Album Review: Pour La Sauvegarde De La Nature by François Lapoix (1972)
François Lapoix’s Pour La Sauvegarde De La Nature is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. Released in 1972 under the French label Les Disques ICEM-CEL, this isn’t your typical music album—heck, it doesn’t even fall into a traditional “music” genre. Instead, it’s an educational experience, blending spoken word with ambient sounds to create something that feels more like a time capsule than a record. Produced by a team including Bernard Thireau, Lucien Perret, Pierre Guerin, and Yvette Servin, the album dives headfirst into environmental themes that were just starting to gain traction at the time. And honestly? It’s kinda wild how relevant it still feels today.
The album features seven tracks, each tackling a different ecological issue. Two tracks, though, really stuck with me: "Il N’Y A Pas De Nuisibles" and "La Pollution Des Eaux." Let’s break ‘em down.
"Il N’Y A Pas De Nuisibles" hits hard because it challenges how we view pests. You know, those critters we call “nuisances”—rats, mosquitoes, whatever. Lapoix flips the script here, reminding listeners that every creature has a role to play in the ecosystem. The delivery is calm but firm, almost like a teacher leaning over their desk to make sure you’re paying attention. What makes it memorable is the way Lapoix uses sound effects—buzzing insects, rustling leaves—to bring his points to life. It’s not just a lecture; it’s an invitation to rethink our biases.
Then there’s "La Pollution Des Eaux," which feels eerily prophetic. This track dives into water pollution, exploring how human activity messes with rivers, lakes, and oceans. Lapoix doesn’t mince words here—he gets straight to the point about waste dumping and industrial runoff. What stands out is the haunting use of dripping water sounds layered beneath his narration. It’s simple, sure, but effective. By the end, you’re left feeling guilty for ever tossing a candy wrapper into a stream as a kid.
What’s fascinating about Pour La Sauvegarde De La Nature is how unpolished it feels compared to modern standards. There’s no auto-tune, no flashy production tricks—just raw, earnest storytelling. It’s easy to imagine Lapoix and his team sitting around a table, brainstorming ways to make these heavy topics accessible without dumbing them down. That effort shows.
Looking back, this album feels like a product of its time—a period when people were waking up to the realities of environmental damage. But here’s the kicker: if someone released this album today, would it get the same attention? Probably not. In a world obsessed with TikTok trends and viral moments, something as deliberate and low-key as Pour La Sauvegarde De La Nature might slip through the cracks. And that’s a shame, because sometimes the simplest messages are the ones we need most.
So yeah, give this album a listen if you can find it. Just don’t expect catchy hooks or chart-topping beats. Instead, prepare for a quiet yet powerful reminder of why nature matters—and why protecting it should’ve been our top priority all along.
