By La Fièvre
Digital album / NT 123
Album on cassette / NTCS 123
1. Chapitre 1
2. Chapitre 2
3. Chapitre 3
4. Chapitre 4
5. Chapitre 5
6. Chapitre 6
Montréal-based witchcore duo La Fièvre follow up their acclaimed self-titled LP with a short horror story wrapped into a devious mix of pop and horrorcore.
Among the lively Montréal francophone smart-pop scene (Lydia Képinski, Les Louanges, Hubert Lenoir), La Fièvre is something like the rambunctious little sister of the family.
For their newest EP (whose title translates to “You have never heard them scream, yet they are screaming”), La Fièvre chose a new lyrical route, while losing none of the sheer rhythmical torque of the debut album. In this concept album, an unnamed pandemic throws ordinary folks in uncontrollable fits of violent madness, while the uninfected try their best to remain sane among the growing chaos. In the end, of course, everything goes as horribly wrong as is to be expected.
A longtime horror fan, Zéa suggested this storyline to Ma-Au, who went all-in and immersed herself in horror movie classics in order to create a harrowing soundtrack to Zéa’s unsettling words. That an actual pandemic happened during the proceedings only heightened the tension prevalent in the project. Sonically, the duo blends aggressive synths and rhytmic percussion with catchy melodies, resulting in an addictive electronic-doom hybrid that remains punk at heart. “Chapitre 1” sets the scene with an electronic-rap blend describing riots and police intervention, although things don’t get violent as they emphasize the crowd is mainly comprised of “white men”. The tempo slowly rises as their oversized bassy synths get more aggressive, with the chaotic “Chapitre 3” reaching full rave paroxism by “Chapitre 4” before the story reaches its grim finale.
No need to understand French to feel the build-up of the storyline from its gloomy opening to its violent ending and through disquieting moments of peace and queasy reassurance. A horde of “angry people,” apparently sick from an unnamed disease, roam the city at night, causing murderous acts of violence, a scene described not from a convenient bird’s-eye view but rather through the very contemporary lens of social media and Internet filmmakers. The uninfected try to find solace in daytime, smiling to neighbors, trying to act as normal as possible… knowing very well that none of this can’t hold much longer. “Toi qui avais si peur des cris, maintenant tu te méfies du silence [You were once afraid of the screams, but now you’re wary of silence].” Soon, friendships dissolve, family links explode, and survival becomes a solitary job. Until, at last, the call from the night people becomes insistent enough, seductive perhaps?… “Autant te laisser aller [Might as well let go]…”
Originally self-released, Tu ne les as jamais entendus crier, mais ils crient is now being issued worldwide on cassette and digital by veteran Montréal indie No Type.
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