(Band) Nylonstring-Klampfen sind was fuer Kirchentagsmucker.

Beitrag von Martin Abend vom Juni 07. 2005 um 15:14:30:

Lange nicht mehr hat mich Musik so mitgerissen und begeistert wie die von Cheval De Frise. Und das sind auch noch Franzosen!
Aber mal im Ernst: Eine Konzertklampfe und Schlagzeug. Und der nackte Wahnsinn. Erinnern teilweise an Ruins oder Gastr Del Sol. Ganz klar mit Postrock-Referenzen aber so lächerlich virtuos, dass es vielleicht sogar Leuten gefällt, die sich "Art-Rock" zuhause anhören. ;) Ziemlich freie Musik, aber sehr diszipliniert strukturiert und unglaublich zusammen.

Hier mal 2 Hörproben:

http://www.freneticrecords.com/sounds/cheval_lucarne.mp3

http://www.sickroomrecords.com/MP3/Construction%20d%27ecorces%20d%27arbre.mp3

...und hier was aus der Presse:

Cheval De Frise are... plain remarkable. Bare to the waist and sporting Trotsky glasses, Vincent Beysselance studies his drumkit with a jazz warrior's eye, his lean expression and sculpted moustachios lending him the air of a razor-sharp beatnik. Guitarist Thomas Bonvalet looks as if the Taliban have booted him out for excessive zeal. Sporting an enormous bushy chest-length beard, battered clothes and an expression of sincerely crazed intensity, he's twitching visibly even before he plays a note. His nylon-string acoustic guitar has been modified - or de-modified, with both the sound-hole and the pre-amp controls crudely and defiantly smothered with duct tape. As he plays, biting on a pick, his face seethes beneath his beard.

"Pastoral acoustic mathcore" was what someone wrote on the Cheval De Frise packet. Ah ha, ha, ha - I don't think so. Pastoral acoustic mathcore would be very nice - perhaps a Guitar Craft picking exercise, pared down by post-punk minimalism and softened by visions of green fields. Are Cheval De Frise like that? No. For the first seven minutes or so, Cheval De Frise seem absolutely demented. After that - and once the broken seizures of drumming and the intricate splatterwork of guitar has had time to get to work on your brain and your reflexes - you start to understand. Although your body will make the connection before your mind does. Right from the off, Bonvalet's playing is disturbingly wild; slamming down obsessively on a single note or isolated interval, or spasming music up, down or across the neck of the guitar. Beysselance's drumming is a boiling whirl of ideas and instincts, acted out with a brinksma cefulness, with enough breakneck substance both to keep the duo's momentum and to craze it with brilliant stress fractures. People cram to the edge of the Arts CafŽ's tiny stage, swaying like a wheatfield in a whirlwind, and yelping approval.

Behind the apparent free-scene chaos, Cheval De Frise have serious intentions. The drums have their melodies as well as their upheavals, and although Bonvalet's open-mouthed drooling visage suggests a man in terminal acid psychosis, he frequently rips into hyperspeed, hypertonal spirals of intense picking which John McLaughlin would be proud of. Every now and again, in the midst of a free section, the two Friseurs exchange a quick cue-ing glance and then slam into perfect alignment, calling a rigorous Zappa-style composed music module up out of memory. Bonvalet's playing might often parallels the spewing, disjointed clicking noises of the post-Derek Bailey improv school, but the musician he's really closest to is the iconoclastic lo-fi jazz rebel Billy Jenkins Deliberately or not, Cheval De Frise 's music is a hyperactive flamencoid strain of Jenkins' "spass" approach - a slew of intense musicality in which ugly sounds, wrong notes, anti-technique and smash-ups in timing and phrasing are as part of the great spontaneous inspiration as skill, structure, complex ambition or the beautiful moment.

It is, also, an intensely devotional music, as burningly thrilling as Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan's qu'waali shriek, a gospel choir tearing the roof off the sucker, or the closer-to-God whirling of a Sufi dervish. Bonvalet's physical abandonment (at points close to ecstatic convulsions) is religious in its intensity. As pieces skid to a halt, he bobs his head thankfully to the audience, smiling and almost moved to tears. If it's like that onstage, it's not that much less intense down here. Being up close to music this inspirationally driven raises the hairs on the back of the neck. When Cheval De Frise finally peel off their instruments and stumble into the crowd, the feel of the aud rhooks is like a dam bursting.


MAddin

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