Semtazone

Independence.

Rarely has such a word better defined the action of the four musicians of Semtazone. A rock figurehead who, with this third album, Alles Is Durven, once again assume their whole meaning and remind us of a romantic need for freedom.

For, no doubt about it, independence was the fuel of the combo. Precisely. All sails out, each battle they have lead for almost ten years contained the stumbling blocks of this quest of inevitable necessity.
Semtazone is not a love declaration from a lisping suburbanite to its neighborhood. It’s a longing for existence, for creating a breach through the flows, and being accountable on the field, live, as testified in their previous live album, “Trafic Intense”. Released in March 2007, the album had been recorded during an eighteen month tour, thus seizing the very expression of their raw essence. A true testimony issued by heroes of the vagueness of the soul, bravely fighting the squalls and sirens chants. A rare and unprotected species. Independents, we said. Who else than the libertarian label Irfan could offer them a deserving banner?

Ever since, with their rolling gait and their watchtower pointed to the horizons, the team never stopped dipping their ink in acid sentences and pirates ports. More, the fleet has travelled through the continents, going on more than 500 concerts, with an irreverent easiness. Semtazone in Canada, Semtazone in the United States, in Japan, Morocco, Germany… Enough to induce jealousy in the adventures of any homesick traveler. No more following existing paths, their daily log has enriched with each new breakthrough. So has their arsenal. And it is with a great pleasure that we meet these old ship’s boys and girls, with their toughened look and their skin tanned by the attacks of the spray. As purified by the salt of experience, the ancient row boat keeps its immediate, essential and profiled nature, avoiding easy shipwrecks and the usual pillages to gain a cruising speed.

For instance, from their recent and continuous listening of Calexico, Alain Bashung and Radiohead during the recording of their new album, Semtazone only kept the creation of ambiances with disturbing swirls. A boarding by the rules, where, in a dark rock climate, hope appears through the horns, like a saving headlight. And, to those who might doubt it, the point has refined, sharpened, hardened. Their music is now a sea, darkened by the guitars as if a nervous heat storm. Their “chanson” style mixes in like a bright period, using the threatening clouds of rock like a perfectionist compass. Eventually, is it a sung rock or a rock “chanson”? Never mind. The third assault, Alles Is Durven, proves that the hardened galleon knows how to get rid of frontiers and reefs to distance itself from hasty prejudices. The introductions fulminate and growl, regularly chased by the showers of the flute, the cello and the saxophones. The swash of the piano tenderly take the listener from the rear, thanks to the work of Bichon (JMPZ) and LaFraise (Les Tambours du Bronx, Doppler). Finally, the voices of Sara and Charlie alternate their shifts, proving their formidable synergy.

And while Alles Is Durven evokes a washed out Dutch tattoo that Semtazone would proudly wear on their biceps, each song title is reduced to its simplest expression. The most direct one. “Horloge”, “Silence” or “Démons”. These contractions could be chronics experienced by the band as well as the names of boats of fellow brothers in arms. Common words the strict shortcut of which echoes a more global meaning, something almost universal. “Bagdad”, “Berlin”, “Monterrey” or “London”, appear like calls before the final tempest, like a warning before the inevitable “La Mort”. Hence the feverish writing and the longing to go on. Forget the vain attempt of throwing a bottle to a consumerist wave. The new opus marks in its furrow a call to join them at sea, as much as it signs an ode to life, destined to survivors of a common conflict. A lifebelt, nothing more, to which one can cling to, before the next breakaway. Again and again.

In this new 12-track album, recorded in May at the Chateau de Verchaüs (Ardèche), it is not the spite of a captain Achab, but that of Don Quixote that transpires through every port. Not a bend or a new start. No. A unique cape. The perfect continuity to their route which bravely attacks the form whilst retaining the richness of the content. The mischievous admission of dreamers who vouch for a now redeemed haul. Counter-current travelers, with a freedom that suits them quite well.

Independents. Nothing more, nothing less.