Përl takes its time. Releasing an album every four years, the post-metal band brings to life a world of contrasts, between explosions from the depths of the soul and more intimate moments. Architecture du Vertige, their fourth album, lives up to its name: with its dizzying highs, intimidating lows and soothing peaks, it truly makes our heads spin.
If Përl were a landscape, it would be steep cliffs, like those mentioned in Au Royaume des Songes. An imposing feature that evokes all the power and savagery of nature, its storms, its gigantic waves crashing against rock walls that resist the onslaught... but also a spectacular void from which to dive and tumble at full speed. This intense introduction is a dreamlike, elegant, furious statement of intent. The rays of the sun, bittersweet contemplation... and suddenly, the hurricane and the ever-impressive cries of Aline Boussaroque, whose vocal versatility matches the sharp turns taken by the music, its plunges and its upward movements.
We love Përl when the sound explodes, when the music hits you like an earthquake. We also love Përl when we lose ourselves in the eye of the storm: pop, spoken word, whatever the labels, the French lyrics always shine through. The violence wouldn't work without these moments of introspection and vice versa, there can be no relief without contrast (have you ever tried to draw shadows in total darkness?). Naufragée des nuages, with its rap scansion, its eruptive crescendo and its drum beats that hammer us mercilessly, as well as the tornado of emotions contained in La Chute and its reverse movement (this time, it starts strong and then lets you breathe), with its post-punk shadows and snarling black metal, are perhaps the most dizzying highlights of this album, the ones with the most beautiful view, the best spots from which to dive into the abyss.
Përl has a few surprises in store for us, first of all by giving Sólstafir a lesson in efficiency by appropriating their song Fjara in French. The result, twilight-like, melancholic and less pompous than the original (we're not going to make only friends), is superb. Inevitably, the participation of Sam Pillay from Point Mort (who also released a beautiful album earlier this year) brings its own share of dizziness, as the singer also masters the stylistic leaps between gentleness and theatrical madness. Still as fond of chiaroscuro as ever, Përl takes us on a journey, carrying us away with her raw torment, her exalted impulses and her daydreams. Architecture du Vertige is a remarkable edifice, refined and raw, fragile and powerful, which keeps us on the edge of our seats.
