The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Tuesday, September 15, 2015 — 5

Petite Noir is unique 
but still frustrating

ALBUM REVIEW

“Noirwave” artist 

restructures 

electronic music in 

debut

By DANIEL SAFFRON

Daily Arts Writer

Yannick Ilunga, under the 

stagename 
Petite 
Noir, 

releases 
his 

first full-length 
album Le Vie 
Est Belle // Life 
Is 
Beautiful 

through 
Domino 
Records. Ilunga 
labels the music 
“Noirwave,” 
a 
subgenre 

derivative 
of 

the New Wave 
movement 
of 
the 
’80s. 
The 
album 

offers 
Ilunga’s 
interesting 

interpretation and restructuring 
of electronic music and pushes 
the ears of its listeners to accept 
rhythmic and harmonic patterns 
seldom explored by the larger 
genre’s “popular” counterparts.

The first track of the album, 

“Intro 
Noirwave,” 
does 
as 

it 
promises. 
It 
softly 
and 

surreptitiously introduces the 
album’s unique approaches and 
emphases. While easily glossed 
over as a soft start to the later, 
replay-friendlier tracks, there’s 
a lot more going on than one 
might think. “Intro Noirwave” 
is structured on two different 
sections, 
the 
differentiating 

characteristic of which being the 
two different polyrhythmic and 
strongly syncopated structures 
on which the relatively static 
harmonic padding is buttressed. 
From here things get slightly 
more 
involved. 
The 
song’s 

principal phrase length is 16 
bars, and it is from these 16 bar 
cycles that the music derives 
all of its overarching pulses and 

transitions. The sections, call 
them A and B respectively, are 
introduced as 16-bar sections. 
Each 
section 
then 
further 

reworks the 16 bars. The A 
section is based on a repeating 
two-bar rhythmic phrase; the 
B section is based on a four-bar 
phrase, broken into repeating 
two-bar phrases. The harmonic 
padding in the B section changes 
in 8 bar phrases, while in the A 
section the harmonic rhythm is 
a little more obscured. It is also 
broken into eight-bar phrases, 
however there is motion in the 
second pulse of the first phrase 
then again on the downbeat of 
the second phrase.

This involved interpretation 

illustrates that hiding within 
the 
apparent 
simplicity 
of 

Petite Noir’s music is a nuanced 
complexity, a look at which 
helps to understand where the 
music is coming from — a place 
where rhythm and structure 
are monarchical over harmony 
and melody. These rhythmic 
processes are integral to Petite 
Noir’s sound and it’s their 
emphasis that allows Petite 
Noir to free himself from the 
strictures of more mainstream 
music — the trend for which has 
been an overwhelming reliance 
on harmony and melody for 
structure — only using rhythm 
for groove and feel.

With one notable exception 

— “Seventeen (Stay)” — the 
album struggles with its song’s 
endings, which are too similar 
between 
tracks 
and 
don’t 

feel very complimentary to 
each track’s groove; the songs 
feel like they end because 
they need to end, leaving an 
organic 
ending 
longed 
for. 

“Seventeen (Stay),” however, 
grows into itself rather nicely. 
It is always appreciated when 
an artist attempts a long-
form composition. The song 
showcases 
Ilunga’s 
ability 

to work with and maintain a 
dynamic energy throughout a 
seven-minute 
track. 
Proving 

with this track the ability to 

allow a song to take its course, it 
is a shame that the other songs 
on the album are cut short. 
The album is a very successful 
miscegenation 
of 
electronic 

sounds, acoustic instruments 
and 
Ilunga’s 
distinct 
voice, 

whose peaty, girthsome timbre 
is smoky-sweet in the low 
registers and horn-like at the top 
of its range. “Best” and “Colour” 
are upbeat and danceable, while 
the title track and “Chess” are 
slower, sultry and seductive. “Le 
Vie Est Belle // Life Is Beautiful 
(feat. Baloji)” boasts one of 
the album’s highlights, when 
the hearty inertial drive of the 
track is minced and tossed up 
by a French verse from Baloji, 
a 
Congolese, 
Belgium-based 

rapper.

Le Vie Est Belle // Life is 

Beautiful also finds issues with 
its song placement. There is no 
real sense of narrative structure 
emerging from the track listing. 
There is nothing wrong or bad 
about any track placement, but 
I struggle to locate any intra-
album dialectic between songs. 
Furthermore, the sandwiching 
of 
the 
penultimate 
song 

between “Chess” and “Down,” 
tracks released months prior to 
the album release, don’t serve 
the album well. Having listened 
to these two tracks many times 
outside of the context of this 
particular album – in the case 
of “Chess” within the context 
of a different album, The King 
of Anxiety EP – I was pulled out 
of the album’s vibe right at its 
end, an album’s most sensitive 
moment.

The tracks released on Le Vie 

Est Belle are good, and some have 
a secure spot on my playlists 
for the foreseeable future. Its 
utilization of rhythmic phrasing 
and reinterpretation of the 
electronic sound make it good, 
but its many shortcomings put 
it shy of being a great album. I 
do, however, suspect a positive 
trajectory for Petite Noir and 
look forward to his next full 
length release.

B

La Vie 
Est Belle 
// Life is 
Beautiful

Petite Noir

Domino 

Records Inc.

ALBUM REVIEW

‘Black Sheep’ beats 
its own damn drum

By CLAIRE WOOD

Daily Arts Writer

I’m three shots down when I 

hear it. 

“Ohhhhhhhhhh.”
Silence.
“Ohhhhhhhhhh.”
Not 
choir 
Ohs. 
Nothing 

delicate or dainty. These Ohs 
rumble, thick and thunderous, 
the kind you’d hear while 
engaging in some zealous tribal 
ritual around a bonfire.

Drums pound. Tambourines 

tremble. 
Piano 
cascades 

beneath a robust, arpeggiated 
voice line that sucks you under 
like a waterfall.

“Everybody’s doing it, so why 

the hell should I?”

Vocals cut the chaos. It’s 

Gin Wigmore singing “Black 
Sheep” from her 2013 album 
Gravel and Wine. Her words 
ring with raspy soul, and you 
wonder if she downed a shot 
of Jack Daniels before hitting 
the studio. It’s the kind of voice 
that wears a leather jacket, and 
those shiny black boots with 
the spurs on the side. Confident 
and contagious. Potent and 

powerful.

“I wasn’t born a beauty queen, 

but I’m OK with that,” she sings. 
“Radio won’t mind if I sing a 
little flat.”

The lyrics are honest and 

open, and I’m taken by surprise. 
I hear healthy standards for 
body image; I hear a realistic 
response to flaws. It’s self-
acceptance — and it’s refreshing. 

“I’m a black sheep,” Wigmore 

announces. “I’m a black sheep.”

Black Sheep. 
The phrase catches me off 

guard. The only “black sheep” I 
knew was “Baa Baa” — the one 
my grandmother used to ask for 
wool, back in my nursery-rhyme 
years. Yes Sir, Yes Sir, Three Bags 
Full.

But the phrase has more 

definitions. 
Enter: 
Urban 

Dictionary 
— 
Black 
Sheep: 

“Someone who doesn’t follow 
mainstream 
ways. 
Someone 

who doesn’t care what is in or 
out.” 

And over a soul-quaking, 

earth-shaking 
ensemble 
of 

drums and piano, Gin Wigmore 
screams this. Her words tingle 
with ballsy confidence — an 

irresistible invincibility that 
drags me in. She says, I am who 
I am. I beat my own drum. Bite 
me. 

So I’m sitting here, three 

shots down, my back pressed 
against the bottom half of a red 
sofa stained with God-knows-
what on the apartment floor 
of God-knows-who. And I’m 
hooked — completely hooked. 
Not just because the drums 
pound, and the piano thunders. 
Not just because the vocals soar.

I’m 
hooked 
because 
Gin 

Wigmore is right. 

“Black Sheep” is a song about 

self-acceptance. 
It’s 
a 
song 

about loving yourself for who 
you are, what you are, and what 
you stand for. It’s about going to 
medical school, because that’s 
your passion. It’s about dying 
your hair orange, because that’s 
your color. It’s about moving 
to the city, because that’s your 
dream. Or rocking medical 
school, dying your hair orange, 
and then hitting the Big Apple 
because that’s who you are, and 
hey — why not?

We all have our own drums. 

Hell, let’s pound them.

DID YOU MISS OUR FIRST TWO MASS MEETINGS?

HAVE NO FEAR!

WE ‘VE GOT TWO MORE.

JOIN DAILY ARTS

Mass meetings 9/17 and 9/20 at 7 p.m.

To request an application, e-mail adepollo@umich.edu and chloeliz@umich.edu.

By MELINA GLUSAC

Daily Arts Writer

If you don’t know who The 

Libertines are, don’t feel bad. 
It’s not every day you find a 
’90s-bred 
college student 
fluent 
in 
the 

early 
2000s 

Brit-garage-
rock 
revival. 

While we were 
watching “Dora 
the 
Explorer,” 

Libertines 
frontman Pete 
Doherty 
was 

injecting illegal 
substances, 
courting Kate Moss and singing 
about the “Boys in the Band.” 
But hey, here we are — and here 
The Libertines are with a brand 
new release, just 11 years after 
their last album. No big deal.

A 
more 
proper 
biopic: 

Four 
strapping 
chaps 
from 

the mean streets of London 
banded together around 1997, 
at the prompting of Doherty 
and co-founder/guitarist Carl 
Barât, to form the group some 
of us — particularly Brits — now 
know and love. They put out 
two incredible albums in 2002 
and 2004 (Up the Bracket and 
The 
Libertines, 
respectively), 

but underwent an ugly breakup 
in 2004 that stemmed from 
Doherty’s 
profound 
romance 

with crack, cocaine and heroin. 
Ahem. Forgive me, Your Majesty. 

So what’s the point, you 

ask? Why are we bothering 
with these sloppy, short-lived 
hooligans who obviously can’t 
seem to get their shit together? 
Well, to start, The Libertines’s 
music 
is 
nothing 
short 
of 

consistently 
brilliant 
(see: 

“Can’t Stand Me Now,” “Time 
for Heroes” and “The Good Old 

Days”). And though they have 
lost a smidgen of their edge now, 
it seems, Anthems for Doomed 
Youth is a valiant comeback for 
these resilient Redcoats.

The aptly titled “Barbarians” 

begins 
the 
punk-throwback 

journey, and here The Libertines 
rest in familiar territory. Catchy 
tempo changes, rebellious lyrics, 
clanging guitars — it’s all good 
stuff, even if Doherty sounds the 
tiniest bit soggier than before 
(sobriety’s a bitch). “Belly of the 
Beast” is similar in its nostalgic 
allure, and “Glasgow Coma Scale 
Blues” adds some chutzpah to 
the Libertinian formula with its 
nifty stop-start riffs and great 
rock feel.

Whatever it means, “Fury 

of the Chonburi” works just 
as well. It brings the group’s 
coolest defining characteristic 
back to the forefront: messy 
choruses that are the sonic 
equivalent of a train-wreck bar 
fight too fascinating to look away 
from. “Gunga Din” is also stellar 
— 
a 
ska-esque, 
Californian 

ditty with chords that aim to 
please. Easy, breezy, beautiful. 
Libertines.

The band starts to fall off 

the 
bracket, 
though, 
with 

the slow songs. Yes, balance 
and diversity is the key to 
any 
proportional, 
successful 

compilation, but Anthems for 
Doomed 
Youth 
overestimates 

the temporary charm of a yawn. 
“You’re My Waterloo” is lovely 
but underwhelming, and then 
“Iceman” starts, along with the 
listener’s desire to doze off. By 
the time “The Milkman’s Horse” 
comes 
around, 
the 
stretchy 

argot of Doherty’s lyrics and 
sleepy background drums have 
the listener itching to abuse 
the fast-forward button. Here’s 
the problem: The Libertines 
have proven they can do truly 

inventive slow stuff (“Music 
When The Lights Go Out”) in 
the past. As a result, these new, 
yet trite tracks sound studio-
ized and lackluster at best. If 
anything, the closing “Dead for 
Love” is effective because of its 
deep lyrical content detailing 
the passing of one of Doherty’s 
druggie friends. “Fame and 
Fortune” completely misses the 
mark, as it mostly sounds like 
a creepy musical number the 
Artful Dodger would sing to 
little punk rockers in training.

The album hits the nail on the 

head, though, at precisely two 
locations. “Heart of the Matter” 
is a gritty triumph, showcasing 
The Libertines in their most 
perfect, traditional form. No 
resting, no slowing down, just 
pure, 
unadulterated 
garage. 

And what’s that I hear? Ever-so-
slight synths in the background? 
Score one for Team Doherty.

“Anthem for Doomed Youth,” 

the titular track, is perhaps the 
biggest accomplishment. “Was 
it Cromwell or Orwell who 
first led you to the stairwell, 
which leads only forever to 
kingdom come? Rushed along 
by guiding hands, whispers of 
the promised land

. They wished you luck 

and 
handed 
you 
a 
gun,” 

Doherty philosophizes against 
desperate acoustic guitars. This 
is where “lackluster” can work 
in favor of the band — when 
the theme of the tune is that 
of the simultaneous beauty 
and ennui of youth. The music 
then conveys the longing, the 
aimlessness 
of 
feeling 
the 

world at your fingertips. The 
Libertines know what it’s like 
to muck up that potential. But 
maybe there’s something to 
mucking it up and getting it 
right — bloody right — in the 
end.

Libertines comeback

B-

Anthems 
for 
Doomed 
Youth

The Libertines

Virgin EMI

MUSIC NOTEBOOK

