An aura of uncertainty characterised my long journey towards the big city, for I was heading for the British debut of Art Zoyd - who presumably, have been noted for their unpredictability, their close affinity with Univers Zero, and their Magma-influenced, but totally individual approach to music.
It was easy to admit that I felt uncomfortable as I sat there waiting for the performance, and wondering why the hell there was an arrangement of instruments on the right-hand side of the hall, rather than the allotted stage area. My queries were finally set right by a representative of Recommended Records (the spark behind the whole fiasco), who explained the group wished to play in this part, and were performing the earliest of the publicised groups. "Ah!" I said, and waited for what must have seemed an eternity while the musicians fussily took ages to sound-check and tune up, before pummelling the somewhat small audience into oblivion with a finely structured and enjoyable hour or so set.
The introduction was particularly effective, with a tape-loop rhythm that provided them with the opportunity to burst into their opener. Bass/cello player Thierry Zaboitzeff was a mobile powerhouse, parading in and out of compositions with bass phrases that one could have considered reminiscent of Bernard Paganotti. Thenceforth, partnered by the unique layers of sound created by Jean-Pierre Soarez on trumpet, Didier Peton on sax and the direction of Gerard Hourbette on piano/violin, an exhilarating performance was achieved, featuring confident tightness and almost inhuman perfection ranging from beauty to darkness.
Each number became intricately timed with a fondness to burst out into the violent and unapproachable, before returning to wave a breeze of tranquillity bordering on the meditative at the best of times. Hourbette's piano pulses formed visions of eternal void and stark emptiness. Then, paradoxically, one became pulled back to reality by the wind machines of Peton and Soarez. The final composition, 'Dernière Danse' illustrated Art Zoyd in full swing, with "Eastern promise" keyboard sounds, unpronounceable words bellowed through the mike, and trumpet whirlpools, similar to say Magma's '1001 degrees'. By this time, the place had filled considerably, and an encore was demanded. This they provided with a fluctuating piece that drifted inwards and outwards. One was left with fond memories to carry on my journey homewards. Temperamental they may be, but nevertheless, Art Zoyd maintained the power to entertain and I strongly recommend that they warm you - as they did me - on a bitter winter's night.