« Whether the flower looks better in the nosegay than in the meadow where it grew and we had to wet our feet to get it! » This passage by Henry David Thoreau from his Journal could perfectly sum up Tue-Loup’s whole universe. This band of musicians is a quarter-century old but they never gave in to time or musical trends. It might be facile but it’s of some relevance to compare them to Lambchop, Smog and Palace, their anglo-saxon cousins. Less true for the slightly off-course Total Musette issued in 2017, for sure, but if there’s no doubt about the musical likeness with the cream of American folk, the 10 albums produced between 1996 and 2016 are strongly pervaded by their rural Sarthe territory that built Tue-Loup as a unique band, a kind of its own.
They also make us think of Julien Gracq or Jim Harrison, since some of their books could have been the titles of the albums issued by Xavier Plumas’ band : Narrow Waters, A balcony in the woods, River swimmer. Let’s also mention Jean-Gilles Badaire, a painter who conceived the outer sleeve of Ramo, with one of his « bunches of flowers upside down », and his painted series called Brides could echo the female backing voices you can hear in almost every album. Even though for a change, the imagery of the latest album was given to Philippe Berthomier (as well as 9).
In the secluded hamlet of Tue-Loup, on a farm inhabited by Thierry Plouze, their virtuoso guitar player, they don’t use the same language as folk musicians from North Canada, indie rockers from American great open spaces, bluesmen from the Mississippi delta,
or Swedish jazzmen near Mälar Lake. They play a music fed by the water, the earth and the sky over a rural land where they belong, a music structured by the round underground bass guitar played by Eric Doboka, the ethereal drums by Alexandre Berton, a music highlighted by the refined words and the dry voice of Xavier Plumas, a lyricist, composer and guitar player with a unique talent, the kingpin of a peerless band.
More often than not, the lonely notes of a guitar are at the beginning. Raw chords looming up from a folk guitar create the overture, then distorted arpegios launch unexpected changes in the rythm. However, this album opens with a pad of shrouding effects, soon joined by the bass, introducing Sueur , the very first track. Even if Tue-Loup has continued to plough the same singular furrow for 25 years, La peau des arbres widens their landscape. Guitars, some effects and a bass, then. But don’t forget Cedric Thimon (Thomas Belhom’s fellow partner for ages) and his soprano saxophone that flies around weightlessly, just like the birds from Large ciel or the hummingbirds from Mayol, but that also creaks in a darker mood, along with the organ on Siagne, the last track of this album. We can’t miss the drums, readily speeding up on Jeannine continued , with the cymbals strongly resonating (Sueur), in relation with the voice and words of Xavier Plumas (or Alain Bouvier sometimes, or even Emil Latimer when he dares speak English, a performance only heard on his solo works).
A large river grows thanks to its smaller streams, they say, and water is at stake here (Ard almead, Supramonte, Large ciel). Choruses stretch out, higher and higher as the backing voices, the soprano and a second guitar come out (Jeannine’s song, Supramonte once more, also featuring Séverine Besson and her harp). And when the rythm quietens, the flights calm down, it’s time to hear a voice, often twofold (Black is the color of my true love’s hair with Astrid Veigne, Eric Doboka’s niece, in this special version of the track made famous by Nina Simone). It is also the moment to hear a distorted guitar solo (Les beaux jours), or, between two tracks, to be overwhelmed by weird rattling ornaments. « Too large the water », they say (Ard Almead), but lyrics and sounds struggle to create the rythm, the colour, the structure, talking about water or anything else. This album was composed as closely as possible to the skin of the trees (La peau des arbres), but it aims at dealing with the skin of the world.
