Loane / Le Lendemain
Loane’s distinctive voice starts out confident, yet an initially imperceptible rasping edge gradually sets in. It’s what sets Le Lendemain (The Day After) apart.
The day after what? Yesterday, 2008 in fact, when Loane released her first album, Jamais seule (Never Alone). It won her several friends, touched by her simple grace and above all, the finesse of her emotions. Jamais seule and Danser, her signature songs, paved the way to slots on radio, and then the concert hall circuit whom she worked extensively for, for two years. Loane was right at home, despite having long shunned the limelight.
During these long tours, Loane found the time to put out a few artistic escapades: a title for the soundtrack of French film Neuilly sa mère !, an adaptation of Mystify on the INXS tribute album (Original sin), duos with William Fitzsimmons, Adamo and Tété. She ended up needing to head home to get down to the important matter of writing and composing Le Lendemain.
For months, Loane worked alone with her instruments, computer and voice. Then, she cut the tracks at Third Side Records (in the wake of artists such as Cocosuma and Fugu) and La Frette (Feist and M) patiently combining her acoustic and synthetic sounds with producers David Sztanke (Tahiti Boy) and Yann Arnaud (Air, Camille and Syd Matters). Together, they worked on the pulse, the fabrics, the echoes. The different textures which envelop you, flow over you and surprise you, bring a third dimension to the tracks.
Was it this ultimate production work which gave her piano that utterly poignant feel on The Taste of Others? Or her lyrics, embodying, as they do, understatement and innuendo? It’s at this point, at any rate, that Le Lendemain swerves into a new grave tone, just after two odes celebrating love: one turning away from loneliness (Adieu tristes sourires) and the other, a majestic duo (Save us) shared with friend Lenny Kravitz. Salutary love, rubbing the edges off routine and routing the phantoms from the past (Les châteaux hollandais, Les trains de nuits)
Le Lendemain consists of 11 tracks which excites and moves us. When she talks about it, Loane’s hands fly. You can hear the influence of French talents such as Daho, Hardy and Elli & Jacno. Perfectly natural given that Loane spent her childhood listening to these elegant romances and chilling ballads oozing synthesized sound. Yes, they loom large in Le Lendemain. They are just as important as the computers Loane is surrounded by, as a modern young girl, diving every bit as effortlessly into Nathan Fake’s crystal clear sound as Blonde Redhead’s highly-strung guitars. As an Eighties kid, Loane taps into the sounds of yesterday and today to put down a subtle base hovering between elegant pop and electronics, over which she lays her disarmingly fresh melodies. As she was wrapping Le Lendemain up, French singer Christophe with his Prophet synth, late one night, joined in the backing vocals of L'impossible abîme (The impossible abyss).
There are pale mornings following tender nights, when you escape the trappings of self and world (Boby). These fragrances which gently flutter as the future unfolds (Parfum de fille), those rebellious escapades opening up new horizons (On s'en fout and Rien de commun), penned with Jérôme Echenoz, aka Tacteel for rap punters), this melancholy which may one day evaporate (Sans). Every word Loane sings, so disturbingly spot-on, are enough to send a shiver down your spine. There are the mornings after, which are a delight to d
