Baleine à Boss
Trust Hakuna Kulala to mad it up on an exceptionally infectious mix of chanson, post-punk and DIY pop that bridges the gap between Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, possessed by a Cameroonian, rhythmic spirit.
Well-established as a filmmaker, installation artist and curator, Breton-Cameroonian polymath Violaine Morgan Le Fur has a story to tell, and it unfurls across all the many disciplines she dabbles in. Having only been making music for a few weeks, she recorded 'Baleine à Boss’ fast and loose, capturing an impulsive energy that to our ears harks back to the deceptively amateur sprit of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori’s cult Cibo Matto, and some of their wider Grand Royal family.
Violaine takes influence from the vast forests of western Cameroon, lands ravaged by generations of bloodthirsty men, and twists her voical chants around grimey percussion and toy box electronics, fashioning multifaceted pop around martial drums and music-box melodies on 'Smooth Operation', and then raps in a soft rasp over skeletal rhythms and glassy twangs on the title track, on a tip somewhere between 'Maxinquaye' and 'Emperor Tomato Ketchup'.
Le Fur circles no-wave and jerky, Neptunes-style R&B on the oddball 'Une Ouf', cooing over sampled guitar twangs and boxy rhythms, and on 'Cristal', she whistles and sings over lurching hand drums and plastick synths. 'Bad à Bras le Corps' is even better, a noisy dembow belter that's shepherded by Le Fur's casual, self-assured poetics.
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Trust Hakuna Kulala to mad it up on an exceptionally infectious mix of chanson, post-punk and DIY pop that bridges the gap between Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, possessed by a Cameroonian, rhythmic spirit.
Well-established as a filmmaker, installation artist and curator, Breton-Cameroonian polymath Violaine Morgan Le Fur has a story to tell, and it unfurls across all the many disciplines she dabbles in. Having only been making music for a few weeks, she recorded 'Baleine à Boss’ fast and loose, capturing an impulsive energy that to our ears harks back to the deceptively amateur sprit of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori’s cult Cibo Matto, and some of their wider Grand Royal family.
Violaine takes influence from the vast forests of western Cameroon, lands ravaged by generations of bloodthirsty men, and twists her voical chants around grimey percussion and toy box electronics, fashioning multifaceted pop around martial drums and music-box melodies on 'Smooth Operation', and then raps in a soft rasp over skeletal rhythms and glassy twangs on the title track, on a tip somewhere between 'Maxinquaye' and 'Emperor Tomato Ketchup'.
Le Fur circles no-wave and jerky, Neptunes-style R&B on the oddball 'Une Ouf', cooing over sampled guitar twangs and boxy rhythms, and on 'Cristal', she whistles and sings over lurching hand drums and plastick synths. 'Bad à Bras le Corps' is even better, a noisy dembow belter that's shepherded by Le Fur's casual, self-assured poetics.
Trust Hakuna Kulala to mad it up on an exceptionally infectious mix of chanson, post-punk and DIY pop that bridges the gap between Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, possessed by a Cameroonian, rhythmic spirit.
Well-established as a filmmaker, installation artist and curator, Breton-Cameroonian polymath Violaine Morgan Le Fur has a story to tell, and it unfurls across all the many disciplines she dabbles in. Having only been making music for a few weeks, she recorded 'Baleine à Boss’ fast and loose, capturing an impulsive energy that to our ears harks back to the deceptively amateur sprit of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori’s cult Cibo Matto, and some of their wider Grand Royal family.
Violaine takes influence from the vast forests of western Cameroon, lands ravaged by generations of bloodthirsty men, and twists her voical chants around grimey percussion and toy box electronics, fashioning multifaceted pop around martial drums and music-box melodies on 'Smooth Operation', and then raps in a soft rasp over skeletal rhythms and glassy twangs on the title track, on a tip somewhere between 'Maxinquaye' and 'Emperor Tomato Ketchup'.
Le Fur circles no-wave and jerky, Neptunes-style R&B on the oddball 'Une Ouf', cooing over sampled guitar twangs and boxy rhythms, and on 'Cristal', she whistles and sings over lurching hand drums and plastick synths. 'Bad à Bras le Corps' is even better, a noisy dembow belter that's shepherded by Le Fur's casual, self-assured poetics.
Trust Hakuna Kulala to mad it up on an exceptionally infectious mix of chanson, post-punk and DIY pop that bridges the gap between Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, possessed by a Cameroonian, rhythmic spirit.
Well-established as a filmmaker, installation artist and curator, Breton-Cameroonian polymath Violaine Morgan Le Fur has a story to tell, and it unfurls across all the many disciplines she dabbles in. Having only been making music for a few weeks, she recorded 'Baleine à Boss’ fast and loose, capturing an impulsive energy that to our ears harks back to the deceptively amateur sprit of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori’s cult Cibo Matto, and some of their wider Grand Royal family.
Violaine takes influence from the vast forests of western Cameroon, lands ravaged by generations of bloodthirsty men, and twists her voical chants around grimey percussion and toy box electronics, fashioning multifaceted pop around martial drums and music-box melodies on 'Smooth Operation', and then raps in a soft rasp over skeletal rhythms and glassy twangs on the title track, on a tip somewhere between 'Maxinquaye' and 'Emperor Tomato Ketchup'.
Le Fur circles no-wave and jerky, Neptunes-style R&B on the oddball 'Une Ouf', cooing over sampled guitar twangs and boxy rhythms, and on 'Cristal', she whistles and sings over lurching hand drums and plastick synths. 'Bad à Bras le Corps' is even better, a noisy dembow belter that's shepherded by Le Fur's casual, self-assured poetics.
Edition of 99 copies, comes with a download of the album dropped to your account. Artwork by Marc Armand Works, mastered by Declared Sound.
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Trust Hakuna Kulala to mad it up on an exceptionally infectious mix of chanson, post-punk and DIY pop that bridges the gap between Cibo Matto, Stereolab, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, possessed by a Cameroonian, rhythmic spirit.
Well-established as a filmmaker, installation artist and curator, Breton-Cameroonian polymath Violaine Morgan Le Fur has a story to tell, and it unfurls across all the many disciplines she dabbles in. Having only been making music for a few weeks, she recorded 'Baleine à Boss’ fast and loose, capturing an impulsive energy that to our ears harks back to the deceptively amateur sprit of Yuka Honda and Miho Hatori’s cult Cibo Matto, and some of their wider Grand Royal family.
Violaine takes influence from the vast forests of western Cameroon, lands ravaged by generations of bloodthirsty men, and twists her voical chants around grimey percussion and toy box electronics, fashioning multifaceted pop around martial drums and music-box melodies on 'Smooth Operation', and then raps in a soft rasp over skeletal rhythms and glassy twangs on the title track, on a tip somewhere between 'Maxinquaye' and 'Emperor Tomato Ketchup'.
Le Fur circles no-wave and jerky, Neptunes-style R&B on the oddball 'Une Ouf', cooing over sampled guitar twangs and boxy rhythms, and on 'Cristal', she whistles and sings over lurching hand drums and plastick synths. 'Bad à Bras le Corps' is even better, a noisy dembow belter that's shepherded by Le Fur's casual, self-assured poetics.