(06.29.06) Is there a need to introduce Costes nowadays? I am not quite sure of that, but
since I am not
really aware if his sulphurous reputation is as big outside of France as here. SO, here
I go in a few
words, and then I’ll go on with Daily Devils (2005, CDr), the album this review is about.
Well, Costes is one of these self-made performers/artists that came up in the last
decades
developing their art on a true to its core punk attitude, involving DIY,
provocation and an
hostile independence towards every labelling attempt and political or mediatic
re-appropriation.
Quite controversial in France a few years ago following the complains made against
him by
self-called “anti-racist” right-wing movements, he has now gained sufficient
credibility to be
acknowledged as one of the most prominent performers of our days, so no one can
decently slander
him anymore and deny what he has done for the freedom of speech and expression in
our country
(“They say I’m a nazi”, a hilarious Bavarian-like 8-bit song, track 14).
What remains true after all these years and his numerous auto-productions is that
Costes still
makes music and sound like a samurai would do seppuku, and it is as true of his
lyrics as of his
music. However, Daily Devils as an album develops its own particular sound and
concept, and I
have found a distinctively sadder feeling in this production than in some other ones
I know. On “I
put a spell on my baby,” track 2, a MIDI-piano plays a melancholic lullaby of sorts,
later joined
by a distorted voice singing and almost shouting with despair, something like, the
darkest
cold-wave meets lo-fi noise, a feeling also deeply impregnating the track “I can’t
love.” But then
there are also tracks that mix 8-bit sounds, silly sung melodies and analogic walls
of noise
sometimes quite close to early Japanoise, in the very peculiar way Costes is known
for, like on
“Music Gun.”
The overall feeling of this album is that of a man opening his bleeding heart and
mind in front of
you, a man whose sadness and contempt for the world in chastened by a deep sense of
his own
absurdity (“The cat pees on my PC”). At the end this gives us a work exempt of
concession, very
raw and rough, that is not to be listened to by the weak of heart. Lyrics are more
than explicit,
voices more than often distorted and with a distinct touch of madness, the music
joyfully mixes
aggressive noise, 8-bit cartoon’ish tunes and home-made sounds and samples. Obviously
Costes is
more alive than ever, and this album could well be one of the best introductions to
his work for
the English-speaking listener.
As always, this album is available from the artist’s website for a cheap price (10
euros including
postage).
