After “Messin plutôt que français / Enfonce-toi dans la ville” and “Gloire à Satan,” Noir Boy George, an iconic artist from Metz and a key figure in the French underground scene, unveils a new album: “Polytoxicomane de toi.”
Here, Flavien departs from his usual creative process to embrace collaboration—because plouf! (Léviathan) is also the story of a dive, his first collective adventure with musicians he had always dreamed of working with: Michelle Blades (guitar), Kiala Ogawa (keys), Akemi Fujimori (bass), Cédric Laban (drums), and Thibaud Merle (winds).
Reworking these songs is a way of revisiting forgotten musical landscapes, shedding new light on them with a different perspective. It’s about transforming a solitary electronic record into a collective piece by exploring new textures and instrumental approaches.
With this album, Flavien Berger uses his early tracks as raw material—as if the 2015 Léviathan were now a kind of demo from which to extract the essence and create something entirely new. The project, like the music that drives it, is rooted in the idea of reinvention.
The result is a fresh sonic exploration where Léviathan’s tracks take on new forms—some staying true to their original versions, others completely reimagined, blending past and present.
Poni Hoax, a French band born in the early 2000s under the impulse of Laurent Bardainne, immediately emerged as the union of converging forces: on one side, the precision of a composer and instrumentalist breaking away from jazz conservatory traditions; on the other, the magnetic presence of Nicolas Ker, a terminal new wave crooner with a sepulchral voice. Surrounded by Arnaud Roulin on keyboards, Vincent Taeger on drums, and Nicolas Villebrun on guitar, they made an instant mark with Budapest—dark and haunting—followed by the unstoppable She’s on the Radio, crafting a unique identity that blended the venomous elegance of Roxy Music, the tension of New Order, and the fervor of Larry Levan. With Images of Sigrid, Poni Hoax achieved the miracle of an instant classic before continuing their journey with A State of War and Tropical Suite, sonic odysseys haunted by memory and distant horizons. On stage, it was either an apocalypse or a revelation—a Formula 1 driven by a gang of Gremlins, a blazing energy leaving only burning embers in its wake. The adventure came to a tragic end with the passing of Nicolas Ker in 2021, as the notes of Laurent Bardainne’s saxophone rose into the gray skies of Père-Lachaise, the final echo of a dazzling odyssey.In 2025, Poni Hoax celebrates its 20th anniversary with the release of Greatest Hits: Everything is Real.
Haut la vache is a record of sound exploration, a testimony to twilight contemplation, and by the way, the second field recording album by collectif_sin~. After Tour de Transmission (2016), a recording of celestial flutes created by the wind rushing through a metal structure at the top of a Pyrenean peak, we now head to Switzerland, where the tinkling of cowbells forms infinite landscapes for the ears, a metallic wave swaying over the green grass that you can listen to on side A, while on side B you'll discover a remix of the bells by the collectif_sin~. Get on the bus and long live the cows!
Buvette, also known as Cédric Streuli, is a constantly evolving artist, whose music captures the nuances of the distance he’s covered so fat.
Originally from Leysin, Switzerland, Buvette has traveled across ten years and four studio albums, from India to Mexico.
His last album, Tales of the Countryside is a musical adventure that subtly hints at his previous songs. By going back to the basics of an autodidact who only packed what he’d need for the journey, Buvette offers a delicacy that blends modern country music with Latin overtones and rhythmic ballads shaped like waves, in a format that’s simple, straight, and versatile.
Following the release of his third album Dans cent ans (2023), which brought to a close the pop trilogy begun with Léviathan (2015) and Contre-temps (2018), Flavien Berger returns with a now classic 'counter-album': contrebande 02. le disque de l'été
Conceived as mirror albums to the trilogy, the counter-albums tell another side of Flavien Berger's creative process. Like contrebande 01. le disque de noël (2016) and radio contre-temps (2019), Flavien navigates between sonic experimentation (gervase weatherboy type beat), encounters (magie vermeille with Pomme), previously unreleased songs (sapon, plongereuse) and interludes (music 2000 beat titi poisson skit) reflecting an alternate itinerary of the making of his latest studio album Dans cent ans.
Koudlam returns to civilization with “Precipice Fantasy”, an abnormal album once again. The Album is made up of 2 very different parts which will be released separately, with a first part which shells 12 songs like so many flamboyant mutations and a second contemplative instrumental part halfway between uneasy yoga music and trance from the lowlands of Kathmandu. Inspired by the hallucinated stories of mountain pioneers and conquistadores, the artist delivers here the soundtrack of peaks and precipices. Or rather that of the path between the two, winding, vertiginous, always on the edge of the blade.
After releasing "Precipice Fantasy Part I" in October 2022, Koudlam delivers the second part of his album.
The first part is a salvo of meteorites where the artist uses, as usual, standardised pop motifs to better disrupt them, and always without deviating from the ultimate melody, chanted to trance.
The second part is an instrumental and contemplative record, a kind of music for an uncomfortable yoga session, that of a tourist who dreamed of climbing Everest but who no longer has the strength to get out of Kathmandu's underworld.
Koudlam thus delivers the soundtrack of summits and precipices. Or rather the path between the two, sinuous, vertiginous, always on the edge of the blade.
"Dans cent ans" is not a record: it’s a talisman.
Flavien Berger doesn’t make music, he makes time machines.
In 2015, he released his first album, Leviathan, which he’d imagined like a moment suspended into the bowels of present time.
In 2018, Contre-Temps, his critically acclaimed second album, was narrated like a flashback.
Dans Cent Ans (“In 100 Years”) ends this trilogy and launches into the future with the grace of a poisonous serpent.
Flavien had just finished producing Pomme’s last album and was simultaneously scoring Céline Devaux’s feature film Tout le monde aime Jeanne, when he recorded this album, during six months of isolation.
In the garret of a Belgian house in construction, these 12 tracks were born, close to the sky, both direct and mysterious.
Because Flavien Berger knows how to make machines sound sensual (a key example is the pop song “D’ici là”) and dares to interweave electronics, chanson and art music, organic instruments and synthetic choirs, without ever falling into parodic territory.
Because his voice, more precise, unreverbed, and close-mic’d than ever, sings to our ears – using multisyllabic rhymes (“Trop ivres pour te plaire / Tropiques du cancer”) and surrealist imagery (“la neige restera rose” – “the snow will remain pink”) – stories that feel unknown yet obvious.
And like both previous albums ended with a long eponymous track like a breath of air, “Leviathan” and “Contre-temps”, so does “Dans Cent Ans”, a 15-minute long saga where vocals, wind instruments and machines converse, as if Debussy, Etienne Daho and a Sufi Dervish met in a dream.
After listening to this album, the vertigo of love and the collision of times are one and the same.
In one hundred years, music will survive us all, and its dangerous beauty will awaken other lives. In the meantime, Flavien Berger keeps stunning ours.
"Dans cent ans" is not a record: it’s a talisman.
Flavien Berger doesn’t make music, he makes time machines.
In 2015, he released his first album, Leviathan, which he’d imagined like a moment suspended into the bowels of present time.
In 2018, Contre-Temps, his critically acclaimed second album, was narrated like a flashback.
Dans Cent Ans (“In 100 Years”) ends this trilogy and launches into the future with the grace of a poisonous serpent.
Flavien had just finished producing Pomme’s last album and was simultaneously scoring Céline Devaux’s feature film Tout le monde aime Jeanne, when he recorded this album, during six months of isolation.
In the garret of a Belgian house in construction, these 12 tracks were born, close to the sky, both direct and mysterious.
Because Flavien Berger knows how to make machines sound sensual (a key example is the pop song “D’ici là”) and dares to interweave electronics, chanson and art music, organic instruments and synthetic choirs, without ever falling into parodic territory.
Because his voice, more precise, unreverbed, and close-mic’d than ever, sings to our ears – using multisyllabic rhymes (“Trop ivres pour te plaire / Tropiques du cancer”) and surrealist imagery (“la neige restera rose” – “the snow will remain pink”) – stories that feel unknown yet obvious.
And like both previous albums ended with a long eponymous track like a breath of air, “Leviathan” and “Contre-temps”, so does “Dans Cent Ans”, a 15-minute long saga where vocals, wind instruments and machines converse, as if Debussy, Etienne Daho and a Sufi Dervish met in a dream.
After listening to this album, the vertigo of love and the collision of times are one and the same.
In one hundred years, music will survive us all, and its dangerous beauty will awaken other lives. In the meantime, Flavien Berger keeps stunning ours.
Flavien Berger's first two EPs combined in a single object.
Born in Majorca, Marc Melià is a composer/producer, who’s been based in Brussels for over 10 years. First spotted alongside Françoiz Breut, Lonely Drifter Karen or Borja Flames, he released Music for Prophet in 2017. It was issued on Gaspar Claus’s label Les Disques du Festival Permanent, as part of Flavien Berger’s curation.
On that first album, Marc Melià had explored the possibilities of a mythic synth; on Veus, as if sloughing, he applied the process of sound modification to his own voice, until becoming an android. But an android who sings of love and dreams, a sensitive automaton who plays with the tropes of pop music. Through this device, Marc Melià knowingly seeks poetry and beauty within transgenics, in the search of a universe where one can surf though waves of profoundly moving chord patterns, hear voices unconstrained by range limitations, or dance freely, as in zero gravity.
Part of the album has been recorded in Une ferme dans les Vosges, courtesy of Rodolphe Burger. It was recorded with Roméo Poirier, one of the most promising figures of ambient, and the elegant multi-talented Lou Rotzinger. As if progressing in parallel with his own linguistic experience, to add another layer to the sloughing, side A is sung in Catalan, Marc Melià’s mother tongue, and side B in French, his adopted language.
Like an echo to his previous album, Veus opens with an instrumental, “Pulse on a E”, which starts with a sequence created with a single note transposed to its octave, just like “Fata Fou”, the last song on Music for Prophet.
Although the title seems to reference an iconic 80s synth, “DX7” is actually about the seven days of the week. It is a love song, about the temperamental oscillations which make every morning the blank canvas of an unpredictable story. Wednesday, I hate you, Sunday, I love you. With few words and a lot of emotion, a synthetic voice is trying to grow more human each day.
“Dent de Serra” deals with the weight of memory on our relationships, but also with the way we revisit them constantly in order to integrate souvenirs within present relationships. Suddenly, the song stops and enters a new dimension, everything is different, as if what had just happened was now forgotten forever.
Oxytocin (“Oxitocines” in Catalan) is said to be the hormone of love. This song deals in a playful way with the duality between science and faith, between rational and magic, when it comes to sentimental relationships. Love is a universal theme, it is everywhere in the world, and love songs have been written for a very long time. But this particular love song is an ode to an aspect of love that has been less sung about: biology, which makes it possible to feel like you’re floating in space when you fall in love.
“Les étoiles” is a trio with Flavien Berger and Pi Ja Ma. The song is about attraction. What attracts humans to each other, but also the inevitable gravitational attraction. The song is also about accidents, magic moments that take us outside of our daily lives and give us the possibility to imagine a sidereal, infinite love.
“A propos d’une chanson” was born after Marc Melià had dreamed he had written the most beautiful song he’d ever created. When he woke up, he realized that song was actually O Superman by Laurie Anderson.
Aside from these songs, Marc Melià offers a few breaks, instrumental but no less narrative.
“Final d’hivern” conjures these quiet moments between two intense events; sleeping at night between two days; the calm that settles in after a hard winter, right before spring properly starts.
Using a musical language that clearly references Ryuichi Sakamoto, “Romain”, with its theme based on a melancholic chord pattern, could be the soundtrack to a 1970s movie lost in time. Little by little, elements that seem to come from a completely different context find their place, while turning the initial mood into something strange and unexpected.
Finally, “Retorn”, which finishes the album, is a reprise of the theme of “DX7”.
From the chords that make up a song, to the days that make up our lives, existence is but a cycle, and Veus is an exploration of them. Marc Melià keeps on drifting on his personal path, between homage to the past and visions of the future.
