Catalina Matorral is a duo; Marion Cousin and Borja Flames make up its double head and four hands. At the beginning of the 2010s, they were called June et Jim -- they released some disturbing EPs before joining the label Le Saule (a small, chivalrous table whose holy grail is everything unheard, where folk- singing is avant-garde and avant-garde is synonymous with enchantment). Their first LP, Les Forts (2012), evoked the songwriting of indie-hobos inspired by Latin America, contributing to the rejuvenation of French music. Noche Primera (2013) went even further by vibrating in various reveries, from African songs to Spanish medieval music, from Purcell to Bach. It blew hot and cold under a psychedelic candlelight. The record in question has been maturing for seven years in eccentric barrels, marinating in the shadow of Marion and Borja's respective evolutions, nourished by their individual obsessions. Marion fixated on songs and dances from the Iberian Peninsula. This gave birth to a minimalistic, organic record featuring the cellist Gaspar Claus, where humming trembles among frowning pizzicatos, thin drones and throbbing arpeggios. She went on to release another album with the electronic duo Kaumwald, an oeuvre at the crossroads of vernacular narratives and experimental music, simmering everyday songs in an insolently modern production. Meanwhile, Borja leaned towards an intellectual, synthetic and furious pop; made two albums to awaken the dead, somewhere between Moondog and Battiato. They are two conceptual, electrifying and dance-inducing recordings for the phosphorescent masses. ...chimeric narration, heady verses, pop fragments, horizontal synths, distorted technologies. One would think they're listening to an opera composed by Robert Ashley or Laurie Anderson, based on an improbable libretto written by anthropologist Jeanne Favret-Saada, and performed by holograms of Brigitte Fontaine and Areski -- who unexpectedly regurgitate bits of blunt folk, binary jazz, baroque songs and ghostly madrigals. Micro-events, great enchantments. This record was written and recorded by two people, tinkering feverishly for seven years. It was blessed with the furtive appearances of faithful friends: Gaspar Claus played the cello; Igor Estrabol the clarinet, trumpet and flugelhorn; Renaud Cousin the drums; Ernest Bergez played the violin and whimsically mixed the tracks like a bonesetter-scientist. At the crossroads of worlds, eras and moods, Catalina Matorral invents a curiously rural science fiction that confounds poetry with white magic and puts French music in a permanent tension between the cosmos and manure...
