1. Noir Noir
2. Etoile
3. Lost Language
4. Elle Topo
5. Messe Joyeuse
6. Regarde
7. Invitation
8. Tout Et Tout Est Un
9. Entre Chien Et Loup
10. Change Of Destination
Originally a lo-fi side project
for Stereolab vocalist Laetitia Sadier, Monade has grown into a
fully-formed and altogether lovelier creature.
It should be
noted that Sadier isn't especially well known for the loveliness of
her work. Stereolab's stuff, with its Krautrock grooves and
situationist lyrics, is of course desperately cool but often sounds a
bit like an intellectual exercise. As an antidote to the perky goonery
of Britpop, it was certainly refreshing; but these days the iciness
just could be wearing a bit thin. Sadier still isn't the kind of woman
you'd want to get into an argument about post-structuralism with, but
Monstre Cosmic does demonstrate a partial melting of that glacial
facade.
Confined to lyrical duties in Stereolab, here Sadier
gives herself the chance to demonstrate her considerable abilities as
a songwriter. Keyboards and synthetic sounds still provide the driving
force for the music, and the lyrics are still evenly divided between
English and French - but there the similarities end.
Monstre
Cosmic veers between breezy vintage Gallic pop and wonky bubblegum
post-rock in the vein of Blonde Redhead. At its most mellow it
evokes misty visions of Parisian twentysomethings riding around on
bicycles with pastel jumpers tied over their shoulders. But whenever
the tone threatens to become sweeter than Brigitte Bardot tucking into
a tarte aux framboises, Sadier throws a very welcome spanner into the
works by suddenly slowing the temp down, speeding it up, or pulling
the song in hand into a completely unexpected direction.
Parping
trombones, squeaky strings, and humming stylophones periodically
punctuate the overall texture, never quite allowing it to settle into
easy listening. Once we bite our tongues and make the effort to take
seriously Sadier's stated intention of using Monade's music to
replicate the 'the elusive flow of water,' the structure of the songs
starts to make sense. Typically they evolve rather than going around
in circles - without ever sounding contrived - and the verse-chorus
pattern is subtly ditched without any noticeable loss of accessibility
or appeal. Changes of tempo are used powerfully throughout,
particularly on Invitation which see-saws between austerity and
lushness with captivating results.
The innovative backing suits
Sadier's voice, perking up its distant tone and familiarly limited
range. The lyrical content is less at home, however. Stereolab's music
quite suited its swathes of Marxist sloganeering, providing a
hipper-than-thou context for some ice-cool political posturing. On
Monstre Cosmic, the lyrics are similarly chilly, but focused squarely
on the turmoils of the subconscious (and I quote: dirty monsters, rat
holes, human animals, illusions of the ego ? you get the picture).
Conceptually this doesn't gel with the ease and warmth of the music:
you'd have to take life pretty seriously to derive much value from
lyrics like "You will see in my eyes / all the brilliance of my life /
and my divinity / the monster that I am."
Helpfully, EU lyrics
regulations have been followed to the letter and so all of the songs
sung in English are accompanied by a French translation, and vice
versa. Of course the same po-faced psychoanalytic burrowing resonantes
a lot more effectively in French, sounding noble rather than bleak:
"Tu verras dans mes yeux / tout l'eclat de la vie / et ma divinite /
le monstre que je suis." Much better, eh? Throughout, the French
language works with the music and softens the lyrics; and the English
language works against it, mainly by forcing the harshness of the
lyrics to the fore. If Sadier could have stuck exclusively to her
mother tongue, any traces of ridiculousness would have been
lost.
So then, Monstre Cosmic. Charming, sophisticated,
seductive, offbeat, and not a little pretentious. And French, you
say?