French electronic musician and multimedia artist Philippe Fichot formed Die Form in 1977 with the intention of exploring taboo subjects such as eroticism and death, and four decades on he continues to release a steady output of work under the moniker to this day, with vocalist Elaine P. joining him him from 1986’s ‘Poupee Mecanique’ album onwards. Following several early cassette releases Die Form released their debut album ‘Die Puppe’ in 1982, and this latest vinyl release on Dark Entries collects together ten previously unreleased outtakes also recorded during the lengthy sessions for ‘Die Puppe’, which spanned from 1980-1982.
Recorded directly to a reel to reel Revox tape machine using only analogue electronics and frequently improvised, the ten tracks collected here manage to highlight a side of Fichot that’s even more eccentric and warped than that seen on his ‘main’ Die Form releases. For the most part there’s an emphasis on post-punk / early darkwave electronics, with elements of industrial and proto-EBM rearing their heads at points. ‘Sex By Force’ calls to mind a more Euro-flavoured take on Cabaret Voltaire’s electro stomp more than anything else as electronically distressed vocal chants snake alongside a creeping funky bassline and buzzing synthetic percussion, the relentless feeling of jammed out repetition inducing an almost hypnotic feel before the entire suddenly flits away with the crackle of gear being unplugged.
‘Ton Retrait Des Eaux’ meanwhile gets more eerie and stripped back, as a clicking drum machine groove powers away against monotonously cycling electronics and reverbed out female spoken vocals, the ambient tones that glow in the background adding a curiously warm feel to the motorik-tinged rhythms. Elsewhere, ‘Leders Klub’ offers up a proto-techno wander through clattering 808 rhythms and stark juddering synth sequences that weaves factory-line sounds and even a complete flameout into distorted screaming and noise into the mix before somehow emerging again out the other side unscathed.
It’s the fantastically titled ‘Zoophilic Lolita’ though that offers up one of the most eccentric moments here, as some of the crappiest feigned sexual moans you’ve ever heard give way to a Plastic Bertrand goes minimal wave fusion of French pop vocals, clicking rhythm box grooves and overdriven one-note synth surges – think Suicide at half speed, in Paris and you’re getting close. As an an eccentric taste of Die Form’s less guarded and more loose side, ‘Zoo’ is definitely worth your time.
