Vol 3 Mathis à Voile Et à Vapeur: A Chaotic, Unfiltered French Ride You Won’t Forget
Alright, buckle the hell up because Les Pornographes just dropped Vol 3 Mathis à Voile Et à Vapeur, and holy crap, this thing is as wild as its title suggests. Label? Les Tréteaux. Genre? Non-music. Translation? Pure chaos wrapped in a French flag. Arranged by Gérard Doulssane and penned by Stéphane Kastor, this album doesn’t care about your feelings or your playlist—it smacks you over the head with raw audacity instead.
Let’s dive into two tracks that’ll stick to your brain like gum on a summer sidewalk:
First off, "Dans Le Trou Du Cul D'un Nègre." Yeah, I said it. Before you clutch your pearls, let me tell you why this track slaps harder than a drunk uncle at Christmas dinner. The lyrics are abrasive, offensive even, but damn if they don’t hook you like bad habits. It’s not so much what they say—it’s how they say it. The mix of crude humor and sharp wordplay feels like getting punched in the gut while laughing your ass off. And honestly? That’s kinda refreshing in a world full of cookie-cutter tunes trying way too hard to be "deep."
Then there’s "Le Boxon De Madame Suzon," which hits different but equally hard. This one’s got this sleazy cabaret vibe—like someone threw a brothel, a jazz club, and a circus into a blender and hit puree. The instrumentation (if we can call it that) feels chaotic yet deliberate, like every note was placed there to mess with your head. By the time the chorus kicks in, you’re either nodding along like an idiot or questioning all your life choices. Probably both.
Look, this album ain’t for everyone. If you’re looking for bubblegum pop or soft acoustic ballads, go somewhere else. Hell, even most experimental stuff seems tame compared to this beast. But here’s the kicker: beneath all the shock value and WTF moments, there’s something oddly... human about it. Like, who hasn’t felt gross, messy, and outta control at some point? Maybe that’s why these tracks linger in your skull long after the last chord fades.
Final thought? Listening to Vol 3 Mathis à Voile Et à Vapeur feels less like enjoying music and more like surviving a car crash—you walk away bruised, confused, and maybe a little exhilarated. And hey, isn’t that what art’s supposed to do?
