Monday, 4 February 2008

SERGE GAINSBOURG – HISTOIRE DE MELODY NELSON (PHILIPS/MERCURY RECORDS)


SERGE GAINSBOURG – HISTOIRE DE MELODY NELSON (PHILIPS/MERCURY RECORDS)

This is a dense album, layered and far from what I would have ever expected from Serge Gainsbourg.  This is the sound of man obeying his muse and trickling in the most majestic fashion.

In many ways Histoire De Melody Nelson is/was Gainsbourg’s Lolita.  And that Lolita was Jane Birkin even though everything was legal even if complicated.  This is a slow moving vehicle, one explicitly laidback and drawn out for sensual reasons exhibiting a rare calm in the face of impending ecstasy, beautiful and damaging in equal measures.

Time has expressed some contention in the creation of the record (tension between collaborators and friction between producers) but the resulting work remains an incredible piece of music, most definitely groundbreaking for a piece rubbing up against the mainstream delivered by what was considered a pop artist.

Before I had even heard the original work I knew this record (these songs) as various modern acts have served to cover and sample the pieces (most notably Blonde Redhead and David Holmes).  There is something truly succulent in what it offers.

Spread over seven tracks (seven pieces) you particularly get the impression that internally Gainsbourg is going through hell while at the same equally making life hell for those around him, affected by his moods and tone.  The man was an expert at manipulation; he had to be considering his achievements/accomplishments.  And I’m not talking strictly about music here.

It begins with a stage whisper in the ear of the listener as the sense of some kind of confession kicks in.  This is an expansive record, a one man musical taking in a very flawed personality as subtle grooves and hard string sections bed out the spoken word delivery of Gainsbourg.

There is no rush with this record, no reason to ruin the mood and disrupt the pace with crude orchestration.  In delivery it is almost like a trip hop record, the kind of music you can easily find yourself being lost in.  You do not need to understand French in order to translate the communication that is being delivered.  It is about obsession, one person and the ruin that such motions can bring.

Over the course of the seven tracks there are many goosebump moments are the direction is expertly judged and distributed to maximum effect.  This is a huge sounding record and with good reason as it came with a huge toll.  Then there is the seedy as hell “En Melody” with some of the filthiest, filthiest bass playing to ever emerge from France.  That and some of the scariest laughing ever to grace recorded music.

The album is book ended with similar pieces of music in the form of “Melody” and “Cargo Culte”, so when the latter drops in to close proceedings it marks the end of the story and you hope the reclamation of Gainsbourg’s sanity.  Which remained forever debatable.

A workable soundtrack to fucking.

Thesaurus moment: bleu.

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