Amours grises & colères rouges (Vinyle)

Description

Back in business. Back with new original songs, five years after celebrating the band's 20th anniversary and the album *Vous m'emmerdez!*. Almost an eternity for their many loyal fans. Don't think that the Burguière family—Fred, Sam, Mathilde, Alice—were absent during this time. Because you don't change hyperactive and creative natures, Les Ogres de Barback successively teamed up with their friends from Bal Brotto Lopez and those from Un Air, Deux Familles. Hitting the road and collectively spreading contagious enthusiasm, passion, generosity, and astonishing intensity is in their genes. Never satisfied, they even concocted a lovely feast for Pierre Perret, inviting some very reputable guests in his honor. Neither spendthrifts nor mechanical gamblers, these joyful souls constantly assert their independence and vision through sound values and an all-terrain work ethic. *Amours grises & colères rouges* then. A cutting and significant title. Like the opening song, "Pas ma haine," inspired by the book by Antoine Leiris, a journalist who lost his wife in the Bataclan shooting. "They will return to the paths of war/With ever more terrible weapons/They will again fill their cemeteries/With poor devils/They will pick up the sword of Damocles/Over other generations/Then they will want to oppress the youth/Those poor bastards/They will fill my heart with sorrow/But they will not have my hate..." The piano establishes a solemn gravity before a circus-like swerve. To energize lucid pessimism—one might call it the politeness of despair. True to their ethical and spiritual demands, Les Ogres keep civic questions and concerns alive while musically reviving the capacity to vibrate and move. No moralizing injunction, just an implacable observation. A track by the quartet is, in any case, several ideas thrown into a suitcase before fleeing. It's a joyfully abundant album that plays with the idioms of song and the axioms of world music. It's an album full of verve, impetus, and subtleties. It's an album that exudes the strength of its constant honesty. It's an album that doesn't scorn the vessel as long as there's intoxication. Above all, it's an album that celebrates firsts. The first time the band delegated production—ten out of fourteen tracks—to other vital forces. On the starting and finishing line, a trio to share the harvest: Loo & Placido (at the helm of La Tordue's last album and Brigitte Fontaine's Kékéland), Rémi Sanchez (Zebda), and Damny Baluteau (La Phaze). The first time machines are invited—sparingly—amidst trumpets, percussion, guitars, bass, accordion, violins, banjo, organ... Finally, the first time love songs—gray, it must be recalled—forcefully intrude and claim the same