Some years have gone by since I sat at the piano to imagine how the new En Velours Noir album could be.
Nearly 3 albums composed in the meantime, very heterogeneous between them, far apart from what I feel today,
and that’s the reason why I didn’t felt to spread them. It seems obvious, but it’s hard to give a metropolitan
and contemporary dress to the Spleen which is part of an artist who strives to integrate himself in today’s perception.
Emotions fade away in the vain attempt of osmose with a dictionary which doesn’t belong to us.
Then, suddenly, as often happens some nights ago to the notes of a Pontarlier goblet wet by Pernod
and Lennie Tristano’s scent I felt which way to follow and the new songs have blossomed inside, like dormant buds for years:
minimal, visceral, of a sweet crudeness which scratches the soul whispering to the matter, without mincing hoarding words.
And for the first time I thought of a natural live dimension to all this. See you soon.