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CD
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BORNBAD 149CD
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Try to understand how Cannibale, from some living room in the Northern France town of L'Aigle, managed to perfect a sound somewhere between the Caribbeans, 1960s West Coast garage scene and Tropicalia's Brazil. They got into "doing nothing" lately. And while doing so, they've put together their third album, Life Is Dead. Simmered, gnawed to the bone; everything in that record feels more precise and simmered at length. Their distinct working method, both open to experimentation and mathematically redundant, ties all of their albums together. Everyday, in the alcohol-heavy botanical mist of his den in L'Aigle, Manuel tinkers about, pieces together instruments and "vomits music", to please the band's buddies. It's all the more convincing coming from an habitué of mosh pit close-combat rather than passionate oscillation. An infusion of instinct and seduction feeds back into the group's vaporous music and Nicolas' dreamy lyrics. Life Is Dead is shaping up to be yet another motor for imagination, for out-of-control body moves and spasms of the brains. Take, for example, the drumming bass and razor-sharp guitar strokes on "The Hammer Hits" or the racing "Kings of the Attics", which recounts the tribulations of a teens' band on rehearsal. Only one track is a bit of an outsider, the album's last composition for which Manuel feels he "managed, for the first time, to achieve [his] idea of non-blend between new-wave and Caribbean music". This record also stands out due to an ever more intense connection to the body. In the sense of matter and food on "Savouring Your Flesh", which could be the soundtrack for a pagan feast in a cartoon. Or else as object of desire in the palatable lament "Taste Me". Nicolas defies death -- absurdly, always: daredevil tendencies, psychedelic purgatory and a good laugh with a white light beaming straight in his face. Opening title? Two guys trying to kill each other, without ever managing to get the job done. "I Don't Want To Rot"? The tale of a body crushed on the pavement, like if it was told by madmen racing full blast around a kart track. "The Mouth Of Darkness"? A hard-rock band title, an idea for a track to go along the title, a screwup resulting in a song recounting how the screwed-up song should have been. Welcomed as rookies in Born Bad's laps for its tenth anniversary, Cannibale now sits -- comfortably so -- at the big table of the label's leading bands. In the future, for sure, this Life Is Dead will have its own chapter in their dedicated anthropo-ethno-socio-musicological study - a somewhat post-mortem moment, in the full flow of creation. Frustration's singer Fabrice Gilbert can be heard on "Kings Of The Attics".
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LP
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BORNBAD 149LP
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LP version. Printed undersleeve; includes download code. Try to understand how Cannibale, from some living room in the Northern France town of L'Aigle, managed to perfect a sound somewhere between the Caribbeans, 1960s West Coast garage scene and Tropicalia's Brazil. They got into "doing nothing" lately. And while doing so, they've put together their third album, Life Is Dead. Simmered, gnawed to the bone; everything in that record feels more precise and simmered at length. Their distinct working method, both open to experimentation and mathematically redundant, ties all of their albums together. Everyday, in the alcohol-heavy botanical mist of his den in L'Aigle, Manuel tinkers about, pieces together instruments and "vomits music", to please the band's buddies. It's all the more convincing coming from an habitué of mosh pit close-combat rather than passionate oscillation. An infusion of instinct and seduction feeds back into the group's vaporous music and Nicolas' dreamy lyrics. Life Is Dead is shaping up to be yet another motor for imagination, for out-of-control body moves and spasms of the brains. Take, for example, the drumming bass and razor-sharp guitar strokes on "The Hammer Hits" or the racing "Kings of the Attics", which recounts the tribulations of a teens' band on rehearsal. Only one track is a bit of an outsider, the album's last composition for which Manuel feels he "managed, for the first time, to achieve [his] idea of non-blend between new-wave and Caribbean music". This record also stands out due to an ever more intense connection to the body. In the sense of matter and food on "Savouring Your Flesh", which could be the soundtrack for a pagan feast in a cartoon. Or else as object of desire in the palatable lament "Taste Me". Nicolas defies death -- absurdly, always: daredevil tendencies, psychedelic purgatory and a good laugh with a white light beaming straight in his face. Opening title? Two guys trying to kill each other, without ever managing to get the job done. "I Don't Want To Rot"? The tale of a body crushed on the pavement, like if it was told by madmen racing full blast around a kart track. "The Mouth Of Darkness"? A hard-rock band title, an idea for a track to go along the title, a screwup resulting in a song recounting how the screwed-up song should have been. Welcomed as rookies in Born Bad's laps for its tenth anniversary, Cannibale now sits -- comfortably so -- at the big table of the label's leading bands. In the future, for sure, this Life Is Dead will have its own chapter in their dedicated anthropo-ethno-socio-musicological study - a somewhat post-mortem moment, in the full flow of creation. Frustration's singer Fabrice Gilbert can be heard on "Kings Of The Attics".
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7"
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BORNBAD 127EP
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Petit Orang-Outan ("Little Orangutan") is a psychedelic tale that tells the story of a little orangutan that grows so big that it becomes gigantic and out of control. It then eats the sun and disappears into the night. Edition of 500.
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CD
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BORNBAD 110CD
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Cannibale return to Born Bad Records with Not Easy To Cook, their second album. If Cannibale's members brought their breakfast back up when talking about Not Easy To Cook, their listeners would be surprised. These fortysomethings signed by Born Bad Records, the image of greaser-looking garage rockers would come to mind, but with bits of exotica stuck between the teeth, Nino Nardini and Roger Roger's Jungle Obsession (1971) on the turntable, and plastic-bottled tropical glam puked by some incarnation of Wayne's World's (1992) Mike Myers. Why mention all this? Because there's a world of difference between the beginning of Cannibale's success story and this, their second album. It wouldn't take much to feel as if Freddie Mercury showed up in a Renault 16 to play marimba for old oafish rock fans. And actually, that's about it: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) meets Fela Kuti in rain boots. Between No Mercy For Love (BORNBAD 094CD/LP, 2017) and Not Easy To Cook, the group did not switch from psyche cumbia to coarse-grained autotune, but rather roamed roads like doped cyclists, playing more than 100 dates in less than a year, and a eulogistic press review; Johnny Hallyday himself did not get such media coverage! So what's Cannibale's secret? Being old and giving 19-year-old kids who just discovered marimba tutorials on YouTube a thrashing? Certainly, but it's a little more than a band of old fogeys. "The band learned it all on the road in less than two years," says Born Bad's Jean-Baptiste Guillot. Songwriting-wise, they've known how to do for a long time. The members, survivors of various projects, succeeded because nothing else than music mattered anymore. In that, the band's deviant trajectory is not so different from Vox Low's. But the most surprising thing about "Not Easy To Cook is the sultriness that emerges. It's hard to sum it up other than by comparing these ten songs with some pressure cooker in which bits of dancehall, London ska and Hawaiian dub would have cooked together. The small miracle achieved by this album, recorded by the band in its remote French village: sounding French, but Polynesian French. With Not Easy To Cook, frogs, birds, and sounds from the jungle can be heard in a living room. Those already traumatized by Arthur Lyman's vibraphone and Les Baxter's lounge music should feel at home.
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LP
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BORNBAD 110LP
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LP version; includes printer inner sleeve and download. Cannibale return to Born Bad Records with Not Easy To Cook, their second album. If Cannibale's members brought their breakfast back up when talking about Not Easy To Cook, their listeners would be surprised. These fortysomethings signed by Born Bad Records, the image of greaser-looking garage rockers would come to mind, but with bits of exotica stuck between the teeth, Nino Nardini and Roger Roger's Jungle Obsession (1971) on the turntable, and plastic-bottled tropical glam puked by some incarnation of Wayne's World's (1992) Mike Myers. Why mention all this? Because there's a world of difference between the beginning of Cannibale's success story and this, their second album. It wouldn't take much to feel as if Freddie Mercury showed up in a Renault 16 to play marimba for old oafish rock fans. And actually, that's about it: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975) meets Fela Kuti in rain boots. Between No Mercy For Love (BORNBAD 094CD/LP, 2017) and Not Easy To Cook, the group did not switch from psyche cumbia to coarse-grained autotune, but rather roamed roads like doped cyclists, playing more than 100 dates in less than a year, and a eulogistic press review; Johnny Hallyday himself did not get such media coverage! So what's Cannibale's secret? Being old and giving 19-year-old kids who just discovered marimba tutorials on YouTube a thrashing? Certainly, but it's a little more than a band of old fogeys. "The band learned it all on the road in less than two years," says Born Bad's Jean-Baptiste Guillot. Songwriting-wise, they've known how to do for a long time. The members, survivors of various projects, succeeded because nothing else than music mattered anymore. In that, the band's deviant trajectory is not so different from Vox Low's. But the most surprising thing about "Not Easy To Cook is the sultriness that emerges. It's hard to sum it up other than by comparing these ten songs with some pressure cooker in which bits of dancehall, London ska and Hawaiian dub would have cooked together. The small miracle achieved by this album, recorded by the band in its remote French village: sounding French, but Polynesian French. With Not Easy To Cook, frogs, birds, and sounds from the jungle can be heard in a living room. Those already traumatized by Arthur Lyman's vibraphone and Les Baxter's lounge music should feel at home.
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CD
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BORNBAD 094CD
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Still unknown in rock territory, French band Cannibale gets its name from its "kind of exotic garage" music whose humid tropical groove is slowly eating up all the stereotypes about Born Bad Records releases. If there's cannibalism to be found in No Mercy For Love, it's in reference to the Caribbean rhythms here-and-there, and to the psychedelic sound from the backwoods that make this first album a peculiar occurrence in the land of strikes and wine drinkers. There's never any silence with Cannibale and, as for the lambs, stick to the village in the middle of nowhere where the band members reside - a hamlet in Normandy with a total population of 300, including the cows. Rather than human flesh, these guys have been feeding on their own impatience. Lead guitarist Manuel and singer Nicolas met in junior high (which is the case for 99% of rock bands so far), but the members of Cannibale have a Frustration type profile - almost all of them are over forty. During the last twenty years, with unbending faith, these guys played in loads of bands that never made it to the top (Amib, De Rien, 7Questions, Kouyaté Neerman, Renza Bo, Blast) and even ended up playing as session musicians alongside Camile Bazbaz or Johnny Halliday. After winning the Inrocks Labs contest with Bow Low, their penultimate band, and releasing two albums with Because, the Norman guys finally decided to create Cannibale in 2016. In theory, considering the beginning of their career, or lack thereof, you couldn't imagine you'd end up hearing the sounds from No Mercy For Love: a surprising mixture of cumbia, African rhythms and garage music. Or, if you will, a kind of missing link between Fela Kuti, The Doors, and The Seeds. A bunch of forty year-olds whose origins are as white as their soul is black. "Releasing the album in our forties, we think it's a laugh. Of course we keep on believing, it's all we do, it's what's keeping us alive."
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LP
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BORNBAD 094LP
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LP version. Still unknown in rock territory, French band Cannibale gets its name from its "kind of exotic garage" music whose humid tropical groove is slowly eating up all the stereotypes about Born Bad Records releases. If there's cannibalism to be found in No Mercy For Love, it's in reference to the Caribbean rhythms here-and-there, and to the psychedelic sound from the backwoods that make this first album a peculiar occurrence in the land of strikes and wine drinkers. There's never any silence with Cannibale and, as for the lambs, stick to the village in the middle of nowhere where the band members reside - a hamlet in Normandy with a total population of 300, including the cows. Rather than human flesh, these guys have been feeding on their own impatience. Lead guitarist Manuel and singer Nicolas met in junior high (which is the case for 99% of rock bands so far), but the members of Cannibale have a Frustration type profile - almost all of them are over forty. During the last twenty years, with unbending faith, these guys played in loads of bands that never made it to the top (Amib, De Rien, 7Questions, Kouyaté Neerman, Renza Bo, Blast) and even ended up playing as session musicians alongside Camile Bazbaz or Johnny Halliday. After winning the Inrocks Labs contest with Bow Low, their penultimate band, and releasing two albums with Because, the Norman guys finally decided to create Cannibale in 2016. In theory, considering the beginning of their career, or lack thereof, you couldn't imagine you'd end up hearing the sounds from No Mercy For Love: a surprising mixture of cumbia, African rhythms and garage music. Or, if you will, a kind of missing link between Fela Kuti, The Doors, and The Seeds. A bunch of forty year-olds whose origins are as white as their soul is black. "Releasing the album in our forties, we think it's a laugh. Of course we keep on believing, it's all we do, it's what's keeping us alive."
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