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À l’école du ara

Frank Martel, Bernard Falaise

Une leçon d’ouverture. SOCAN, Paroles & Musique, Canada

Frank Martel is not a good singer, nor a great player. Where he shines at his wordplaying like there’s no tomorrow. Monsieur Délire, Québec

Frank Martel and Bernard Falaise carry on their longstanding collaboration, this time with a studio experimentation project. The focus rests on certain states of being, of being strange, of being open to limit states. Somewhere between the body of work (arrangements), the sound of the voice (and voices), and the choice of words. To sing in a theatrical, playful, subversive way. Like a tree falling from the fruit. The possibility for something to say something different. Music copied from words inspired by another music inspired by different words imitating yet another music, and so on until the parakeet’s screeching laughter makes everything bounce — notes and words — from song to song, like panicking ping-pong balls. Music as an experience. Simply surrendering to what’s coming. Being able to open up.

“Ouala i ouala i (ou) wala!
A bit of animality in man?

CD (MFMV 17)

On the web

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In the press

Review

François Couture, Monsieur Délire, December 4, 2009

Warning: Dear French-deaf readers, Frank Martel is a tongue-twisting Québécois singer-songwriter. He’s not a good singer, nor a great player. Where he shines at his wordplaying like there’s no tomorrow. That said, this time around he entrusted all musical duties (composition AND performance to Miriodor guitarist Bernard Falaise, who goes ape here with short silly ditties. For those in the know, this one is better than Yé yi you ya and a worthy heir to the almighty Sautons ce repas de midi. For those curious about Falaise’s involvement: approach with caution, as this is a songwriter’s album, and it might even come through at times as a children’s songs album.

Frank Martel is not a good singer, nor a great player. Where he shines at his wordplaying like there’s no tomorrow.
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