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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