Recueil d'écueils: Les épaves... et autres œuvres interdites

Recueil d’Ecueils is a 3-CDs boxed set featuring tracks from what is arguably Misanthrope’s best, or, at least, most famous era. Notwithstanding the musical inhomogeneity which is unavoidable on this kind of compilation, most of the material here is of good quality. So, why such a low mark? The first CD contains five new songs specially recorded for this release, four alternate versions of old songs, as well as a handful of tracks previously available only on various compilations and tribute albums. The second CD is a live album. The third one is the Libertine Humiliations album, one of the band’s best efforts. Well... that’s the issue, actually. A boxed set, targeted at the fan, containing an album released the year just before, that said fan obviously already owned? While, let’s say, an early album like Variation on Inductive Theories was already long out of print, and would have made for a far better addition. A commercial aberration: not only it’s a cash-grab, but it’s an unsophisticated one.

Thus, let’s no further comment on the third disk here, which consists in the standard Libertine Humiliations album, which should get its own (re-written) review in its proper time and place. The two other disks are basically distinct entities, each coming with its own name, each deserving its own review. To be fully exhaustive, it should also be mentioned the box contains a small poster, ironically immortalizing one of the most ephemeral line-ups of Misanthrope’s tumultuous history, including the only girl ever featured in the band, keyboardist Bénédicte Albhanac.

CD 1 – Œuvres Interdites

This is the compilation part. A first good point, it avoids a common drawback of this sort of release: sounding too much like the collection of disparate tracks they indeed are. Actually, this is not so surprising, as, Le Roman Noir excepted, all the compiled songs have been recorded in a relatively short timespan, from 1997 (the Visionnaire album leftover Impermanence et Illumination) to late 1999 (the five new songs). Getting into the detail of the precise musicians involved on each of the recordings would give an headache to anyone but the most dedicated Misanthrope fan, so let’s only mention the leading trio: S.A.S de l’Argilière, of which the performances on guitar are heard for the very last time on this release, before he exclusively focuses on what he’s always done best, vocals; Jean-Jacques Moréac, of whom the bass sounds as crazy as ever, even indulging into a 3 minutes-long bass solo soberly named Movements for Hypochondriac Basses and Libertine Tempos, on which even the “percussions” are performed on the bass; without forgetting my own personal god of late 90’s French metal scene, Mr. Jean-Baptiste Boitel, altogether guitarist, composer, arranger and sound engineer, the man without whom Misanthrope grandiloquent sound, so characteristic of this period, would not be the same.

Instead of arranging the songs chronologically, this compilation blends them together - good choice. It starts with a couple of new tracks in straightforward melodic death metal style, Le Lanceur d’Âmes and L’Envol, of which the former is an early version of The Soul Thrower, a song to be later featured on Misanthrope Immortel. This version not only features French singing, but also a less overblown, rawer sound than in its definitive form. As said above, I love Misanthrope’s overblown sound from the late 90’s but, on this specific fast, heavy song, the “raw” version may well sound superior. L’Envol, coming from the same mould, is less memorable: fast and efficient alright, but also sounding less inspired, “Gothenburg Misanthrope” at its most conventional, and a tad repetitive (all this “connaître le secret” middle part... well). Further, another “new” track, though recorded earlier, Impermanence et Illumination from the Visionnaire sessions. Upbeat all the way, to the point de l’Argilière sometimes sounds as if he will lose his breath in his neverending spitting, and filled with extensive guitar solos – the leads, as a whole, being much more memorable than riffs at this point of the band’s carrier –, it sounds as good as anything on Visionnaire, making one wonder why it was not originally included on this album (it will eventually be included on the 2005 remastered version).

In addition to the so far unreleased tracks, the compilation features four alternative versions of earlier songs. The instrumental version of L’Ecume des Chouans adds little to the Humiliations Libertines version, in spite of specially recorded solos; the strength of the original residing mostly in S.A.S de l’Argilière shouting about the atrocities of the 1793 Vendean insurrection, when removing the vocals, one almost kills the song. At 666 Days... is another re-worked track from this same Libertine Humilations album, this time featuring an additional guest singer, Spiros Antoniou from Septic Flesh. Though the new vocals, more guttural, for sure reinforce the brutal vibe of this song, already one of the heaviest from Libertine Humiliations, the result remains anecdotal. Much more interesting are the complete re-recordings of two tracks dating back from the band’s “avant-garde” days, Courtisane Syphilitique and L’Erotique Courtoise. The later, especially, cuts deep into the original song to keep only the best (from the original nine minutes, it thus comes down to five!): the haunting opening riff, the doom break, and a bass solo; last but not least, harsh vocals now replace the weird “cries” from the Totem Taboo version. Oh, by the way, the band had the fancy idea to mix it as an (obviously fake) live track. That’s also for this kind of fun we love Misanthrope so much.

La Druidesse du Gévaudan, previously published exclusively on a Holy Records compilation, is a mid-tempo track belonging to the softer side of Misanthrope, sounding almost power metal at times, which does not mean it cannot be enjoyable – actually, it has even acquired some cult status by the fans as time went by. Exalted harsh voice, extended guitar-bass-piano solos, a discrete but phantasmatic keyboard playing in the background: we’re threading on solid ground here, the ground of a band which is slowly, but solidly, building its image and reputation. Another cult song, much better known, is Le Roman Noir, here in its original version from the 1994 Brutale Génération Compilation, complete with its majestic orchestral intro and finale, as well as its French perverted lyrics, all missing on the 1666... Théâtre Bizarre German-sung Schattengesang version. As de l’Argilière later stated in a 2004 interview, “this is not our best song, but this is the one which made the band thrive [back in 1995]”. Nothing to add.

Eventually, this compilation includes a cover, originally recorded for a Paradise Lost tribute, Forever “Shattered” Failure which, as anyone familiar with that last band will guess, is an unexpected medley of Forever Failure (from Draconian Times) and Shattered (from Gothic, not exactly the same style). Now please, Paradise Lost fan, don’t flame me if I confess I’ve never been a great fan of your band, and if I dare saying I prefer the Misanthrope version over the original. But what is left of Paradise Lost in this epic, decadent song, anyway? The guitars unmistakably remind of Forever Failure, but that’s pretty much all. Because, as if making this version upbeat and fronted by harsh vocals spitting lyrics translated – very freely – into French was not enough, it had to be literally parasitized (no pun intended) by virtuoso grand piano scores, in the archetypal Visionnaire fashion. At approximately the middle of the track one might indeed recognize the Shattered scion, even more bastardized, gothenburgized, and, of course, frenchizied (sorry for the ugly words, but we’re talking Misanthrope here, so, no limitation). Paradise Lost’s Forever Failure, in spite of its questionable sampled spoken lines, carried nonetheless its weight of sheer melancholy. Misanthrope’s Forever “Shattered” Failure sounds in no way melancholic, but tortured, out-of-place, abnormal. A masterpiece.

(I did not forget about Les Litanies de Satan and Ouverture d’Avant-scène, but both are keyboard-driven interludes there’s little to say about – for completion purpose only).

Highlights: Le Lanceur d’Âmes, La Druidesse du Gévaudan, l’Erotique Courtoise, Forever “Shattered” Failure

CD 2 – Live “Bootleg”

Another purposely misleading title, as this live album is not a bootleg, but – obviously – an official release. At the time, it was the only existing testimony of Misanthrope’s live performances, and as such a precious recording. Then, five years later, the 15th anniversary Misanthro-Thérapie boxed set was released, which also included its bunch of live takes, especially videos of some (though not all) of the very songs which are presented here in audio format. Still, while less indispensable, it remains an enjoyable listen.

The band is proud to present these songs as “natural”, devoid of any post-production – hence the ‘Bootleg’. A choice that may be debatable, but let’s admit the resulting sound there, while undoubtedly muffled and at times messy, is not atrocious, and, trust someone who’s seen the band numerous times, well representative of how it sounds live. Besides, the recording was not taken from a single show, but from a series of dates on the 1999 “Temple of Humiliations” tour, which explains why the sound quality somehow fluctuates between the songs. At least Jean-Jacques Moréac’s bass is always audible, allowing the listener to enjoy the short solos he pulls out here and there.

Concerning the tracklist, this is no wonder Humiliations Libertines is the album the most represented, with four songs vs. two from Visionnaire, two from 1666... Théâtre Bizarre, and a useless “Encore” track consisting in crowd noise only. Of particular notice are a crepuscular version of Total Eclipse Chaos, on which the muddy live sound adds to the apocalyptic feeling of this always underrated bouncing death metal number, or a 1666... Theatre Bizarre nicely enhanced by atmospheric keyboards, though unfortunately partially ruined by the poor recording quality, de l’Argilière’s voice ending cruelly undermixed.

Note that, as of 2020, there is still no real live album from Misanthrope. This recording being what sounds the closest to it, its importance cannot be denied, though later videos made it partially obsolete.