La Part Maudite

The name of the band may glimpse at literary references, but “La Part Maudite”, to whomever hear them live, reaches for the gut. Presumably inspired by an essay penned by Georges Bataille, whose writings were in turn inspired by Nietzche and Marquis de Sade, the music is straightforward, loud, and exhilarating. The night I saw them, they topped the bill of a presentation whose two previous acts delved in atmospheric experimentation, sometimes very close to silence. As soon as Philippe, Mivil and the drummer Patrick went on stage, something told us that this band would be playing with a different deck of cards in hand. A few notes later the electricity was palatable; too bad for abstract thought and exercises in mantra breathing. The electric atmosphere reminded me of something close to an illegal rock and roll, or even a punk, concert. This does not mean, mind you, that they did not know what they were doing. The crashing sounds and abstract melodies had something in common with John Zorn’s Naked City take-no-hostages pieces, but with more space to breathe and more time to switch moods. The tight arrangements also opened some space for informal jamming. Darkness came upon us, of an offbeat sort; threatening, yes, but with good humor: in the course of a segue, masks were given to every spectator present, as a precaution against the flu. Because they care, you see. They want you to have a good time: as good as the one they are obviously having, bringing the music to a live audience, after weeks of rehearsals in decrepit practice rooms, and many white nights spent alone, pondering the evil miasmas of the dark ramblings of Bataille. (—Jean-Philippe Gravel, film critic and music enthusiast.) - Jean-Philippe Gravel

The Accused Share ( La Part Maudite ) or the omission of slippery silence in the region of whole notes and silences, the most perverted share is the one of silence, slippery word, which comes to die like the abolition of poetic noise. If we live without a doubt under the law of sounds, those melodies are intertwined in us as if they did not exist. Slowly, this music substitutes itself to the lost hearing which only a fetichist and distorted prosthesis can render guilty, elderly, crumbling, like the irrecuperable potlatch of a Wagnerian waltz, sacrificed on each beat, forever lost between quarter tones and the irresistible envy of exciting the ivory member by a vision of ebony.

La Part maudite ou l'oubli du silence glissant dans la région des rondes, des soupirs, la Part maudite la plus perverse est celle du silence, mot glissant, qui vient mourir comme l'abolition du bruit poétique. Si nous vivons sans conteste sous la loi des sons, ces mélodies sont en nous comme si elles n'étaient pas. Lentement, cette musique se substitue à l'ouïe perdue que seule une prothèse fétichiste et distordue peut faire plaider coupable, vieillissante, croulante, comme le potlatch irrécupérable d'une valse wagnérienne, sacrifiée à chaque temps, à jamais perdue entre les quarts de ton et l'irrésistible envie d'exciter le membre ivoire par une vision d'ébène.

- LeRoy K. May - LeRoy K May