Old-fashioned pop fans - as we say about mashed potatoes or rugby - will rejoice at the release of Aline's 2nd album, La Vie Electrique, and its perfectly structured and no less melodic compositions, which we had the opportunity to appreciate on October 9th in the rather shady setting of the Marché Gare.
A small but not vulgar venue
In the heart of the rapidly changing Lyon Confluence district, there's a concert hall like no other: an industrial environment, a capacity of 350 people, a demanding yet not elitist program, a price for broke students, and the well-established custom of allowing spectators to chat with the artists around the bar and the merchandise stand. After Garciaphone, Courtney Barnett, and Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, it's the indie-pop quintet Aline that once again entices us to brave the A43 speed cameras.
Cactus de Tijuana
The almost local Rebels of Tijuana deliver an energetic opening act in their usual yéyé style, in front of an initially sparse audience that quickly grew denser, lured by the supercharged choruses. Alex and his band perform a deliciously anachronistic rock stamped 1966, a year from which they have only retained the letters D (for Dutronc) and F (for Ferrer). For a good hour, they show great generosity, even treating us to an electric cover of Les Copains, the very Shadows-esque instrumental by their headliner.
Half-Hawaii, half-Camif
Hardly enough time to grab a large blonde and a small redhead at the bar before Aline is already on stage. Romain Guerret, who's seen it all, wears a shirt that's half Hawaiian, half Camif. Arnaud "Johnny Marr" Pilard rocks in a marinière, Romain coolly plays the bass, Vincent is hidden behind his drums, and Jeremy towers over everyone as the Manoukian of keyboards. The band is stamped Marseille, yet Romain, originally from Roanne, is playing at home: dad, mom, uncles, aunts, nephews, and cousins came to witness the modest triumph of the band, cataloged as a hit factory by Les Inrocks.
Whistling blackbird
In fact, La Vie Electrique is full of excellent old-fashioned pop songs: verse-chorus-verse, catchy melodies à la Daho or Gamine, Smiths-esque guitar solos, bittersweet lyrics. Any track works on stage, so Aline plays them all, in no particular order. The band kicks off with a first block of 3 songs - Avenue Des Armées, Les Angles Morts, and Les Résonances Cachées - to warm up the room without losing the audience along the way, as we almost follow the album's tracklisting. Chaque Jour Qui Passe calms things down, before a first foray into Regarde Le Ciel avec Voleur, on which Romain showcases his talent as a whistling blackbird.
Tristesse de la Balance, one of the album's best tracks with a false air of Tombé Pour La France, announces the arrival of the hits, La Vie Electrique and Je Bois Et Puis Je Danse, linked together as if to get rid of them. Again, the band gives the audience a breather with Mon Dieu Mes Amis, Les Mains Vides, and Une Vie, before unleashing the very punk Promis Juré Craché, with its assumed self-deprecation, and closing the set with the dispensable Plus Noir Encore.
My sister's music
As an encore, Aline delves into their first album one last time: Les Copains concludes the evening against type, preceded by a Teen Whistle whose intro sounds straight out of The Smiths' Girlfriend In A Coma. When asked about the coincidence, Arnaud replies: "The Smiths? That was my big sister's music," with a hint of disdain. Which didn't stop them from working with the immense Stephen Street for the production of this exhilarating second album. At the merchandise stand, vinyl records sell even better as they can be signed by all band members, which Charlotte, a pretty blonde who didn't hesitate to go on stage and wiggle to Je Bois Et Puis Je Danse, was quick to do. On the way home, we get a furious craving for William It Was Really Nothing, What Difference Does It Make, and other Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others. Thanks to whom? Thanks to Aline.
