In the late '90s, Chloé Thévenin cofounded the party and label Kill The DJ in response to a then-dominant sound: "house music [that] was more housey and positive vibes." She was possibly acting on a rebellious impulse, but the French DJ, producer and composer was also foreshadowing the music she'd go on to make. The best of it has been on her albums, whose downcast moods have drawn not so much from genres as their faint echoes—'00s minimal, electroclash, shoegaze, folk and electroacoustic composition, the outlines of which are usually blurry in her music. Endless Revisions, her third album, refines this opaque, introspective sound.
In the last few years, Thévenin has made music for various film projects, including a live performance, in 2012, to accompany a screening of Alfred Hitchcock's Blackmail, and a collaboration this year with Algerian Kabyle musicians for Paris La Blanche, by Lidia Terki. It's likely that this work fed into Endless Revisions. You can imagine, for example, "Outer Space"'s beautiful vocal coos, acoustic guitar and satellite bleeps accompanying images onscreen. "Because It's There"—named after George Mallory's famous reply to a reporter who'd asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest—is another subtly rousing highlight, whose slow, dead-of-night techno pulse is accompanied by feathery hi-hats and low-lit throbs of synths and keys.
Endless Revisions is more electronic than Thévenin's past full-lengths, but it's still as ruminative as ever. "The Dawn," a ten-minute pump of dramatic arp leads and soaring synth mists, should feel euphoric, but the spoken-word vocals from Thévenin's mother add a pensive edge. "The Ultimate High"? Well, not exactly—its sour synth waves and taut bassline convey mixed emotions, but it's an adrenaline rush nonetheless. "Party Moonster"'s glassy mallets ping atop frosty electronics and coolly delivered lyrics—"love me, too, I love you, too"—that imply a stilted affection, as though recited by an otherworldly being. These ambiguous states seem second nature to Thévenin, and are at the core of many of the album's best songs.
The atmosphere is thick with mystery, but few moments here feel truly strange. (Only the flap and rustle heard on "Deepest," an eerie sound design bit, might qualify.) Though the results of Thévenin's "endless revisions" suggest considerable care and attention, few irregular ideas have survived the process. She needn't have been as daring as Mallory, who, wearing rudimentary boots and wool clothing, climbed Mount Everest and died trying, for the third time, in 1924. Thévenin is better equipped to take risks, but Endless Revisions rarely indulges them.
In the last few years, Thévenin has made music for various film projects, including a live performance, in 2012, to accompany a screening of Alfred Hitchcock's Blackmail, and a collaboration this year with Algerian Kabyle musicians for Paris La Blanche, by Lidia Terki. It's likely that this work fed into Endless Revisions. You can imagine, for example, "Outer Space"'s beautiful vocal coos, acoustic guitar and satellite bleeps accompanying images onscreen. "Because It's There"—named after George Mallory's famous reply to a reporter who'd asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest—is another subtly rousing highlight, whose slow, dead-of-night techno pulse is accompanied by feathery hi-hats and low-lit throbs of synths and keys.
Endless Revisions is more electronic than Thévenin's past full-lengths, but it's still as ruminative as ever. "The Dawn," a ten-minute pump of dramatic arp leads and soaring synth mists, should feel euphoric, but the spoken-word vocals from Thévenin's mother add a pensive edge. "The Ultimate High"? Well, not exactly—its sour synth waves and taut bassline convey mixed emotions, but it's an adrenaline rush nonetheless. "Party Moonster"'s glassy mallets ping atop frosty electronics and coolly delivered lyrics—"love me, too, I love you, too"—that imply a stilted affection, as though recited by an otherworldly being. These ambiguous states seem second nature to Thévenin, and are at the core of many of the album's best songs.
The atmosphere is thick with mystery, but few moments here feel truly strange. (Only the flap and rustle heard on "Deepest," an eerie sound design bit, might qualify.) Though the results of Thévenin's "endless revisions" suggest considerable care and attention, few irregular ideas have survived the process. She needn't have been as daring as Mallory, who, wearing rudimentary boots and wool clothing, climbed Mount Everest and died trying, for the third time, in 1924. Thévenin is better equipped to take risks, but Endless Revisions rarely indulges them.
Paris
London
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