In the mid-1990s, groups like Air and Dmitri From Paris headed up a mini French revolution, rewarding adventurous listeners by pushing the limits of pop music with synthesizers, samplers, drum machines, irresistible grooves and snippets of French culture. It all seemed so revolutionary at the time, especially when you’re a college student surrounded by Dave Matthews fans wearing dirty hemp necklaces. Some of the influences were apparent: Kraftwerk, Burt Bacharach, Herbie Hancock, Devo and on down the line. But it wasn’t until I heard the opening strains of Jean-Michel Jarre’s “La Chanson Des Granges Brulées” that I realized who inspired these electro-lounge artists the most.
Jarre’s score to the obscure French film Les Granges Brulées is a close relative of Wendy Carlos’ masterful symphonic/synth-rock contributions to A Clockwork Orange. Centered on the aforementioned mournful theme, the soundtrack is an overlooked, ambient gem, only available in France until this long-overdue release.
Showcasing those classic, rumbling synths that were the definition of cutting edge when Jarre made this record in 1973, Les Granges Brulées touches on a variety of moods. But whether the piece is subdued (“Le Pays De Rose”), playful (“Une Morte Dans La Neige”) or just plain strange, everything has an interplanetary air to it. Each note is rife with the excitement of exploration, leaning more towards the HAL 9000 than Dr. Spock.
Jarre went on to super-stardom with his 1977 electronic masterpiece Oxygene, making the Guiness Book of World Records for concert attendance, inspiring the artists that eventually added an “a” to electronic, and cementing himself as a crucial, sonic risk-taker. Les Granges Brulées is a fantastic example of a young innovator cutting his teeth, and if you listen to it side by side with The Virgin Suicides soundtrack, Air suddenly seems a lot dustier.
Appeared in the May 6, 2004, issue of Artvoice.