For the first palpable time, Larynx feels the back of its throat in a group. Not everything goes through Alexandre Larin’s big mouth: it’s more of a shared gastroscopy, an enlarged esophagus, wide-eyed looks inside. The main voice is not in the foreground, it’s the music, full, rich and of psych-rock-pop allegiance, that imposes itself. Somewhere between the Beatles, Sinners and Malajube, in a way, we seek less to understand the subject than to integrate phonemes into the enjoyable instrumentation. Lots of things happen in the solos, including the harmony games, we forget to follow the story, perhaps because it tells less than it evokes, after swallowing blotter: in The crazy racewe feel “the air burning in [les] lungs”, we “feel much better after having aired our brains”. The doors of perception are open, everything enters, everything leaves. “Whirlwind of mist, take me to the land of enormous moons”, what does the fourth line of I don’t know how to get bored ? Who knows. What matters is not the direction of the road, but the journey together.
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My third emergence
★★★ 1/2
Larynx, Candy
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