Django Voris

Whirling in to the mix of eclectic sounds are references from many strains of music and it is perhaps not really a surprise that Django Voris has a sound to which not only does a classical music based UK radio station (BBC Radio 3) declare a real sense of joy but also I, a cynical ’70s punk rocker and although it sits naturally in neither camp the way he is able to straddle both ends of the spectrum is a testament to the creativity and ingenuity of the out-put.

I have had the opportunity to listen to much of his back catalogue along with his new LP Constantopolis which is set for release later this month. I can’t give you one particular reason why I should like this as: Jazz; Symphoneta and: Electro-loops all feature, I could however give you a myriad of reasons why I shouldn’t, but I can’t but help to recommend you spending some time to get to know Django Voris as the quality of the output and engagement is a must for my ‘No idea, but I do’ playlist. I guess as a pointer as to why – when someone can turn a freestyle jazz track into a dub reggae beat you just can’t help be entranced.

It is with some pleasure that I introduce Django Voris for the sheer creativity and ability to compose music that ably spans the breadth of the spectrum delivering an out-put which captivates, entrances and takes the audience on a soaring auditory journey. - Emerging Indie Bands

Dans la famille des artistes américains qu’on a plaisir à citer en soirée pour se la péter, je voudrais DJANGO VORIS. Qui ? Mais si, tu connais forcément sa formation initiale, FATES ! Non ? Boh c’est dommage. Django Voris, donc, revient avec « Constantopolis« , 8 titres qui sonnent comme une digestion de Bowie et Ian Curtis en pleine descente de MDMA. Mélancolie enveloppée dans un son sautillant.

L’influence de Bowie est évidente, on la croise partout et notamment dans le break de piano de « Ghostboat » qui rappelle le bon vieux « Aladdin Sane ». Django Voris, ce sont surtout des mélodies qui valent le détour, des mélodies qu’on ne comprend pas forcément, des structures parfois cheloues, une instru dans laquelle tout se mélange sans qu’on arrive à distinguer qui fait quoi ou comment et, de temps en temps, un piano, des violons qui viennent adoucir la voix grave qui file des frissons. « Constantopolis », cette ville quasi mythique, jumelle de Constantinople, place l’album hors du temps, comme dans une bulle dans laquelle se croisent les années 70, 80 jusqu’au son le plus contemporain.

Bon, pour être honnête, on ne peut pas se contenter d’une seule écoute pour apprécier la richesse des compositions qui paraissent si simples mais qui en fait sont des fouillis de belles trouvailles mélodiques. « Crusade » et « Ghostboat » attrapent les oreilles et les paroles sont programmatiques : « I’m on a crusade to convert your mind ». Quand t’entends ce que nous balancent ces synthés vintage, t’es immédiatement embarqué. Par ailleurs, la mélodie fait le pont d’un morceau à l’autre et passe d’un univers à un autre : de l’électro eighties au symphonique cabaret (piano, violons). Le chant, hermétique d’abord, se charge d’une mélancolie paradoxale qui donne aussi envie de sautiller. Ian Curtis ressuscité et guéri. On pourrait crier au sacrilège, mais non : la force de Django Voris c’est de faire voler ces références, de les secouer une bonne fois pour toutes et de nous guider dans une nouvelle Constantinople fantasmagorique. Les premières notes de « The World of Tomorrow » reprennent la fameuse mélodie de « Rencontre du troisième », comme s’il voulait nous faire entendre depuis sa soucoupe le son d’ailleurs et de demain. Alien.

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- Room 72

A few tracks in on Constantopolis and you begin to realize you’re listening to only a tiny fraction of a much larger body of work from Django Voris. From film scores to art installations and even a collaboration project, “Fates” with PJ Norman 100m Records founder who also appears on this record, Voris has been comfortable with making unconventional sounds his entire career. He joins a collection of artists so idiosyncratic they single handedly create their own genre. Musicians like Gary Numan, Cabaret Voltaire or Marshall Crenshaw, who explored pop sounds in ways far ahead of their time.

The first track, “Starbird”, introduces Voris’ ensemble orchestral sound and the impressive level of training and talent that comes with it. The complex arrangement is in the layered, dense sound creating an ever-changing musical landscape out of fantastic elements. On “Crusade”, a synth-heavy track, an authoritative figure with a robotic soul embraces the raw synth sounds and root sine waves. Like Thomas Dolby, Voris utilizes elements of all that is gleaming pop and pushes technology to its limits. But it’s not all looking toward the future; Voris includes classical instrumentation on “The Problem With Dead Bodies” through cello, astral strings and a brass section. The track becomes a gypsy-esque Klaus Nomi character, using its unique talents in the service of new pop experiments. Voris forces a clash of styles that shift and camouflage into something familiar enough to relate to without realizing you’ve been fooled.

“Wannabe” directly references electronic dance at first listen. Layers appear as a waltz beat or rhumba rhythm, with equally bizarre lyrics. Maybe the depth of instrumentation is distracting, but verses about fighting back barbarians were lost on first listen. Descriptions of an ancient civilization between the ring-modulated pings of a neon kettle drum. His grand theatrics remind of Spencer Krug of Sunset Rubdown in this absurdly dense diary laid out to examine, an attempt to rework the ‘80s, embracing previous mistakes and spinning gold out of the unnatural limitations of machines.

Voris leads a chorus of harmonized voices on “Ghostboat”, a rejected Human League b-side with lyrics about demons and ships, bursts of synth with a Beck type of cabaret absurdity. Somehow there’s a deadly seriousness to this, even when he’s deconstructing melody with deliberately out of tune playing, it’s so rigidly planned it becomes the tuning of a sixty piece orchestra. It refuses to be broken down; there are things you aren’t going to understand, things that are going to continue to be surprising on multiple listens. “The World of Tomorrow” even melodically quotes Close Encounters through a bellowing trombone, building this fragment into a choppy plateau that breaks away into the chorus: “Somewhere out there is a future me.”

Constantopolis is a conceptual musical from a future that didn’t happen. It ignores contemporary trends and manages something unique in a bizarre journey that rewards not over thinking the next change. You miss the point in examining each intention, or worse yet, figuring out how this fits into a category. Django Voris has simultaneously absorbed and rejected the last forty years of familiar melody and pop structures to craft his own shiny era of produced pop. - Qromag - Jason Dean