Lyon’s Grand Veymont forge some sublime missing links between vintage psych, kosmische, chanson and more, on this absorbingly-layered long-player

As two-sixths of justifiably-lauded Lyon-based psych-pop outfit Gloria, Béatrice Morel Journel and Josselin Varengo have been highly adept at deeply-mining retro sounds with a bespoke Gallic flair and sense of adventure. However, stepping outside the said sextet’s structured ensemble set-up, to uncoil under the more disassembled duo umbrella of Grand Veymont, does them no harm. 

Confusingly, from a chronological point of view, this is a reworked version of their previously overlooked digital-only debut from 2016, following on from last year’s inaugural vinyl outing Route du Vertige, which was actually the pair’s second studio set. This reconfigured eponymous outing – now available on vinyl and cassette as well as digitally – showcases the pair’s distinctive vintage-psych-led voyaging with some remarkably immersive ingenuity. As with Route du Vertige, proceedings are split into four elongated tracks, with the duo using length and space to stretch out their tapestries of analogue electronics, antique keyboards, warped percussion and balmy vocalisations.

Extended opener “Je Cours Après Avant” is perhaps worth the admission price alone, with its hypnotic arpeggiated synth lines, buzzing and ecclesiastical organ tiers, dense drum underlays and overlapping co-ed vocals conjuring-up a parallel universe incarnation of post-Syd Pink Floyd in which Richard Wright took the creative reins instead of Roger Waters and then invited Françoise Hardy to join the fold. The ensuing drum-free “Les Rapides Bleus” takes a cloudier and more murmurous path, with the twosome’s tones serenely swimming through shoals of fuzztone organs and synths.

Upon reaching the virtual or physical second side, “L’Odyssée du Petit Parleur” takes us into an intoxicatingly eerie slow motion dreamscape, wherein kosmische keyboard blankets wrap around Journel’s almost Laetitia Sadier-like vocal inflections. Although the concluding “Upie” might be the strangest and admittedly weakest part of the collection – essentially being a sound collage of disembodied ululations, freeform percussion and sculpted noise – its airy abstractions do intriguingly invoke a somewhat mesmeric mash-up of The Clangers and The Wicker Man, to charmingly off-kilter effect.

Warmly entrancing as well as spookily captivating, this is a record that carves out its otherworldliness with a murky elegance and allure that lingers in the head like a sweet hangover.

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Adrian
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