by Louis Pelingen (@Ruke256)
If there is a word that best describes Fievel Is Glauque’s creative process, it’s instinct. Comprised of Ma Clément and Zach Phillips, this jazz-pop duo hailing from Belgium and now based in Brooklyn has relied upon the process of sudden improvisational activity when it comes to putting together releases. The charming lo-fi breeze of God’s Trashmen Sent to Right The Mess and the polished fractious sparks of Flaming Swords were created in different ways. In the former case, it was cobbled together from what the duo had made during their band rehearsals, and in the latter, they managed to put those songs together by doing a one-day recording. Fievel Is Glauque’s recording process, showing their knack for melodic chemistry and compositional complexity, is grasped amidst spontaneous recordings, yet all of that changes throughout Rong Weicknes. Shifting what they’ve done before, they open more avenues for their adept hand for melodic switch-ups.
Their recent signing to Fat Possum allowed them to settle into more studio time as well as let in more musicians to expand the duo into an octet, eventually creating an opportunity for Phillips to pursue an unorthodox idea he called “live in triplicate,” giving the band room to explore how this record will sound while testing the challenges of their recording process. Said idea involved three sets of recordings - one foundational recording, one duplicate recording on top, and one improvisational recording that consists of the octet playing together without any click track guiding them. Those completely different takes were then stitched and audio-engineered by Phillips and Steve Vealey. That leg of post-production seems to have been the most challenging part of the creation of the record, especially when careful observation is required to allow these three recordings to morph as one. The purely digital workspace that is part of Phillips’ usual engineering process only creates more complications, leading him and Vealey to work slowly so that the final output could breathe vividly.
Despite that harrowing recording process, the complete result of Rong Weicknes becomes masterful. This record essentially consists of Fievel Is Glauque’s most dense, elaborate, and sticky set of songs to date, a set of characteristics that are uplifted by how this record was produced, where details from all three takes are interspersed with a gleamingly defined texture. Overall, the effect instills an allure as to how various vocal and instrumental layers will punch through, keeping a sense of mystery in regards to whether or not a melody or rhythm was done live or was added in post. Yet, whatever the answer might be within that intended mystique, it doesn’t take away the remarkable quality that the compositions have from front to back.
While the shorter bits showcase Fievel Is Glauque’s familiar jazz-fusion on cuts like “My Oubliette” and “It’s So Easy” with their flaunting rhythm sections and sticky melodic refrains, as well as Clément’s vocals on “I’m Scanning Things I Can’t See” and “Great Blues,” where there is a hypnotic flair floating through her voice, it is within the lengthier songs where they’re able to manifest more dynamic layers in their compositional complexities and tonalities. The intro track, “Hover,” opens with an array of keys, flutes, and vocals swelling up onto the two-minute mark, just before it unleashes a fake out and allows that melodic motion to ascend even further. It’s a gradual swell that also appears in the careful buildup of “Love Weapon” as the horns and guitars slowly create more immensity amidst its lilting tones.
The soothing balladry of “Toute Suite” offers a welcome stability in the band’s usually spontaneous sensibilities, playing into a conventional structure that allows Clément’s tender vocals to shine as the rest of the instrumentation adds more to that comforting tone. Speaking of stable conventionality, “As Above So Below” offers the stickiest melody on the record, helped by the shuffling rhythms sprinting along, unleashing a bundle of joyous tunes from start to finish. In contrast to that, “Haut Contre Bas” and “Keyfabe” offer the most delightfully overwhelming layers of melody on the album. The former song rhythmically ricochets as each instrument has its time to shine. The latter pulls that dense characteristic into a cosmic scale, with Clément’s hazy vocals slowly turning her elongated calls into immediate screeches as the melodic progressions charge through, continuously galloping to the point where it has reached maximum intensity.
The mystique that the record dances around is opened further with the songwriting. On the surface, the wondrous yet oblique poetry implies that the thematic centerpiece revolves around the transparent nature of love, yet on a closer look, a lot of the details imply letting the lies and secrets run their course, never letting the presence of truth dismantle the bliss that comes through the imaginary. This narrative theme also ties into the presentation of the record itself, where song titles such as “Keyfabe” or the brief spoken poetry of “Would You Rather?” are visual and auditory cues that mess around the listener so that they won’t dissect too much of the record as it can disrupt the magic of the project. Let the density of the melodies compel the listener, enough to keep their ears attentive to whatever shift occurs within the thick layers of sound.
Rong Weicknes is Fievel Is Glauque’s most enthralling record, continuously inviting the audience into its marvellous world, where the immensely packed layers of melodies across the buoyant instruments and vocals create the most expansive moods that the band has ever achieved. Intentionally keeping the listener from dismantling the magic and letting the fantastic soundscape wash over them, Fievel Is Glauque manage to succeed in that goal and then some. What exactly is the right answer to the questions in Rong Weicknes? Whatever they may be, there’s no denying that the glamour evokes so much awe from start to finish.