Nino Ferrer
Métronomie

Nino Ferrer had an unconventional career, marked by very popular successes, catchy tunes that easily stick in your head and probably represent and will continue to represent his name in the musical world. But in 1971, perhaps riding the progressive wave, he called upon a handful of friends, jazz musicians from the French elite, to whom he presented a series of scores that, due to their uniqueness and the extremely variable themes they developed, were well-received, and within a few weeks, the record was ready.

The result was decidedly new, even though new arrangements, more complex and refined versions of previously released songs, started to be appreciated since the previous live album "Rats and Roll," with some tracks also making it into this work, achieving a finality that only a studio recording can provide.

This series of elements, completed and deepened, generates the quality leap that has always existed in transitioning from an album intended as a collection of singles to an album as an independent entity, made to express something more organic, mentally and conceptually richer.

Both in the cover, a transposition of a painting by Claude Verlinde, with its dark and fairytale tones and somehow a reflection of the musical contents, and in the songs themselves, they expand and fill up with chiaroscuro, interconnected movements in suite-like fashion, where jazz, blues, psychedelia, and progressive merge with classical elements and French chanson, creating a personal and very varied musical compendium.

Not just the voice, as is obvious for a singer-songwriter, but long instrumental passages enrich the listening experience with beautiful and strong sensations, thanks also to R'n'B inspirations, especially in the lyrical setting and the extensive use of the Hammond organ, with vague notes à la James Brown. Another complementary element, but indispensable for the era, is the Mellotron. The keyboard that — on its own — allows the listener to precisely place listening sensations in temporally well-defined points.

"Metronomie" is also the opening track, and I like to highlight that if the whole album were of the same depth, we would be facing a work very close to a masterpiece. These are almost ten minutes of varied and high-value music. The track is almost entirely instrumental and includes portions of experimental and rather complex music, but in a measured way, without excesses or verbose elaborations. It almost seems that the author wanted to represent his expressive limit at that precise moment, and going beyond would be something that couldn’t belong to him. However, the other tracks also contain remarkable and equally well-constructed passages, they are simply closer to the song form, yet more elaborate and artistically elevated from the typical standard of the "chansonnier". In this sense, I summarize the other tracks in a few words, starting with "Cannabis," where from the restless mortar of his Genoese ancestors, there emerges a mix of blues, spiritual, jazz, songwriter, and an experimental ending, all embellished by a series of really pleasant Hammond excursions. Mention must be made of one of the author's most successful songs, little known to us but widespread in France. It’s "La Maison près de la fontaine," rich in references to American gospel and rhythm and blues. The album closes with the dark blues of "Pour oublier qu’on s’est aimé," a track dating back to the early '60s, already recorded on other albums but here in its best form, capable of showcasing the most heartbreaking and deep aspect of love.

In the overly overused sea of "masterpieces," this too could have its place, whether for the year of release, the genius of the intentions, or its exquisite success. First, it will pique your curiosity, then you’ll like it.

p.a.p.

sioulette