Already an accomplished illustrator, Quebecoise Geneviève Castrée taught herself to play guitar about ten years ago, writing songs to accompany her drawings, and under the name Woelv released a low-key but emotionally powerful debut, Tout Seul dans la Forêt en Plein Jour, Avez-Vous Peur? (Alone in the Forest in the Middle of the Day, Are You Scared?). In 2007, she became Ô Paon when she felt the need for a new beginning. She prefers home recording, because â€clumsiness can become magicâ€, but went into a proper studio in Montreal to record Ô Paon´s debut with Thierry Amar (A Silver Mt. Zion, Black Ox Orkestar, Godspeed You! Black Emperor).
A few members of the above constellation drop in to add a little extra colour – the tuba and violin on ´La Plus Puissante du Monde´ are a surprisingly complementary mix – but it is Castrée´s guitar, pensive and amenable, that dominates instrumental proceedings. Though even this is a mere shading behind her singular vocals, a force of nature not in the tempestuous sense but like the mushrooms that appear miraculously after a night of autumn rain, some perfectly round, others a little rough at the edges.
Castrée has a side project she´s christened â€Urineâ€, a â€menstruation doom†ambient band made up of women who have fled to the woods, â€depressed but with all kinds of smart things to sayâ€. So does Ô Paon, little of which however holds out much hope for modern, urban society, which she finds venal. There is ritual transmitted by that voice, cajoling every syllable to make a difference. As the nine-minute ´Aéroport/Évolution´ draws to its conclusion, her voice begins to oxidize and twist around itself. On ´Chevaux´, it is all the more polished and uplifting.
The songs of Genevi̬ve Castr̩e are very wordy, richer in statement than image, and in French, though an English translation is provided (in pale pink on a white background, in the tiniest font, on the tiniest piece paper Рgood luck). Listen to her with your heart and your mind will follow.
Stephen Fruitman
