time: a biting but affectionate joke, an invitation whispered on lips, and, why not?, an orgasmic whip.
The "Red Angel" is dear to us as at the first, flirtatious meeting, but we've grown, and so has she. And this time she doesn't want to drag us to the dance floor or, irresistibly, pretend to be male just because she imagines that being a boy is fun. No. She has been stained with the blood of the sex war, because they are the words of a fighter who does not back down ("fiançailles / en bataille") that fill these tracks ("tous ces combats / qui brisent insouciance / mordent l'existence"). Again, we find her perfectly aligned with our state, and not just emotionally. Close, again, in more than one way. And current, without resorting to anything as vulgar as a rap intermezzo. Because now we would like something that rhymes, yes, but with our feelings: hence the poetry ("…fi de l'ascèse!") (the lyrics of the track that gives the album its title are by Baudelaire). We want something that saves us from the banality of these bleakly materialistic times ("j'envie des mondes / qui ressemblent aux songes"): here is the transparency of the voice. We want something that reassures us, because every day we take to the track as if we were bumper cars ("…obsédée du pire…", "le plus vaste des cœurs se brise"): hence the melodies.

We would like to be carried away, transported to a world where we would like to live ("à des songes emportés, a des mondes oubliés"), erasing the ugliness ("le jour s'est couché / pour éteindre le monde") and – if I may – forgetting the anxiety about the future ("Jésus! J'ai peur… Jésus! De l'heure…"). Here then, for our private moment of daily pleasure ("l'envie de frémir / est pharaonique!"), an album of intimate ballads, of light words ("…souvenir de mots") that we return to listen to for the effect that sigh has on us or for the fatal attraction of that refrain.

The elegant and discreet orchestration weaves a delicate backdrop for our encounter with her, to show us that our world always "un peu trop physique" has a diaphanous reverse: present, intimate but as elusive as a sentiment. "Avant que l'ombre" is an album to listen to for freeing the mind from pressures, ugliness, from the barrage of emotional shocks that hits us – and sinks us! – every day. Mylène knows the real problems that afflict us: the half-measures ("La vie n'est rien… quand elle est tiède!"), the need for change ("mon sang buillonne / Je bous de tout, en somme"). It's to an involved gaze like hers that I would like to entrust my future ("…une envie de bonheur"), not to these "hommes… de pierre / aux destins sans gloire / mal étreints, trop fiers" who want to snatch my vote with arrogance or gestures, because "c'est aujourd'hui / c'est ce qui compte vraiment". "'Vivre' est ce qu'il y a des plus rare au monde". "Il y a de l'uniformité partout / de la pensée en boîte / et c'est bien tout": no more boxed-in thoughts! With Mylène I tell them: "Shut up!" "Je dis non, je dis non, je dis non!", because "l'on respire comme ils mentent de façon ravageuse". We have endured their "discours trop prolixes / Que de la rhétorique!" and have seen them "faire de leur vie un empire…/ Fuck them all!" cries the chorus of the single.

Wise words. "Fuck them all!". Mylène for president!