The rooster comes into play on the first track, “Douze”, which is bracketed by a hard dripping noise louder than the instruments surrounding it. The flute enters almost immediately, and the anchoring bassline – the source of the repetition – soon after. The length of these tracks seems to require such an anchor; one’s appreciation of each track will rely on one’s reaction to each central theme. The very oddness of this opening track – whoever heard of a rooster and drum breakdown? – marks it as the album’s best. Two quiet instruments, cello and what seems to be a trombone, lend a hand, but their contributions are underplayed. This track, and this album, belongs to the flute.
With a recent surge of interest in Jethro Tull sparked by the return of Ian Anderson, this is a good time for rock flautists. There’s certainly some prog influence on (“insérer titre“), apparent in the long builds and copious interludes. The flute has a softening effect on its surroundings; only on rare occasions (Tull’s “Locomotive Breath” being the prime example) does the instrument imply violence. This makes (“insérer titre“) a gentler post-rock album than might be implied by the churning guitars that dominate the end of each track. The handclaps on the closer are another sign that the band is interested in melody more than anger, in sweetness more than spice. As the album ends with fireworks and chants, it seems like camaraderie, a pleasant goodbye before the sun rises and the rooster crows again. (Richard Allen)
Release date: May 18