Carpenter Brut was back at the Olympia in Paris, a venue he’s getting to know well, as this was already the third time he’d been there to make the sprung floor bounce. In his luggage, he naturally had his dark glasses, but also a new album, Leather Temple (review), the futuristic conclusion to a trilogy in which serial killer Bret Halford wakes up in 2077 after being cryogenically frozen... One thing’s for sure, he’ll be strutting his stuff whilst waddling wildly. For once, we won’t be able to show you any photos from the evening, as we didn’t have accreditation, but we really wanted to tell you all about it anyway, so instead we’re offering you some rubbish drawing that is, however, absolutely true to the actuel events.
ULTRA SUNN
If you’re familiar with the goth/EBM/darkwave gigs organised by Persona Grata, at least in Paris, there are two acts you simply CAN’T fail to know: Ultra Sunn and Sydney Valette are EVERYWHERE, at all the best events. The proof: tonight, Ultra Sunn is on stage and Valette is in the audience! For the Carpenter Brut crowd—a bit of a mixed bag but probably more commonly labelled ‘metal’—there was, however, a good chance this would be a first encounter with the Belgian band.
So here we go for around forty minutes of synthpop/futurepop/EBM anthems from the duo, who become a trio on stage. They stick to their tried-and-tested formula: a set played almost without a break between tracks, with binary rhythms serving as the backbone and guiding thread, creating a continuous yet relatively uniform energy. What still works just as well are those little melodies and vocal lines that bring a sense of melancholy and depth (at times reminiscent of a more modern, techno-infused take on VNV Nation), allowing certain tracks to stand out (such as Some Ghost Could Follow, The Beast in Me or Keep Your Eyes Peeled).
With his enthusiasm and good humour, Ultra Sunn quickly got the Olympia buzzing; what’s more, Sam spends half the time speaking English, and we’re not quite sure if it’s because you’re sort of obliged to when you’re a star, if it’s because playing so many gigs means you’ve lost track of where you are, or if he’s practising for their upcoming North American tour! On the other hand, his voice sounded a bit deeper than usual, which added a welcome gothic touch... but also gave the impression that the little chap had caught a chill. Get well soon, mate, we want you in top form across the Atlantic!
CARPENTER BRUT
No more funny business. We’re gradually getting a glimpse of the new stage set, with that sort of mystical obelisk right in the middle, separating two screens, and the console at the centre. Gone are the days when Franck Hueso, aka Franck B. Carpenter, aka Bret Halford, aka Carpenter Brut, and no doubt a few other badass nicknames, used to hide away in a corner at the back of the stage. Now he’s enthroned in the middle of Olympus. It looks more grandiose than usual. And anyway, gone are the days of the Backstreet Boys to warm up the audience at the beginning of the show. The screens light up with an advert for Iron Tusk, the megalomaniac tyrant who rules this dystopian universe (let’s hope that by 2077, megalomaniac tyrants will be doing things a bit less pathetic and daft than buying a social media platform just to whinge on it): we’re immediately plunged into a cyberpunk world saturated with images and dominated by totalitarian mega-corporations. He’s definitely played Cyberpunk 2077. It also brings to mind the guys from Shaârghot: they too share this taste for immersive, unsettling spectacles where the underbelly of sprawling megacities serves as the stage.
And then it begins. Just like on the album, in fact: the intro with its theatrical organ, then Major Threat, then Leather Temple. By setting his narrative in the future, Carpenter Brut has modernised his signature sounds, incorporating more menacing basslines and oppressive, martial rhythms. It’s a hell of a lot darker, and you get absolutely battered by both the sound and the visuals, with enough spotlights to light up a black hole and screens used to great effect. Gone are the days of those sometimes rather cheap-looking music videos projected in the background. The show has been carefully planned, thought through and refined, and every element contributes to the creation of a dark, coherent techno-mystical ritual.
apart from the logo, which is actually really tricky to draw.
The first wall of death kicks off after barely ten minutes. All it takes is a wave of the boss’s hand – right there, from behind his gear – for the Olympia to split in two and charge straight into it. The carpenter has gone all out on the brutality; we’re leaving our teeth and brain cells behind. BECAUSE THE MUSIC IS SO LOUD WE HAVE TO SCREAM LIKE BONOBOS TO ASK EACH OTHER ‘HI, HOW ARE YOU?’ AND THANK GOODNESS THE OLYMPIA BANS MOTORBIKES FROM THE VENUE, OTHERWISE WE’D ALL BE GOING VROOM VROOM AT FULL THROTTLE LIKE IDIOTS AND THERE’D BE LOADS OF DEAD PEOPLE. OH, AND ALSO, THANK GOODNESS WE CAN’T BRING OUR LASER GUNS, OTHERWISE THERE’D BE EVEN MORE DEATHS, SO INSTEAD WE FIGHT WITH WHATEVER WE CAN FIND, LIKE SHOES FLYING THROUGH THE AIR (hey, the bloke who got out barefoot, are you OK?).
It’s not just the music and the screens that have changed. The interaction with the audience has been reimagined: sure, Franck still doesn’t speak and acts a bit grumpy because he’s a real tough guy, but a deep, eerie, dehumanised voice addresses us between tracks. Between thanks and defiant messages, these recordings prolong the immersion and add a new dimension of interaction to a Carpenter Brut concert. In front of him are 2,000 people, at least 8,000 of whom have mullet haircuts, moustaches and headbands, whilst those with muscles are in tank shirt to show off their bulging muscles to everyone. These are the right outfits for being tough in a fight, both in the past and the future, but it’s still a night of fashion faux pas. OH! And there are explosions! Yeah! Fire, fire! The return of pyrotechnics, just like at the Zénith in 2022, whoosh-whoosh!
Even when it comes to the old tracks – the ones that people with mullet haircuts and slightly trendy, cool types love, with catchy melodies that laid the foundations for this synthwave scene with its colourful 80s fetishism – they pack a bigger punch than usual. Roller Mobster, Disco Zombi Italia, all that stuff, the palm trees, the sun, the chewing-gum bubbles, the improbable perms, the skin-tight outfits. It’s a shame there’s hardly any Leather Terror tracks, even though we’ve heard plenty of them over the last few years, apart from a Day Stalker / Night Prowler sequence with its ever-so-hellish crescendo. Alongside the master of ceremonies, drummer Florent Marcadet is also stuck behind his kit, whilst guitarist Adrien Hacride roams freely, edging towards the chaos of the pit and shaking his mane under the spotlights.
The stars of the evening were the new tracks, with their dark, futuristic electro sound that breathes new life into the genre and broadens Carpenter Brut’s horizons without ever straying from his signature style – that more extreme, more grandiose, more over-the-top approach. When Le Perv kicks in, you know the end is near. Up to that point, the concert had mirrored the latest album: no vocals. So when Maniac comes to round off the evening, it feels like a kind of liberation: the crowd can belt it out. The floor shakes, the walls of the Olympia tremble, but on stage, Franck himself doesn’t waver. He keeps his glasses on, an iconic silhouette, and stays cool like the super-tough hero of an old-school action film or a very manly advert for men's deodorant. Everyone knows that cool guys keep their glasses on and don’t turn round to watch the explosions... too bad for him, he didn’t even see THE FIRE and the cool images on the screens behind him! Anyway, the explosion was also in the pit, where legs, trainers and other bits of clothing were raining down.
It was brilliantly cool simply because it was brilliantly cool, but that wasn’t all: we also felt as though we were rediscovering Carpenter Brut, or at least seeing that the artist had worked hard to deliver something spectacular – something different yet consistent with what he seeks to convey through his music – a sort of ceremony as much as a call to revolt, set in a fictional world that felt tangible for the duration of the evening. It’s done with generosity and flair. Given the ambition of the project, the future dates (including a tour with Health in North America) should be the most epic party of 2077, fifty years ahead of schedule.
