Don De Sperme by Dormir Dans La Chambre Froide: A Wild Ride Through Rock, Jazz, and Chaos
Alright, let’s talk about Don De Sperme. Released in 2011 by the French band Dormir Dans La Chambre Froide (try saying that five times fast), this album is a chaotic masterpiece that blends rock, jazz, art rock, punk, and even free improvisation into something completely unhinged. It's like they took all the rules of music, crumpled them up, threw them out the window, and then laughed maniacally while doing it. Self-released under their own label—or lack thereof—it feels raw, personal, and unapologetically weird.
First off, can we just acknowledge how wild these track titles are? Tracks like “Espèce De Pied De Micro!” and “Le Canapé Est A L’Envers” make you feel like you’ve stumbled into some absurdist French theater where nothing makes sense but everything feels oddly profound. But I’m not here to review the names—I’m here to tell you why this album sticks with you.
Take “Vélo Vrillé,” for example. This track hits you like a punch in the gut—sharp guitar riffs spiral around jazzy sax lines, creating this disorienting yet exhilarating vibe. You’re not sure if you should dance or sit very still and question your life choices. There’s this moment halfway through where everything drops out except for this eerie violin squeal, and honestly? It gave me chills. Like, actual goosebumps. The way it builds back up feels like riding a rollercoaster that might fall apart at any second. And somehow, against all odds, it works.
Then there’s “Rouge Violoncelle Cléopatre Salsifi.” What even IS that title? But forget the name—this song slaps. It starts slow, almost mournful, with a cello line so rich it feels like velvet draped over broken glass. Then BAM! Outta nowhere comes this punky explosion of drums and distorted vocals that sound like someone yelling from the bottom of a well. It shouldn’t work, but it does. By the end, you’re left breathless, wondering what just happened to you.
The whole album has this DIY energy to it, like it was recorded late at night in someone’s freezing cold bedroom (hence the band name?). Nothing feels polished or overproduced, which is exactly why it’s so compelling. It’s messy, unpredictable, and kinda beautiful in its own strange way.
Here’s the thing about Don De Sperme: it doesn’t try to be anything other than itself. In a world full of cookie-cutter albums designed to fit neatly into playlists, this one throws caution to the wind and says, “Nah, we’re doing our own thing.” And honestly? That’s refreshing as hell.
So yeah, maybe this album isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for easy listening or predictable structures, you’ll probably hate it. But if you want something that challenges you, makes you laugh, confuses you, and occasionally blows your mind, give it a shot. Just don’t blame me when you find yourself humming along to songs with titles you can barely pronounce.
Oh, and one last thought: whoever decided to put a bonus track called “Rat-Pelle A Gateau” on here deserves an award. Or therapy. Maybe both.
