A Dystopian Landscape? A new review of "Cités Analogues"

 

If you find white noise – or field music – relaxing, then this album, originally recorded and released way back in 1988 by the French duo Christoph Harbonnier and Christian Wittman, would definitely scratch that itch. However, I can’t promise you that your dreams will be sweet ones for its entire duration…

It’s something of a pioneering work, the gentle electronica of ‘Le Parvis‘ like an embracement of the soul, akin to a woozy, back seat of a taxi ride through the lights of the city at three in the morning. This comes after the ‘field music’ of ‘Intro‘, ‘Airport‘ and ‘Correspondance pour ailleurs‘ (effectively ‘Mail For Elsewhere‘), being, let’s not forget, a good six years before The Future Sound Of London’s seminal classic Lifeforms. Whether or not the latter act knew of, or took inspiration from, Lightwave, I am unsure, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

The otherworldly feel of much of this record is partly due to its sparsity, yet that somehow gives it an unexpected gravitas that is eerily beautiful – I guess in the same way that Vangelis‘s soundtrack to Blade Runner was – particularly on the thirteen and a half minute ‘Agora‘.

A night-time album if ever there was one, Cités Analogues sometimes has a creepier, ghostly feel about it, not least on the short ‘Cités de miroires‘ and the subsequent ‘Polycentre‘, which would absolutely work as incidental music in a psychological horror movie.

This is most definitely not an album for connoisseurs of ‘pop’ music or lovers of the contagious refrain. Instead, it requires the listener to use their imagination, or to lose themselves in the artists’ created world, though I would think fans of The Orb, at least, or of Brian Eno‘s ambient works, would be able to see the appeal in these recordings. The title track is arguably the only one that flirts with any kind of commercial bent, however – a 14-minute piece that feels like a carefree journey through stunning exotic landscapes. It’s odd how it often makes me feel like I’m a passenger, relaxing in one type of vehicle or another, but that, in itself, is strangely appealing.

After that, things become even more minimalistic, with the empty sky meanderings of ‘Ophelia‘ and the final void of nothingness that is ‘Lunar Parking‘.

Cités Analogues certainly feels like an important work anyway, and while I’m unlikely to be taking this to accompany you on many car journeys, it undoubtedly has a unique appeal, particularly if you’re a devotee of Dystopian soundscapes.

Cités Analogues is out now on Bureau B.

 

Loz Etheridge, God is in the TV Zine.