Frànçois & the AtlasMountains - E Volo Love

Thu 9th Feb, 2012 in Music Reviews

Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains ease back into the limelight with their latest, relaxed venture E Volo Love. While the band are to be commended for their record’s inherent sophistication, its mellow, Destroyer-esque endeavours are found in dire need of spark, often falling short of making any great impact.

Opener Les Plus Beaux sets the particularly meek scene perfectly, inviting the listener to casually drift through a gooey, monotonous backdrop, the gentle sonic waft erring on the side of caution. Its methodical approach sinks like a stone, the song’s journey frustratingly linear and inept in stirring interest in the rest of the album. To make matters worse, it effectively signposts the one significant issue that plagues E Volo Love as a whole: too often, the record proves too tidy and innocuous to form an intricate lasting impression, concerning itself with a woolly ambiance and an exotic haze more soothing than interesting. Sure, it’s a sophisticated and well-put-together release, but these qualities only take the record so far.

The meandering Azrou Tune is a wearying example of the album’s lounge-lizard tedium, inducing sheer apathy. Bail Eternal and Do You Want To Dance pursue similar ideals, though they stumble in much the same way. Try as the band might, the dreamy formula entertained throughout E Volo Love is rarely presented in a truly engaging fashion. The charming Edge of Town offers a fleeting exception, recalling a relaxed Born Ruffians groove. Its softened log drums playfully scuttle beneath a deliciously dizzying mix, guitars wincing with clockwork precision.

Fortunately, E Volo Love occasionally casts off its mind-numbing agenda, with a few mildly intriguing departures in the midst. The album’s black sheep is the refreshingly funky Slow Love. Despite burying its own melodic motif much too early, the cute piano-pop cut Muddy Heart also manages to earn its place as a go-to track. The disarming City Kiss will likely be the song most listeners flock to, however, its lush orchestration a real treat. Its only hiccup pertains to front man Frànçois Marry’s back-and-forth between French and English vocals. Marry gets away with chopping and changing between languages over the album as a whole, but his transitions mid-song, as heard in City Kiss, feel jarring.

E Volo Love, though promising in patches, generally tends to plod along without urgency, feeling like a bit of a chore by the time its finale rolls around. It’s infected with a certain ambivalence and, as such, projects the very same sensation onto the listener. Frànçois & the Atlas Mountains are not guilty of anything truly abysmal here, only an album frustratingly hollow more often than not, with mere sprinkles of promise struggling to leave a satisfying impression.