Dommages Et Intérêts by Ana Ban: A Raw, Unapologetic Sonic Punch to the Face
Alright, let’s cut the crap. Dommages Et Intérêts isn’t your typical rock album—it’s like someone took a blender, threw in some experimental chaos, and hit puree. Released back in '95 (yeah, over two decades ago), this French gem from Ana Ban still slaps harder than most stuff out today. Label? 33REVPERMI. Genre? Rock—but not the kind you're used to hearing on repeat at your uncle's BBQ. This is raw, untamed, and unrelenting.
First off, can we talk about “Freesket”? Holy hell, this track grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. It’s got this jagged guitar riff that feels like it was recorded in a garage with busted amps—and honestly, that’s what makes it so damn good. The rhythm punches through like a drunk bouncer, messy but effective as hell. You remember it because it’s unpredictable—just when you think it’s gonna settle into something familiar, BAM, it veers off into some weird time signature or distorted vocal freakout. It’s disorienting, sure, but in the best way possible. Feels like Ana Ban said, “Screw convention,” and just went for it. Love it.
Then there’s “Freeskaïn.” If “Freesket” is the wild brawler, this one’s the moody loner smoking in the corner. Slower, darker, grittier—it’s less about smashing your face in and more about creeping under your skin. There’s this haunting bassline that crawls along like it’s stalking you, paired with these half-whispered vocals that sound like they were recorded in an abandoned factory. Every note drips with attitude, like Ana knew exactly how to mess with your head. And yeah, maybe the production is lo-fi as hell, but that just adds to its charm. Screw polished perfection; sometimes you need music that sounds like it’s falling apart while holding itself together.
Here’s the thing: listening to Dommages Et Intérêts feels like being shoved into a mosh pit where no one knows the rules—but somehow, everyone’s having the time of their lives. Sure, it ain’t for everyone. Some people will call it pretentious or too out-there, but screw them. This album doesn’t care if you “get it” or not. It exists on its own terms, loud and unapologetic.
And here’s the kicker: Ana Ban dropped this beast in 1995, and yet it still sounds fresher than half the recycled garbage flooding playlists today. Maybe that says something about the state of music now—or maybe it just proves that true art doesn’t age. Either way, crank this sucker up and let it rip your ears open. Your Spotify algorithm won’t know what hit it.
