Review: Year Of No Light ‘Les Maîtres Fous’
French post-metal collective Year of No Light are rapidly approaching the 25th anniversary of their existence, which is no small feat for an act that was initially formed as an instrumental side project and not a priority to its founding members.
Over a quarter of a century, the band have evolved from line-up shifts and dalliances with a singer, before becoming a powerhouse that would seek to combine dark, sludge elements with shoegaze and psychedelic atmospherics.
This has seen them amass a back catalogue that includes four studio and two live albums, as well as a host of split albums and EP collaborations with the likes of Altar Of Plagues and Mars Red Sky.
Having attained critical success with their 2006 debut Nord and follow-up Ausserwult (2010), the band, now a formidable six-piece who incorporate aspects of black metal, drone and dark ambience into their wide-ranging sound, were commissioned by Musée Du Quai Branly to create a piece for their 2012 L’Invention Du Sauvage exhibition.
Basing this project on a response to the controversial 1955 docufiction Les Maîtres Fous (The Mad Masters) by French filmmaker Jean Rouch, the band composed a two-part, near thirty-minute piece. The nature of the original film focused on the ritual practices of the Hauka movement, a religious entity that arose in French Colonial Africa.
This movement consisted of ceremonies that included dancing and mimicry, which mirrored the elaborate military pageantry of the occupying forces. The intent of the subject matter has been a source of debate amongst academics and anthropologists as to whether this was a form of resistance or plea for acceptance, but the controversial nature of the film, which offended both the Colonial French and Africans for its stance on both groups alike, saw it banned in Niger and British territories.
The history of Year of No Light’s composition is best summed up by their own PR, ‘Performed only twice, once at the exhibition on the 6th January, 2012 and again in Bordeaux on the 29th January, 2015; this release is a live recording of the second and final performance of Les Maîtres Fous’. Whilst Year of No Light have a long history of collaboration with forward-thinking filmmakers and visual artists, the sensitivity of this documentary’s problematic subject matter and the intensity of the band’s performance made this performance both a physically and emotionally demanding experience; something that can be keenly felt upon listening.’
Part 1 starts almost imperceptibly with a slow pulsing hum. Over its eighteen-minute length, Year Of No Light densely builds layer after layer of fragmented and nuanced sound to the point where, despite the fact the first half passes like a gentle breeze on a sunny day, by the end, it becomes a crushing cacophony of intensity.
They build in force, the guitar swirls become more oppressive and the drums thunder with relentless urgency into a hypnotic, uncontrollable trance…
The droning beginning could almost be chamber music, correlating to the religious inspiration it draws from. I went to see the incredible exhibitions by Luke Jerram in our local cathedral and during the visit, cavernous, hollow sounds echoed throughout the 15th century building, creating an alien, otherworldly feeling not dissimilar to the atmosphere here.
On the thirteen-minute mark, drum patterns, courtesy of Bertrand Sebenne and Mathieu Megemont, begin to distinguish themselves with pattering rhythms that grow beyond the loops and delays of their three-pronged guitar attack. They build in force, the guitar swirls become more oppressive, and the drums thunder with relentless urgency into a hypnotic, uncontrollable trance until they tail off like an exhalation of breath.
This softening becomes the segue into Part 2, the shorter of the two tracks, returns to the drifting, suffocating whine of the effects. This time, there is no drawn-out build as the band ebb and flow with a slow breathing cadence. Additional variations of sound, almost orchestral in nature, intrude on the consciousness and then morph into others with a darker, grinding atmosphere.
When the pounding drums start again in a low tribal thump, the rise and fall of the synth mimics chanting and a stamping march to the building beat. The steady, oppressive moodiness of the second track contrasts with the light airiness of the first. The playful celebratory nature of Les Maîtres Fous takes on a more sinister edge that seems to reflect the conflict that the tension of occupation must bring to the indigenous inhabitants, before it too fades softly like a sunset.
Fans of Year Of No Light will lap up the release of Les Maîtres Fous as the likelihood is, this will be the only chance they get to hear the piece, barring those who were in attendance at the live shows. The recording showcases their ability to draw out complex and dark motifs and infuse them with a real, provocative atmosphere that sets them in a class of their own.
This probably won’t win over casual fans, their previous release on Pelagic Records, 2021’s Consolamentum, feels like an easier entry point, but for the converted, this will be a ray of sunshine in the dark.
Label: Pelagic Records
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
