Benjamin Schoos – Quand La Nuit Tombe Sur l’Orchestre

Freaksville

Since 2005, Benjamin Schoos and his label of esoteric pop-loving misfits, Freaksville, have been doing their best to keep the Belgian / French language pop scene awash with an alternative to the usual radio fodder. As a solo artiste, Benjamin has released six or seven albums which veer all over the slightly kitsch shop. On Quand La Nuit Tombe Sur l’Orchestre, he has attempted to compile a collection of instrumental pieces from the last three albums that sit together and evoke a certain mood.

Benjamin is certainly no stranger to the seventies and some of these sounded to me like soundtracks to some imaginary shows that I never saw, but would have really enjoyed. Having read a little blurb for the release though, it transpires that some of these were used for that purpose and nothing could be more fitting. The thing is, even though they smack of seventies nostalgia, he seems somehow to have injected them with some contemporary feeling that enables an air of vitality and modernity.

The picture on the sleeve shows a black and white image of a gentleman in shades sitting confronted by banks of old-style synthesizers and electric noise generators and opener “Autrefois” puts some of these to good use. A big, bombastic opening with dramatic piano chords, Moogy sounds and dreamy, wordless vocalising gives an uplifting but slightly mysterious air. It is driven by galloping drums, courtesy of one of a coterie of like-minded fellow musicians. It sweeps the album off to a good start, allowing the waltz time of “La Vida De Un Luchador” to settle things down again. It has a Parisian feel, of cobbled streets and riverside cafés, while one of the many keyboards generates some sort of quacking sound in the background. The different keyboard effects and the sound of sleigh bells give a pleasantly drunken sort of vibe. It is a little wild and could be used as a finale to a Bergerac episode, whereas the manic harpsichord on the terribly brief “Pop Baroque Theme” could be from a particularly riotous episode of Lovejoy.

It is not all trips down televisual memory lane, though. The dreamy acoustic guitar progressions of “Cine Nostalgia” have a touch of melancholy, but when plied with bursts of space Theremin (or something like it), the track is taken right out there. We are also given a better opportunity to sample the drummer’s capabilities and he has a deft touch that really propels some of the songs. There are also a couple of irresistible dancefloor smashes, all Studio 54 and Moroder-like flourishes. The string-inflected “Les Amants De l’Atlantide” is irresistibly funky and you could imagine Baccara laying a sexy vocal over the top, whereas “Disco Europe Express” is deeper and even more delicious, with a syrupy female vocal that grows sexier and breathier as the track progresses. “I’d like a rum and coke”, intones one of the protagonists at some point, and I think that says it all.

Things take an Americana turn on “La Fidelite”, the deep acoustic guitar duelling with a more vibrant electric as the drummer throws fills into the mix, sending us out to the desert with a sweet Chris Cacavas-style organ run keeping us company, but then take a turn for the lachrymose on “Dans Les Bras De La Nuit”. Here there is something for the ladies, as Alain Chamfort does a spoken word accompaniment in a perfect style. I know it is a compilation, but the variation is endless and all the better for that. Early morning piano ballads, teary-eyed with Theremin; headlong driving drama underpinned with a bobbing bass line, even a bar-room piano feel on “La Villa Borghini” that brings to mind a carousing café dance, replete with clarinet.

Quand La Nuit Tombe Sur l’Orchestre is a delight for the senses and for the mind and I for one will be exploring his back catalogue; but for now, I think Jacques Brel has a contender for most vital Belgian. Long may this continue.

-Mr Olivetti-