The Veils
Sun Gangs

Every album is a journey... Every journey has a sound... A music (quoting Noir Désir). Lately, I'm really starting to believe it: more and more, I seek the pairing of journey-music (or noise).

Finn Andrews maintains the same, he has reiterated it multiple times in interviews.

In the two previous albums, it was already understood.

In "The Runaway Found" dear Finn takes us for a walk through his youthful troubles.

In the subsequent "Nux Vomica" he literally DRAGS us through his troubles, showing us all the cruelties that we hadn’t noticed before.

"Sun Gangs", the third work by the Veils, the worst according to critics (perhaps rightly), the best according to me, consists of a sort of coming out of youth or simply the acceptance of certain things belonging to it.

Perhaps I'm just a deluded person unable to realize that his protégé made a lousy album and is therefore looking for high-sounding arguments not to admit it... Never like in this case have I perceived my critical sense in shambles.

But how can I criticize this work? For three months, it has brought me to inner peace and manages to silence this stormy sea of adolescence that's dealing the last blows before the end... And I understand if you say it's no big deal...

Every time "Sit Down by the Fire" starts, I get chills and feel my body surrender. I am ready to set out. "Sun Gangs" paints an imagery made of rain and thunder, I’m there, in the middle of a provincial town square, thinking about... Something. Then "The Letter", I understand I have to give myself meaning... I can’t keep walking in the rain... I hop into a car and speed into the night, while the rain increases at a terrifying pace. "Kill By the Boom" is the soundtrack of my entrance into the city, I move among buildings and contemplate them... Soon I will be in total solitude... Finn screams over a base that slightly resembles certain Radiohead.

"It Hits Deep" can be interpreted as the start of the second part of my journey... The car has left me on a highway outside the city, and I must continue on foot through the desert under the scorching sun. My lazy walk turns into a frenzied run because "Three Sisters" brings a crazy sandstorm, and I have to escape as fast as possible if I want to save myself... The storm ends, and I am utterly exhausted, but I must keep moving forward... "The House She Live In" represents my slightly sober tunes that I sing as I keep walking. I find an oasis and bathe, while the soothing melody of "Scarecrow" relaxes my mind and body.

I resume the march, knowing my journey is coming to an end. "Larkspur" arrives, a psychedelic piece, where a Jim Morrison-like Finn leads me to a shaman able to make me reach catharsis, and during the process, I relive all my suffering in a disorienting manner. The concluding "Begin Again" catapults me from the desert to a grassy land with fresh air, Northern Brittany, indeed...

Here I will spend splendid days with a guitar on the beach, in meadows, and with friends and girls I've known forever, but to rediscover because transformed by the ugliness of the everyday...

And I, will I really have grown up?