It’s been a minute since we’ve had Odio París in our lives. To be exact, 2011, when they delivered one of the strongest debut LPs of the decade. They’ve recently returned with “Camposanto,” the first single off of their new album Cenizas y Flores, due out early next year. In typical Mushroom Pillow-style, there are plenty of shoegazing tropes to be found. But what makes Odio París special is the level of fury they can exact on very delicate melodies. “Camposanto” never kicks in that extra gear that elevated tracks like “Cuando Nadie Pone Un Disco” to new classic status, but the level of precision is definitely higher. So that’s good. Some more shredding on the album please, though.
Womanizer, alcoholic, child exploiter, provocateur. There’s so much scandal attached to the legacy of France's favorite sleazeball/pop star/sex symbol Serge Gainsbourg, it’s easy to let the exploits outshine the musical prowess. But twenty years after his passing he continues to inspire, as made quite clear in this collection of covers from the folks at Peruvian blog 69.
Ranging from almost literal note-for-note renditions (nice) to creative jumping-off points (incredible), the participating artists dabble in a range of musical styles that would have made Gainsbourg proud. Highlights include La Familia del Arbol’s melancholic translation of “La Chanson de Prévert,” Algodón Egipcio’s beautifully layered “Color Café,” and Odio París’s shoegaze badassification of France Gall’s naive “Poupée de Cire, Poupée de Son.” Lido Pimienta’s eerie echoing take on the controversial “Les Sucettes” will give you goosebumps.
The attitude and spirit of Serge haunt all twelve tracks, but perhaps what's most telling is that you don’t even need to be a Gainsbourg conoisseur to appreciate this—the songs stand very much on their own: sexy, classic, and somehow so current. Hardly a degeneration, I’d call this a veneration of the highest order.
Odio París’ excellent self-titled album is holding all the honors as one of the most beloved debut albums of the year. Although they’re the kind of band whose buzz relies mostly on word of mouth, they are the definition of a transatlantic critical success. Odio París has earned rave reviews from Spain’s most prestigious publications (Rockdelux, Mondosonoro, and La Pagina de la Nadadora), with equal excitement from this side of the world. In an album filled with outstanding tracks, “Cuando nadie pone un disco” has transcended as the band's most urgent, intense, and supremely nihilistic anthem. Odio París’ new clip (by Diego Delgado and Pablo Honey) is a fuzzy (and super flashy) portrait of the band’s consuming nightlife as adventurers of the road, the night, and the stage. “We’ve all been death, all, in the belly of the night,” -- so very true.
“If you were to combine every tumblr picture except for those of cats and cakes, you would get this video,” says the top comment at Jenesaispop’s post of Odio París’ career-first video, “Uno de Noviembre.” On this side of the Atlantic, NPR’s AltLatino highlights director Alberto Saguar’s eye to capture “the band’s chaotic yet glossy aesthetics.” Well, I guess no matter on what side of the world you are or where you stand in the hierarchy of music publishing, we can pretty much agree that this clip is quite gorgeous. Here we get an almost dualistic parallel of a bleeding heart and what’s happening on the outside. No matter how many times the band gets compared to The Pains of Being Pure at Heart or Los Planetas (sorry mentioning it again), we’re in front of a dazzling band thriving in post-adolescent demeanor.
Odio París, Odio París El Genio Equivocado, Spain Rating: 89 by Andrew Casillas
Here’s a quick summary for the simpletons in the audience: Odio París’ debut full-length sounds pretty similar to The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. So however you feel about that band’s first record, this album will leave you with pretty much the same taste in your mouth. Thanks for reading Club Fonograma! Alright, for the rest of you, here’s the low-down. This Odio París debut LP is fantastic. Like the sort of fantastic that makes you want to go to sleep ASAP so you can get up and go play this record for all of your friends the next day.
While it is the latest in a wave of indie rock records bringing back the sounds of the George H.W. Bush years, this one brings something to the table that this wave of mainly-hucksters routinely overlook: warmth. That’s not to say that this is a loving record—if you and your partner decide to play one of these cuts at your wedding, I am assuming you don’t really have many family members. What these guys have and understand is that, beyond the sheen and feedback needed for that My Bloody Valentine/Sarah Records-indebted white noise, the great shoegaze records evoked a feeling. That oblique feeling that tortures your gut until you submit to its subtle dominance. Loveless, For Keeps, and even Ride’s Nowhere were not built on the extravagance of their façade, their greatness lies within the layers underneath their framework. Those were records that would not let you take them at face value. Some bands work years to put these parts together. Odio París, on the other hand, have crafted an evocative, haze-filled classic on their first attempt.
Odio París is one of those records that’s greater than the sum of its parts. Indeed, if there’s one real flaw on the album, it’s the lack of one defining, anthem-like number. However, that doesn’t mean that you will have trouble finding a wealth of great tunes throughout the record. From “Cuando Nadie Pone un Disco” and it’s Sonic Youth-but-with-keyboards! vibe to the ethereal qualities of closer “Nana Blanca,” the entire album sounds crafted to appeal to anyone’s tastes. Lyrically, the album’s tales of love and despair are a bit naïve in nature, which I realize can be a turn-off to many, and that’s fair. But when these guys dress it up in shoegaze-ravers like “Ahora Sabes” and the delicately poppy “San Antonio,” the drama can be too delicious to ignore.
Some people out there may instantly turn off when they hear white noise; some may still listen to Loveless once-per-week (for real, I know you’re out there). Whatever your previous experience is with this sort of rock music, Odio París is definitely a band that’s worth giving a precious listen to. Who knows? You may fall in love with them, or they may fall in love with you. Or you might hate the record. However your ultimate feelings may turn out, you’ll know that there’s definitely something about this album—even if it's stuck in your gut.
