![cover image](/brain/images/lionel_marchetti-knud_un_nom_de_serpent.jpg)
Marchetti has discussed previously that he has always been fascinated with the concept of the medicine man, and here that is carrying over from not just concept but into execution. The six tracks that make up this album are separated by brief segments of silence, keeping each piece as a separate journey, though linked thematically and structurally by a similar approach to the recordings. The opening piece "Un" begins with slapping percussion, acoustic guitar, and loops of African vocals, which are musical yet have a disconnected, vaguely sinister color to them. The vocals dominate the piece, continuing throughout its duration, sometimes augmented by other spoken voices from a megaphone off in the distance, and eventually the voice is processed and layered upon itself, cut up beyond recognition like the transition from ceremony into spiritual intervention. All the while, subtle feedback and swells of noise slither in like sounds from beyond, never drawing attention to themselves, but never going away.
On "Trois" the journey continues with more cut up vocals, but noisy field recordings, powerline hums, overamplified radio transmissions and fragments of music from across the world appear. Enshrouding all of this is a constant sense of movement and action, heavy breathing from an unseen entity. The fragments of pop music fade at the end, leaving only isolated voices that transition from spoken words into screams and animalistic growls, an exorcism that finally ends with just the sounds of nature: birds and crickets.
"Cinq" and "Sept" are further documentations of Marchetti’s sonic healing and ritual, the former has more "traditional" high frequency waves of tape music to go with the birds and other natural sounds, as voice enters both that and the electronic sounds become darker and more sinister. Spoken word elements appear, though through various filters and cut up elements, ending with crackling percussion and voices. "Sept" emphasizes the cut and paste elements of voice, cut apart into hysterical shrieks and barks, the sound of demon being exorcized from tribesmen.
"Neuf" is one of the few somewhat lighter pieces, though it is an extreme stretch of the adjective. The mix here is somewhat more arid, at least until the second segment where slow musical elements are violently cut with vocal blasts and screams. The last full piece, "Onze," is the expected climactic closing. Opening with disembodied voices and babies crying, jaw harp notes sharply contrast the tribal shrieks and cut up voices that are much more terrifying. Throughout it stays tense and dark, the tribal screams overshadowing the surrounding music before ending with just the sound of a radio in the distance, playing a pop music from multiple continents simultaneously.
I’m very glad that Intransitive saw fit to reissue this disc, because not only is it an extremely powerful, narrative work, but it also nicely compliments the collaboration with Seijiro Murayama that the label released recently. Although the material dates back between 1993 and 1995, it retains a dark majesty that transcends time and the physical realm into a dark mysticism that can only appear by the conjuring of Shaman Marchetti.
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