Crossing the boundaries of the politically incorrect, Bruit Noir offers a raw, hard-hitting album, where the sincerity of the words blends with the intensity of the compositions.

The new Bruit Noir is even worse, so even better than the first two. Or even the first three, but we'll never know, as they've moved straight on to album IV/III. It's as if Jean-Michel Pires and Pascal Bouaziz wanted to dismiss the idea of a "last album" from the outset, having escaped from Mendelson (RIP).We won't go into detail here about the band Pascal Bouaziz was the only permanent member of for just over 25 years, a "cult band, unknown" that was scuttled with great fanfare in 2022.

But if sourness is all too often the worst kind of fuel, Bruit Noir is the exception that proves the rule, by making it one of its main driving forces. By offering Bouaziz a way out of Mendelson, Pires made him jump out of a plane that was certainly going to crash into an era that was no longer his own, but without a parachute. And, fortunately, without a filter.

Two albums in, Mitch Pires at the sound machines, Pascal Bouaziz at the microphone, successively taking on "La province" and "Paris", summoning a more or less battered cast ranging from "Joy Division" to Daniel Darc by way of "Romy" Schneider and "Joe Dassin", with "Le succès" at the top of the list: "On est coup d'cœur dans l'blog à ta sœur! What to do after that? "45 minutes of silence listening to the world's catastrophe?
Well, not really. Because musically, Bruit Noir remains true to its minimalist, repetitive aesthetic. Jean-Michel Pires's compositions, somewhere between abstract hip-hop and post-industrial music, are captivating in their rhythms. The judiciously used effects contribute to creating a hazy atmosphere, often dark, but sometimes energetic and even bewitching, a sign of a palette that has broadened.

More than ever, Jean-Michel Pires' incisive instrumentals provide the backdrop and inspiration for Pascal Bouaziz, who displays all his talent in uncompromising spoken word, delivering punchlines that would make rap's finest gunners jealous. Bruit Noir is all about the art of shooting at anything that moves, while putting yourself in the front line, as you can tell from the first single "Coup d'état".Darkness, gratuitous meanness, absurdity, slanderous insults, outright disgust, squealing laughter, it hits hard in all directions, including on the Artists to make yet more new friends. "Calm your joy", he says, and Bruit Noir is not here for laughs! Although Béatrice could provoke some hilarity, whether the character really exists or not... And, of course, Tourette sounds like a promise to let go of the trash, a promise largely kept.

But IV/III isn't just dark and corrosive. If Bouaziz doesn't have the bad taste to want to be a committed singer, the edifying tale offered by Le visiteur gains a narrative force that leaves us, like its author, a little stunned. This duality gives the album added depth, revealing different facets of Bruit Noir's artistic expression.

Animaux blends the rawest, most implacable collective confession with a nod to old friend Michel Cloup. The duo crosses the boundary of political correctness in both directions, with the audacity and insolence of those who have nothing left to lose. Bouaziz in Bruit Noir expresses things like no one else. Not even like Mendelson's Bouaziz, the vague nostalgia of the poignant "Communiste" projecting itself less into sepia-toned memories than into a future we'd like to be less bleak. Similarly, "Deux enfants" is but a distant echo of Mendelson's "Héritage": even the Bouaziz of Dernier album would not have written in the same way about this permanent relationship with time, posterity and death, which nevertheless runs through the entire work of both musician and author. He would not have put himself forward as a candidate for an enlightened dictatorship, the only one capable of saving the world, hoping to offer the great and the small a future that is something other than a cocktail of the worst end-of-the-world blockbusters "mixed into one very rotten film"...
"Maybe we have children so that we never, ever, ever find ourselves writing songs as sad and sad as 'Kinou'," says Pascal Bouaziz, admiring and sad for Nino Ferrer, as he is for this Little Prince, who died alone in his palace of dubious taste, "symbols of love everywhere and no one to hold your hand"...

Crossing the boundaries of the politically incorrect, Bruit Noir offers a raw, hard-hitting album, where the sincerity of the words blends with the intensity of the compositions.

Make no mistake about it, IV/III doesn't mark Bruit Noir's desire to be morbid or subtle. Gone is the black & white panda that graced the cover of the second album: once again, the visuals designed by Simon Gosselin and the clips cobbled together by Mitch paradoxically herald a colorful Bruit Noir.

And even then, we're only talking about what happens on the record, because live, no one - not even Bouaziz - can predict what will go through his mind once he's on stage, as he's never stingy with long, deadpan tirades that make every concert a unique, often iniquitous moment.

We'll see about the concerts, but in the meantime, here's the album. Drum roll, "Let's go for the album of too many...".