Au-Delà Du Délire

France never really took to rock-n-roll the way other Europeans did; in the ‘60s, French rock bands were few and far between, the yé-yé of Johnny Hallyday definitely notwithstanding. Yet in the early ‘70s, “rock progressif” slowly infiltrated French culture, and of those bands that did emerge (Atoll, Catharsis, Mona Lisa), Ange was certainly the most quintessential. Formed in 1970 by brothers Christian and Francis Décamps, the band had consolidated to their most classic lineup in 1971, with Jean-Michel Brézovar on guitar, Daniel Haas on bass and Gérard Jelsch on drums. Their debut album, Caricatures, saw release in 1972 on the Phillips label, and immediately reveals their sonic signature: foreboding melodies of Francis’ Viscount organ punctuated with the stop/start dynamic of the band. Of course the most identifiable trait was the partly sung, partly spoken “chant” of Christian. 1973’s Le Cimetière des Arlequins followed, earning the band its first gold record. But Ange’s crowning achievement is the excellent Au-delà du Délire (“beyond delirium”) released in 1974. The violin that opens “Godevin le Vilain” quite succinctly points out the obvious: Ange’s music could only be French: unfortunately for the non-speaker, the significant loss of the degree of theatre and drama within Christian’s delivery defies mere translation. “Les Lounges Nuits d’Isaac” cranks up the prog rock quotient, his impassioned delivery now just as electric. With acoustic guitars picking away, the central melody of “Ballade Pour Une Orgie” is simply magnificent and lighter than the typically dark sweeping melodies and progressive aplomb that dominate the record. The second side blasts off with “Exode”; the symphonic introduction and fiery close are reminiscent of Genesis’ earlier work, but by no means a reproduction. “La Bataille Du Sucre” offers more of the band’s cabaret, while “Fils de Lumiere” follows with another electric workout. Although relatively raw and unsophisticated, there’s still a perfection to detail in the album; just listen to the title track’s typically beautiful melody. Its arrangement and instrumentation offer one of the most resplendent examples of early ‘70s prog rock; regardless of it sounding dated it’s nonetheless a true classic. Like Hallyday, the band never had commercial success outside the French-speaking world. And although their 1976 release, Par les fils de Mandrin, saw a re-recording in English (By The Sons Of Mandrin), it was, for one reason or another, quickly withdrawn soon after release. The band fostered on well into the ‘80s, releasing albums of varying quality over continually shifting lineups.