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| Avant-prog fans that like the really dark stuff don't mess around with the likes of Univers Zero or Present; they go straight for the true classic, Shub Niggurath's unimpeachably stunning Les Morts Vont Vite. Unfortunately, past that release, Shub Niggurath doesn't quite have anything comparable: the following full-length C'étaíent de Très Grands Vents reportedly (I have not yet heard it) moves into spacier, less structured and less aggressive terrain. Thankfully, though, a live tape, never issued on LP or CD, exists for collectors and fanatics of Les Morts Vont Vite to track down — and it is well worth the effort to do so. Interestingly, the four pieces on this brief and somewhat hissy cassette tape, if we count the two parts of "Phineos" as one, each highlight a different lead instrument: trombone, female soprano vocals, electric guitar, and demonically chanted male vocals. Constant through it all is the imposing rhythm section, from which the band gains much of its dark and oppressive manner: the drumming is tension-filled, never quite resolving, and heavy on dramatically crashing cymbals, while the bass, always the major instrument in this band, is seriously aggressive and tortured. The tones that Alain Ballaud squeeze from his instrument remind, ironically, of John Wetton at his loudest, only wrung free of all traces of funk or, for that matter, conventional melody. Ballaud's notes, like those on any of the lead instruments, come to think of it, are all long and extended, twisted and bent as if curling in on themselves desperately to avoid the evil that the band unleashes upon itself with every unfolding minute. The pieces here basically have two modes: one, slow and creeping, such as the opener, which basically features dissonant and imposing trombone lines played over a nearly-static backdrop of bass and quiet percussion. And two, ferociously aggressive, as in the two pieces on the the tape's second side, "Phineos 2" and "Variation," with their classically disturbed guitar solos: solos that seem to be constantly clawing upwards out of some hellish inferno, but never quite reaching their goal, never resolving into any kind of catharsis. The band is equally effective in either gear, although I prefer the latter, and so the highlight of this tape for me is its second side. If Live equals Les Morts Vont Vite in sheer relentlessness, it fails to match its emotional impact. Already, perhaps foreshadowing C'étaíent de Très Grands Vents, the compositions here are a bit looser, the music overall a bit noisier and less structured. More importantly, the eerie beauty present on Les Morts Vont Vite — which in my opinion is what elevated that album above so many other dark avant-prog efforts out there — is gone here, perhaps because of the lack of piano and other keyboards. Jean-Luc Herve had to take over electric guitar duties by the time of this recording, and I do miss the timbral diversity that his keyboard work previously offered. Or perhaps the lessened impact is simply because of the lo-fi nature of this recording. But even if Live doesn't quite stand up to Les Morts Vont Vite, really, what does? This remains a crucial recording for Shub Niggurath fanatics, without any real weak point. Go dig out your old tape deck! review by Brandon Wu — 3-15-05 —
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