Nobody asked me to re-up ithis LP but I do it since tonight it's about the only thing I could listen to without thinking it's vanilla music. An album that has never been released on CD format although it's one of the best ever recorded in France. And corporates will say they worked for keeping the memory of music alive. Bullshit. Catch this gem here. Lyrics file there.
This is surely my greatest proudness to have offered this LP to free listening for everyone on this planet. Never reissued in CD, this is a great loss album of the most intriguing, excentric, profound and tortured-soul singer composer of French music over the last 40 years. Below, the two posts about this album. Presently reading some Artaud diaries, this is the musical equivalent. Never be forgotten. Still here for public and private ears. The lyrics sheets (here). I added some songs to the streaming listening. Below what I wrote in the initial post (with some corrections). And videos from a concert in Annecy, France (can this be called a concert? So few people, some tapes behind, this was really sad, what a shitty country I live in, what a bore) around this era. Four years later, he would definitively disappear from public view.
This is the last album from Alain Kan. Four years later, he would disappear, really disappear, and nobody knows, even today, 26 years later, whether he's dead or alive. Maybe he's somewhere inbetween, with some strange creatures, probably night creatures, floating in the stinky air of Pigalle, looking with a sad smile tourists fucking with prostitutes in the darkness of bars with carpets red as blood and faces white as sperm. Pressed and distributed by the New Rose label, this incredible LP has never been edited in CD. It's a shame, a real shame. To really take the measure of the genius of Alain Kan, one must listen to this album. Not because it's better than the previous one, Whatever happened to..., a classic masterpiece. It's actually very different. No, but because here only calling Alain Kan an Antonin Artaud or a Egon Schiele of the music scene takes all its sense. Always flirting with "la folie" (strange, it is the name of the club in Annecy where he played at the times of this album), this is what rock should be much more often. Crucial, visceral, seminal (from semen). This is what only some singular personalities such as Peter Hammill, Kevin Coyne, Simon Finn or Alex Harvey, cab offer to humankind. An illustration of our internal devils, our vices, our disgusts, and the sickness that contemplating the filth of the world generates in our minds. Actually, this is one of these rare moments when we think that the French language possess (in its demoniac acception) something that English cannot carry. A quality of evocation in the writing and the singing that only Brel, Ferre, Barbara and Piaf were able to share with the listener. But here, for the first time, it is in the context of rock music, a style not perfectly appropriate to the French language for reasons that would need a long analysis by linguists, but I'm not the right man to do it. The last song of this LP, "Schwartz Market" is the most extreme vision of Hell's Dante that has been proposed in music. Compared to it, all the Grindcore scene seems little kids playing with their excrements to feel like rebels. If I decided to create this blog, it was for 2 reasons/names: Alex Harvey and Alain Kan. I could have built a fan club blog but I'm too old to be a fan and I'm not a fan of fan blogs (or sites). I did not think that I would post albums but I'm not sure this one will be posted anywhere soon so I give to who wants it. Impossible to say enjoy it of course, but if you want a very special trip, try it here.