the orchestral pop of Father John Misty and Les Mots bleus by Christophe

Father John Misty, Mahashmashana

Already Josh Tilman's sixth album under the intriguing pseudonym Father John Misty, and this one is a marvel, probably the best record ever recorded by this unclassifiable American. From the opening track, Mahasmashana, which gives its title to the album, we are struck by this panoramic and inflated pop. It takes a good dose of audacity to release, in 2024, an album that goes so against the grain. A complex, dense record, full of string arrangements and filled with songs averaging six minutes in length. That's everything you shouldn't do in the age of streaming platforms and their absurd diktat. But that’s how big Father John Misty is. In these ample pieces which owe as much to his master Harry Nilsson as to Gainsbourg d'Story of Melody Nelson with the lysergic accents of Primal Scream from the heyday. A collection of epic songs, with lyrics as dark as its orchestrations are luminous, saxophone included. With this collection, the forty-year-old further asserts a singularity that we had already felt in his previous essays. The man has the means for his ambition, breathtaking writing, and an increasingly virtuoso voice. You will not hear any record remotely resembling this one in the current production, which is what makes it an absolutely essential object.

Christophe, Blue Words, 50th anniversary

The year 2024 marks the 50th anniversary of several international pop masterpieces that would take too long to list here. This French production fully deserves to join its Anglo-Saxon colleagues. Here we touch on the best of French production of the time. A year after Les paradis perdus, the first part of the collaboration between Christophe and Jean-Michel Jarre (here as lyricist), the two men gave it a sequel under the leadership of Francis Dreyfus, a great adventurer of French musical production. The title track will become a classic covered in all sauces (tasty at Bashung) and the album, vaguely conceptual, a beacon in the uneven discography of its author. Melodically, the composer of Aline is here at the peak of his inspiration, which flirts with progressive rock on The last of the Bevilacquas, centerpiece with autobiographical overtones. The leading musicians, the exceptional sound recording (Ferber studios) and the general level raise this album well above its French-speaking contemporaries. The anniversary of this classic which has aged very well is the opportunity to hear the instrumental versions of its titles (very practical for practicing karaoke at home) and a DVD covering the singer's archives over the period from 1965 to 1991, and little more. The booklet is anemic, the bonuses a little sparse but the Music remains brilliant.