Bourbon did not skimp on the production of this first solo album. Let us clarify: Bourbon as in David Bourbonnais, and not Bourbon Gautier. We’re talking here about the guy from Garnotte, a rather prog rock ensemble. Left to its own devices, Bourbon reveals itself. Better: flourishes. A very soft timbre finds its space, the remarkable mixing allowing many collaborations without stifling the singer. There are brass instruments, winds, strings in its vast sail, “a trip expensive”, as he admits unequivocally, but the result is no less confidential, even quite naked: “Here I am again / off on a cliff again / after going into routs / Less life in front of me / than deaths in the kits » (Darvaza). Tender fed up, latent anger, sadness ahead. If the artist sometimes has inflections like Vincent Vallières (in Boucane, particularly), it is not a manufacturing defect: a filiation, quite simply. How can such a dark album rock the soul to this extent? Once the “pieces” are picked up, the puzzle of life prevails, that’s all.
To watch on video